Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 71

The Inevitable Conclusion (3)

Faced with the cataclysmic earthquake, Yusuf swiftly ordered his forces to retreat.

This wasn’t a mere tremor where tents collapsed and horses panicked; it was a devastating earthquake that ripped the earth asunder and unleashed colossal tsunamis.

To linger near the epicenter and suffer crippling losses would brand him a legendary fool—a man who predicted the earthquake yet failed to save himself from its wrath.

‘A perfect illustration of how fortune-tellers can’t foresee their own fate.’

Of course, if he were solely concerned with avoiding damage, he wouldn’t have embarked on a grueling ten-day march with his infantry.

His true motive for venturing this far was to extinguish Selim’s last glimmer of hope.

Regardless of Selim’s efforts to quell the chaos in the capital—Selim, the very architect of this disaster—he could never legitimately claim the title of Padishah [Ottoman Emperor].

‘He’ll soon be as reviled as the Devil himself; who in their right mind would support him?’

Selim’s final, desperate gamble was to eliminate all potential successors, including Yusuf.

If he succeeded in murdering all the heirs and then passed the Padishah’s mantle to Suleiman, he could effectively rule the empire from the shadows.

Being in close proximity to Selim, who merely needed to sever the head of his last remaining brother, was an exceedingly perilous situation.

“There’s no point in engaging in a desperate battle against an opponent so utterly poisonous.”

Even with the advantage of gunpowder weapons, victory was far from assured.

Leading a force comprised largely of untrained infantry against 30,000 battle-hardened Crimean Khanate cavalry—men forged in the fires of war and plunder—would be akin to willingly walking into the jaws of a tiger.

Naturally, he wouldn’t be easily vanquished, but time was on his side, so there was no compelling reason to force the issue.

As Yusuf guided his troops at a measured pace toward the capital, Arda approached him.

“Scouts report that a contingent of 10,000 Sipahi [Ottoman cavalry soldiers] is approaching.”

“Understood. Prepare to receive our guests.”

Barely a day had elapsed since the earthquake.

The rapid assembly of such a substantial Sipahi force indicated that Selim had dispatched them to apprehend him, yet Yusuf remained remarkably composed.

After several minutes, the Sipahi army, their approach marked by the thunderous tremor of the earth, began to decelerate.

They were a typical Rumelian Sipahi force, clad in chainmail, wielding long lances and javelins that glinted menacingly in the sunlight. A lone rider detached himself from the formation and approached Yusuf.

“Greetings to the esteemed Prince Yusuf.”

Yusuf gazed down at the middle-aged man who had dismounted and knelt, displaying the utmost deference, and inquired,

“Who are you?”

“I am Serya Pasha, the Sanjakbey [governor of a district] of Sofia. I have come to offer my assistance to Your Highness, acting upon the orders of Mesih Pasha, the Beylerbey [governor-general] of Rumelia.”

Just as the Anatolia Eyalet [province] had a Beylerbey named Karagoz, so too did the Rumelia Eyalet, which encompassed the Balkan Peninsula.

That figure was Mesih Pasha, who had held the position of Beylerbey of Rumelia for nearly three decades.

Considering that most of his predecessors had barely lasted ten years, his longevity was truly remarkable, but Yusuf merely scoffed.

“Why didn’t he come himself, instead of sending you? The one who mustered troops to relieve me of my head, I mean. Ah, aren’t you all the same?”

While it was true that they were acting under the orders of Selim, who had proclaimed himself Padishah, they were undeniably the forces arrayed against Yusuf.

Had the earthquake struck a mere month later, they would have drawn their swords against Yusuf without hesitation, and they could never truly escape that culpability.

Serya lowered his head until it nearly touched the ground, overwhelmed by Yusuf’s palpable aura of authority.

“Enough. There’s no point in killing you.”

“…Thank you for your mercy.”

“Rise. Mesih Pasha must be preoccupied with managing the devastation in Edirne anyway.”

