I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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#Chapter 16. Sanjakbey Yusuf (2)

It had been just a few days since Yusuf arrived in Trabzon, so no one recognized him wandering around the city, allowing him to observe the raw Trabzon.

It had been less than 40 years since the Trapezunta Empire, with Trabzon as its capital, fell.

‘Considering that, the atmosphere isn’t too bad.’

You could say the low average lifespan led to a generational change, but the difference in average lifespan stems from high infant mortality rates.

It’s not like being 20 is considered elderly and on the brink of death.

Those who witnessed the beheading of the defeated country’s leaders and their princes were still alive, and the children who grew up listening to stories from the Trapezunta days during their veteran tales seemed content under Ottoman rule.

The men working busily had weariness from daily life on their faces, but they showed no signs of despair, and it wasn’t hard to see children playing in the streets.

Yusuf waved gently at a child peeking out shyly from behind his mother.

Seeing the child hurriedly hide with a flushed face made Yusuf smile softly before he turned away.

Though it was a short time, he had confirmed everything he wanted to see.

“Prince!!”

The first to greet him upon returning to the castle was a pale-looking Hasan.

Even though there seemed to be a major problem with the harvest, Yusuf remained calm in his response.

The guards, servants, and maids working in the castle had always been there, and surely, they would provide him with eyes and ears.

“Hasan, calm down.”

At the excessively calm tone, Hasan flinched, aware he had overreacted under the scrutinizing gazes.

It was a clear mistake, but Yusuf didn’t mind.

The blunders of subordinates can sometimes highlight their superiors.

Yusuf led Hasan into the office and took a seat.

“It’s related to the harvest, right? Did Selim brother decide to create a communal grave on the farmlands?”

The thought alone was chilling, and Hasan shook his head vigorously.

“That’s not it. But the farmlands had many places where the soil’s fertility was depleted. If this continues, we will have to leave a significant portion of the farmland fallow.”

“And?”

“There were also significant issues with the livestock. It seems many of the animals we were raising have been sold off.”

Look at that. Such thick brotherly love we have here.

He probably pressed the reset button and left the inconvenience for the brother he would inherit from.

It’s not like the independent brother cleaned up the room and passed it down; rather, Selim had tidied the land before leaving, making one feel the warmth of brotherly love.

‘Hope you’re doing well, brother. I’ll repay you a hundredfold later.’

He grumbled about Selim, but he too might have done the same.

In fact, it felt rather lukewarm.

“Given that, he didn’t leave a mess. If it were me, I would have sprinkled poison before leaving.”

“Wha—Prince?!”

What? Why? Brothers can joke about a little poison, right?

Seeing Hasan look aghast, Yusuf shrugged as if it were a joke and fell into thought for a moment.

‘If I think about it calmly, there’s really no need to take it too seriously.’

He didn’t make the land unusable, so it was all right.

“Let’s not take it too hard. Your brother probably took all the crops for this year, which means the next year’s harvest is ruined. And we’re left with hardly any livestock.”

“Indeed.”

“Then we’re probably only looking at a few thousand ducats in losses. Right?”

“…Huh?”

Hearing him casually mention a sum that could save him dozens of times made Hasan’s head spin.

It was an amount that would make Yusuf’s hands tremble, given the Sultan’s support had recently filled their pockets, but thinking differently, it was just that much money.

“We won’t die without that money. It’s just a bit disappointing.”

Selim probably didn’t try to hit them hard economically.

‘He likely aimed for a psychological blow. It’s like losing a winning lottery ticket.’

For a person of any common sense, it would be so shocking that they might dwell as a recluse for a while, but for a mere 11-year-old brat, it was an entirely different matter.

Wandering around in a daze would surely leave a bad impression on the important figures and set a shaky tone from the start.

He might have thought he could cause a sufficient impact before facing me.

‘But he probably realized it was a failure when we actually met.’

A mind tempered by repeated life-threatening situations wouldn’t waver easily because of mere money, and Selim must have felt that once they came face to face.

Furthermore, if Selim made one more mistake, it was that Yusuf could genuinely accept the land he was starting from ground zero.

He was planning to overhaul it all anyway.

“If your brother sold off that many livestock, the prices should drop substantially. Did they not fall significantly?”

“That’s correct.”

Hasan, who had some experience in commerce, looked grim as he seemed to understand the reason.

“Someone who fed off your brother is probably holding out for fair prices.”

It was something that would easily surface in an investigation, and you would think, would doing anything to annoy the Sanjakbey be worth it, but when greed grips someone, they tend to lose their fear.

They likely underestimated him as a young prince.

Generally, they would fill the livestock first, but Yusuf simply chuckled.

“Don’t buy livestock. Let’s just see how long they hold onto it.”

If they took that many livestock, their grazing land would soon reach its limits, and they would only have the options of selling off surrounding livestock or butchering them for meat.

The former means lower livestock prices, which is good, and the latter means cheaper meat prices, also good.

It simply meant good all-around.

Hasan was visibly taken aback by this bold course of action, but he shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

“If many livestock were raised in the harvest, apart from the fallow land, they must have prepared a separate pasture.”

