I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

＃40. The Sultan’s Call (2)

Except for a few power holders, most people didn’t even know the name of the prince.

If you asked if they knew the eldest and most supported Ahmed, they would answer, “Ahmed? There are dozens of Ahmads living in this alley!”

In that sense, Yusuf was the most widely recognized among the princes.

The still-debated variolation method was being implemented under Yusuf’s name, and news of a great victory against the Safavids was quickly spreading through the bustling cities.

That meant many people at least recognized the name.

Of course, a Sultan isn’t elected, and this awareness doesn’t help much.

“It’s different when you can just say, ‘Did that prince get stabbed while walking?’ compared to the current situation.”

Yusuf had grown too big to be killed off by assassination.

Rather than sneakily assassinating him, it might be better to directly attack him and showcase one’s skills.

Thus, the current situation was unexpected.

“Grab him!”

There was an opening due to the complicated harbor situation, but the elite guards that came along were no ordinary bunch.

Those who raised their shields surrounded Yusuf, prepared for any potential follow-up attacks, while the remaining guards rushed toward the assassin who had shot arrows.

As the guards and soldiers protecting the harbor rushed in, the assassin acted quickly.

“Shah Ismail is great!”

The assassin’s voice rang out loudly enough to echo through the harbor as he stabbed his own neck with the dagger in hand.

With that one phrase, the assassin dropped dead, and Arda approached Yusuf, who was watching the fallen assassin from a distance.

“Lord Yusuf.”

“I know. It couldn’t possibly be Ismail’s plan.”

If the real Ismail had done this, he wouldn’t have come all the way to the capital to carry it out; he would have done it in nearby Trabzon.

With the assassin dying like that, rumors would spread that Ismail was behind it.

Yusuf pulled the arrow that was lodged nearby and examined it carefully.

He frowned slightly, thinking, ‘Looks like there’s poison on it.’

You might misunderstand from movies that getting shot by an arrow leads to instant death, but unless you hit a vital spot, a single arrow doesn’t generally kill a person.

In fact, much more often, it’s infections or tetanus from not getting proper treatment that lead to death, so it’s natural to coat arrows with poison to increase lethality.

But the poison on this arrow wasn’t dangerous enough to cause instant death, so he had plenty of time to react.

‘So it means they might not have really been trying to kill me.’

Yusuf, whose head was feeling more complicated for no reason, handed the arrow to Arda, and soon after, the Janissaries arrived in a rush.

Perhaps because an incident had occurred in the capital they were responsible for defending, the commander approached with a stiff expression and offered a slight bow to Yusuf.

“Prince Yusuf, I have heard much about your reputation. I regret meeting you under such circumstances.”

“I bear no ill will toward you. I simply hope the criminal is accurately caught.”

“I will do my best.”

Those near the assassin had already been captured by the Janissaries and were being dragged off for interrogation, so a thorough investigation seemed to be underway.

One more notable point was how the Janissaries appeared visibly sympathetic.

‘I was a bit worried, to be honest.’

Even though the sects were different, the Janissaries believed in the Bektashi sect, a mystical branch of Shia Islam.

It was a blend of various philosophies such as shamanism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Gnosticism, and it was a humanistic sect that sought salvation in humanity rather than scriptures or crosses.

Because of that, they didn’t observe Ramadan fasting during the day and openly drank alcohol.

‘Naturally, the Sultan wouldn’t care about such heresy.’

To the Sultan, as long as they obeyed him, that was all that mattered.

Anyway, seeing their favorable attitudes, it seemed they didn’t care much.

“The Padishah is waiting for your arrival. You must enter the palace immediately.”

Since they were waiting, what could Yusuf do? Naturally, he had to go.

He walked calmly, not appearing as someone who had just narrowly escaped death.

As Yusuf crossed through the Topkapi Palace, he could feel the changes.

‘It’s only been three years.’

The once-curious individuals in the palace now expressed reverence without hesitation, and the Janissaries who had threatened him over the beheaded heads at the second queen’s entrance were showing subtle favoritism.

He could stroll through the oppressive Topkapi Palace, which had felt suffocating, almost like a promenade.

It was a moment that made him feel how much he had grown both internally and externally.

“Padishah, Prince Yusuf has arrived.”

– Let him in.

With the permission granted, the chamberlain opened the door to the Sultan’s quarters.

Sitting in the same prominent seat as before, Bayezid welcomed him with a kind face, and Yusuf respectfully bowed in greeting.

“Great Padishah, it’s been a while since we last met. I have come in response to your summons.”

“Welcome. You’ve grown so much that I almost couldn’t recognize you.”

In the three years of growth, Yusuf had reached nearly Bayezid’s height, so it wasn’t odd for him to say that.

“Is it true that you’ve encountered some ill-fated events right after arriving in the capital?”

“Thanks to Allah, there have been no issues.”

“I’m glad to hear you are safe.”

As if the small talk was sufficient, the Sultan jumped straight to the main topic.

“Just as you confidently mentioned, things have unfolded. Even to the point of victory.”

“It’s thanks to Your Majesty’s support in both spirit and resources, isn’t it?”

“Ha ha, it pleases me to hear you say that. Have you heard the news that Prince Alem Shah has died?”

“It’s unfortunate that a brother died like that.”

Alem Shah was the Sultan’s eighth son.

He was the second son to die after the eldest, Abdullah.

‘If nothing changes, the sixth and seventh sons, Mahmut and Mehmet, will probably die next.’

Aside from the long-deceased Abdullah, this was troubling as the youngest ones had consecutively passed away.

It was an unsettling result that couldn’t simply be dismissed as coincidence.

