Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 3

Where two or more people gather, there is a society, and society inevitably creates power relationships.

The harem, where hundreds of women gathered to seek the favor of one man, was also a place of bloody power struggles.

The hierarchy of the harem was headed by the Valide Sultan [the Sultan’s mother, who held significant power], followed by the concubines who gave birth to heirs and the concubines who gave birth to daughters.

The Valide Sultan had long passed away, and the concubines who had given birth to heirs had left the harem with their children, who had become Sanjakbeys [governors of a district].

Naturally, in a normal situation, Fatima should have been at the top of the harem hierarchy, but…

‘An heir is an heir, I suppose,’ Yusuf thought, considering the complex dynamics.

A concubine who had a political marriage or a concubine whose daughter was married to a high-ranking official was often more powerful than a prince who had little chance of becoming Sultan and a slave concubine with no support.

The eunuchs attached to these influential women often acted arrogantly, forgetting their place.

Fatima was startled by Yusuf’s words, which so accurately pinpointed their situation.

“What are you thinking!” she exclaimed, concerned.

It was an extremely dangerous idea to reveal his plans in advance and entrust even important escorts to those who couldn’t be trusted.

“Mother, as things stand, our future is clear. To be frank, the Sultan has no expectations for me. Trabzon? Do you think he would entrust me with that great city just because I want it? He would give me some worthless post instead.”

“……”

Yusuf’s cold words pierced Fatima’s heart.

The saddest part was that she couldn’t deny it.

Yusuf, seeing Fatima’s shaken expression, gently took her hand.

“What our mother and son need is not stability but adventure. Even if it risks my life, I have to try something.”

“…I’d rather this mother step forward and take the risk.”

Yusuf smiled gently at the fierce maternal love that would throw away her life like a piece of straw.

However, his words were firm, contrasting with his gentle expression.

“No. Even if Mother dies, no one will pay much attention. Rather, I’ll just lose my only ally.”

In a situation where the lives of princes were considered expendable, the lives of concubines who couldn’t gain the Sultan’s favor were insignificant.

In the ruthless world of power, death was simply the end for a loser.

This applied not only to Fatima but also to Yusuf.

“I have no intention of dying either. If I die, I will only receive condolences that are no different from ridicule. But if I survive, many things will change.”

* * *

‘To be honest, I’m acting with the sole purpose of survival, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay,’ Yusuf thought.

The memories of modern times and Yusuf’s memories were becoming clearer, and his head was a mess.

Now he didn’t know if he had entered Yusuf’s body or if Yusuf had received the memories of modern times.

He didn’t know if this place was in a game or if he had simply traveled to the distant past.

He wished he could just dismiss it as a terrible nightmare and get a clear answer, but even if he prayed earnestly, there was no answer.

Yusuf got up from his seat and looked out the window.

The people dressed in gold and silk were extravagant.

The palace, where thousands of people lived, was magnificent, showcasing the empire’s grandeur.

Yusuf said with determination, looking at the empire’s scenery with his own eyes, “I must survive to the end and become the master of this empire.”

The only hope that held onto his crumbling heart was the belief that all the answers would be found there.

* * *

Fatima felt like she was possessed by a bad spirit, a djinn [a supernatural being in Arab folklore], today.

There is an Arabic proverb that says, ‘Believe that a mountain moved last night, but do not believe that a person has changed.’

That means that people don’t change easily, but Yusuf’s change was so unbelievable even when I saw it with my own eyes.

‘It wasn’t just a change of heart. Was he originally like that…’ Fatima wondered, a sense of unease creeping in.

Fatima felt like her heart was tearing.

That meant that her overprotection was hindering her child’s growth.

Her heart was pounding when she thought about how much thought and courage he had to muster to say those words, but she steeled her resolve.

“It’s not too late.”

She didn’t know why she had the maid make five small pockets inside the vest, but it was enough to make her Yusuf’s strong supporter now.

Fatima, returning to her room, summoned the maid who followed her in.

“Yes, Hatun [a Turkish title of respect for women].”

“Tell me.”

Nene was more than just a maid; she was a friend, captured alongside Fatima from their hometown.

When Fatima became a concubine, she sought Nene out and made her a maid, the only person she could truly trust in this place where trust was a rare commodity.

“Yusuf is scheduled to leave the palace in two days. Spread this information quickly.”

“…I understand.”

Fatima smiled faintly at Nene, who obeyed without question, and pondered briefly.

If Yusuf truly desired to become the Sultan, her plans needed to adapt.

Fatima made a quick decision.

“Hold the funds intended for the West.”

Fatima understood the power of money, having been sold as a slave herself. She had built a small business with the funds she’d saved as a concubine.

Fortunately, it had grown to a considerable size, providing Fatima with an alternative way to protect Yusuf.

That was the option of escaping to the West.

This was the same strategy employed by Cem, the brother of the current Sultan Bayezid II, after losing the civil war.

Cem fled to the Knights Hospitaller [a Catholic military order], becoming a persistent headache for the Sultan.

‘But escape wasn’t a good choice…’ she mused.

The Knights Hospitaller, bribed handsomely by the Sultan each year, imprisoned Cem, subjecting him to suffering as he was dragged from the Vatican to France.

Her original plan was to hide Yusuf’s identity in the West, avoiding such a fate.

However, if Yusuf was determined to become Sultan, this money couldn’t be wasted on such an endeavor.

“Nene, a tough fight lies ahead. You might regret not running away. But can you stay with me until the end?”

