Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 126

The Cannons Roared (1)

Diyarbakir is a city located upstream on the Tigris River, within the Mesopotamian civilization that originated around the Euphrates and Tigris rivers.

Just as the city’s civilization dates back to ancient times, so too does the history of the walls surrounding the city, reaching back to ancient Roman times.

The walls have a maximum height of 12m (39 feet), a maximum width of 5m (16 feet), and a length of 5.5km (3.4 miles), making them the second-longest surviving city walls to this day.

Nur Ali Khalifa, who would normally have felt reassured atop these sturdy walls, looked out over the city with sunken eyes.

“Move faster! There’s no time! The enemy is right in front of us!”

“They’re like devils, those Ottoman soldiers! They’ll take your wives and daughters as playthings and tear your young children to pieces! Move!”

Rocks, transported on logs laid on the ground, were piled around the catapults, and the sweating citizens moved their feet again at the urging of the soldiers.

On one side, a thin gruel, lacking in both taste and nutrition, was being prepared by women forced into labor.

War preparations were steadily progressing, squeezing the laboring citizens dry, but the adjutant spoke with concern.

“Complaints among the laborers have been increasing lately. Wouldn’t it be better to reduce the intensity a little?”

It was an understandable concern.

No matter how strong and thick the walls, they cannot stop an enemy within.

In response, Nur Ali gripped the hilt of the sword he was wearing.

“It doesn’t matter if complaints pile up.”

“How so…?”

“The Shah [ruler or king] has said that impure people who have abandoned their faith have appeared everywhere. Like rats.”

In the Safavid northwest, Ismail is personally leading the execution of those showing suspicious movements.

Certainly, there are innocent people among them, but it can’t be helped. One cannot avoid setting a rat trap for fear of hurting the cat.

“Surely there are such people here too.”

The majority of Diyarbakir’s citizens are Kurds.

They are people who have long been rooted in this area, and they were the biggest victims of Yusuf’s looting as a prince and the scorched-earth tactics that occurred after he became Sultan.

The culprit is Yusuf, but there was also great dissatisfaction with Ismail for failing to stop this properly. Having experienced a Kurdish rebellion in the early days of the regime, it was not suspicion but conviction that disloyalty was brewing.

Nur Ali looked down at a picture that had arrived some time ago.

It was a portrait so realistic that it was unusually unconventional, considering the common practice of drawing pictures unrealistically for fear of idolatry.

No, to be precise, it was closer to a wanted poster.

“That pig should have been caught in Tabriz. My teeth grind when I think about the damage caused by that snake-tongued bastard.”

He looked haggard, with a gaunt face and a long scar across his cheek, apparently from the escape from Tabriz.

The traces of this rat, which he had learned for sure while catching this rat, had been rooted in Safavid for a long time.

In the early days of the kingdom, he troubled the Shah with false rumors that he was massacring Sunnis [a branch of Islam], helped Tazlu steal information from Tabriz, and created traitors while touring the west.

It was no exaggeration to say that Satan, in the form of a snake that made the first human fall, had come down in human form.

“If complaints pile up, they will gather around those who have fallen for this guy’s lies. Then we can purge them.”

“However, in order to overcome the Ottoman army, we need the help of the citizens. I’m worried that this might be a mistake.”

At the adjutant’s advice, Nur Ali gave a bitter smile and touched the wall that had stood for a long time with his hand.

“No matter how great a wall is, it cannot stop all enemies. Even the walls of Constantinople [modern-day Istanbul], which were said to be greater than this wall, fell into their hands.”

Nur Ali moved his gaze along the wall he was holding.

The fact that it had endured for a long time meant that it had been attacked by many enemies.

The walls of Diyarbakir were nothing short of tattered. After changing hands several times and undergoing repeated repairs, all sorts of architectural styles were patched together.

“This castle may change hands again this time.”

“Why do you say that before we even start?”

“That is our role: to face the end without being ashamed before Allah [God].”

The fact that there was not a single cannon brought in with difficulty through Venice represented that role.

It is just one of the passing points, as the enemy must be drawn in more deeply.

“We do not stop the Ottoman army, but kill and die, eliminating as many enemies as possible here. That is our last mission for the Shah.”

Silence fell on the wall at Nur Ali’s words, who was already prepared to die.

What broke this silence was a single cavalryman galloping in the distance, stirring up dust.

The man, who had passed through the bustling gate with a small commotion due to the laborers, knelt before Nur Ali, who had been waiting for him.

The messenger, who seemed to have rushed so urgently that dust rose with his every small movement, said in a dry voice.

“O, Ottoman army. The Ottoman army that crossed Malatya has appeared near Elazig!”

The final moment was fast approaching.

***

A drizzle fell from the sky for a while.

The soldiers around the battle wagon carrying the cannons covered the top with cloth more carefully.

If the cannons exploded due to poor management, it would be them, not the enemy, who would die, so they had no choice but to pay more attention.

The process of passing through Malatya and setting foot on the land that the Armenians called the Golden Plain was not easy.

“Did you say that all the dead soldiers were buried well?”

“Yes, Padishah [Sovereign]. They say they were not neglected.”

Usually, the borders of a country are often divided by rugged mountain ranges or long rivers, and the border between Dulkadir and Safavid was formed by the Euphrates River, which extends to the Persian Gulf.

It is difficult to lead an army across the river, which is why Ismail went through Erzincan when he attacked Dulkadir, in order to bypass the river.

