I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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Rebellion and Opportunity (2)

Those who govern the land of the Ottoman Empire were keenly observing the direction of the current rebellion.

It wasn’t merely because the rebellion’s scale was large or that a prince claimed himself to be the Sultan of Anatolia.

For those sensing the end of the Bayezid era, it was a prime opportunity to discern whether the current Sultan had thoughts of abdicating and whom he considered as his successor.

“Directly asking about abdication is akin to inquiring when a person intends to die. You can only judge by intuition.”

It’s not without reason that in Joseon, when the king is set to abdicate, they perform an act of contrition and oppose it dramatically.

Even not actively dissuading could be a reason for purging; such sensitivity surrounded abdication.

While one cannot equate the Confucian culture of Joseon with that of the Ottoman Empire, the strong royal authority made it a topic that shouldn’t be addressed lightly.

Answers for these questions arrived in Trabzon.

—Bang!

Seeing the soldiers startled by the gunfire, Yusuf spoke to Shemsi.

“It seems the Padishah was quite shocked by the events. He’s decided to abdicate after all.”

It’s not unusual for a prince to participate in quelling a rebellion or wars, but when it comes to passing on the Sultanate, the narrative changes.

The military power of the central forces could easily fall into the hands of an actively involved prince, instilling the perception of him as the next successor.

Had there been no intention to abdicate, he would have summoned both Ahmed and Yusuf to maintain a balance of power during the suppression of this rebellion.

“It appears His Highness is indeed shaken by the rebellion led by Prince Şehinşah.”

A rebellion that signifies a willingness to kill the father to seize the Sultanate would indeed be shocking.

‘If it were me, I would have been equally shocked if Mehmet and Murad were in such a scenario.’

Though I haven’t experienced such a thing yet, I can vaguely grasp that feeling.

As Yusuf forced a smile, Shemsi shifted the atmosphere.

“Isn’t it a joy? The Padishah has named you as his successor, after all.”

“It is indeed a joy.”

Ten whole years.

It feels like just yesterday that the youngest prince, Yusuf, was struggling to survive, and now he’s recognized as the successor by the Sultan.

How could he not feel nostalgic? Yusuf turned to look back.

Shemsi, Hasan, and Arda, those who followed him, wore excited expressions.

Yusuf thought he likely wasn’t any different and steeled himself.

‘In history, Ahmed was named successor by Bayezid. However, the Sultan turned out to be Selim.’

It was too soon to celebrate.

“Do not let your guard down until everything is finished. The Pasha and your brothers will surely take action.”

“They no longer have time. They will definitely take action.”

The central army that suppressed the rebellion had to return to the Sultan, and Yusuf’s thoughts on heading towards the capital were predictable.

Once Yusuf arrived at the capital, a succession ceremony would take place, causing the princes to make their last desperate bids.

“Yes, while I engage with Şehinşah and Shakul, they will make their move. Towards the capital.”

The Ottoman succession battle ultimately is akin to a game of musical chairs.

No matter how exceptional a prince may be, losing the capital seat would mean defeat, and this was the only chance other princes had to turn the tables.

‘It might have been easier if I’d told Brother Ahmed to suppress the rebellion together.’

There would have likely been opportunities to eliminate Ahmed.

There’s no need to lament lost opportunities; Ahmed’s side had already made preparations.

The biggest problem was Selim.

“Will the Padishah be able to hold out until I arrive at the capital?”

The written troops numbered 4,000 Janissaries and 4,000 Kapukulu Cavalry.

Though 8,000 might seem small, considering they were perfectly armed elite units, it was not a small number at all.

In fact, it was more concerning to worry about the void left in the capital due to such a strong force being absent.

“Now, only about 6,000 troops remain in the capital.”

It would be about 4,000 Janissaries and around 2,000 artillery troops.

Of course, there were also Janissary recruits, but significant expectations shouldn’t be placed on rookies.

Reassuring Yusuf in his concerns, Shemsi spoke gently.

“Do not worry too much. Even if Prince Selim borrows troops from the Crimean Khanate, it would only be around 20,000 to 30,000. It’s certainly less than the Sipahi gathered in Rumelia at the Padishah’s command.”

“I’m aware. Even without reinforcements, overcoming the walls of Constantinople would be difficult with that force.”

Even if Mehmet II managed to capture Constantinople, that didn’t mean it was an easy process.

The defending army was merely 7,000 strong, while the Ottoman besieging army mobilized at least 80,000 troops.

Due to that considerable disparity in numbers, it was extremely challenging to breach the city walls, which were essentially the walls of the capital.

“Indeed, I trust my father will hold out.”

Certainly, Bayezid must have anticipated the circumstances that lay ahead.

For now, one could only trust him, and Yusuf looked at the soldiers in training.

“It’s regrettable that we only have enough gunpowder for a single shot.”

“That one shot is already quite a challenge for us.”

“Even so, the difference between those who shoot once and those who do not is significant.”

Even veteran soldiers make the mistake of firing while inserting the powder and bullets into their firearms.

The reloading sequence, the sound of the shot that could burst eardrums, the acrid smell of gunpowder, the trembling vibrations in their arms.

One must experience it all firsthand to fulfill their roles properly.

“Arda, have the soldiers envision the combat scenarios based on today’s experiences. It would be quite helpful.”

If one has no teeth, they must glue it with gums.

If practical shooting training isn’t possible, at least they must engage in mental training.

The undeniable loud shots had likely already reached the ears of spies hidden in Trabzon; it was time to reveal guns as a weapon to the enemy.

