I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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＃32. The One Who Eats First (1)

In about a hundred years, most sanjaks will be elevated to a higher administrative unit called an Eyalet.

The country is enormously big, but due to a lack of communication technology and administrative capability, the center can’t properly control it.

“But that’s a distant future.”

Right now, in many regions, the sanjak is the highest administrative unit, and the sanjakbeys who have been granted autonomy can wield absolute power within their territories.

In simpler terms, these are people living in their own bubble and wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about the opinions of ordinary folks.

“I pay my respects to Your Highness.”

“I am honored to meet you.”

This is how you properly greet someone you feel you can jostle with.

The two sanjakbeys from Kenik and Rajistan, flanking Trabzon, respectfully greeted him.

“Pleasure to meet you all.”

It had been over two years since I became a sanjak bey, but this was my first time actually seeing these two.

No matter how close the neighboring town is, it still takes more than a day on horseback to get there.

“I had no need to go all that way, and it would have been awkward for them to come visit me.”

After all, getting too chummy with a prince who has slim chances of succeeding could lead to bloodshed, and as for Yusuf, he’s proven he’s no ordinary guy to pull tricks for personal gain.

The best course of action was to keep things polite yet distant, and Yusuf wasn’t inclined to force friendship, either.

“No need to struggle; when the Sultan steps in, the army will be deployed as ordered. That’s just how the role of a sanjak bey works.”

The term sanjak itself means military flag in Turkish, so although a sanjak is an administrative unit, it’s also a military formation.

“You must have confirmed the order sent by the Padishah, so how many troops can you mobilize immediately?”

The first to respond was Yagiz Pasha, the sanjak bey of Kenik.

“We can muster up to a thousand cavalry at maximum.”

Trabzon has a larger forces than most sanjaks, but a thousand from Kenik isn’t too shabby.

Yusuf’s gaze shifted toward Hakan Pasha, the sanjak bey of Rajistan.

“We can also mobilize up to a thousand.”

“I’d prefer not to overexert Rajistan. Given our borders with the White Sheep Dynasty and Georgia, we have a greater need for defensive troops, plus the cavalry is also in charge of maintaining order, so we can’t spare too many against potential refugees from the White Sheep Dynasty.”

In response to Yusuf’s words, Hakan’s face brightened even more.

“Then we’ll provide eight hundred.”

“Understood.”

Yusuf replied with a sunny demeanor, and both men thought he was more flexible than they had expected.

Of course, if Yusuf had a personality that looked out for others, he wouldn’t have riled up and fabricated issues in his own territory.

This time there was a valid reason for it.

“If Erzurum becomes a battleground, some troops might take the opportunity to attack Ottoman lands.”

Trabzon is somewhat insulated by Bayburt, reducing damage, but Rajistan could be launched upon directly.

They had to shoulder such risks, so it wasn’t too much to ask them to contribute a mere two hundred.

“The deployment will take place in a month at Gumushane, so please don’t be late.”

“Then I look forward to seeing you then.”

This isn’t a vacation; a month is pressing for war preparation, but someone with the title of Pasha surely knows how to read the room.

Basic resource and troop mobilization would have already been finished, and if they set their minds to it, they could assemble in Gumushane within a week.

In reality, that month wasn’t intended for them.

It was for the Circassians.

A week after concluding talks with the two sanjakbeys, several ships docked in Trabzon.

They were sent to transport the Circassian troops, and Yusuf chuckled at the familiar face.

“Asker, acting like you wouldn’t return, and here we are again!”

Asker, the leader of the Circassian Quintet, grinned lightly and replied.

“It’s an honor to see you again. Few can speak the Empire’s tongue, so I had no choice. The others will follow with the reinforcements.”

“Everyone seems to be doing well.”

If he was handling translations, he would be close to the commanders; success is success, and just behind the modest Asker walked a large man.

This man greeted them in a language that was difficult to understand, and Asker immediately translated.

“This gentleman is Ivan from Kabardia.”

“Pleased to meet you, Yusuf.”

Yusuf looked at his counterpart with interest upon hearing Kabardia.

“You’re a descendant of the great Ilya.”

Yusuf’s comment changed Ivan’s expression immediately.

Several decades ago, Ilya was a remarkable leader in the Circassian region, uniting them to establish the principality of Kabardia.

Of course, it fractured again after his death, but for the Circassians, Ilya is nearly divine.

To such an extent that he has lent his name to mountains, passes, and streams throughout Circassia, and during times of war, they united under his name.

“In simpler terms, it’s like a foreign president praising King Sejong as a great king.”

Sometimes, a single compliment can hold more weight than a hundred feasts.

Ivan responded with a hearty laugh.

“Indeed. You seem to know well, saying we share the same blood.”

Look at this.

If you saw the affection pouring from his eyes, you might think they were brothers separated at birth.

“I know a little. But more importantly, how many troops are coming?”

“The current numbers are just the vanguard. The total strength is a thousand infantry and five hundred cavalry.”

For not defending their homeland, deploying fifteen hundred to another country’s war is substantial.

“It seems they are serious about tying closer to the Ottomans. Well, right now, there aren’t many alternatives.”

