I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

도박판(1)

When thinking of the long history of a city like Rome, two years may feel like a mere moment, yet the past two years have turned the lives of Roman citizens upside down.

A fellow Christian turned Rome into hell, while the supposed infidels, the Ottomans, came to its rescue.

Even this alone surpasses what any Roman citizen could imagine.

What once seemed fit only for comedy has become reality, and it would be stranger to cling to the old ways of thinking.

Manual laborers, directed by the Janissaries, are rebuilding the collapsed buildings, while soldiers in turbans patrol the city.

Because of the Arab merchants who have made their way to Rome, merchants from surrounding city-states are now flocking in to buy goods, making many Romans blink in surprise at such ordinary occurrences.

“Smile, will you? Or do you want me to frown alongside you?”

“Hahaha, when have I ever not smiled?”

At Yusuf’s quiet remark, Pope Clement VII held onto the reins tightly, a calm smile on his face.

Rising to the pinnacle of the Papal States after navigating a treacherous political landscape is no small feat, and despite his smiling facade, he internally burned with rage.

‘Lord, why have you put me through this trial?’

It felt like he might lose his mind, surrounded by the upbeat tunes of infidels and feigning familiarity with the infidel emperor as they surveyed Rome.

With feelings entirely opposite to the Pope’s, Yusuf asked in a friendly tone.

“Do you know a good painter, Pope?”

“Why the sudden interest in a painter?”

“It’s a moment that deserves to be immortalized in history. Wouldn’t it be fitting to capture it in a painting? Back home, we’d have Michelangelo at the ready, so I might need a decent painter here.”

The Pope felt a lump in his throat at the idea of marking this very moment with a painting.

He wanted to refuse the smirking Yusuf, but the sight of the guards standing stiffly nearby made it hard to let the words escape.

The Silahtars, elite soldiers among the Janissaries, were in a league of their own, even to the untrained eyes of the Pope.

“There must be a capable artist among the onlookers today. I’ll check it out.”

“Well thought out. In the end, all that remains is words and art, right? What’s valuable should be meticulously recorded for future generations.”

“Indeed.”

Not entirely sure for whom this record would be made, the Pope could only nod weakly.

The crowd, lost in the march, couldn’t hear any conversation, merely seeing two leaders seemingly sharing a pleasant exchange.

As the procession moved on, those left behind began whispering to each other.

“I never thought the Ottoman Emperor would come all the way here. What on earth is happening?”

“How am I supposed to know? If you’re so curious, why not just ask the Ottoman Emperor? Isn’t he supposed to be a prophet?”

“Now that’s a sensible thing to say.”

One man who sneered at the cynical comment carefully asked, noting the hardened expressions of the Janissaries that usually treated him kindly.

“I’m just wondering, but what would happen if something unfortunate were to befall the emperor here?”

Rome, the heart of Christianity, is a place where a madman could emerge claiming to be a martyr and attack the emperor.

At those words, a chill ran down the spines of the listeners.

There are those who would advocate for war simply for having insulted the Padishah, and if any injury were to occur? The recent trauma of the sack of Rome still fresh in their minds.

It suddenly dawned on the Roman citizens just how dangerous the march they had witnessed was, and that they must do everything in their power to ensure Yusuf escapes Rome without a scratch.

It was akin to a bomb labeled “Padishah” landing in their midst.

*

Mehmet carefully brewed coffee.

Brewing Turkish coffee requires patience and concentration.

Using a very low flame, you must allow it to bubble and then lift the container to let the foam settle, repeating this process three to four times.

It takes over seven minutes to brew coffee, a test of endurance, but once the aromatic scent wafted up, he carefully poured it into a cup.

“Nicely brewed.”

Yusuf, the only person allowed to drink coffee from the prince of the empire, took a sip.

Mehmet, pouring coffee into his own cup, turned to Yusuf, who was savoring the aroma.

“You’re as mischievous as ever. The returning Pope was almost at his wits’ end.”

