I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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# Chapter 21. Internal Affairs (3)

I don’t know where it started or what basis the rumors were built on, but the tale of the prince’s involvement in the inheritance swiftly spread without a moment for action.

In an age where rumors spread by word of mouth, if everyone knew the news within a week, the speed was nothing short of astonishing.

It was too fast to dismiss as mere gossip.

As if some unseen hand had pushed it along.

“Prince, the cavalry requests an audience.”

“Tell them I’m unwell.”

At eleven, one should be feeling the brunt of illness.

The guards must have relayed the message, as the outside grew a tad noisy, but Yusuf paid no mind whatsoever.

Sitting up in bed, he sipped the liquid in the bowl and grimaced.

“Damn it, it tastes like coffee milk.”

Getting the barley coffee, Orzo, from Fatima’s hands was no small feat.

Yusuf left policy matters entirely in her hands, but matters of health were a different story.

The dark color and bitter taste swirling in his mouth made it feel like junk food to Fatima, who had never tasted coffee in her life.

To gain her approval, he had to tempt her palate and only after mixing in milk to mimic a coffee milk flavor did he receive the green light.

Only this coffee milk flavor.

“It’s just pathetic. No caffeine, and it only has the mere essence of coffee milk flavor.”

If it were up to him, he would want to import coffee, which was trending in Mecca, through a merchant.

Of course, this could trigger a butterfly effect where coffee became all the rage in the Ottoman Empire, only to fatten the Mamluks’ coffers, so he had to keep that thought to himself.

It would be quite the assumption, but one should never underestimate how assumptions can bind a person.

Amidst the increasing ruckus outside, there was a stark contrast to Yusuf, who was leisurely having his tea time.

His pretense of illness was interrupted as the door opened and Semshi entered with a calm expression.

“How goes it outside?”

“Is there really anything worth mentioning? The cavalry trying to enter and the guards preventing them are all tangled up.”

“Well, looks like no one dare draw weapons within the palace.”

How unfortunate. It would have been ideal to exemplify punishing such hot heads.

“If the reinforcements are doing their jobs, there’s no need to worry.”

“No one here has to watch their manners.”

As planned, they had picked fifty individuals from those that received economic support to form a personal guard.

Since all of them were newcomers from different cities, their ties to Trabzon’s cavalry were minimal, and they hesitated not at all in blocking their path.

Had they not been there, those outside would have likely already barged in, growling and barking.

“At this point, it should be clear. This isn’t just some idle rumor.”

They could simply dismiss it, but since he lay sickly, he was bound to be ignorant.

The prince’s dagger had crept right up under his chin after several months of maintaining a low profile.

“What do you think Burka will do next?”

“He’ll likely attempt to retaliate in alliance with the cavalry from other cities.”

“That won’t go well.”

The cavalry below was comprised of around 40% who earned less than 3,000 akçe per year.

These were individuals without economic means, most of whom had received some support.

This policy had deeply and widely penetrated the cavalry community, to the extent that no other sobaşı dared to take Burka’s side.

“Then should I throw another log onto the fire for Burka, who’s beside himself in confusion?”

“Do as you wish.”

A mischievous smile crept across Yusuf’s lips.

It was time to add substance to the nonexistent rumors.

*

“Why! Why are you refusing to issue the permit?!”

“Did I not say that the prince instructed to double-check documents that passed before his arrival?”

The face of the man protesting the official turned as red as a beet.

The Ottoman Empire always kept a wary eye on those who were no help but simply siphoned taxes, especially scrutinizing the yearly timar inheritance closely.

When an owner died, the sanjakbey would send a list of potential heirs to the capital, and only after the cabinet’s approval would the sanjakbey issue a permit.

The inheritor who received this permit had to re-apply to the land office in the capital before they could be considered the true owner.

That a crucial permit was being withheld was enough to flip one’s lid.

“Is there something more to verify? Permits have already been issued from the capital?!”

“Hmm, I can’t know that, since it’s the prince’s intention.”

“Then I will speak directly to the prince!”

“That cannot be. The prince is currently unwell.”

Since the uproar had been so loud, it quickly spread that the inheritor was stuck because of the prince.

What had just been a wandering rumor suddenly gained substance.

To the cavalry, this was already quite the shock, but Yusuf’s mischief had only just begun.

One never knows when death might come knocking.

Sudden death can happen even in the severely advanced medicine of modern times.

What had drawn attention was the response related to the list of candidate heirs sent to the sanjakbey.

-The first and second candidates are disqualified for reasons, please recommend new individuals.

Typically, unless one had committed a major crime or was unfit to serve as a cavalryman, one would usually pass, yet it had hit a wall directly.

The larger issue with this official statement was that it essentially meant the remaining two sons should be added to the list, when the fourth was only fourteen years old.

Too young to be considered for military reserves, and when pointed out…

-According to the law, if the heirs are under 16, they must designate a representative to fight in their stead, which will suffice.

While it was a valid rule, it only applied when there was no adult heir.

