I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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Wearing the Mask of Fury (1)

In the early days, cannons were so dangerous that our own forces behind the front line were more at risk than the enemy ahead; they resembled weapons more for startling the foe than for actually killing them.

Conversely, this means that for the unfamiliar enemy, the sound of cannons acted more like a fearsome warning shot.

The reason the soldiers were stunned to see the fleet of Samtskhe being sucked into the sea amidst the deafening noise of the siege was that it looked like an act of divine punishment.

What snapped the frozen soldiers out of their shock, assaulted by both hearing and sight, was a booming voice.

“Our allies have come! The Padishah is here to save us!”

“Chin up! The Sultan has arrived!”

The defense forces at Trabzon, who were barely holding their ground, erupted in cheers at their commander’s shout, while the Qizilbash, who thought victory was within reach, fell into chaos.

Even Ismail, who prided himself on his strong mental fortitude, felt confusion at this turn of events.

“Why is the enemy’s fleet here? What are those Venetians doing?”

It was unacceptable for the Ottoman fleet to be here instead of battling the Western forces, including Venice.

Reports had reached him that the enemy fleet had set sail from Constantinople, so their appearance here was utterly inconceivable.

“Shah Ismail! That’s not what’s important right now! Please give us your orders!”

“You must issue a command!”

With the cries of his commanders, both including Mohammad and others, Ismail pulled himself together.

As they said, there was no time to waste.

‘Three options immediately came to mind.’

The first option was that although the enemy’s fleet had come right to their doorstep, it would take some time before the enemy soldiers disembarked, and in that interval, they could infiltrate and achieve their goal through the half-demolished inner walls.

However, this could easily end up like a rat caught in a trap, so he discarded that idea immediately.

The second option was to confront the enemies disembarking from the fleet. The number of forces would likely be equal, but—

‘No, this won’t do.’

While the numbers might be comparable, they were weary from the ongoing siege warfare.

Moreover, armed with gunpowder, it would only lead to mutual destruction. Ultimately, there was only one choice left.

Ismail clenched his teeth and shouted.

“…We retreat!”

“We are retreating! Beat the drums! It’s a retreat!”

At Ismail’s command, the drums signaling the retreat sounded, and the Qizilbash hanging onto the fortress hastily fled.

As the enemy withdrew, cheers echoed throughout Trabzon Citadel.

“If only we had one more day.”

Then they could have planted their flag in Trabzon, and wouldn’t have to flee so humbly.

With bloodshot eyes, Ismail glared at Trabzon as if burning the sight into his memory, calling out one name.

“Manushehr!”

“Yes, Shah Ismail.”

The man, knowing why his name was called, respectfully replied.

“I shall grant you a thousand soldiers. Hold back the enemy.”

“Understood. I’ll light the way for your advancement.”

With a heavy voice carrying out his duty, Manushehr took a long look at his master’s face, knowing he would not see it again in this life, before turning away.

It was a mission tantamount to suicide, one that could not be entrusted to anyone with a flimsy sense of loyalty.

Feeling the pain of his arm tearing away, Ismail gazed at the approaching fleet.

He didn’t know who was aboard or if Yusuf was there, but he felt as if their eyes had met.

“Don’t think this is the end, Yusuf.”

This was merely an outpost battle.

*

Yusuf gazed at the vanishing enemy army over the hull of the Karak with dull eyes.

The Qizilbash, trained through countless battles, withdrew in perfect order on horseback.

While Yusuf was watching the retreating enemies, the commander of the Janissaries knelt before him.

“I have committed a grave sin, Your Padishah! We let the enemy slip away!”

“It’s fine. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Regrettably, while the fleet carried as many as 20,000 soldiers, not a single horse remained.

To mount a horse, ten soldiers had to disembark.

The fierce siege warfare had caused many enemy deaths, yet still over 20,000 remained, and there simply weren’t enough horses to pursue them.

They should have snared the horses before they boarded.

‘The Qizilbash will always be the Qizilbash.’

To buy time, the enemy had fought desperately and even fired cannons toward the harbor, leaving the main body to its fate.

The remaining remnants fought fiercely for their last moments, and screams and shouts could still be heard within Trabzon Citadel.

“Your Padishah, the cleanup is complete.”

It had been some time since Ismail departed, stirring the dust as he left, and hearing that every last enemy had been wiped out, Yusuf disembarked from the ship.

“The damage is significant.”

The once-reinforced walls lay in ruin, and the buildings he had seen countless times had collapsed.

Those who had died defending were interred in a vast open space, their sacrifices marking the site.

As he climbed the path where the central forces stood guard, Yusuf reached the inner walls, still stained with fresh blood.

“I present myself before the Padishah!”

—I present myself before the Padishah!

In front, Arda knelt and offered a greeting, and soldiers and subjects who had come out from the fortress awkwardly followed suit.

The signs of battle were evident; Arda, representative of the commanders, bore a long wound across his face, while many soldiers wrapped their injuries in blood-soaked bandages.

“You’ve worked hard.”

“It’s nothing. We simply did what we had to do.”

After lightly patting Arda on the shoulder, Yusuf turned his gaze to the ones who had their heads down, hesitating to look up.

To dare gaze upon the face of a Sultan could bring severe punishment, yet in these people’s memories, Yusuf had remained the Sanjakbey they spent long years with.

The thought of wanting to see familiar faces again was not unpleasant, and Yusuf raised his voice loudly.

“Everyone, lift your heads!”

As his command finally caused the subjects to lift their heads, Yusuf declared.

