I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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Time of Battle (3)

When an unidentified cavalry appeared over the hill, Ahmed’s army scattered in panic and retreated.

Having already gathered all possible allies, Ahmed knew the appearing army could not possibly be on his side.

As he looked down at the retreating soldiers, Yusuf sighed in relief.

Drawing attention with their guns and showing their presence atop the hill was merely a bluff.

“It’s a relief they retreated in fear. It would have been troublesome if a battle broke out.”

The fight between the rebels and the forces took place between Ankara and Konya, over 300 kilometers apart.

It was like the distance from Seoul to Busan and even with fresh horses, covering that distance in three days was an incredible feat.

The heavy Kapikulu cavalry and centurions had already fallen behind, with even the elderly Grand Vizier and those unskilled in horsemanship lagging.

‘Six thousand left? That’s more than I expected.’

The Janissaries, who underwent rigorous training, along with Yusuf’s infantry, who mainly came from the Kapikulu lineage, were mostly adept at riding.

Starting off with thirteen thousand soldiers, only six thousand remained, meaning more than half had fallen away.

The stragglers would eventually rejoin later, so it was not a major issue, but the soldiers’ condition was poor for an immediate battle.

Arda concurred with Yusuf.

“If the enemy knew our state, they wouldn’t have retreated so easily.”

“It’s because we arrived before the enemy messenger keeping an eye on us.”

No matter how fast they marched, they couldn’t outrun a messenger operating alone.

However, Ahmed’s messenger, not expecting Ahmed’s forces to be here, was well behind Yusuf, who had thoroughly planned with Shemsi and was aware of general locations.

It was only natural for Yusuf to arrive first, needing to follow Ahmed’s trail even as far as the Bosporus.

Yusuf’s eyes turned cold.

“Isn’t it strange? If my brother Ahmed had attacked, the Pasha’s army shouldn’t be here.”

He had always aimed to create a safe retreat and to advance.

Even if Ahmed had attacked sooner than expected, it clearly was odd.

“I must go confirm it myself. What on earth has happened?”

The cavalry under Yusuf moved heavily to join the infantry battalion.

*

If Karaoglu Beylerbey had not foolishly fallen into a trap set by the Şehinşah, there would have been no need for this forced march.

Had the soldiers from Ankara joined them, it would have prevented them from even attempting to pick them off separately.

Although they had lost their best cards, they were not overly concerned; that close collaboration with Shemsi had taken a considerable amount of time.

The forced march was merely to reduce any unforeseen variables.

“But, I never expected to find myself in such a situation.”

While Yusuf arrived just in time to revitalize the morale, the commanders leading the army felt suffocated.

Yusuf’s furious aura was palpable.

Those simply watching felt fear, and the Georgian commanders who had become the target of his rage were hardly at ease.

“Did you think being in a position to help meant you could act as you please?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“You forget the past too easily.”

Yusuf’s words chilled to the bone.

Circassians and Georgians were different.

Unlike the Circassians, who had established friendly relations from the beginning, most of the Georgian nations had surrendered to Yusuf’s forces.

The memories of that time arose like a trauma, and their faces turned pale as Yusuf granted them a chance.

“I will give you an opportunity. Make sure you punish those who have caused trouble until now.”

“To what extent…?”

“That is your choice. I will observe what kind of decision you make. You may go.”

Dark expressions marked the faces of the officers as they stepped outside.

The troublemakers were not just the soldiers, as some commanders would have to act as scapegoats.

After the Georgian commanders had exited, the quiet Shemsi asked.

“Are you planning to end it here?”

“Of course not.”

Yusuf smiled coldly.

For now, since he needed their cooperation, he could let it slide, but he had firmed his resolve from this incident.

“When I become Padishah, I will have to tidy up the Georgian kingdoms to some degree.”

Not every Georgian nation had caused trouble.

The friendly states, including Samtskhe, had complied well under Shemsi’s control, so they would need to be central for reorganizing Georgia.

It was the moment when Georgia’s fate would be decided.

“I understand your approach to Georgia. Then what will be your next action?”

“I will wait for the reinforcements who arrived late to join us.”

They would need time to recover after enduring the forced march, and he had no intention of moving recklessly before all the forces were gathered.

After all, it would only lead to unnecessary losses.

“In any case, Brother Ahmed has missed his last chance.”

Ahmed should have attacked when Yusuf first appeared atop the hill.

He missed the only opportunity to achieve a great victory by crushing tired infantry and exausted cavalry.

Now that Yusuf had joined, he missed his last chance of an easy win, and from now on, time was not on Ahmed’s side.

“Once the messenger arrives, he will understand his own blunder.”

“By then, it will be an irreversible situation.”

By the time the messenger arrived, Yusuf’s cavalry would have sufficiently rested.

Life was a series of choices, and a prince’s wrong decision meant death.

*

Despair laid heavy upon Ahmed’s troops.

“The army that appeared on the hill is Yusuf’s? And they’re on the verge of collapse.”

Hearing the report from a late-arriving messenger, Ahmed’s face twisted grotesquely, and he drew the sword at his waist.

With bloodshot eyes, Ahmed brought the sword down upon the messenger’s neck.

“Wah, Prince… gkhrk!”

The messenger, who barely had time to resist, instinctively stopped the wound with his hands, but it seemed Ahmed didn’t even register that sight.

