I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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Dangerous Deal (3)

It’s chilling beyond mere coolness.

The gathered ministers, unable to bear the heavy atmosphere, bowed their heads.

Breaking the long silence, not even a breath was audible, Yusuf finally spoke.

“Though I incited it, the boy has lost his nerve.”

There are many reasons for dragging France into this.

Hungary was Europe’s bulwark, and no matter how good the relations were between France and the Ottoman Empire, it was still precarious, hence the need to soothe things over.

Another reason was to embolden Ruyos II to make a mistake that could serve as a justification.

Of course, there were many other reasons, but the main two were significant, and France, which had instilled confidence in Ruyos, would not have expected such a deed.

“But this brat is certainly someone to be reckoned with.”

Having gone through a tumultuous time in history, he had previously insulted and even killed an Ottoman envoy, catching the wrath of Suleiman.

The reckless young brat relying solely on the Habsburgs behind him is Ruyos II.

Yusuf gestured to the envoy whose head was dripping with decay.

“See to a proper burial.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He knew he could die for this, having sent a volunteered minor official, but his expression remained grave.

This was probably the first time he felt such fury in ages.

“Ali Pasha.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I seem to have been too lenient lately. It appears I’ve forgotten what kind of nation we are.”

Having displayed a gentle attitude towards Europe for cultural invasion, it had undeniably been effective.

Fear of the Ottomans had waned, allowing Yusuf’s reputation and Ottoman culture to seep in.

Just look at coffee, a precious beverage thoroughly enjoyed by Ottoman emperors and nobles, now being sold at high prices to European aristocrats.

However, with gains come losses, and a fearless pup has emerged.

“Grand Vizier.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I must demand blood. We shall declare war.”

At Yusuf’s declaration, the ministers raised their heads.

War. They knew that deaths could ensue, potentially even their own, but excitement overwhelmed their faces more than fear.

“Encourage the activities of the Akinji on the borders. Provide weapons if necessary.”

Akinji were the irregular raiding forces of the Ottomans.

They lived off plundering the empire’s enemies instead of receiving a salary, undermining enemy power while also acting as scouts for enemy movements.

“And summon the two in Sanjakbey. I want to see how much they’ve grown.”

The mention of Mehmet and Murad made the ministers’ eyes gleam.

It wasn’t odd to call princes who were now Sanjakbeys into war.

An Ottoman prince must continually prove their worth until the moment the Padishah dies, and the ability to conduct war was the most basic requirement.

‘What’s important is that the Padishah is now thinking about successors.’

‘I don’t know which direction to reach out to.’

The fact that the youngest Yusuf had become a Padishah was nearly miraculous, as usually, the earlier birth was advantageous.

The ministers believed those who would step onto the stage of succession had already been decided.

‘They say a woman named Hirem is newly pregnant, but even if a prince is born, they’d be a good ten years younger than the others.’

‘In reality, it would be a battle between those four.’

Of course, Mehmet and Murad, who were achieving significant results, were in the most favorable situation, but Yusuf’s youth meant that there could be variables.

Though not yet appointed as Sanjakbey, Kasim, who was showing presence in society, and Mustafa, rumored to have mysterious powers, were both potential candidates.

As war and succession intertwined, the ministers’ heads became tangled, and a blunt voice echoed.

“Now that you’ve done enough thinking, get moving. You’ll have a hard time for a while.”

The ministers’ complexions turned pale at once.

They would have to prepare for war while simultaneously sending fleets to the East, greatly increasing their workload.

It was the sign that nights with coffee had arrived, to the point where even ministers imagined a coffee aroma that wasn’t there.

As the ministers quickly dispersed, Yusuf looked down at the map he had drawn.

“I’ll have to redraw the map soon.”

Because the territory of the empire needed to be redrawn.

*

France invaded northern Italy, specifically Lombardy.

It was a war that had been anticipated, and having even hired Swiss mercenaries, France confronted the Venice alliance, pulling Charles V and the Papal States into the fray.

Charles V, who was secretly supporting the Duchy of Milan, suddenly doubted his ears.

“…What did they do in Hungary?”