“Looks like the sun was too hot for him. Maybe I should suggest a decent turban next time.”

“His mental state is already fragile. You ought to take it easy on him.”

The turban isn’t exclusive to Islam.

In desert-like climates, wearing one is essential, and people have been doing so since ancient times, even in the Eastern Roman Empire.

Moreover, it’s common to see wealthy men adorned with turbans in Renaissance paintings before the fall of the Eastern Roman Empire.

However, that’s all in the past. As the Ottomans grew, turbans began to symbolize Ottoman identity, and it was hard to tell how the pope would react to being adorned with one.

“Well, I’m just joking. My wishes have all been granted, so there’s no need to play with the Pope. Hasan, did you manage to identify any suspicious individuals hastily leaving the city?”

“Yes, Padishah. I’ve spotted individuals suspected to be agents of Spain and the Holy Roman Empire, in addition to those from city-states like Florence.”

“Good. I hope the news is delivered safely.”

While they must have received word that he was heading to Rome, they would likely be in disbelief.

It’s not strange considering even the Pope himself had a hard time believing it, having seen it with his own eyes.

‘None could have imagined the madness of the one who captured Malta and declared war, marching into Rome.’

Anyway, after this march, his presence here would certainly be made known.

Yusuf examined the map hung on the wall.

“In Algiers, we’ve gathered 30,000 troops; in Rome, we have 25,000.”

Rome originally housed 20,000 troops. Therefore, the additional force is only 5,000.

Given that neither city can be accessed by land, and troops must be transported by ships, that isn’t a trivial number.

‘But there are plenty of attractive propositions at hand.’

When a Padishah directly enters war, it’s common to lead an army of 40,000 or 50,000, but being here with just 25,000 troops in isolated Rome is a truer bait than any other.

After all, in chess or Chinese chess, capturing the king ends the game. If he gets captured, the Ottomans would enjoy astronomical benefits.

“What do you think I will do next, Mehmet?”

“Would you not strengthen your forces in Algiers rather than here? As Rome’s defenses thicken, they’re more likely to choose to fortify Tunis instead.”

“The significance of coming all the way here would be lost otherwise.”

The bait must be taken.

Engaging the Ottomans’ elite forces while rebuilding the Aurelian Walls requires caution; if the defending troops swell in number, they might end up scared and stick to reinforcing Tunis.

Yusuf took a sip of coffee and grimaced.

“Where could Carlos possibly place his bets?”

Will he engage in a gamble where he could lose everything, or will he flail about to keep what he has?

‘Either choice doesn’t matter to me.’

To Carlos, it might seem like he’s taking a gamble with the fate of his country, but that’s a clear misconception.

The one shaping the board now is himself, and it’s one of the two who formats the table before their opponent.

‘Either the owner of the gambling house or a con artist.’

Both have the commonality of never suffering a loss in their designed game.

Noticing Yusuf’s whimsical smile, Mehmet and Hasan remained tight-lipped.

Usually, those who find themselves as the reason for that smile don’t end up faring well.

“Hmm, whether it’s Carlos or Andrea Doria leading the mercenary fleet, it seems I’ll need some time to decide. Wasting time like this would be a pity.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Hmmm, since I’m in Italy, perhaps I should catch a glimpse of some rare faces. Hasan, I ought to send out some invitations.”

Despite his sudden statement about invitations, Hasan didn’t show surprise but bowed his head.

“Where shall I send them?”

“We’ve come this far, where else but here? To the various city-states including Florence. Since we’ve traveled such a distance, let them bring gifts aplenty when they come.”

Considering the gains Venice and France reap from their canals, it wouldn’t be surprising for them to come laden with offerings.

Those who get the news might be twisting their insides in agitation.

Shortly after, the city-states of Italy received invitations beckoning them to Rome.

*

A war with the Ottomans was already a foregone conclusion.

