I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

Scheduled Events (4)

The opening of the Ottoman canal heralded the decline of traditional trade routes.

A prime example was the trade route that arrived in Trabzon via land and then entered the Black Sea.

Given that Ottoman ships could now navigate directly through the canal to the Black Sea, there was no need to travel along the cumbersome and lengthy overland route.

Just thinking this, one might have expected the existing commerce to diminish, but—

“I wanted to try the barley drink from here.”

“Oh, it tastes just like the kind that reflects the heart of a Padishah who cares for his subjects.”

These individuals, who usually wouldn’t touch expensive coffee, showed faces filled with emotion at a simple barley drink typically consumed by common subjects.

While the drink itself held little value, it was known from Yusuf’s biography that it was created for a reason.

It was already well known that areas where barley drinks were common had lower infant mortality rates than those where they weren’t.

Moreover, the visitors weren’t just wealthy nobles with deep pockets.

“Oh, this is a holy site.”

“This is where the Padishah performed miracles with Allah.”

From pilgrims journeying to Trabzon in place of distant Mecca to Sufis who believed Yusuf to be a prophet.

The diverse gathering of visitors made even distant European nobles or Mughal princes seem like mere spectators to the local subjects of Trabzon.

However, today they could hardly hide their excitement.

A massive ship, seemingly unshaken by the rough waves, proudly flew a purple flag.

It was a symbol exclusive to the Ottomans, and on this day the chains sealing the harbor were finally released.

With the sound of chains clanking, five ships docked, and the sharp-looking Janissaries disembarked, shouting loudly.

“The Caliph is coming! Everyone, pay your respects!”

In the traditional Ottoman belief, there was no specific term denoting the reigning emperor; in the existing culture, the term used for a father, ‘Baba,’ was considered, but it was ultimately decided to keep the title of Caliph, which signifies the Pope in Islam.

At the Janissary’s order, the subjects filling the harbor knelt to pay their respects.

In the silence that enveloped the harbor, only the sound of creaking wooden boards could be heard as footsteps approached, followed by a strong and smooth voice.

“It feels as though I have returned home. It is good to see you, my subjects.”

It was the brief moment when the great tree that’s built an enormous empire temporarily took root in Trabzon.

*

Just as any actor must eventually exit the stage, so too must a person.

Faced with this stark truth, Yusuf quietly brushed his hand over the tightly sealed coffin.

‘Fatima.’

Recalling the woman who lay within, a pang welled up in his chest.

Having memories intertwined with those of a modern man, Yusuf found it challenging to wholeheartedly think of Fatima as his mother.

His fight for survival had been so intense upon becoming Yusuf that he had no mental space to embrace her as a mother.

‘She must have sensed something strange about me as well.’

A mother can discern even the slightest change in her child, so for Fatima to display no curiosity so far was not out of ignorance.

She simply chose not to reveal her awareness.

As she drew her last breath, her parting words confirmed this.

“Yusuf, my son.”

It was as if she sought confirmation that he was indeed her true son, and Yusuf could only nod in response.

With a small gesture of acceptance, she closed her eyes as if satisfied, and Yusuf followed suit.

‘Without her, I would never have made it to this moment.’

There was no doubt about it, and perhaps the most significant factor in his fortune was Fatima herself. She was that monumental.

Yusuf, feeling emotional for the first time in a long while, pulled his hand from the coffin as if brushing away some nonexistent dust.

“Are you alright?”

When Aishe, holding his hand, asked with concern, Yusuf smiled faintly.

“It is time to let go of one who has returned to Allah. I cannot occupy this space indefinitely, can I?”

Outside the mosque named after Fatima, a crowd had already gathered to pay their respects.

They came to send off the woman who bore the great Padishah.

Yusuf turned to absorb the scenery of the mosque fully. He knew it would be some time before he would see it again.

Aishe, realizing the significance of this action, asked.

“Are you going to leave now?”

“Yes, I’ve stayed longer than I intended.”

He had slightly postponed his planned departure to be present for Fatima’s final moments.

If he lingered too long, he would soon surpass the promised five years he had pledged before his subjects, so he needed to move quickly.

And it was also time to say farewell to Aishe and the other Hatuns. Traveling across the vast empire was hardly a safe endeavor.

To the women filled with reluctance and worry, Yusuf offered a refreshing smile.

“There’s nothing to be sad about. If you wait, I shall come seeking you directly.”

There were countless faces he longed to see throughout the country.