At present, Edirne served as the capital of the Rumelia Eyalet, and it was among the regions hardest hit by the recent disaster.

“Mesih Pasha had every intention of paying his respects to Your Highness in person, but the scale of the damage proved too overwhelming.”

“He should have heeded the warning properly.”

Yusuf clicked his tongue softly and addressed Shemsi.

“Shemsi Pasha, dispatch a messenger to Edirne.”

“As you command.”

“Inform them that another calamity will befall them in one month and fifteen days from now. If he disappoints me again, I will personally relieve him of his head.”

“I will convey your message faithfully.”

Serya, who overheard this pronouncement, appeared visibly perplexed.

‘If he accurately predicts another disaster this time…’

Islamic doctrine dictates that no new prophets will emerge after Muhammad until the Day of Judgment.

Therefore, Serya, who had personally witnessed Yusuf’s prophetic abilities, was deeply troubled. This situation directly challenged the fundamental tenets of Islam.

He sensed Serya’s inquisitive gaze, laden with unspoken questions, but Yusuf simply disregarded it.

‘It’s a matter that will require careful consideration and resolution later, but it’s not the immediate priority.’

His first and foremost objective was to reclaim his rightful place.

“Serya Pasha, I have an order for you.”

“Speak, Your Highness.”

“Send messengers to all the forces assembled throughout Rumelia under Selim’s command. Instruct them to kneel before me and beg for forgiveness if they desire to be spared.”

“Understood.”

The forces gathered in Edirne represented only a fraction of the total, and Serya, acting under Yusuf’s directives, dispatched messengers far and wide across Rumelia.

The Sipahi who received these messages swiftly rallied to Yusuf’s banner, and his army swelled rapidly in size and strength.

***

Thump, thud.

The ground trembled, causing the dishes containing Selim’s meal to tumble to the floor.

The food lay scattered across the ground, and the eunuch who had been serving the meal turned ashen with fear.

“Take him away.”

At Selim’s cold command, the soldiers standing guard seized the eunuch by the arms.

“Y-Your Majesty! Please, spare my life…”

The eunuch, his mouth gagged to silence his pleas, was dragged away like refuse, and moments later, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the halls of Topkapi Palace [Ottoman Palace in Istanbul].

The aftershocks, which had persisted for what seemed like an eternity, finally subsided, and Selim, who was about to resume his meal, hurled the remaining food to the ground.

“Damn it! Has Allah truly chosen Yusuf over me!”

Selim, his steps heavy with rage, stormed out of the palace and ascended the walls of Topkapi, casting a furious gaze upon the capital.

The sight that greeted him was utterly devastating.

No fewer than 109 mosques had been completely leveled, and over a thousand homes had been transformed into stone tombs, entombing their inhabitants within.

“P-Please, my family is trapped inside! Please, someone, get them out!”

A woman, having barely escaped with her own life, frantically clawed at the rubble of her home with bloodied hands.

Nearby, a man stood with a vacant stare, his eyes devoid of emotion as he gazed upon the ground where his family lay buried.

A child, orphaned and alone, begged for food, their cries piercing the air, and even those fortunate enough to have survived the disaster bore the marks of soot and despair upon their faces.

The woman, after tirelessly digging through the debris, raised her disheveled hair and unleashed a primal scream of anguish.

“It’s all because a false ruler has ascended to the throne! It’s because Allah is angered!”

The woman’s cry reverberated through the desolate city, and soldiers who overheard her words rushed to apprehend her.

“She is insulting the Padishah. Seize her!”

“Prince Yusuf should have been the Padishah! If he had, this would never have happened… Aaaagh!”

The woman, seized by the hair, continued to shout Yusuf’s name until a knife was plunged into her neck, and the faces of the onlookers, who had been passively observing the scene, contorted with rage.

The cycle of insulting Selim and calling for Yusuf, only to be met with death, was repeated dozens of times each day.

