I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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The Awful Ones (3)

The captain of Spain cursed as he watched the pirate ship drifting away leisurely.

“Those damn bastards!”

How long had it been since the Barbary Pirates and Spain had clashed in the Mediterranean?

He knew well just how relentless those scoundrels were, and didn’t delude himself into thinking that suppressing them would be easy.

‘This is absurd, you demons.’

When he arduously crossed the Atlantic and reached the New World, what welcomed him was a charred military base and scattered bones.

From that moment on, the navy that set foot in the New World felt things were starting to go awry, and this premonition proved accurate.

– Kill! Let’s get revenge for our families!

As they began to rebuild their settlement, the assaults from the natives commenced.

It wasn’t a huge issue that the primitive natives wielded guns. Since they didn’t charge recklessly, the damage wasn’t severe.

The real problem was that the constant night-time raids were stalling the rebuilding efforts and the fatigue among the soldiers was mounting rapidly.

Ultimately, the captain made a decision.

“No, this won’t do. I’ll wipe out the Indians first. Gather the troops.”

It was an entirely rational decision, but it underestimated the cunning of the Barbary Pirates.

As the troops moved to eliminate the natives, pirates, as if waiting for this moment, began to appear in earnest.

Starting with a strike on the harbor through the thick fog of dawn, the pirates seized every opening to attack, and soon the losses began piling up without any significant gains.

While the frustrated captain tried to vent his feelings with curses, the first mate approached.

“Captain, a Portuguese military ship has been heavily damaged.”

“Why?”

“They say it ran aground while chasing after pirates.”

“Fools!”

Once again, the settlements in the Caribbean suffered significant damage due to the ignorance of those unfamiliar with the local currents and topography.

The captain paced anxiously.

‘It’s already been four months, and there’s been no progress; only losses continue to accumulate.’

He dispatched a fleet to clear out the pirates in a fit of rage, but he couldn’t be sure how much longer Charles’ patience would last.

If Charles’s growing impatience with continued failures led to severe punishment, it seemed unlikely they could deal with the pirates in time.

“We’re heading back for now.”

At the captain’s grim command, the fleet returned to the barely rebuilt settlement.

Even when gathering timber, they had to worry about native attacks, leaving the settlement in a shabby state. It was then that the captain stepped onto the ship with a heavy heart.

“Captain, there’s urgent news to report.”

The first mate who rushed up spoke, and the captain frowned.

Since arriving in the New World, urgent news had always fallen into one of two categories: either the natives were attacking, or pirates were appearing.

This time, bracing himself for yet another unfortunate report, the captain heard unexpected news.

“There’s been a large-scale rebellion in the territory conquered by Francisco Pizarro.”

“Why there?!”

Hearing that a rebellion had emerged from the Inca Empire, centered around the Andes Mountains, the captain was taken aback.

Could that rebellion be influenced by those infidels? He quickly shook off that notion.

As fierce as the Ottomans were, they surely wouldn’t have reached that far in such a short time.

This assumption was correct, but upon hearing the subsequent report, the captain thought he would have preferred the intrigue of the Ottomans.

“While Francisco was absent to construct a port, his brothers have been mistreating the Emperor.”

“…What exactly did they do?”

“The youngest, Gonzalo, forcibly took the Emperor’s sister, who is also the Empress, and urinated on the Emperor…”

There were various heinous acts, such as threatening to demand more gold or face execution, but there was no need for a detailed explanation.

The brief account was enough to understand why the newly favorable Emperor toward Spain could be incited to rebellion.

“That ignorant fool just had to go and screw things up. What’s the scale of the rebels?”

“I can’t be sure since the fleeing Emperor is still in the process of gathering troops, but it seems to exceed one hundred thousand.”

“The king will hear of this news soon as well.”

A significant amount of wealth entering Spain came from the Inca, so it wouldn’t be long before word got around.

As the captain pondered for a moment, he asked the first mate.

“Shouldn’t we instead join in putting down the rebellion?”