The tensions between Portugal and the Ottomans had escalated beyond the level of mere discourse, and their intentions to fight were evident through their envoys.

When he heard news of Malta’s capture, he perceived it merely as signal fires igniting the expected response and planned to counter it accordingly.

“Yusuf, that guy is definitely insane.”

Going into Rome without a second thought isn’t something one should normally do, and now he’s casually inviting the Italian nobles to Rome.

You’d think he had just ascended as the new Pope.

Given the rare opportunity to meet the Padishah without any difficulty, Carlos gritted his teeth at the news that nobles were heading to Rome, perhaps hoping for some favors.

“Let’s see how long he can act arrogantly.”

Attack on Rome? He’s already notorious for the sack of Rome and has no reason to hesitate.

If they cry for help, the least they can do is oblige.

“I will invade Rome using the forces gathered in Valencia. Pass along that Naples should respond likewise! Feel free to recruit as many mercenaries as needed.”

The Kingdom of Naples, which Carlos inherited, was one of the territories he governed, making it easy to bring Naples into the fold.

There are quite a few troops from the Spanish forces set to arrive from mainland Spain, as well as those from Naples, but Carlos wasn’t content with that.

“I will send envoys to the nations of Italy, including Milan and Genoa. Let them know they could share in the spoils of the canal, which would immense riches by capturing the Ottoman emperor. This is a crusade to reclaim Rome from the infidels.”

It’s certainly ironic coming from the one who has stirred the pot, letting the Ottomans infiltrate Rome. However, in an age where treachery against allies is commonplace for greater gain, this face it takes to act with such bravado isn’t difficult.

Should they secure the canal overflowing with gold, the city-states devastated by enduring wars could surely rise to prosperity once again, promising numerous enlistment.

“Relay the message to Andrea Doria stationed in Sicily. Our objective is Rome.”

Andrea Doria, the mercenary commander leading the Genoese fleet, has been stationed in Sicily to ensure the Ottomans don’t occupy Tunis.

By informing Andrea now, he would head toward Ostia, the closest harbor to Rome, and alongside the Spanish fleet, prevent reinforcements from reaching the Ottomans in Rome.

While mostly the Ottoman naval strength has amassed in Algiers, it wouldn’t be an easy endeavor to fend them off. However, utilizing Ostia could make it feasible.

‘On the contrary, Tunis might become vulnerable, but that’s a sacrifice I can accept.’

Tunis was a region that chose to align with the Ottomans once they began to pose a blatant threat after the peace treaty with the Habsburgs was established.

Even as a vassal state, it’s still the land of infidels, so the extent of damage it incurs doesn’t concern him much.

He could just recapture Yusuf later.

“Go, and bring that Yusuf fellow to me.”

As Carlos’s orders were issued, the Italian peninsula was tossed back into the flames of war, marking the end of a brief peace.

*

The citizens of Rome sensed that the atmosphere surrounding their city was strange.

After decades of ongoing wars on the Italian peninsula, it would be unusual not to be aware of this tension.

Noble visits to Rome ceased, and news spread that mercenaries were being hired in Naples and other city-states.

The Ottoman army increased its patrols, starting to scrutinize supplies with newfound diligence.

As a palpable tension enveloped Rome, its citizens felt a creeping unease that soon materialized into reality.

“Troops are moving south from the Duchy of Milan, the Duchy of Genoa, and the Principality of Ferrara, while forces from the Kingdom of Naples are marching north!”

“Spanish and Genoese mercenary fleets have been spotted near the harbor of Ostia!”

Caught up in such urgent reports, Yusuf nonchalantly took another sip of his coffee.

“How many do you expect will gather?”

“About 70,000, I believe.”

“That falls within the expected range. Carlos lacks unpredictability, making this rather dull.”

Conversing with Mehmet in a casual tone as if discussing affairs in a far-off land, Yusuf’s lips curled into a smile.

With the stakes raising on the board he had set, there was no reason to decline.

Rome had become the center of war.