The aftershocks that continued to plague the city, while not causing significant material damage, instilled a pervasive fear that another catastrophic event could strike at any moment.

This fear morphed into resentment toward Selim, and the atmosphere within the capital grew increasingly volatile.

“If the false Padishah does not abdicate, the disaster will return at any time!”

“Only Yusuf can save us!”

Yusuf’s spies, having miraculously survived the great disaster, skillfully incited and mobilized the populace.

With countless mosques reduced to rubble and the authority of Islam severely undermined, the people willingly invoked Yusuf’s name rather than Islam to quell their fears.

The calls for Yusuf even reached the ears of Selim, who stood overlooking the capital from the confines of Topkapi Palace.

“Yakub Agha! Find those who call for Yusuf and behead them all!”

“Understood.”

Yakub received the order with a grim expression.

The challenge lay not merely in executing the dissenters, but also in the unsettling movements of the Janissaries [elite infantry], whose loyalty appeared to be wavering.

He sensed that the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control, but Yakub had no choice but to press on.

Having betrayed Bayezid and facilitated Selim’s seizure of the capital, he had long since passed the point of no return.

The soldiers of the Crimean Khanate who had been stationed in the capital, along with the troops under Yakub’s command, relentlessly hunted down the rebels, plunging the city into renewed terror, even as Yusuf’s army approached the outskirts of the capital.

As a massive army of 60,000 soldiers converged on the capital, gunshots erupted within the city walls.

“W-What’s happening!”

Selim, who had been pacing restlessly at the mere thought of Yusuf reaching the capital, leaped from his bed, and a soldier of the Crimean Khanate burst through the door, kneeling before him.

“It’s a rebellion! The Janissaries and Kapikulu [palace guards] have risen up in revolt!”

Selim’s mind went blank with shock.

***

Even in Çorlu, en route to the capital, he could sense it, but as he stood before the walls of Constantinople, Yusuf was once again struck by the sheer scale of the earthquake’s devastation.

The towers of the walls, visible beneath the moonlight, were grotesquely collapsed, and the damage to various sections of the walls was plainly evident, as if the city had endured a brutal siege.

If even the formidable walls had suffered such damage, the fragile buildings within the capital must have been beyond description.

“It should be about time.”

The stream of refugees fleeing the capital, driven by the relentless aftershocks, provided the perfect cover for spies to operate.

Yusuf, having received numerous reports on the situation within the capital, waited patiently, gazing up at the night sky, until the sound of gunfire echoed through the city.

-It’s, it’s a betrayal!

-Kill them all!

The sounds of gunfire and clashing steel reverberated beyond the walls, and the heavily fortified gates swung open with a resounding thud.

Neither the deep moat nor the triple-layered walls could withstand the force of the rebellion, and Yusuf drew his sword, issuing a resounding command.

“Liberate the capital from the clutches of the false Padishah!”

“Advance!”

At Yusuf’s command, the Sipahi, gripping their reins tightly, surged into the capital.

“C-Close the gates!”

The soldiers of the Crimean Khanate scrambled to respond to the thunderous sound of hooves, which was unmistakably different from the tremors of the earthquake, but they were unable to breach the Janissaries’ unwavering formation.

The Sipahi who had breached the gates began to assist the Janissaries in seizing control of the walls, and the soldiers of the Crimean Khanate were helplessly pushed back.

With the safety of the gates secured, Yusuf, setting foot within the capital, addressed the Sipahi, who were brimming with excitement.

“As the rightful heir to the empire, I command you. Capture Selim, who has falsely claimed to be the Padishah!”

At Yusuf’s command, the soldiers surged toward Topkapi Palace, overwhelming the soldiers of the Crimean Khanate who desperately attempted to block their path.

Yusuf, following the path cleared by his soldiers, smirked as he surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding within Topkapi Palace.

“It’s time for you to relinquish your position, brother.”

It was the downfall of the last remaining brother.