I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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Dangerous Transaction (1)

Krishna Deva Raya, the ruler of the Vijayanagara Empire, sat at an angle, staring at the spot where the envoy had just stood.

As a servant fanned him, his bangs fluttered, and Krishna spoke.

“Prime Minister, what did you think?”

The Prime Minister, Tamalarasu, was Krishna’s most favored minister.

The previous king, his half-brother, had commanded that he blind his eyes and make his young son king, but Tamalarasu had given a pair of blind goats’ eyes to the dying former king, allowing Krishna to ascend to the throne. For three generations, he had served the king and truly cared for the empire.

The old man, already over seventy, bowed his head.

“He is a man with a poisonous tongue. He is very skilled at manipulating others to elevate himself.”

In front of the emperor, he pointed out the connections with Portugal and skillfully pressured them, much like a viper.

Starting from the help given to Portugal to seize Goa, he relentlessly hounded them, showing a discerning sense of when to apply pressure and when to ease off, as if he knew where the last line of defense lay.

Krishna frowned at Tamalarasu’s assessment.

“Then should I consider what he said as mere boasting?”

“No, he didn’t appear to be lying, and he’s the kind of person who could be a real headache if turned into an enemy.”

The Vijayanagara Empire had a standing army of 50,000, of which 2,000 were cavalry guards at the court, with an additional 2,000 personal bodyguards for the emperor.

They had been exposed to the ominous air of these soldiers throughout the conversation, yet recalling Hasan, who hadn’t flinched at all, made Krishna nod.

“To underestimate our empire’s army of over 200,000 is hardly a boast.”

“Whether it’s arrogance or truth, at least it was spoken sincerely. Considering the naval power they demonstrated against Portugal, it can’t be entirely dismissed as boasting.”

Krishna wore a heavy expression as Tamalarasu spoke.

The news that the powerful Portuguese fleet had been completely annihilated by an Ottoman fleet more than twice its size was a great shock to Krishna as well.

“Fortunately, they sent us an envoy before they did to the Sultanate of Deccan, indicating we can maintain friendly relations. The envoy mentioned that the Ottoman emperor is generous regarding religion.”

“I too am glad that the Ottoman emperor is not a close-minded individual. For now, we must carefully observe the situation without being swayed.”

“That is a reasonable thought.”

Both knew that the situation could fluctuate greatly depending on the close relationship the Ottomans maintained with either side, but losing control could lead to considerable losses.

After some deliberation with Tamalarasu over how much ground to yield, the sun was already setting outside.

The old man’s face was filled with fatigue, and Krishna also stood up, tired.

“I’ll decide the remainder after speaking with the envoy again tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

– Your Majesty, urgent news must be conveyed!

Krishna frowned at the frantic voice and sat back down in his chair.

“Come in! Yes, what is it?”

The messenger, dripping with sweat from rushing, entered and answered the call with a bow.

“The Ottoman envoy has been attacked!”

“What?!”

Krishna sprang up from his seat at the messenger’s words.

Things had become dire.

*

The bandage wrapped tightly was stained red, and tears welled in the boy’s eyes as he wiped away Hasan’s cold sweat.

“Are you alright?”

“…I’m fine. Unexpected things always happen in life. Just like how you and I met.”

The doctor, wiping his blood-soaked hands, warned him.

“Please try to speak as little as possible. The stitches might come undone at any moment.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Then I’ll be next door, so call for me anytime.”

The boy, Hasan, was relieved by the surprisingly unscathed Hasan, yet looked enviously at the soldiers guarding the door.

‘They weren’t there when I needed them.’

Although their time together wasn’t long, Hasan was the first person to show kindness to the boy, who had lived a troubled life picking pockets on the streets.

He had always been wary, thinking there was no such thing as kindness without reason, but after witnessing Hasan fall with a serious wound, he realized how significant he had become in his heart.

“Relax your eyes, Hasan. It’s just bad luck.”

“But!”

Hasan pressed down on the boy’s head, raising his voice.

“I have kept you waiting, Prime Minister.”

“No, it is largely our fault for failing to protect the safety of the envoy properly.”

“It seems I was too complacent thinking the area was safe. So, who attacked me?”

