I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

Chapter 72




Sultan Has Arrived (1)

The sword, soaked in the cold moonlight, has no eyes.

The only way for the one blocking the path to survive is to worship the true master who has finally come.

– Prince Yusuf has arrived!

– May Allah’s blessings be upon the true Padishah!

The subjects, filled with fear from the sound of gunfire and clashing swords, realized Yusuf had come and began to shout for him.

The voices of the subjects covered the capital, and anyone who rejected him became a part of the red carpet spread across the street.

The entrance to the Topkapi Palace, arriving soaked in blood, stood wide open, and beneath the trembling torches lay bodies trampled like crumbled leaves.

Upon entering the courtyard of the First Imperial Consort, a man knelt amongst the vigilant guards and greeted him.

“I greet Prince Yusuf, chosen by the great Padishah.”

At this greeting, Yusuf expressed a hint of interest.

By emphasizing the choice and pointing out that he was a man of Bayezid but Yusuf had yet to ascend to the Padishah seat, it felt somewhat rude. However, Yusuf thought little of it.

Even without clinging to the title of Padishah, that position was inherently his. Even if his father Bayezid were to oppose him.

“And who are you?”

“I am Pasha Mustafa, the Silahtar Ağa.”

Silahtar is the elite unit of the Kapukulu Cavalry, and to be transferred to this unit, one had to survive a suicide mission.

The name Silahtar itself means bearer of arms, serving as close protection for the Padishah, with Ağa meaning their commander.

In short, it meant being the Padishah’s closest confidant.

“Hmm, you, the one who couldn’t protect my father and came asking for help.”

“It is all my fault.”

“It surely must be.”

Selim’s seizing of the capital was, ironically, fortunate for Yusuf. However, failing to protect the Padishah was still a grave sin.

Having played a major role in this victory covering the faults with merit, it was a sin that warranted the loss of all positions, if not his life.

Meaning that whoever would share the fate with Bayezid was now doomed.

Looking around as if intrigued, Yusuf turned his head.

The scenery of the Topkapi Palace was so familiar he could describe it with his eyes closed, yet he had never seen it like this.

Instead of the appealing scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery, a stench of blood assaulted his nose, and near the wood storage, corpses were piled high instead of firewood.

Around the empty armory lay weapons that had not been wielded properly, and the traces of life around the Janissary barracks were covered in bloodstains.

‘Compared to the blood that will flow ahead, even this might seem trivial.’

Becoming the lord of the Ottomans meant paving a road made of blood.

If he was afraid of this, he wouldn’t have started in the first place.

“Let’s go, to see it to the end.”

Yusuf moved forward slowly, passing through the collapsed Gate of Honor shattered by cannon fire.

The marble, where severed heads had once stared before he became a Sanjakbey, was buried in a heap of debris, and the attendants who worked at the Second Imperial Consort stared in awe and fear.

As Yusuf entered the Third Imperial Consort through the already opened Gate of Joy, a running Arda knelt and bowed his head.

“It is said that the usurper Selim has already fled.”

“Brother makes a spectacle of himself till the very end.”

Even in history, Selim was known to always have an escape vessel prepared when a rebellion was to break out.

With such a ruckus, it wouldn’t be strange if he fled.

‘What good would it do to run away?’

Who would assist Selim?

The Crimean Khanate? Out of the thirty thousand troops they dispatched, most were either dead or taken captive, how could they afford to help?

If they found Selim, they would have to dress him up beautifully and return him to the capital to beg for his life.

In any case, there were more important people than Selim, whose conclusion was already set.

“Where is my father?”

“I will guide you.”

As if foreseeing it, Arda led the way to a shabby room at the end of the Third Imperial Consort.

On the bed illuminated by a single candle lay Bayezid, and Yusuf stood beside him.

“Y-you are Yusuf.”

The labored voice, strained with phlegm, clearly showed his condition.

In the flickering candlelight, he looked in a terrible state.

Only one leg remained, his body was wrapped in bandages, and inflammation was visible on the wounds above the wrinkles.

Just as he had heard, Bayezid’s condition could not promise another day.

“How did you end up like this, Father?”

“A… It must be due to Allah’s anger. We we, we could not stop Selim.”

Yusuf grasped the hand of his father Bayezid, who struggled to speak.

The fierce eyes were now dull, and tears flowed down a face filled with regret.

The doctor, bowing his head beside Bayezid, cautiously spoke.

“The room where Bayezid resided collapsed due to an earthquake. We barely rescued him and did our utmost, but…”

Although he didn’t finish his sentence, Yusuf understood the implication.

Bayezid seemed to have endured till the amputation surgery, but now, as an old man, he looked like he could bear no more.

“Yusufu… you are now the master of the Empire.”

Having endured to this point could only be for this one sentence.

Yusuf clenched his father’s hand tightly.

“Please trust me with it.”

“I… I will return this.”

With great effort, Bayezid pulled a coin from his robe.

Seeing the silver coin with a hole resting on his father’s palm, Yusuf realized it was the very coin he had given Bayezid.