“Isn’t the royal command to deal with the pirates?”

“If the rebellion is swiftly suppressed, that’ll ensure goods head back to the homeland. What does it matter if we exhaust ourselves dealing with pirates if we have no ships to transport goods?”

That wasn’t an unreasonable argument. Suppressing the rebellion in the New World had become a critical topic.

“With the ships we currently possess, it will be tough to deal with the pirates. It’s better to make a name for ourselves by suppressing the rebellion instead. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“That is indeed true.”

“Plus, the king has always found discomfort in the settlers acting like kings in the New World. This is an opportunity to extend influence in the New World, and he would likely not oppose it.”

The settlers had been left to their own devices, too far from control, and it was a well-known fact that Charles found this displeasing.

The first mate nodded in understanding.

“I’ll assemble all the commanders then.”

After a hastily convened meeting, the punitive force set off, masquerading as a rebellion-suppressing squad to chase away the pirates in the Caribbean.

*

Yusuf held a small jingling metal plate in his hand.

“Will making these identification tags allow for proper distribution to all soldiers?”

“If there are no issues with producing these metal plates, we should finish within three years.”

Yusuf looked at the identification tag, commonly referred to as a dog tag or military ID in modern times.

His name and the number 1 were inscribed on it, indicating that he was the first person to possess this tag.

“Grand Vizier, do you consider this a waste of finances?”

“The expenses involved are substantial, but I don’t see it as wasteful.”

“That’s a relief.”

Yusuf recalled the wars they had fought previously.

From stopping Ismail’s invasion at Trabzon to the most recent battle in Rome.

Though they hadn’t suffered any defeats, they had indeed suffered losses, and most soldiers who perished left behind neither their remains nor even mementos.

If a family member went off to war and didn’t return after years, they simply resigned themselves to the idea that the person was dead.

“The military is in favor as well. Especially commanders needing to account for the deceased and veteran soldiers who left fallen comrades behind are praising the Padishah.”

“It had been reckless to overlook this. It should have been implemented sooner.”

Perhaps because Yusuf was so used to life as it was, he had subconsciously thought of the troops merely as tools.

He thought that simply digging a massive pit to bury the fallen to prevent them from becoming animal feed was sufficient.

Thus, the realization of something as fundamental as identification tags for the army had struck him only belatedly.

“There’s no need for you to reproach yourself. If it weren’t for now, we likely wouldn’t have been able to implement it at all. Were resources for weapons not already tight?”

“Still, if we had prepared in advance, things would have progressed a little faster. But fine, we’ve started to prepare now at least.”

Yusuf carefully set aside the identification tag and picked up the quill he had previously put down.

“I’m writing a letter to Mustafa; do you have any words to add?”

“Do I have anything specific to say? Can I ask what the Padishah is writing about?”

“I’m not writing anything special. I’m merely telling him not to take any external animals like rabbits or foxes to the island.”

While stated lightly, it was crucial information.

In Australia, where rabbits have few natural predators, they’ve waged war using bombs, poisons, and viruses to exterminate the exploding rabbit population.

‘I can’t promise how effective this letter will be.’

Yusuf had often felt that whatever was meant to happen tends to happen, regardless of circumstances.

While it might be effective with Mustafa around, time would inevitably dim this warning, resulting in history repeating itself.

The news that Shamsi brought served to further prove this point.

“There’s a massive rebellion in the New World. This is the sort of outcome you get when putting work in the hands of trash disguised in human skin. Isn’t that right?”

“Indeed.”

He didn’t particularly want to defend the Incas.

While overshadowed by the Aztecs, who were notorious for human sacrifice and cannibalism, the Incas also crafted drums from human skin and massacred enemy tribes by the tens of thousands.

‘The Incas’ atrocities have made the land they conquered dangerous once more—what a foolish act.’

Things may have unfolded slightly earlier than in real history, but they had gotten lucky.

“A pirate returning from Alzer to supply weapons reported that the Spanish fleet was moving to suppress the rebellion. Portugal’s fleet, unable to subdue alone, has returned.”