Like chopping wood, he struck the messenger’s neck a dozen times, covered in blood while breathing heavily.

Throwing down the sword on the mangled body, Ahmed spoke to the soldiers, whose faces had gone stiff.

“Get rid of this eyesore.”

The soldiers dragged the bodies away as if they were rubbish, and Ahmed sat down heavily in a chair.

Despite the gloomy expressions of the commanders, Ahmed let out a despondent voice.

“Has Allah truly forsaken me?”

It expressed the sentiments of the assembled commanders.

As expected, the situation had worsened beyond what they anticipated.

Despite suggestions to attack even late, when they tried, they were met not by frightened infantry, but soldiers armed with gunpowder.

Bang! Rat-a-tat-tat!

“Retreat! Retreat!”

The Kapikulu cavalry, who were archers by nature, attempted their fundamental tactic of hit and run but couldn’t even approach the distance to fire their arrows without getting blasted with bullets.

Having suffered under the torrential gunfire, the Kapikulu grew passive in their attack, during which stragglers from Yusuf’s forces began to join.

Once the Grand Vizier, among others, had gathered with the last of the Kapikulu, Yusuf took action to bring down Ahmed’s neck.

Mounted on horseback, Yusuf gazed at Ahmed’s army and spoke.

“Grand Vizier, do you see their frightened expressions?”

“I see it well.”

Ahmed’s position had reached its lowest point.

Soldiers, driven by instinct, had repeatedly attempted to desert, and with scouts failing to properly conduct reconnaissance as more soldiers kept defecting.

The fifteen thousand soldiers that had been amassed were scattering like grains of sand.

“It’s not that many joined Ahmed out of loyalty.”

Especially those soldiers dragged from the cities of Ahmed’s four sons who were Sanjakbey.

They weren’t soldiers who had followed Ahmed for long like those from Amasya.

“Then, this is how they would relay their surrender.”

At the mention of a surrender letter conveyed by a deserted scout, Yusuf couldn’t help but smirk.

The Grand Vizier sighed in relief, saying, “It’s good to get them to surrender.”

“Of course. I cannot kill them all. Soon they will all become my soldiers.”

The rebels suppressed near Konya were different from Ahmed’s forces.

Most of the Turkic rebels could side with Ismail at any time, not bound by the Ottoman rule.

It was not without reason that Selim exiled or executed them as soon as he came to power.

Suppressing a rebellion was about preemptively clearing future troubles, whereas the current battle was a mutual self-destructive endeavor.

“If I become Sultan, there will be many battles to come.”

Not only with the Safavids and the Mamluks, but also endless disputes with the West.

He needed to save every soldier he could, only targeting the ringleaders and those who opposed him would be sufficient.

“More importantly, it has finally begun.”

The opposing lines shook violently before pointing swords at each other.

As the clash commenced between those loyal to Ahmed and those choosing betrayal to save their own lives, Yusuf slung his gun over his shoulder and shouted.

“Advance!”

– Advance! Advance!

Dum! Thud!

With Yusuf’s shout, the drums echoed across the sky.

It was the sound signaling Ahmed’s end.

*

No one would have imagined that ten years ago, when Yusuf first became himself, Ahmed would kneel before him.

Not even Ahmed himself.

“Isn’t it so? Brother.”

“I should have killed you long ago.”

Ahmed, whose arm bore a great wound from betrayal, looked pale, kneeling before Yusuf.

The stress of the past had turned his hair white, and he looked utterly disheveled.

The man who once stood closest to the Padishah’s position looked pathetic now.

“I suppose even using Hasan to attempt to kill me wasn’t enough.”

“If that swine hadn’t betrayed me, it wouldn’t have come to this state!”

Recalling Hasan, who had grown gaunt from excessive work, Yusuf sneered.

“It was merely a matter of your incompetence. You had countless opportunities up until this moment, did you not?”

Opportunities were not equitable.

Yusuf, who had tread carefully to overcome every crisis, and Ahmed, who had squandered every opportunity given to him.

That was how this outcome came to be.

“Arda.”

At Yusuf’s calling, Arda brought five silk ropes, and Yusuf looked at the four nephews kneeling behind Ahmed.

Peeing in fear with faces that seemed to know their fate, the nephews burst into tears.

Ahmed cried out in panic.

“Yusuf, all I need you to do is take my life! Spare my sons!”

Yusuf coldly looked down at Ahmed, who had just banged his head on the ground.

“If you were in my position, would you spare my sons?”

“Of course!”

“By Allah’s oath?”

“……”

Watching Ahmed fumble his lips, Yusuf scoffed.

Finding it amusing that someone would falsely call upon Allah to save their sons was absurd.

“Now that you stand before death, is the devil so frightening? I shall bestow a final mercy. Arda, send him off first.”

At the very least, he should not outlive his children.

This was his last consideration as a brother and fellow father.

To the glaring Ahmed, his eyes bulging with anger, Yusuf bid his final farewell.

“I will consider what to do with your last surviving young son.”

Staring at the collapsed Ahmed, Yusuf instructed his soldiers.

“Send him to a father’s embrace.”

With those words, Yusuf stepped outside the tent and looked up at the sky.

Dark storm clouds covered the heavens, and Yusuf murmured softly.

“A downpour is about to come.”
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