I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

---

# Chapter 6. Look at This Guy? (2)

The 15th and 16th centuries were significant periods in world history.

In 1492, Columbus from Spain discovered the Bahamas, and in 1498, Vasco da Gama from Portugal rounded Africa to reach India, marking the onset of the Age of Exploration or the Age of Discovery.

This was the moment when the golden age of Spain and Portugal began, before the emergence of the burgeoning power of the British Empire in the 17th century.

However, during this process, the Ottomans had to endure long-standing misconceptions by modern people.

The Osman Turks, who destroyed Eastern Rome, were misunderstood to have blocked trade routes leading from the Mediterranean to China, forcing European powers to seek new paths, which resulted in rising spice prices.

“That’s complete nonsense.”

The Ottomans weren’t some Western anti-trade zealots, erecting stone pillars to block trade.

Rather, the sultans made significant efforts to normalize trade.

“The sultan, who has a keen interest in commerce, was pleased when I decided to go into business and granted me his permission. Can you believe it? This was already over ten years ago when you were still in the womb.”

“Even with permission, it mustn’t have been easy.”

“True. There were a lot of interruptions. At least after you were born, they couldn’t blatantly cause trouble. I was thinking of fighting to the death if things got out of hand.”

Though it seemed unlikely that one would become a sultan, it still presented challenges for a concubine who had given birth to one of the nine princes of the empire.

If Fatima decided to pull a stunt due to excessive interference, anyone, no matter who, could be expelled from the harem.

Those concubines who produced princes all left the harem to follow their sons, allowing the business to grow without issues.

While traveling by carriage, Yusuf inquired, “What kind of business did you primarily engage in?”

“What could a former slave turned concubine possess? All I had was some money, the favor of the sultan, and the fact that my son is a prince. While pondering, I realized credit is essential for merchants.”

“Could it be?”

“Exactly, I handled the intermediary business. I introduced reliable merchants.”

This wasn’t just a mother’s sentiment; she was indeed quite savvy.

It didn’t matter that Fatima was a former slave and a concubine ignored by the imperial court.

Getting involved in a matter tied to the royal family, especially committing fraud, was not something to take lightly.

Even in modern times, if you make the powerful your enemy, you’ll face a tax audit. In an autocratic empire like the Ottomans?

“Dare to insult the royal family, and your head will roll, just like that.”

Just dying alone would be fortunate.

Of course, since it was a commission trade rather than buying the goods directly, it would’ve been a mere trifling amount for the powerful, but even a trifling amount adds up significantly over ten years.

“That’s unfortunate. If I am appointed as Sanjakbey, it would be a difficult business to maintain.”

“That’s true.”

Being a concubine means you need to have connections to be effective.

Once appointed as Sanjakbey and officially entering the competition for succession, who knows what tricks the other brothers might pull?

‘Just having more funds is reassuring, but…’

To be honest, it felt uneasy.

Was it not enough that the concubine mother was still alive, but she was also accumulating funds for military needs?

If this was a business starting ten years ago, there was no way it was influenced by lost luck; I doubted I could experience something so fortunate after almost poisoning myself at the start.

This wasn’t just distrust; it was the result of countless experiences.

‘If I go check in person, I’ll know, but the likelihood of some trickery is high.’

I could place a spoonful more of my charm talent 1 on this bet.

Even though I couldn’t put my luck on the line, I was confident enough to stake a precious talent.

While chatting with Fatima, the carriage stopped.

“We’ve arrived.”

As a woman of the sultan, Fatima had to conceal herself, starting with a hijab, tightly wrapping her whole body.

Following Fatima out of the carriage, Yusuf observed the stern guard and the people quickly hiding.

Given the intense atmosphere of war, coupled with the attack on a prince, the people of the capital were careful.

“Let’s go inside.”

Surprised, the guards opened the door without news of our arrival.

The building’s architecture used bricks and mortar, as was common in this era.

‘Constructed this way, it’ll collapse during an earthquake.’

In 1509, an earthquake would inevitably occur that even I couldn’t prevent, no matter how I ducked and dodged.

I could potentially play prophet then, but I wasn’t sure they would actually believe me.

‘If only building materials were different, we could lessen the damage…’

Just because they used mortar back then doesn’t mean you can envision modern concrete or cement.

It was merely a glue-like substance for binding bricks or stones, serving as an outer layer, not for structural elements of buildings.

And to think, saying “You can’t think of cement as a modern building material!” could be misleading.

Many nations had already used it long before.

‘Roman, what on earth…’

In the 20th century, America tortured aliens; in BC, Rome would’ve done the same.

The Pantheon and the Colosseum, made from concrete, have lasted nearly 2,000 years, so there’s no need to elaborate on how extraordinary that is.

This remarkable technology fell into decline after the fall of the Western Roman Empire in the 5th century and is now nearly forgotten.

‘Well, supposedly some do know about it; it’s a buried technology worth researching till the mid-18th century.’