“They decapitated the Ottoman envoy and sent the head to Topkapi Palace. In response, the Emperor of the Ottoman Empire has declared war.”

“I’m not hearing things, am I?”

Believing he had heard foolishness due to his fixation on the war situation, Charles chuckled dryly at his attendant’s words confirming the unbelievable.

“He truly did what even I wouldn’t dare?”

So absurd was the situation that he did not even refer to the King of Hungary by title, and the messenger bowed his head.

Even Charles, ruling over vast territories, had been worried about Ottoman power and had paid large sums to establish a peace treaty, yet Hungary brazenly severed the envoy’s head.

“It appears they believed in the Habsburgs behind them.”

“Who gave them permission to believe or not!”

Angry, Charles nervously fidgeted with his fingers.

He hadn’t expected such an incident to occur while he was preoccupied with the war against France.

No, even if he had been aware, he wouldn’t have imagined they would dare to decapitate an envoy.

“…What if we provided military support?”

“If they had not killed the envoy, it would be different, but Hungary has essentially declared war. Helping Hungary would mean breaking the peace treaty.”

Losing the peace treaty and the massive amounts of gold paid was acceptable, but they must avoid facing the Ottoman invasion out of anger over the broken treaty.

After all, it was not for nothing that Charles had praised the envoy who came back from the Ottomans despite having negotiated unfavorable terms.

Contemplating deeply, Charles sighed and made a decision.

“Still, the Emperor of the Ottomans is a man of sense. We must strive to soothe him.”

How much financial leeway do I have? Charles pondered quickly and sent another envoy back to the Ottomans.

*

– Cough!

A man dodged a giant lion lunging at him with surprising agility, raising a cloud of dust.

The lion, shaking out its thick mane, bared its fierce teeth, tensing its muscles.

The man, keenly observing the thick muscle of the lion compressing, thrust his sword toward the leaping beast.

Thud!

As the lion fell, its tongue hanging out from the pierced throat, the man, now stained with the dirt and blood of the lion, stood up.

While shaking off the bloodied dirt, an overwhelming shout reached the man’s ears.

“Prince! What on earth have you done?!”

“I just went hunting. Lighten up.”

Yagiz Pasha, helping Murad, was taken aback at the nonchalant words.

“The Padishah would have punished you severely!”

“But there’s no father here, is there?”

Having organized the surroundings around Aden and frightened the locals into surrendering to the Ottoman fleet, Murad moved on to the Horn of Africa.

Cleaning up crucial coastlines, Murad had been hunting in Africa, hastening Yagiz’s thinning hairline as he did so.

Yagiz, glaring at Murad who was hunting with a blade rather than a proper gun, sighed.

“I’ve received a message from the Padishah.”

“Oh? What does it say?”

Since the command to occupy the Horn of Africa, there had been no additional instructions.

While observing the soldiers expertly skinning the lion, a curious story reached Murad’s ears.

“Hungary killed an envoy of the empire.”

“Insanity.”

Murad quickly assessed the situation.

If they had told Murad to follow suit, he would rather fight a lion barehanded.

Not because the life of a prince was at stake, but because Murad realized how terrifying Yusuf would be when enraged.

“It seems the King of Hungary has the equivalent of three hundred lives.”

“If he truly has three hundred lives, the Padishah would be rejoicing. He could tear him apart three hundred times.”

“That’s also true.”

As Murad traded trivial banter with Yagiz while cleaning off the blood from his blade, he asked.

“Father wouldn’t have sent word saying Hungary’s gone mad. Did he call for me?”

“That’s right. I also heard that Prince Mehmet was summoned.”

“If they’re calling me from far away, they must have called my brother too. Meeting many familiar faces after a long time, I’d better bring some gifts along.”

Striding along with the lion skin thrown over his shoulder, the soldiers armed with guns followed close behind.

*

Puff!

– Cough!

The night was deep, and under the candlelight, Mehmet was scratching with his quill when he heard a faint sound.

Seemingly unfazed by it, as only the scratching noise of the quill filled the room, a knock sounded.

– Prince.

“Come in.”