“Gained a bit of time then.”

“Yes, it’s not bad to have some leeway for a while.”

Yusuf’s response drew a carefully considered question from Shamsi.

“Padishah, if the forces are bolstered and the rebellion is swiftly suppressed, it becomes hard for the Empire to extend its reach into the New World. Have you no interest in the New World?”

“Interest? How could I not?”

In this world, few knew the potential the New World possessed as well as Yusuf did.

Taking his time, Yusuf finished the letter he intended to send to Mustafa.

“A rebellion? It is certainly desirable if it drags on, but it’s also fine if stability is restored. Ideally, if we get enough leisure to be greedy elsewhere, that would be splendid. I’ll table that topic for now, but have you heard any news about Murad?”

“I have.”

“A truly ignorant act, isn’t it?”

At this, Shamsi asked with a subtle expression.

“If you were in a situation similar to Prince Murad, how would you have acted?”

“Me?”

Yusuf grinned mischievously.

“Of course, I would have acted just like Murad.”

*

When the Portuguese trader arrived in Cabinda, located on the lower Congo River, the second longest river in Africa, he sensed something was odd about the city.

“Why is it so quiet?”

It was a city where thousands of slaves dragged from various parts of West Africa were shipped to the New World each year.

There should have been the raucous voices of traders bargaining over goods, yet the city was filled with an unpleasant silence.

The trader disembarked and headed to the slave market he frequented.

The building, once packed with slaves, only contained a few worthless young ones.

The slave trader was drinking with others, wearing a serious expression.

“Duart! Why are there so few slaves to be seen?!”

“Slaves?! Why are there none? You could take that one!”

“Who would take that kind of thing? It’ll die soon enough.”

In the New World, even the sturdy slaves typically didn’t last ten years; the frail ones would just become fish food during the voyage.

Glancing again around the empty slave market, the trader asked irritably.

“Why don’t you have any slaves?!”

“There are no slaves, I tell you! Some madman bought every single last one! Even the nobles and chieftains we traded with have no slaves left to sell!”

“Who the hell is this madman buying up all the slaves?”

Who were the nobles and chieftains they traded with? If they ran out of slaves to sell, they would simply create more; yet here was someone buying them up to the point where the supplies ran dry, leaving the trader in disbelief.

“Apparently, there’s such a madman. That damned infidel prince has bought them all up.”

“Infidel? Ottoman?”

The slave trader, who gulped down a strong rum, spat out thick saliva.

“Yeah, Prince Murad. That bastard did it.”

*

“Prince Murad.”

Murad, who was playing with the slave children hanging from his arms, turned his head.

“What is it?”

“The people who went to buy slaves have returned. They say there are no more slaves to buy.”

“Oh? That’s good.”

As Murad answered lightly, Yagiz Pasha, who had been aiding him since he was appointed as sanjakbey, sighed.

“We aim to build a massive city with the slaves we purchased. Isn’t the Padishah displeased? No matter how cheap the African slaves are, the numbers are excessive.”

“He would’ve already scolded if he intended to. There’s no way he doesn’t know we haven’t reported.”

Having brought back enormous wealth and many weapons for barter, it wouldn’t be possible for him to remain ignorant of their usage.

After sending away the children he’d been playing with, Murad wiped the smile off his face.

“There’s no need to worry about Father. More importantly, we’ve sufficiently distributed the weapons, haven’t we?”

“You have no idea how greedily they wanted the guns. There’s no need for you to worry.”

Africans typically exchanged slaves for guns, and those acquired guns were used for tribal expansions and maintainance.

“Humans are quite impatient; once they gain power, they can’t just sit still. So soon, blood will run in the streets. And aside from a few powerful figures, the rest will seek salvation.”

Murad lifted his head, gazing far into the distance.

He could see those training to take revenge against the ones who sold him and his family into slavery.

“To them, the Empire will be salvation.”

Murad hinted at the coming changes in Africa.