Using Roman techniques requires volcanic ash, making it hard to utilize, while limestone and clay could suffice.

That’s valuable both for profit and military purposes.

…It’s strange that my wiki-addicted memory is this useful, but anyway, it was lucky to have thoughts about the great earthquake reach even concrete.

While I contemplated this, someone came rushing in.

“Oh! Why did you come all the way here without a word?!”

The man who bowed toward Fatima had a stout physique, and beads of sweat rolled down his constantly bobbing head.

After a light nod, Fatima introduced Yusuf to him.

“Yusuf, this is Hasan, who has been running the business in my stead for a decade. He’s a slave, yet he has the capability to grow the business this much.”

“Name’s Hasan! It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness!”

It didn’t matter that he was a slave. In the Ottoman Empire, even slaves could rise to positions of Grand Vizier.

Observing Hasan’s eagerness to bow down to Yusuf, he couldn’t help but smirk.

‘Look at this guy?’

The emotions expressed in Hasan’s behavior and gestures radiated tension, anxiety, and fear.

While it could be considered a natural reaction for a slave meeting their master, it had been ten years.

After ten years of service, Fatima had praised him, showing she wouldn’t constantly whip him while shouting “Work harder, Hasan!”

Though one could feel nervous, anxiety and fear seemed excessive, leading to two possibilities.

Hasan was either an immense coward or…

‘He must have done something wrong.’

It could have been seen as overinterpretation based on a brief display of emotion, but for Yusuf, who half-suspected there might be an issue from the beginning, it was enough to foster doubt.

He wasn’t foolish enough to unveil his thoughts without any proof.

“Good to meet you. If your mother praises you, you must be a fine talent.”

“Th-thank you. It’s all due to your kind words!”

With a bright smile at the compliment, Hasan cautiously asked, “By the way, may I know why you visited?”

“I came to assess the assets while introducing the business you’re running, Yusuf. You aren’t too busy, are you?”

“Oh, no! I’m not busy at all. Please, come in.”

Hasan led them to the office.

Even by looking at small details, much could be inferred.

The office, immaculate despite their surprise visit, hinted at Hasan’s character and indicated he managed his staff well.

From this, one could understand why Fatima entrusted him for the decade.

“Here is the inventory of assets.”

Receiving a thick stack of papers, Fatima glanced through it and inquired, “How much would this be if converted to ducats?”

“At least ten thousand ducats should come from it.”

Wary that he might be on the wrong side of things, Yusuf observed Fatima quickly nodding, dispelling his doubts.

This wasn’t an octopus-like business; given its straightforward nature, it was unlikely Hasan could sneak away a considerable amount without it raising alarms.

‘Then that means another issue is at play.’

What he needed to consider was whether the causes of the problems could be found within the office.

Despite being a slave, he wouldn’t be living in an office, but crucial evidence could be hidden in a home.

Yusuf pondered for a moment; he believed it was likely to be stored in the office.

If evidence was that important, it’d be most concealed in the place he spent the longest time, and the earlier signs of anxiety seemed to confirm this judgment.

The only solution was to check directly.

“May I take a look around the office? Are these the contracts you’ve secured?”

“Yes, indeed.”

He quickly scanned through the piles of papers.

Details of traders’ transactions and the fees received were meticulously recorded.

Sighing inwardly as he perused, Yusuf thought, ‘As I expected, there’s no coffee.’

Originating from Ethiopia, coffee would likely be circulating for drowsiness in Yemen, across the Red Sea by now.

After the Ottomans conquered Egypt and Yemen, coffee spread even to Europe, so it wasn’t the right time for proper trade yet…

‘Wait, does this mean to enjoy coffee, I’d need to conquer Egypt at the very least? What’s with that?’

As a caffeine addict who could resist chicken but not coffee, irritation surged within him.

Carelessly dropping the papers, Yusuf rummaged through various parts of the office.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a tax list from the East.”

While he ransacked the office, Hasan maintained his composure, leading Yusuf to think he had misjudged.

Becoming embarrassed, Yusuf gave Hasan a tap on the shoulder.

“Good job.”

“Th-thank you.”

Seeing Hasan flustered immensely, Yusuf suddenly realized there remained a place he hadn’t checked, the one he could consider the safest.

“Stand still.”

“Your Highness?!”

As Yusuf began to pat down Hasan unexpectedly, he attempted to evade, but Fatima coldly interjected, “Stay still.”

While Yusuf appeared shocked, he believed he wouldn’t do so unreasonably.

Ignoring Hasan’s reaction of trembling, Yusuf felt a rustling sensation around Hasan’s waist, then promptly pulled out the source of the sound.

It was elegantly crafted paper, and upon unfolding it, Yusuf started to laugh.

[If you report Prince Yusuf attempting to flee to the West, I swear to Allah I will liberate Hasan from his status as a slave.]

…This is amusing?