The animals would be used for barley in the spring after plowing.

In this age with no chemical fertilizers, unless it was blessed land like the Nile, which periodically flooded to replenish nutrients, fallow land was essential.

The typical farming method was the three-field system, dividing between spring crops, autumn crops, and fallow land.

Usually, livestock would be raised on fallow land, but Hasan understood that there must be separate pastures since they had many livestock on the documents.

However, when it came to clover—no, Yonca—planting on depleted land.

“Are you referring to Yonca?”

Hasan’s eyes widened.

Clover was just a weed and certainly wasn’t considered a plant you would intentionally cultivate.

It was evident to Yusuf, who knew the four-crop rotation and the restoration of soil fertility through legumes, but it would be hard to grasp under the general common sense of this era.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to blabber nonsensically relying solely on future knowledge.

“It’s written in the agricultural manuals published during ancient Rome. Clover’s proven to restore soil fertility. It’s an old and valuable book, and hardly anyone knows about it.”

“Is that so? If it’s information from an ancient Roman text, it must be credible.”

It could be seen as a case similar to cement.

Turnips, spring barley, clover, and autumn wheat—farming these four crops in rotation was forgotten until it reemerged in the 16th century.

The four-crop rotation sparked an agricultural revolution before the industrial revolution.

‘It was a method that nearly doubled productivity in Britain and the Netherlands, so we definitely need it.’

The Ottomans, even in the future, were a country with a population lacking in relation to land size, and improvements in sanitation and an agricultural revolution were both essential for population growth.

Of course, since crop rotation was knowledge he had in his head, it required tests before large-scale application, but since Selim had laid the groundwork, they could take advantage of this opportunity.

“I will handle the harvest as instructed, but are we done here?”

“Talking about a lawsuit?”

Since Selim dealt a severe blow to the harvest, he could initiate a lawsuit.

But all it would get him was laughter for being a mere prince taking legal action over money.

“Forget it. I’ll collect it myself later.”

With his life.

Isn’t this the true Ottoman brotherhood?

As Hasan departed with a salute, Yusuf lightly relaxed his neck.

As he personally became the Sanjakbey, there were countless areas needing his attention.

The four-crop system also had to be introduced, and infant mortality rates had to be reduced through health improvements, not to mention he had to contend with Ismail I, so he couldn’t neglect military affairs.

There seemed to be a mountain of tasks, but—

“Let’s tackle the urgent matters slowly one at a time.”

First and foremost, he needed to be recognized as the owner of the Sanjak.

*

A group of men arrived in Trabzon.

The cavalrymen on their blue horses radiated such an overwhelming pressure that meeting their gaze sent shivers down one’s legs, while the leisurely-moving lords emanated a strong aura.

Even without stirring up chaos in the castle, their mere presence sent tremors through the atmosphere.

Those gathered at Trabzon Castle expressed grievances over the Sanjakbey, who had not shown even a hint of appearance despite their arrival.

“Is the prince truly a prince? Why is it so difficult to catch a glimpse of his face?”

“Even if he’s a prince, there’s a difference. The Prince Selim would have greeted us warmly with a welcoming face after we traveled such a long distance.”

While the bold and fearless cavalrymen voiced their complaints, the lords who remained silent showed clear signs of agreement.

Naturally, the atmosphere in the enormous banquet hall intensified with tension.

Thirteen kadi governing thirteen kazas.

Each being the commander of the castle and police chief, who could only be cavalrymen with timars yielding benefits of over 15,000 akçe yearly.

The presence of those who had risen to the pinnacle of civil and military affairs from each castle lent an extraordinary force to the gathering.

“Burak Sobashi, you did not meet the prince directly. What kind of person was he?”

Burak, the kadi of Trabzon, spoke in a gruff voice.

“What kind of person can he be? Just an 11-year-old.”

“Is that so?”

As Burak’s disparagement spread among the new Sanjakbey, a soft voice resonated through the banquet hall.

“If you truly viewed it that way, it’s certain your eyesight is only useful for butchering meat.”

“What?!”

Burka glared with wide eyes at the opponent.

“Ömer Effendi. Speak those words once more.”

“I said your ability to judge people is utterly poor.”

Effendi is a title akin to “sir” in English, and Ömer was a kadi in Trabzon.

Both men glared fiercely at one another, but no one found it odd.

The cavaliers were responsible for physical enforcement and had the duty and power to apprehend criminals, while the kadis were responsible for delivering judgments.

Such confrontations between the two were a common occurrence.

Creak—

The banquet hall, ironically described as festive, opened with a small noise, revealing the much-awaited figure.

The deeply radiant green eyes were profound, and the dignified yet firm manner of walking was steeped in grace.

Yusuf strode across the hall, daring anyone to belittle him as an 11-year-old, and took his place at the top seat.

To the two factions mesmerized by his presence, Yusuf offered a warm greeting.

“Nice to meet you all. I am Sanjakbey Yusuf of Trabzon.”

It was the announcement of a young prince stepping onto the stage.