There was Semshi, who had fled to Budapest to escape the pressures of the title of Grand Vizier he had received under Mühemet, who became Padishah, as well as his son Ilhan.

He wanted to see Hasan, who was busy arguing with Michelangelo over the sculptures to be carved into the bridge spanning the Bosporus Strait.

He yearned to visit Murad, who was being called a great Sultan in Africa, and Mustafa, who was struggling in Australia where his hidden gold mine was finally revealed, triggering a gold rush.

‘To visit all these places, I must move diligently. My life’s final chapter is not merely about touring the empire.’

By the time all visits were concluded, the atmosphere would have sufficiently ripened for reaping the fruits of his efforts.

“Let us move; the time has come.”

With this declaration, Yusuf set off to survey the entirety of the empire.

*

In history, Suleiman the Magnificent is revered in death, and his tomb is treated as a sanctuary and pilgrimage site.

Without a doubt, Yusuf, who built a greater empire and threatened the position of Muhammad as the last prophet, could hardly be overshadowed.

The number of subjects following Yusuf on his tour increased rapidly, reaching tens of thousands.

If Yusuf hadn’t forcibly dismissed the throngs that could create issues in this massive movement, a moving city would have produced issues.

However, a swift intervention curtailed what would become mere haphazardness, proving Yusuf’s enduring strength.

It was a task deemed impossible for Mühemet, who received acclaim for successfully governing the empire.

Nonetheless, as Yusuf moved, the empire stirred, and the subjects who strayed from the tour flocked from afar to catch a glimpse of him.

Of course, among these spectators were not merely ordinary subjects.

“Caliph, please give me your daughter.”

Some fools like Ivan IV, who still hungered for Hasna, made bold appearances.

“Um, it is an honor to meet you. Thank you for allowing me this encounter. I am Michel de Nostredame.”

Yusuf looked down at the middle-aged man, who appeared to have been unaware that he might ever be granted a meeting.

It was unprecedented t for Ottoman nobles to receive such permissions, yet the man before him was worth it.

“Ah, so your prophetic calendar is quite accurate?”

“Compared to the Padishah, my abilities are insignificant. What trivial matters could be called prophecy?”

While he feigned humility, he was quite famous in France for that very prophetic calendar.

Had it been merely that level of fame, there would have been no reason to indulge him.

“Your Latin name is Nostradamus, is it not?”

“Indeed.”

Yusuf’s face brightened with interest.

Unlike himself, who deceived others with modern knowledge branded as prophecy, this man was a figure synonymous with prophecies even in contemporary times.

“I hear you nearly met your demise with the prophecy that the French king could never marry Hasna?”

“… How could that be prophecy? That was a fact unknown only to the king.”

Had the nobles not intervened, he might have met the guillotine.

Ultimately, he let go of his infatuation, marrying late after all— a good outcome for everyone involved.

“Do you have any intention of foretelling again, perhaps for the Grand Duchy of Moscow?”

“I’m afraid I do not wish to die just yet.”

Fair, despite the lack of rampant insanity like in recorded history, Ivan was still Ivan. In the Grand Duchy, nobles weren’t spared either and could well find their heads displayed on the walls.

As they continued their light-hearted banter, Nostradamus seemed to relax, and Yusuf brought the conversation back on track.

“Then can you prophesize about me? I will forgive whatever you say.”

In response to this statement, Nostradamus, who had been gazing at Yusuf, lowered his head.

“I’m sorry, but it seems difficult at this moment. Can it be done later?”

“I understand. I would hope to hear something before aging too much.”

Yusuf, who had anticipated a good revelation, let out a sigh as he sent Nostradamus on his way.

Meeting noteworthy figures who would decorate the pages of history could be enjoyable, but it was also unfortunate to meet someone like Semshi, who was now so old they could hardly move.

The journey that began in Trabzon expanded through the Black Sea and the Mediterranean, reaching Africa where Murad resided.

“Father, you really never seem to age.”

“And you seem far older than you ought to be.”

After a long period apart, the two exchanged greetings and shared laughter.

There were no sun creams in these times, and under the harsh African sun, Murad appeared older than his years.

However, seeing his robust form suggested there was no reason to worry just yet.

“I was truly amazed at how well you’ve ruled during my visit here.”

Just gazing upon the scenery painted that picture.

The regional characteristics of earth-colored houses filled the city; but that hardly meant it was lacking beauty.