“I swear by Allah, the enemy shall never set foot on Trabzon Citadel again! You’ve all endured much hardship!”

Some felt the oppressive times were finally over, while others burst into tears, remembering families and loved ones who perished in the battle.

Cheers and cries intertwined, echoing throughout Trabzon Citadel, as Yusuf moved with heavy steps, wanting to meet those who had risked their lives to protect it.

Inside the inner walls, the evacuated individuals had packed in tightly, and after leaving a few comforting words, Yusuf stepped into the fortress he had resided in for so long.

“I present myself before the Padishah.”

“It’s been a while. Nene, and also Hasan.”

Since they last met, Nene’s face had aged slightly, and despite just getting married, Hasan had lost weight.

“It is an honor to see you both in good health.”

“Glad to see you both well. Especially you, Nene. If you had been hurt, I would have had no face to see my mother.”

“Thanks to your concern.”

Nene, who smiled lightly, carefully shifted aside, revealing three women approaching softly behind her.

“P-Padishah.”

“Come here.”

With a trembling voice calling for him, Yusuf gestured, embracing Aishe and Hatice lightly.

As he gently patted the backs of the two women, he looked down at the small face raising up between them.

“Hasna.”

“Gyaah?”

As Hasna blinked her round eyes, Yusuf carefully took her into his arms.

Though he had hugged his sons Mehmet and Murad enough, holding his daughter Hasna felt completely different.

Meeting the eyes that resembled his and Aishe’s, a small smile naturally crept across his face.

‘Perhaps it’s because she’s not a child to take my place.’

It was a wondrous feeling.

He understood why Suleiman cherished his daughter Mahrimah and took her along on his campaigns.

“I am your father.”

“Ah? Ah!”

Could she possibly understand what he said?

With a laugh, Hasna rubbed her cheek against him, and after gently patting her back, Yusuf returned her to Aishe’s embrace.

Although he wanted to spend more time with his newborn daughter, there wasn’t any leisure to do so.

“Şemsi Pasha!”

“Yes, Your Padishah!”

Following in place of the Grand Vizier, who had to fill the Sultan’s seat in the capital, Şemsi knelt, and Yusuf, with a cold expression, commanded.

“Summon the army.”

*

Creak creak creak!

The watermill turned, and the heavenly machine attached to the gears began to carve through thick metal.

This was the process of making cannons with perfectly uniform holes, the result of much brainstorming between Tahir and those around him.

As Suleiman clenched his fists in anticipation, a quiet voice whispered in his ear.

“Is this what your father ordered?”

With a voice still unbroken, Suleiman responded respectfully.

“I salute Prince Mehmet.”

“You needn’t be so formal; we’re family.”

“No, I’m just a mere Pasha, not a Prince.”

Suleiman felt a chill run down his spine as he met his cousin’s calm, green eyes.

Those eyes reminded him of the warmth and despair he had experienced from him.

Mehmet, who appeared to be indifferent to how Suleiman felt towards him, stared blankly at the process of the cannon being made.

The silence became a bit uncomfortable, and Suleiman was the first to break it.

“Are you not worried about Aishe Hatun?”

“Worried? Of course, I worry about my mother and my siblings. But, since Father has gone, any unnecessary worrying is just that, unnecessary.”

Suleiman felt a wave of fear with his response.

Worry was an emotional domain, and no matter how rational one might think it hazardous, it couldn’t be easily suppressed.

Those words suggested that emotions were entirely governed by reason, and realizing that anew made Suleiman want to test this child.

“Then do you believe that once the Padishah saves Trabzon, all dangers will be over?”

As if looking to see if he could guess the intention behind the question, Mehmet stared at Suleiman.

“No, in fact, if mishandled, we could fall into even greater danger ahead, depending on my father’s choices.”

“What do you mean?”

“The dangers set by Shah Ismail do not end here. Suleiman Pasha, do you not agree?”

At the words of a mere seven-year-old, Suleiman felt goosebumps and nodded gravely.

“If the Padishah were to become furious and invade the Safavids because of this incident, things would become irreversible.”

“It’s a war without proper supplies.”

While there was no need to pay attention to supplies during defensive actions like now, it was an entirely different story when on the offense.

If they set out without adequate provisions, had a lengthy supply line, and conducted scorched earth tactics to prevent resupplies, the Ottoman troops would find themselves trapped in a quagmire.

“My father, no matter how angry he gets, he will decide rationally.”

Countless historical accounts confirm that rulers experienced significant defeats driven by transient emotions, but Mehmet’s words were filled with firm conviction.

He trusted that Yusuf would not repeat such a mistake.

“Then surely, he won’t attack.”

Suleiman let out a sigh of relief as if the burden was lifted, and Mehmet responded sharply.

“No, simply allowing the enemy time without attacking is the act of the inept. It is not the right answer.”

With a puzzled look, Suleiman observed as Mehmet smiled slyly.

“Father will waltz into his trap.”

To gnaw away at his insides.

*

“Your Padishah! It is dangerous to attack without proper supplies!”

“I know, so you need not worry. I’m not that foolish. Şemsi Pasha.”

“Yes, Your Padishah.”

“To you, I command this: Declare across the Ottoman realm. The enraged Padishah has announced that he will conquer Georgia and the Safavids.”

Hearing a command contrary to the previous statement, Şemsi smiled broadly.

“Are you planning to wear the mask of fury?”

“Indeed. I must make Ismail tremble with fear.”

To the point of scaring him into burning his own lands in fear.

Yusuf’s green eyes were filled with killing intent.

“And in doing so, I shall thoroughly trample Georgia.”

The fate of the traitors was sealed.