At Fatima’s question, Nene smoothed the wrinkles etched by hardship from her face.

“From the moment I was saved, my life belongs to you, Hatun. I will follow you to the end, even if it leads to hell, with a happy heart.”

Fatima was grateful for this heartfelt confession, but the situation didn’t allow for empty promises of a bright future.

However, there was one thing she could guarantee.

Fatima took Nene’s rough hand.

“I promise, if your end is hell, I will be by your side.”

With a firm resolution in place, Fatima prayed earnestly to God that Yusuf’s plan would succeed.

***

The Roman Empire maintained its existence from the 8th century BC to the end of the Middle Ages, its last vestige residing here in Constantinople.

At its peak, the city boasted a population of over 400,000, but by the time of the Fall of Constantinople, the last stand of Rome, the defending forces, including citizens, numbered only 7,000.

The Eastern Roman Empire was destroyed, but this city, renamed Kostantiniyye, began to revive under the Sultan, who styled himself the Roman Emperor.

Thanks to religious tolerance, guaranteed salaries, and various tax exemptions, the city was usually bustling with people, but recently, the atmosphere had shifted.

Clang.

“Get out of the way!”

At the Janissary’s [elite Ottoman soldiers] shout, his long hat and mustache prominent, people scrambled to clear the path.

The cart, pulled by a camel, was laden with military supplies, and the Janissaries moving the luggage were even more menacing than their shouts suggested.

Yusuf, watching the scene from the side of the road, frowned.

‘They really timed this perfectly.’

「Sultan, Dominate the World.」 was a game notorious for causing frustration, but if it were merely a rage-inducing game, it wouldn’t have attracted so many players.

The game’s popularity stemmed from its excellence, despite its extreme difficulty.

It offered a degree of freedom that allowed players to escape the empire and incorporated major historical events, so after playing a few hundred rounds, one would become somewhat familiar with history.

Of course, an average person wouldn’t recall the exact year or details of an event just from seeing it a few times, but thanks to the vividness of his modern memories, which felt neatly organized like a library, he could grasp what was happening.

‘It’s right before the war with the Republic of Venice, so if I’m wrong, I’ll be stuck twiddling my thumbs for four years?’

In the Ottoman Empire, the Sultan traditionally led military campaigns personally during large-scale wars.

While winning the war against Venice would bring the significant achievement of dominating the Mediterranean, the Sultan’s absence was not good news for Yusuf.

The longer his appointment as Sanjakbey [a district governor in the Ottoman Empire] was delayed, the wider the gap between him and his brothers would become.

Hiding his impatience, Yusuf pretended to survey the city.

“How much for a loaf of bread?”

The merchant, surprised by the appearance of a noble young master with escorts, replied, “One akçe [a silver coin used in the Ottoman Empire] for one okka [approximately 1.28 kg] of bread.”

“It hasn’t risen much, even with the approaching war.”

An average laborer earned about three akçe daily. This indicated that prices were affordable, and the economy was stable despite the impending war.

‘Indeed, the current Sultan is not someone to underestimate.’

Just as King Sejong [a famous Korean king] became a great sage king thanks to the foundation laid by his predecessor, Taejong, Bayezid II was similar. He focused on economic development rather than large-scale expeditions, laying the groundwork for the vast empire that would later span three continents. Yusuf could sense his greatness even from this brief observation.

‘And I have to deceive such a man right now.’

His mouth felt dry as he casually looked around.

‘Isn’t there any coffee yet? A cup of coffee would be perfect right now.’

He truly felt like he would die without his usual three cups of coffee a day.

How long did he wander the streets while grumbling?

His legs, not yet fully grown, began to ache, and Yusuf sighed as he watched the setting sun.

Having failed in the poisoning attempt, he believed there was a high probability of a direct attack if the opportunity arose.

Before a major war, they wouldn’t expend much effort to kill a worthless prince; they would have to finish it hastily to coincide with the departure.

However, his opponent seemed more cautious than he had anticipated.

Inevitably, he decided to return for now and await another opportunity…

“Hmm…”

He was an ordinary-looking man, the kind one might pass hundreds of times on the street.

His grimy turban, dirty beard, and worn clothes were unremarkable, but Yusuf’s heart pounded wildly when he saw him.

Yusuf recognized this as a warning from fate.

Suppressing the urge to cling to his escorts, Yusuf moved toward the approaching man.

The man brushed past Yusuf, who overcame his fear as if walking naked in front of a beast.

“Keugh!”

“Your Highness!”

The weapon swung, and before anyone could react, it stabbed Yusuf, sending his fragile body staggering backward.

The assassin, seeing his hand covered in blood as planned, looked bewildered.

Because he was the one bleeding.

Yusuf, who had risen to his feet, saw that the assassin’s hand had slipped, and he’d been cut by his own knife because something hard had blocked the blade. Yusuf said silently,

‘Thank you.’

Astonishment filled the assassin’s mind as his head was swiftly severed and rolled on the ground.

The escorts, who had quickly killed the assassin, asked Yusuf, who appeared unharmed,

“Y-Your Highness, are you alright?!”

Yusuf, who had a clear stab wound but hadn’t shed a drop of blood, replied with a face of emotion,

“Allahu Akbar! [God is the greatest!] Allah has helped me!”

The people who witnessed the miraculous scene responded to Yusuf’s declaration.

“Allahu Akbar!”

Amid the pouring shouts, Yusuf laughed inwardly.

He had overcome the most difficult hurdle, and now it was time to capitalize on Allah’s perceived favor.