Bayezid, having handed over the coin, closed his eyes quietly, and as Yusuf felt the warmth fade away, he exited in silence.

Holding the coin under the moonlight for a long while, Yusuf handed it to Shemsi.

“Put it back in Father’s possession.”

“Why would you return Bayezid’s coin?”

“I have no right to take it back.”

Because he already knew Bayezid’s sleeping quarters would collapse in a major earthquake.

In actual history, Bayezid would have left his room a few hours prior and saved his life, but he knew he hadn’t stepped out.

Had he given a hint, he wouldn’t have met such an end, but he chose not to.

This tiny silver coin was the last gift that a cruel son could give to his father.

“My father’s era has ended, and now my era begins.”

Yusuf’s calm declaration echoed in the cold night sky.

*

“Yusuf! I will kill that bastard!”

“F-Father?! What are you doing here!”

Shuelyman was startled to see the red-eyed Selim bursting into the office.

His luxurious robe had turned into rags, and a dark stain of blood marred his white turban.

Seating himself in Shuelyman’s chair, Selim twisted his mouth while gazing at the clock parts laid on the desk.

“While my father suffered humiliation, were you just lost in such trivial matters?!”

Staring blankly at the clock parts rolling on the ground, Shuelyman hung his head.

Even at his young age, he wasn’t oblivious to what the current situation implied.

“Shuelyman, gather the army immediately and send a messenger to Mengli. I am far from done! It’s just a matter of killing Yusuf!”

Shuelyman gazed sadly at Selim, who shouted loudly.

Cautiously picking up the clock body, Shuelyman asked the mad Selim.

“…Father, what has become of the clock I gave you?”

“The clock? Is that what matters right now?! It must be somewhere in the Topkapi Palace. Yes, if you want it back, gather the army at once!”

“Father.”

Shuelyman called Selim softly, shaking his head.

“It’s over now. Let’s not drive innocents into oblivion any longer. The soldiers of the Cape and even the Crimean Khanate will not come to help.”

“…No. If the Crimean Khanate is no good, we can go west. We can borrow their power.”

Selim’s voice grew weaker, and Shuelyman spoke to the soldiers who had entered through the door.

“Take my father away, set sail. We shall go to the capital together.”

With the calm voice of the boy, one ship set sail.

To tie up the long succession war.

*

The capital was, quite literally, a total mess.

Before the fear of the earthquake subsided, the capital had turned into a battlefield, which was only natural.

As dawn broke, corpses were quickly removed, and just before the bloodstains could vanish, the funeral for Bayezid II was hastily conducted.

The funeral prayers took place at the Parti Hamo Mosque, where the dome had cracked due to the earthquake, and his preserved body was enshrined in the Bayezid Mosque he himself had built.

His death, as someone known for his significant role in Islam, plunged the entire Islamic world into deep sorrow.

Even Kansir Gauri, the Sultan of the Mamluks, attended the funeral prayers in Cairo, and memorial services in various regions honored him.

However, where there is an end to a long Padishah’s life, there is always a beginning for another.

Dun! Dum Dum!

The cheerful sound of the darbuka resonated, followed by merry instrumentals filling the air.

Dressed in gorgeous garments adorned with gold threads, Yusuf emerged from the Gate of Joy of the Third Imperial Consort, and thousands knelt in unison.

– O great Padishah!

– May Allah’s blessings rest upon the true master of the Empire!

Looking down at those kneeling, Yusuf let go of the past, where he had struggled to survive.

Having become Yusuf, he faced numerous crises and finally stood at this place.

‘From now on, it will be different from the past.’

Until now, he had fought for survival, and now he had to advance for the glory of the Empire.

“This Empire is mine. The glory of the Empire will be my glory.”

With Yusuf’s declaration,

A window appeared before him after quite some time.

[The great master of the Empire, Score +100]

[Become the master of the vast empire spanning six continents, Reward Selection]

The continents may be categorized differently according to their definitions, but excluding Antarctica, the six continents represent Asia, Europe, Africa, North America, South America, and Oceania.

To reach America, one would have to break through Europe, which blocks the Mediterranean, and to get to Oceania, one would have to pass through Southeast Asia.

In truth, the options that seemed to show a way back to his original body were meaningless.

‘I plan to live and die as Yusuf.’

He had vowed so.

Therefore, there was no need to indulge in such things.

“This Empire is one that no nation has ever achieved. That sounds like an interesting goal.”

Yusuf turned his body.

Having finally become the awaited Sultan, it was time to move as the master of the Empire.

*

The direction of the succession battle, changing the master of the enormous Ottoman Empire, was being watched in silence by Europe and the Middle East.

Bayezid had remained passive toward external expansion, but there were no guarantees his son would follow suit.

Those anticipating significant changes depending on which prince became the Sultan were shocked by the rumors from the Ottoman Empire.

It wasn’t merely that Yusuf, who had defeated Selim and seized the capital, had ascended to the Sultan’s throne.

“Did that infidel just predict an earthquake?!”

“Who is spreading such nonsense?!”

The eyes of Europe, who had sharpened their blades at each other, turned their focus onto the Ottomans.


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