I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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#51. Ismail and the Princes (3)

There is no eternal power in this world.

Even for the master of the Ottomans, whose movements shook Europe, it remains the same.

Much like how a president on the verge of handing over power falls into a lame-duck situation, the old Sultan, who has to pass his position to one of his sons, has become a toothless tiger.

Selim’s doubtful remarks about the Sultan’s judgment and the military’s tacit agreement were clear signs that the Sultan’s authority was wavering.

Those sensitive to power could feel this change distinctly.

“Those ignorant fools, war isn’t as easy as talking.”

“The Padishah made the right call, but the atmosphere isn’t too good.”

Raising troops without proper provisions could shake finances and lead to an overall increase in food prices, burdening the subjects.

Of course, if they were invaded, they would have immediately called up the army, but there was no need to incur such losses for Dulqadir.

The military was well aware of this. However, the militaristic force inevitably tends to be aggressive, leading to dissatisfaction being expressed.

Yusuf, marching toward Erzinjan, clicked his tongue.

“The Padishah must be having quite the headache.”

Dissatisfaction was spreading throughout the military.

If this discontent is handled poorly, it could spiral out of control, so the Sultan would likely try to soothe it for the time being.

While extreme measures like rebellion or defiance wouldn’t be immediate, they were impending.

“This incident will surely make the military a crucial variable in succession.”

The military, holding power, had the ability to overturn the Sultan’s designated heirs.

Thus, Selim was also making critical comments towards his father and the officials to gain the military’s favor.

Yusuf’s words appeared to resonate with Şemsi, who nodded in agreement.

“Since dissatisfaction has spread this far, they can’t just sit back and watch Ismail’s tyranny.”

“Of course, the army will be gathered sooner or later. The important thing is the duration it takes to assemble them.”

In that time, Ismail could turn Dulqadir into a chaotic mess, and fend off the princes who had begun their advance on Dulqadir.

Currently, only two princes were not marching toward Dulqadir.

Yusuf, who was likely to confront Şehinşah and Safavid, aligning himself with Ismail.

The other four princes began to gather for Dulqadir.

“The four princes leading their troops number around ten thousand. Added to that, the Bozkurt Bey, who doesn’t properly guard his own house and just runs away, brings about fifteen thousand. Though it’s a decent number for a battle, there’s an important variable here.”

“Can the princes actually work together properly?”

“Exactly.”

No one could be sure how well these brothers, who valued rivalry more than kinship, would unite.

Still, as they needed to achieve military exploits, they might band together effectively, or they could face a haphazard battle with a disorganized force.

Under cold evaluation, the latter seemed more likely.

“If they all band together and be welcomed into Allah’s embrace, that’d be beneficial for me.”

If they could die without me lifting a finger, I was at least willing to show some sympathy.

“If other princes die in this battle, the Padishah will surely be enraged.”

“He’ll be furious, no doubt. However, it’s tough to retaliate. For revenge, it would be too risky to lead the army into Safavid territory considering the dangers within the Empire.”

“Unless the Turkmen, marked as potential rebels, are dealt with, it’s hard to create any voids domestically.”

I guarantee, if they move toward a conquest of Safavid, those under Ismail’s influence will incite a rebellion.

However, if they eliminate the internal threats and move to conquer, Ismail will implement a scorched earth policy, eliminating all resources for the enemy.

The discontent among soldiers marching through a devastated land with nothing left to plunder would likely lead to a failed expedition.

“Practically, the moment they allowed Ismail’s incursion, they had already lost the battle.”

It was Sultan’s blunder to neglect Turkmen, causing them to harbor grievances and watch the intrusion quietly.

All of this would soon choke the Sultan’s neck.

– “Erzinjan is in sight!”

The soldiers at the forefront shouted, and Yusuf gripped the reins of his horse, saying,

“No need to worry about an uncertain future. We simply need to act according to the situation.”

After all, the one to benefit most from this war would be him.

*

Elbistan, the capital of Dulqadir, is an agricultural haven.

This land hosts the fourth-largest plain in the vast Anatolian Peninsula and is nourished by the long Jayhan River, stretching over 500 km, providing ample water resources necessary for agriculture.

Elbistan, named literally from the word orchard, was rich until disaster struck.

– “Mooaargh!”

The ripe grains and fruits hanging from the orchard trees began to burn as a searing fire claimed everything.

Livestock that couldn’t escape were engulfed in horrifying screams, while acrid smoke choked the sky.

“What a pity. To think we have to burn such good land.”

Watching the ground stained red as if the sun descended upon it from the walls of Elbistan, Ismail casually responded to the army commander Mohammad’s words.

“There’s no point in longing for land we can’t occupy.”

Dulqadir was undoubtedly tempting territory.

When he first arrived in Elbistan, he had greedily glanced at the fertile plains.

However, the cold-minded commander Ismail didn’t let himself be swayed by vain desires, knowing that the two countries claiming this land wouldn’t overlook it.

“Speaking of which, what is the situation with the Mamluk?”

“It seems the merchants are correct; due to conflicts over spice trade with a nation called Portugal, they won’t have time to focus here. There hasn’t been any specific movement.”