Inhaling the gunpowder smell, Yusuf spoke with a stern face.

“Let’s prepare. I will be in Constantinople before this year ends.”

A vow of sorts.

*

The meeting point for the central army was decided to be Ankara.

It would have consumed quite a bit of time until the orders to join the rebellion suppression arrived, so the forces in the capital would have already set off.

There was no option but to hurry to avoid being too late, and the force led by Yusuf consisted of his core army of over ten thousand soldiers.

The troops that were already prepared to depart gathered on the Trabzon plains, and Yusuf addressed Shemsi.

“Pasha, I leave the troops from the Circassians and Georgia to you.”

“Trust me to take care of it.”

An army of 15,000 from both places intended to sweep through their lands to move towards the capital once Ahmed led his troops towards it.

Yusuf’s large plan was to quickly suppress the rebellion, join forces along the way, thwart Ahmed, and head towards the capital.

“Your Highness, do not forget what I said before.”

“Are you saying that hurrying is the devil’s doing and that Allah prefers a slow approach? I won’t rush and risk ruining things.”

“I will trust in you. Please continue to have faith in me until the end.”

Lightly patting Shemsi’s reassuring shoulder, Yusuf looked back at his family, and Fatima held Yusuf’s hand tightly.

“Yusuf, know that Allah will always be with you.”

With a warmth that matched her body temperature, Yusuf smiled slightly.

Fatima was the only person he could trust amidst a situation where no one else did.

Had it not been for her, he might have crumbled mentally.

“The next time we meet, I hope to see you in the capital. Until then, take care.”

“Indeed, I will be waiting.”

After a brief yet deep exchange with Fatima, Yusuf turned his gaze toward Aishe and Hatice.

Mehmet, holding Aishe’s hand, looked up at him with wide eyes, and Murad, taller than average for his age, reached out from Hatice’s embrace.

Yusuf gently hugged the two women.

“I will return.”

The two women appeared slightly shocked.

Yusuf had not been one to express emotions easily.

All the grievances from before dissolved at once, and the two women tried to hide their rising tears, nodding silently.

Having given Murad and Mehmet a brief embrace, Yusuf took in the entirety of Trabzon.

“This place shall be my last.”

Whether alive or dead, he likely would not return here.

Grateful, Yusuf captured in his eyes the countless memories this place held over the decade he spent.

He mustn’t be swayed by unnecessary emotions. He was facing the final moments as an Ottoman prince.

Becoming the cold-blooded Ottoman prince, Yusuf adeptly mounted his horse.

“Let’s go.”

To kill all his brothers and become the master of the Empire.

Yusuf’s troops departed Trabzon.

Looking at him leave with longing, Fatima spoke to Aishe.

“Don’t you think you’ll regret it if you don’t say anything?”

“I don’t want to burden the prince who faces great matters.”

Aishe carefully stroked her belly.

*

Leading 8,000 central troops, Grand Vizier Hadim Ali Pasha marched toward the gathering point in Ankara.

Behind the mid-sized cavalry known as Kapikulu Sipahi, armed with chainmail and round shields, bows, swords, and so on, marched the Janissaries outfitted with hand cannons, halberds, swords, axes, etc.

The Janissaries’ mehter, known as the world’s first military band, played Turkish-style music, adding vigor to the march.

It was a march that would later gain immense popularity in the West, influencing pieces such as Mozart’s Turkish March.

When a guest visited the Grand Vizier leading the army, it was when Ahmed’s eldest son, Murad, was passing through Bolu as a Sanjakbey.

“Grand Vizier, it’s a pleasure to meet you like this.”

In response to Ahmed’s visit, the Grand Vizier reciprocated.

“I am equally delighted. It was long ago that we met in our childhood, how time flies.”

“Haha, it’s fair to say I’m not exactly a kid anymore.”

With Ahmed subtly aging himself, the Grand Vizier merely chuckled and redirected the topic.

“However, what brings you all the way here?”

“I was temporarily staying in Bolu to teach Murad. When I heard the Grand Vizier was passing by, how could I not come to visit?”

It was a flimsy excuse that would not even fool a student of the Enderun who had yet to hold a position, and the Grand Vizier issued a light warning.

“I see. But I’m glad you didn’t bring troops with you. Unauthorized approaches of troops are strictly prohibited.”

“…That’s true. Given what happened with Şehinşah, I understand.”

Though he claimed to understand, Ahmed’s expression crumpled.

This implied he equated himself with Şehinşah, who initiated the rebellion.

“I’m glad you understand. Our soldiers are already on edge regarding matters of Karaoglu Beylerbey, so no need to escalate hostilities.”

This was a subtle warning that one might be attacked should they approach with troops, but the Grand Vizier said it with a relaxed demeanor.

“So, did you come here just to greet me lightly?”

Ahmed coldly inquired at the unexpected tense demeanor of the Grand Vizier.

“Then I won’t hold back. What do you think of Yusuf?”

“That’s a strange question. I think of him as a prince.”

“…Are you supporting Yusuf?”

This question held no significance to the Grand Vizier.

Given his title as Hadim, his answer was predictable.

“I will follow only the wishes of the Padishah. There is no personal judgment from me.”

It was an answer that could be considered the voice of the Padishah’s heart, but it was not the response Ahmed wanted.

Feeling there was no need to remain there any longer, Ahmed stood and coldly spoke.

“I’ve heard your answer well.”

As Ahmed disappeared outside the barracks, the Grand Vizier offered a salute.

“May Allah be with you.”

His words drifted into the air, evaporating into nothingness.