Tamalarasu sighed and answered.

“Though they died in the process of subduing them and we have yet to ascertain all details, it appears they were individuals deeply enmeshed in Hinduism, based on numerous eyewitness accounts from the temple.”

“I see.”

Hasan frowned, appearing to struggle to find words.

Fortunately, the vital spots had been missed, but he had just been stitched up, and Tamalarasu was now backing away a step.

“You still need to rest. I spoke too much. Leave the task of uncovering their motives to us; for now, you should rest. We will do our utmost to ensure the envoy’s safety.”

“Please do.”

Tamalarasu offered a smiling farewell as he left the room, but his expression grew cold once outside.

In a low voice to the general walking alongside him, Tamalarasu said, “Make sure to monitor their movements closely.”

“Do you suspect it might be a ruse?”

“Well…”

Tamalarasu remembered the boy’s resentful gaze fixed on him and stroked his beard.

By just looking at the boy, it didn’t appear to be a false flag operation.

“Let’s keep all possibilities open. If we harbor suspicion but lack evidence, there’s nothing we can do.”

They should have intervened before the situation escalated.

Now that it had unfolded, the only task left was to minimize damage.

As he walked down the moonlit corridor, Tamalarasu sighed.

“This has become troublesome.”

He needed to start over and reassemble the plans from the beginning.

*

A refreshing sea breeze accompanied the sound of the violin.

As the remarkable performance concluded—one that neither inexperienced sailors nor anyone else dared to interrupt—Suleiman clapped his hands.

“An excellent performance, Ibrahim.”

“I’m grateful for your praise of my humble playing, Pasha.”

“There’s no need to be so modest. It was your playing that led to our acquaintance.”

Suleiman, who usually enjoyed art, approached Ibrahim, who was playing the violin, captivated, unlike other rookie officials.

The violin became the medium that connected them.

Ibrahim, balancing himself on the rocking ship while playing the violin, set down his bow and asked.

“Was it alright to say that the reason you brought me to the Pasha was because of the violin?”

“It’s fine. At least you can please my ears. Having passed the test, your basic skills should suffice.”

“That may be true.”

“Since the Pasha also gladly permitted it, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Having introduced himself as Ibrahim from the Pargali region, Suleiman was somewhat concerned about the peculiar expression on the Pasha’s face when he received the approval.

But he put aside his worries at Suleiman’s assurance and composed his mind.

The circumstances were strange, and although he had been dragged along, he knew all too well how significant this opportunity was.

“I will do my utmost not to be a burden to you, Pasha.”

“Well, that’s the spirit. By the way, you’re quite lucky. You were captured by pirates and sold into slavery, yet you were taken in by a wealthy widow and received excellent education.”

“I think so as well.”

What were the odds that a slave captured by pirates would receive an education in Islam, foreign languages, poetry, and the violin?

Perhaps it was due to his remarkable talents, yet it was still a lower probability than simply becoming a safe attendant through castration.

While Ibrahim was chatting lightly with him, a sailor in the distance shouted.

– We are almost in Goa!

Noticing that the ships, safely trailing behind the Ottoman fleet, were nearing Goa, the crews became bustling.

As they sailed upstream the Mandovi River, connected to the sea, the bustling harbor of Goa came into view, filled with docked ships.

While other ships would have had their entry permits checked through cumbersome procedures, Suleiman’s fleet, flying the Ottoman flag, smoothly docked.

As Pasha Suleiman set foot in the harbor, someone came forward to greet him with a bow.

“Welcome to Goa, Pasha.”

“It’s a face I haven’t seen before. Who are you?”

“I am Gokan, assisting Pasha Hasan. The Sanjakbey is unwell, so I have come to greet you in his stead.”

Upon hearing that Pasha Hasan was unwell, Suleiman was surprised.

A key figure in the empire’s shadow, and a cherished talent of Yusuf, Hasan had a close friendship with Suleiman as well.

Hearing that he was unwell in a distant land was a cause for concern.

“Is it very serious?”

“Let’s discuss it in the citadel.”

“Very well.”

As they mounted the prepared horses, Suleiman was too engrossed by the exotic scenery of Goa to take note. Once inside the citadel and meeting Hasan, he furrowed his brow.