Though Dulqadir was significant, nothing was more important to the Mamluks, who controlled Egypt, than the maritime trade routes leading to India.

Portugal’s fleet, reaching India via the African route, was still waging war against Calicut, known as the city of spices in southwestern India.

Since the Mamluks were most wary of Portugal’s advances into India, alongside Venice, they had no time to spare for Dulqadir.

“It’s fortunate that the Mamluks aren’t moving. Once we’re done here, I’ll need to send an envoy. To take on the Ottomans, their assistance will be essential.”

“Understood.”

“But the Ottomans are a problem. The princes are bringing their troops this way.”

How many could those princes possibly bring? Ismail found it laughable; he had won against thirty thousand with just seven thousand.

The real dilemma was whether to kill them or spare them.

“Do you think it’s worth taking a risk for Şehinşah, Mohammad?”

“When I heard about the issues faced by the Ishwat alongside Şehinşah, it seemed he was quite incompetent.”

Even knowing that he had fallen into addiction due to Ahmed’s schemes, he still hadn’t freed himself from that dependency and would believe everything the helping Ishwat told him.

He definitely wasn’t fit to be the ruler of a country.

Ismail smiled at those words.

“No matter how powerful a country is, it can easily collapse under a capable fool of a king.”

Ismail, who had supported Şehinşah to bring down the Ottomans from within, made a decision.

“There’s no need to force a killing, but if the opportunity arises, don’t hesitate. Kill the princes.”

“I will issue the command.”

In the desolate Elbistan, filled with screams and cries of looting and slaughter, Ismail bore a cruel smile.

*

Ismail’s notoriety for turning Elbistan into ruins spread rapidly.

Feeling fear of potential invasions, the people of Dulqadir began to flee.

Leaving behind the devastated Ellbistan, Ismail shifted direction toward Maraş.

Bozkurt Bey, who had fled from Elbistan to the second city of Dulqadir, welcomed the arriving princes.

“Welcome! It’s been a long journey, you must be exhausted.”

Mahmud, from Saruhan, the original domain of Korkut, asked Bozkurt with a stern expression.

“Have the brothers already arrived?”

“Yes. The fastest, Prince Selim, has been here for over ten days now.”

It took over twenty days to ride from Saruhan at the western edge of Anatolia to Maraş.

Having rushed as much as possible, Mahmud showed an irritated expression at the fact that he was already significantly delayed and asked Bozkurt.

“Where are the brothers?”

“Upon receiving word of your arrival, they mentioned they’d gather in the conference hall.”

After saying this, Bozkurt led the way.

By the time they reached the meeting hall, three princes had already arrived, their respective soldiers glaring at each other.

Seemingly unfazed by the tension, Bozkurt opened the door to the conference hall.

Inside the spacious chamber, three men were already seated, and a bitter chill wafted through the air.

“Is that you, Mahmud?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I haven’t seen you since we were kids, do you remember who I am?”

“It’s been a while, Brother Ahmed.”

Mahmud greeted Ahmed, who let out a chuckle yet fixed a cold gaze upon him.

It indicated he was well aware of his own appearance.

“I can’t remember the last time all four of us were gathered like this.”

At Selim’s words, the other three nodded.

The oldest, Ahmed, was ten years senior to the youngest, Mahmud.

Ahmed had become a Sanjakbey at the late age of sixteen, so there were shared memories of time together.

“It’s a shame that Şehinşah and Yusuf are absent from this gathering. Especially my youngest brother, whom I’ve never even met.”

In response to Ahmed’s remark, Selim, the only one in this group who had met Yusuf, smiled and said,

“If you meet him once, he’ll surely be unforgettable.”

He was still regretting not having killed him that day.

Selim’s comment sparked intrigue, and Korkut, who had been silent, turned to Mahmud and asked.

“Mahmud, how was life in Saruhan?”

“It was a good Sanjak. Your careful management was evident, Brother.”

Korkut twisted his lips in a smirk.

He was mocking the situation of having lost his own territory.

“Yes, it’s a nice city. However, consider yourself cautious; Alemşah, who became Sanjakbey before you, died for unknown reasons, and this city can be more dangerous than you think.”

“…Thank you for your concern.”

Listening to the sharp dialogue that seemed to stab like words, Bozkurt softly clapped his hands.

“It’s heartwarming to see brothers who’ve met after a long time sharing their bonds, but it’s time for the important talk. As I mentioned before, we should be defending in Maraş.”

Upon hearing Bozkurt’s words, Ahmed snorted with laughter.

“Are you eager to see all of Dulqadir burn like Elbistan? Selim, what do you think?”

“We cannot insist on defense if we are to minimize damages.”

Ismail, who had come to loot, had no need to strain himself to capture Maraş.

If they barricaded themselves in Maraş, they could loot and burn other cities instead.

Value-your-own-life Bozkurt stood firm on protecting Maraş, but the opinions of the four princes aligned.

Eventually, it was decided to march out, and Selim, who rose first from his seat, offered a kind word.

“Let’s meet again after the war, all in good health.”

The four princes, always poised to strike a dagger at the opponent, smiled.