A grand, earthen city covering the expansive plains appeared astonishing, bustling with life as people moved about.

As they looked down upon the glowing city at sunset, Murad redirected the conversation.

“It is thanks to the crops my father brought from the New World.”

The plants such as corn and potatoes we consume now have evolved over a long time.

The staple crops of this era bore little taste and could be likened to mere sustenance to survive.

‘But in regions where food is scarce, like Africa or mountainous areas, taste is not paramount.’

Better than starving, after all.

Although currently concentrated in Africa, with Mühemet’s efforts, it wouldn’t be long before they spread nationwide.

Of course, considering the extensive struggles faced by Europeans just to introduce a single potato in recorded history, many ups and downs would probably occur, but time would solve those issues.

“By the way, Father, I hear news from the New World. Is it not time to set our plans in motion?”

With an angle already known to Murad, Yusuf’s lips curled up slightly.

“Yes, the situation has ripened; it is time to start. We need to receive a present before Carlos dies.”

With cold eyes, Yusuf gazed at the vast sea ahead.

Rumor had it Yusuf’s fleet, which bore him, was headed toward the island where Mustafa had established himself.

*

The northern part of Luzon Island, home to the trade hub of Manila, was the epicenter of dire chaos.

Spain, having been assaulted by the Ming fleet, sought to address the dilemma by sending more merchant ships, increasing the clashes between the two.

The odd naval battles became a matter of national pride for Spain, which gained much more with the return of only a portion of their fleet home versus the Ming, which was recuperating losses through captured vessels.

Additionally, upon learning that Spanish merchant ships turned a profit, even pirates joined in, transforming the Waters between Luzon and Taiwan into a battlefield.

“Damn bastards, let’s see how long you can cause a ruckus!”

The captain of the Spanish vessel clenched his teeth while considering the Ming, having successfully sailed three times already.

Word had spread that the eagerly awaited canal would soon be open.

A result made possible through the forced sacrifices of hundreds of thousands of indigenous people, the operational canal would facilitate sending further ships from the homeland.

‘Once that’s the case, I won’t have to grovel before those Ottomans any longer.’

While thinking of the various hardships endured to maintain trading rights, the captain couldn’t suppress his mounting excitement for the canal.

Boom!

“C-Captain! It’s bad news! Enemy fleet!”

The captain hurried up to the deck, prompted by the voice of a crewmember pounding on the door with such fierce urgency that it seemed it might break.

Wondering why his crew seemed dazed at the unexpected sight of enemies, as he turned to see what they were gazing at, his expression froze in shock.

The sea was cloaked in dark rising waves, vividly displaying a red flag at the center, where a massive warship flew a violet banner.

Watching from his ship as the Spanish flagship faced imminent defeat, Yusuf gazed down at a letter in his hand.

“Foolish Carlos. I wonder when he will learn the value of his subjects.”

The letter contained desperate pleas from the indigenous people who had perished during the canal construction— a poignant justification.

Yusuf grimaced.

“It’s too late to learn now.”

News spread that Yusuf had mobilized a massive fleet to attack Nueva España, leading to an uprising among the indigenous people across the entire New World.

It was the grand ruler’s final march.

Epilogue

It may not have been perfect, but it was a life lived to the fullest.

Should someone be brought to the same circumstance, it would be unlikely they would create better results than these, and even if I could return to the past, I could not promise a better outcome.

That is humility, and what reveals itself looming near death may be the product of all my deeds.

– You have established a vast empire spanning six continents.

– Choice of reward.

[Will you return?]

[Yes] [No]

Suddenly, a system panel appeared devoid of kindness— the kind one would see only after becoming Yusuf.

While it didn’t display the consequences tied to each choice, there is a certain intuition that comes with being human.

‘It must mean returning to a modern life, becoming a person before being Yusuf.’

All the achievements made till now would become inconsequential, but life would continue.

Even the elder stating they had lived enough, when facing death, would pay any price to keep on living, so it was a reasonable option.

‘But I have made up my mind to live and die as Yusuf. This is a meaningless choice.’

The sensations of the body faded, and even amid a situation that made him question whether he was truly seeing this option, the decision remained unchanged.

Without hesitation, he selected no, and the choices scattered like dust, while he struggled to retain his tenuous grasp on consciousness.

– Choose one.

[Yusuf II]

[Yusuf III]

[Yusuf IV]

Within the fading consciousness, Yusuf made his final selection, and the world darkened to black.

*