“Hasan, what’s the matter with you!”

The boy tending to Hasan’s wounded area jumped at the loud voice.

Seeing Hasan’s complexion, which appeared stable compared to his wounds, Suleiman asked the startled boy, now fumbling with his courtesies.

“Pasha Hasan, do you have a hidden child? Even when the Pasha offered to arrange a woman for you, you were so opposed; who would have thought you had a hidden child?”

“Please, don’t joke. This is a child I took in upon coming here. Hasan, you may step back now.”

“Understood.”

As the humble boy stepped back, Suleiman shook his head.

“To name the child you took in with the name Hasan—this situation feels even more like a jest.”

“Allah has created such coincidences. Or perhaps the Pasha’s heart has reached out.”

“Considering that the Pasha seems to favor the name Hasan, I’d say the latter is highly likely.”

The tale of how Hasan named his son Al-Hassan instead of Yusuf getting permission for leave circulates among the officials like a legend.

While the two shared light-hearted banter, the surrounding individuals eventually retreated, leaving just Hasan and Suleiman in the room.

Noticing everyone pulling back, Suleiman quickly caught on.

“It’s a ruse.”

“Indeed. Thanks to that, we have gained ample understanding from the Vijayanagara Empire.”

“That would be foolishness. What if things go awry, or if the ruse is discovered?”

At Suleiman’s criticism, Hasan smiled.

“The risk of self-harm is not difficult compared to the usual tasks. I’ve entangled matters with Deccan merchants, making it difficult to trace back.”

“Are you truly certain there’s no issue?”

“Though the local prime minister seemed sharp-witted and posed some danger, I received help from Hasan. It seems a child’s tears are as effective as a woman’s tears.”

Suleiman clicked his tongue as he grasped the unfolding situation.

“You’re quite the wretched adult. It seems you genuinely have someone who sincerely cares for you.”

“I learned to utilize everything available to the Pasha. I never expected someone would actually worry for me so sincerely.”

Fleeing from Ismail and losing many acquaintances had left a trauma imprinted on Hasan, and he had avoided forming bonds that might leave regrets.

To him, the inconsistency of the child who had formed a bond unexpectedly resonated profoundly.

With a gentle smile from Hasan, whom he had never seen before, Suleiman sighed.

“If you don’t want to be disliked, you must hide this incident well.”

“I will learn from this experience, and there will come a time when I fully understand it.”

“Well, that’s for you to manage. So, have matters with the Vijayanagara Empire roughly concluded?”

“Yes. As for the matters of the Deccan Sultanate, I will leave it to the Pasha. As you can see, I still need to stabilize things here.”

Pointing to the heavily scarred wound, Suleiman nodded.

“Leave the follow-up to me, and prepare yourself to be reprimanded by the Pasha once we return. You’ve engaged in reckless deeds without setting up a successor, so you’ll surely face a harsh scolding.”

Understanding for the first time the sentiments of other officials who wished their children to grow up quickly, Hasan let out a heavy sigh.

*

The sound of jingling gold coins fell from his hand.

“Ahem, you said you came from a place called the Ottoman Empire?”

“Yes.”

The official managing the port nodded his head in response to the exotic man wearing a turban.

“I’ve heard that name. Did you not drive away the vile Portuguese?”

“I also heard they caused trouble here.”

Initially, the Portuguese had settlements around the Tuen Mun area in Hong Kong and Lantau Island but had been chased away after being defeated by the Chinese navy.

It was also the biggest reason why Ming Dynasty labeled Giorgio’s fleet—then the Governor of India—as pirate ships.

“We are not like those rude people. If you would simply grant us an entry permit, we would like to quietly establish relations.”

“Hmmm, from the sincerity you’ve shown, it certainly seems so.”

The official carefully set aside a box filled with gold coins and asked the Ottoman.

“So, how many ships are you expecting?”

“I can’t say for certain, but the emperor has mentioned that it’s a fleet sent in goodwill.”

“Then there’s no need for worry. Very well! I will write you your permit.”

“Thank you, esteemed sir.”

Seeing the official readily grab the brush to write, the Ottoman flashed a bright smile.

A dangerous transaction was underway.