“Thus, the position of the Sanjakbey of Saruhan has opened up. Are you perhaps interested?”

Saruhan would later become the Turkish region of Manisa, a city not far from Istanbul.

Considering that the Sultan would want an heir close to Istanbul, it could be a good opportunity.

“While I would follow the Padishah’s command, I still have matters to attend to in Trabzon.”

Declining gently and expressing his sincere regret, Yusuf thought to himself.

‘Who would go to a position where they could die at any moment?’

Even if history’s flow could not be changed, Selim was moved to the Teke, and the third son Korkut was ordered to relocate from Saruhan to another region.

That was last year, and after Alem Shah arrived, he didn’t survive a year.

‘Korkut likely had a hand in that death.’

He might have thought that once Alem Shah died, he could return to Saruhan, but recalling how close he came to death with Selim upon first arriving in Trabzon, that was a high possibility.

Any other prince would be thrilled to munch on a poisoned apple, but Yusuf, who valued his life, had no such desire.

‘Besides, I’ve already laid down my foundation, so there’s no need to leave Trabzon.’

The Sultan seemed surprised by Yusuf’s refusal and stroked his beard.

“Something to do?”

“I intend to conquer Georgia, which aided Ismail, and turn it into a vassal state. Discussions have already been held with the Principality of Samtskhe, and we plan to launch our campaign in the spring of next year. Furthermore, I have forged strong friendships with the Circassians; my role will be necessary in bringing them into the empire.”

Upon hearing Yusuf’s explanation, the Sultan stepped back a bit.

“If that’s your plan, then I suppose there’s no choice.”

“Thank you. I will ensure you are not disappointed.”

Relocating a prince as a Sanjakbey is one of the Sultan’s powers, so asking for his opinion in advance and withdrawing the plans was quite a consideration.

Just when Yusuf thought things were going smoothly, the Sultan brought up an unexpected issue.

“Since you’re saying you will remain in Trabzon, I have to point out this matter. Many believe Trabzon has grown too large to remain just a Sanjak.”

With its size nearly doubled, it wasn’t odd for such talks to arise, but it came sooner than expected.

‘Already facing scrutiny.’

This meant they felt a sense of crisis regarding his achievements, but it wasn’t exactly welcome news.

The fortunate part was that it was a movement he had somewhat anticipated, and he had already prepared solutions.

“If the Padishah believes that, it would be acceptable to send a new Sanjakbey to the territories gained through war.”

“Really? Would that work?”

“Of course. However, I would ask that you distribute Timars to those who achieved merits in this war.”

The soldiers who participated alongside the Sipahi in the war would be awarded Timars based on their achievements and could rise to become Sipahi themselves.

‘The existing local powers are already following me, which means I can fill the Sipahi ranks with my own.’

Even if a new Sanjak of Erzurum was established, taking all military power away would effectively make it his own territory.

The Sultan wasn’t unaware of this thought, but rather, he smiled with amusement.

“It’s only natural for those who have achieved merit to receive rewards. Have those who have made contributions come to me; I will dispatch an official to distribute the Timars.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, as they are being sent to a dangerous region, make sure to select the best.”

It meant he would send someone who wouldn’t die a tragic death due to resisting Yusuf.

The Sultan deeply sank into his chair and spoke.

“You must be tired after a long journey; I can’t hold you here for too long. Go and rest; we can continue this conversation later.”

“Understood.”

Yusuf bowed and exited the Sultan’s quarters, moving toward the designated palace under guard.

The separate palace was already prepared with his party having unpacked, and Yusuf asked Arda.

“Have you found Koca Mustafa Pasha and Dukaginzade Ahmed?”

“I have informed Mustafa Pasha that the prince wishes to see him, and I’m still searching for Ahmed.”

“Good job.”

Koca (Koca) is a nickname given to senior officials from Albania. In other words, it means Mustafa Pasha hailing from Albania.

Dukaginzade (Dukaginzade) indicated someone from the strong Dukagini family in Albania.

‘The former was one of the officials who supported Ahmed, while the latter was a figure who supported Selim and played a key role.’

Neither had made a significant mark, yet they had risen to the rank of Grand Vizier, the highest position after the Sultan.

‘This is an undervalued asset.’

Yusuf smiled broadly.

*

After Yusuf left, the Sultan called out to a man standing in the corner of the room like a eunuch.

“What do you think, Grand Vizier?”

Halim Ali Pasha, the Grand Vizier, was, by the title of “hadim” (eunuch), submissive to the Sultan, and bowed his head.

“Despite the fatigue of a long journey and the assassination threat, your demeanor is both courageous and wise.”

“Indeed, he has grown wonderfully. He was just a scared little boy trying to hide his fear when I first sent him off.”

The Sultan smiled, amused, and the Grand Vizier cautiously inquired.

“But if things had gone wrong, and his life was truly at risk… what would he have done?”

Even though he made several preparations to avoid death, Allah could always be unpredictable.

“Well, thanks to this, I realized he possesses extraordinary mental fortitude. But in the event of his death…”

The Sultan fiddled with the silver coin Yusuf had given him before, continuing.

“It would have been unfortunate.”

After all, he had many sons.

Though the Sultan’s tone was cold, his response hinted at the reality, and he proceeded to instruct the Grand Vizier.

“Publicly announce that this assassination was orchestrated by the Shia faction.”

“Understood.”

Given that Shia movements within the empire had been quite troubling lately, it would serve as a suitable justification.

The Sultan gazed at the words inscribed on the silver coin Yusuf had given him and murmured.

“My son, I will witness how long you will continue winning.”