Requests continued to come in for a clear explanation, and Yusuf chuckled at the absurdity of it.

“Normally, they don’t reveal why someone failed an interview. Since they are that curious, I guess I’ll have to show some charity this once.”

The reply Yusuf personally drafted sent many into a daze.

-Those two are reported to have spoken ill of the ruler of Trabzon, thus inheritance is denied. This is because it contradicts the principles of the cavalry’s duty to obey commands.

Though grandiloquent in wording, it boiled down to “Yep, I’ll allow the one who plays nice.”

This was a level of snobbery unheard of, leaving no room for rebuttals.

The older cavalry men felt the heat beneath their feet as the announcement began to ripple through.

“Could it be me…?”

thought the sons, as they began to appear in waves.

Voices of those who had fallen out of favor for various reasons, including age or favoritism, began to clamor for inheritance, and it started with snitching.

-Talib’s sons, Ershin, Seriya, and Pirat have been spreading slander about Prince Yusuf.

The response that an investigation would commence regarding these snitches had pulled the trigger for a full-blown inheritance war.

From snitching and rumors to an outright loyalty competition praising Yusuf.

Naturally, the cavalry tried to regain control of the situation, but the desires of the blinded heirs couldn’t be easily curtailed.

“Once the father passes, the decision of the heir rests with the prince.”

“A dog knows who feeds him. At least the father isn’t the one feeding them.”

Such proclamations floated in public, making it impossible to rein anything back.

It wasn’t rare for the children to end up brandishing knives at each other.

Looking at all this chaos he had wrought, Yusuf shook his head.

“It’s an absolute mess. Isn’t it?”

As the atmosphere grew increasingly tense, Aishe, who had returned to Yusuf’s side, answered.

“Isn’t it just according to the prince’s plan?”

At this question, Yusuf shrugged.

“I thought our brothers would kill each other as soon as they got disturbed like this. Their brotherly love seems lacking.”

“What exactly does brotherly love mean to the prince?”

That was quite the tough question. Yet if summarized simply:

“Hmm, it’s a fiery emotion.”

So fiery that he wouldn’t hesitate to toss the opponent into a furnace at any given moment?

To be honest, the cavalry should be grateful for splitting up the inheritance amongst multiple heirs. At the very least, they didn’t have to fight until only one remained.

Then again, would it not be a survival of the fittest to have all inheritances decided this way; would that not turn the country into hell?

“In any case, it’s definitely milder compared to the royal family’s brotherly affection. Isn’t it?”

Having released the poison that characterized the Osmanli imperial family, it was indeed on the meek side.

By this point, it was almost time to clean up a few corpses.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, a knock sounded at the office door, and Semshi entered, his face serious.

“Pasha, what’s the matter?”

“There’s been a clash over the inheritance. Two brothers have died, and one has been gravely injured, so Sinan has been dispatched.”

One could say words had turned into reality.

The royal family’s sharp edge had become infectious.

“What will you do?”

“We should handle it legally, as previously planned.”

Murder among brethren was permissible since they were nobles, but it also constituted a serious crime under Islamic law, known as Sharia.

“And publicly declare that family-related murders incur even harsher penalties.”

Watching others’ travails offers amusement, but one must always play within the established rules.

It was not a good sign for a man to be dying when he was already short on fighters.

Of course, one could argue about the absurdity of the one who created this mess giving such comments.

‘Cutting family ties would work out better for me, in fact.’

He was already pondering gathering those unable to return to their families into a special elite guard.

This way, the elite guard would become home and family for those who could not return, and they would owe their loyalty to him for providing that space.

Moreover, with such tragedies recurring, there was a chance for violent public sentiment to arise against the one who created such situations.

It was high time to tighten the leash a bit.

Foreseeing such events occurring, he had set guidelines with Semshi beforehand. What he was asking was merely for confirmation.

“Then we shall proceed as such.”

With examples and warnings in place, murder should not be necessary; this response would suffice. Yusuf’s attention turned elsewhere.

“By the way, what movement is Burka making?”

“He seems busy with internal crackdowns. Many are showing signs of defection already.”

When the house is in disarray, upholding one’s loyalty to Burka is no easy feat.

Yusuf was the only answer to calm the succession issues, so defections were to be expected.

“How old is Burka now?”

“I believe he’s around fifty.”

“It’s about time Burka considered retirement.”

Yusuf smiled brightly.

“Should I check just how harmonious the Burka household is? Spread the rumor that Burka’s treasured firstborn, Kahit, will never inherit.”

“Understood.”

How would it turn out, one wonders.

It was high time to start wrapping up internal matters.

*

“Your Highness!!”

Covered in fresh blood and still dripping, Burka left trails of crimson with his every move.

Unlike his usual proud demeanor, he approached with a face twisted in distress and bloodshot eyes, kneeling on one knee.

“…I bring you the head of a traitor.”

From the bloody cloth emerged the head of a young man.

It was Kahit, Burka’s son.