The only neighboring nations are the fractured Georgia and the Circassians, who are viewed as tasty loot by the nomads.

Regardless of the reasoning, it’s a good thing.

“I hope this leads to a deeper relationship with the Empire.”

Circassia was earnest in its desire to be of help.

The final piece, Circassia, had now joined the fold.

*

Before leaving Trabzon Citadel, Fatima and Aishe bid me rather bland farewells.

They told me to take care and not to overexert myself, so one could be mistaken for thinking I was just going on a business trip instead of heading to war.

Hearing those words made me realize that this was my first true experience with war and its onset.

“The Ottoman prince’s life isn’t all that unique.”

To claim achievements to secure the Sultan’s seat while having to slay your brothers sounds like a fate destined for a life of war and battle.

I had become accustomed to that degree of acceptance, and Yusuf set off toward Gumushane with his troops.

Gumushane is one of Trabzon’s kazas, meaning ‘House of Silver,’ for there’s a silver mine nearby.

“Speaking of silver mines, I can’t help but recall the process for separating silver.”

It’s a technique that utilizes the melting point difference between silver and lead, extracted from lead-containing silver ore.

Created in the early 16th century in Joseon, it wasn’t put to proper use in its home nation but instead helped catapult Japan to the title of the world’s third largest silver producer.

Given that most nations were still using primitive methods of burning down ore and selecting silver, it was an innovative technique.

“Though frankly, there isn’t a pressing need for it right now.”

There aren’t any grand silver mines, and with war imminent, I had no energy to focus on such matters.

It would be a method to deploy once I became Sultan and grew fiat currency.

Yusuf surveyed the troops gathered on the hill.

Eighteen hundred cavalrymen from Kenik and Rajistan combined, along with fifteen hundred soldiers from the Circassians.

With the two thousand cavalry that had gathered from Trabzon, elite forces amounted to five thousand three hundred.

“Plus, this isn’t the end.”

In the Ottoman military system, there are foot soldiers known as Azabs representing young men.

In border regions, one Azab had to be supported for every 20-30 households, while the remaining men had to provide economic assistance.

Being irregular troops, Azabs used a variety of weapons ranging from long spears topped with sharp blades to maces, bows, and crossbows, and they totaled two thousand.

“A significant force.”

With the numbers exceeding seven thousand, they had enough to form a sizable town with the yurts they erected.

Yurts are movable dwellings used by nomads in Turkish, similar to the Mongolian ger, with Europeans referring to these gers as yurts.

Anyway, among the gathered, the five hundred cavalrymen armed with the Sultan-granted light armor and spears that resembled javelins stood out prominently.

Yusuf fiddled with the arquebus in his hands.

“The Sultan seems to have more of an inclination towards me than I expected, seeing as he’s giving me these.”

Given the Ottomans’ deep interest in importing gunpowder weapons after extensive use in Hungary, it wouldn’t be surprising if they acquired them.

The fact that two units were set aside for him, even for spare purposes, spoke volumes.

“Surely, it’s a hint to not go swinging my sword too recklessly till I drop dead.”

While they provided gunpowder, they clearly wouldn’t expect him to perform as a sharpshooter when he could hardly handle the recoil.

The Sultan, who wouldn’t even set up a grave for his own son if he died, expressed quite a remarkable level of goodwill.

“Well, it could imply that I should just cleanly take myself out if I’m about to be caught.”

Given it’s the Ottomans, that might be more likely.

Smirking at the thought, Yusuf asked Arda, who approached.

“Is everyone assembled?”

“Yes, just waiting for the sanjak bey to arrive.”

Leading the horses inside the meeting hall set up in Gumushane, Yusuf took his seat at the head and scanned the surroundings.

Commanders from the Circassians, including Ivan, along with two sanjakbeys and the soğats (cavalry officers) to command the sipahis.

Not a hint of fear could be sensed among these warriors poised for battle.

“I could sense it during the Burka as well, but truly, these people of this era should not be underestimated.”

How could one dare overlook those who would risk their lives, not just for their families but their own?

With such stalwart companions, Yusuf felt a surge of confidence, and with a firm voice, he opened the meeting.

“You’ve all heard the rumors that Ismail, leading the Shiites, is severely oppressing our Sunni brethren. I declare a jihad to save my fellow believers.”

Jihad encompasses many meanings, but in this instance, it refers to a holy war.

Upon Yusuf’s declaration, everyone nodded gravely in agreement.

That’s how serious the news filtering in through the refugees has been.

“We shall confront the enemy in Erzurum and prove that Allah stands with us.”

“And how shall you tackle Bayburt and Erzurum?”

Yusuf answered as if it were a given.

“They are all brothers in faith; should we not first seek to resolve our issues through dialogue?”

*

– If you do not open the gates and respond to this dialogue, the stern judgment of Allah shall befall Bayburt!

– The warden must immediately come and welcome his fellow brethren in faith!

Seeing the thousands of troops surrounding Bayburt and the thunderous voices attempting conversation, Yusuf nodded approvingly.

“Indeed, a civilized person should seek to resolve matters through dialogue.”

If it sounds like a threat, it’s merely a misunderstanding.

This is the Ottoman way of negotiating.