With a disinterested permission, the door opened, and without turning his head, Mehmet asked.

“How many rats?”

“Five, Your Highness.”

“Very well. Handle it accordingly.”

There was no need to find the mastermind behind the rats. Many were targeting this place.

Once disregarded, the Donbas region began to reveal its worth the moment Mehmet started development.

Through abundant mines, enormous quantities of iron were produced daily, inciting greed and panic around.

Those eager to uncover the secrets and create chaos in the city were numerous, and nighttime visitors were commonplace.

‘This isn’t a gift from my brothers.’

He couldn’t afford such naïve thoughts that his brothers would come for his life.

He trusted their father, Yusuf.

“There’s no way a father who says he’s short on manpower would allow for assassinations to go unpunished.”

Raising his green eyes, resembling Yusuf’s, Mehmet looked toward the brightly shining moon.

Having been born as a prince, he knew he had to aim for the Padishah seat by any means. The thought of assassination wasn’t among his plans.

Logically analyzing, provoking Yusuf’s wrath would be much greater than merely removing a competitor.

“Ah, I’ve surely drawn his ire.”

Recalling the summon, Mehmet resumed writing with his quill.

“As my father said, the world is indeed vast. There’s still so much to learn.”

The world is big, and there are many madmen.

Mehmet realized there were things beyond even his clever mind’s comprehension.

*

Yusuf smiled coldly.

With familiar yet unpleasant faces present, he understood they had come again.

“Do you think Carlos is a joke? Or do you see the empire as a fool?”

The envoy from Charles V, covered in cold sweat, could feel the ominous glint in Yusuf’s wide-open eyes, as the envoy from Hungary trembled like a quaking leaf.

Swallowing his fright, the Spanish envoy managed to speak.

“How could we dismiss the Ottoman Empire so lightly? It’s merely that, for the sake of peace, we wish for His Majesty to calm his anger…”

“Enough.”

With a chilling remark, Yusuf rose from his seat.

Cutting off the envoy’s words, Yusuf gestured, and the Silahtars who were guarding the area seized both envoys, forcing them to kneel on the floor.

“Y-your Majesty?!”

Receiving a sword from a Silahtar, Yusuf aimed it menacingly at the Spanish envoy, who gasped in shock.

As the blade barely grazed the envoy’s throat, blood began to ooze out, rendering the envoy unable to even swallow.

Just when he thought he’d escaped that fate, Yusuf swung the sword.

“Gaaah!”

The Hungarian envoy screamed as his shoulder was pierced, and Yusuf glared at the Spanish envoy, who looked at him with trembling eyes.

“One more word, and I’d have cut out that tongue of yours.”

Wiping the blood from his hands as if it were filth, Yusuf pointed at the Hungarian envoy and ordered.

“Tear him to shreds and bring back his head.”

In response to this command, the Hungarian envoy was dragged away, and Yusuf addressed the Spanish envoy.

“Let Carlos know. He may interfere in this upcoming war. However, he must bear the consequences fully.”

“Y-yes, understood.”

Witnessing the wildfire of fury in Yusuf’s eyes, the only response the envoy could offer was a nod.

*

While exploring the New World, a Spanish ship stumbled upon a strange vessel.

With tattered sails and a battered hull, it looked as if it could sink at any moment.

The individuals on deck, waving their hands energetically, showed no intent to attack, prompting the Spanish exploration ship to come closer.

“Who are you?”

“W-we are Portuguese! I am the Governor of India, Diogo Lopes de Sequeira!”

“India?”

The mention of India made the Spanish captain tilt his head.

He had heard just before leaving that the Portuguese fleet had suffered a devastating defeat against the Ottomans, but having the Governor of India here didn’t make sense.

Inspecting the suspicious ship closely, the captain noted several signs suggesting it was a military vessel, albeit shabby.

As he examined the ship, the captain realized something peculiar.

“There seems to be very few weapons for a military ship.”

It appeared to be lacking in flintlock pistols and cannons.

In response to the captain’s inquiries, Diogo sighed.

“We had to trade with pirates to gather food. We had no choice but to part with some weapons due to our situation.”