However, Yusuf’s army was trying to cross the Euphrates River, and the Safavid forces were trying to destroy the connected bridge.

“Yes, we can’t let them be torn apart by beasts like the enemies.”

Yusuf looked down from the hill on the right.

Not all of Dukakinzade’s forces that had come to Malatya had gone down to Aintab.

About 3,000 soldiers were defending this place to protect the bridge and reinforce it with the cement they had brought, and the surrounding scenery showed how fierce the battle was.

Flying animals and wild animals such as rats swirled around the half-rotten corpses, and five huge tombs that appeared to have buried the bodies of friendly forces were visible.

“This is the list you mentioned. It’s about 300 people.”

“That’s a lot.”

“It’s because of the constant attacks day and night. In addition, it includes engineers who died in accidents while reinforcing the bridge with cement.”

Yusuf scanned the paper with his eyes.

It was a list of the dead, not casualties including the injured, but the densely written names made him feel that people, not numbers, had died.

Looking at this, Yusuf clicked his tongue.

“There are fifteen dead Yusufs?”

Because it was written meticulously, it was briefly written how each man died, which made him feel even worse.

“Grand Vizier [high-ranking political advisor], after this war, we should have surnames created. Isn’t it unpleasant that there are so many people with the same name?”

It is a farce that occurred because the Arab culture uses similar names, and originally the Ottomans did not have surnames.

If you are a famous person, you call the title and name together, and even if you are confused, you attach the place of origin.

In Joseon [historical Korean kingdom], it is similar to calling an architect born in Chungcheong Province Gae-ttong [a derogatory name].

The Grand Vizier replied with a subtle smile to the words that surnames should be introduced to the Ottomans.

“Padishah. I will step down from my position after this war, so I think you should talk to the person who will be my successor.”

“I know it well, so aren’t I talking to you? It would be nice to do it as a pastime when you retire.”

“…A pastime?”

It is a task to introduce surnames to the Ottomans, who do not have surnames.

At least 10 million people will have new surnames, which is not a small task, but closer to a task that requires working like a cow.

It wasn’t very hot, but he felt cold sweat running down his back.

“Think slowly about how to introduce it during the war. After you finish your work, I will make sure you can spend the rest of your life comfortably.”

“…I will follow your orders.”

No matter how much he thought about it, he thought he would die of old age faster than finishing the job, but the Grand Vizier had only one option to choose.

He had a bleak face from receiving a huge amount of work, but this was just a minor happening.

The war that would stain the Golden Plain with blood was fast approaching.

The fertile land where grain had grown was covered by an army smelling of iron, and battle wagons carrying cannons led the way.

The soldiers, thinking about the upcoming battle, tightened their grip on their weapons, and the horse Yusuf was riding also felt the ominous energy and snorted excitedly.

Yusuf, who was leisurely patting the horse’s head even before the war, turned his head to the side.

“Hasan, is this the one? The one I told you to catch.”

“Yes, he is the one who harmed the friendship with Dulkadir and caused our soldiers to die.”

He was young. No, to be precise, he was young.

The man held by Hasan, who had a long scar on his cheek, was young.

He was not even twenty years old, and those in this position knew without difficulty that they were designated as scapegoats.

“Don’t you regret it?”

It was a question of whether he regretted being a scapegoat.

In response, the man, soaked in fear, raised his head and replied.

“I don’t regret it.”

“If you regret it, you can live. But your family who abandoned you will not escape the disaster.”

“I said I don’t regret it.”

Yusuf, looking indifferently at the man who was trying to overcome his fear, turned his head and said.

“Take him away and behead him. Send him off nicely without doing anything absurd.”

“I will do so, Padishah.”

It was a common era to be executed painfully unless the family bribed someone behind his back.

The only consideration that could be given to a man of spirit was this much, and after a while, the soldiers’ cheers were heard as the execution was carried out.

As if he didn’t care what was happening behind him, the Grand Vizier said to Yusuf, who was looking at the walls of Elazig.

“Padishah. All preparations for battle are complete.”

“Good job.”

“But, will the scholars you brought be of any use?”

In the eyes of the Grand Vizier, he looked at the scholars trembling next to the cannons with suspicion.

“It is essential to shoot the cannons more accurately.”

It is an era when ballistics is still in its infancy.

It was a time when it was not even properly known that when a cannon is fired at a 45-degree angle in the absence of air resistance, it flies the farthest.

“In the future, victory will be determined by how many artillerymen there are who can shoot cannons accurately.”

The fact that cannons can be produced by carving them with a rock drill instead of making them with a mold means that the cannons have been standardized.

It meant that if the same amount of gunpowder and shells were put in, they would be fired at the same speed, which meant that the foundation for using ballistics was complete.

“Until now, artillerymen have relied on intuition, but we must establish a theory rather than intuition that cannot be properly passed down. If we do so, we can produce skilled artillerymen.”

“Is that possible?”

“It is possible.”

That’s what the École Polytechnique [French engineering school], which made France a powerful country, did.

Basic ballistics is the process of obtaining coordinates through observation, setting up quadratic functions and tangent equations, and finding angles using trigonometric formulas.

The solution to the quadratic equation came out 400 years ago, and trigonometry, usually expressed as sine, cosine, tangent, etc., has been studied since BC.

The basic materials needed for ballistics are already ready.

All that was left was to theorize it to fit the cannons currently in use by firing hundreds and thousands of rounds.

The Grand Vizier clicked his tongue as he looked at the frightened scholars.

“Looking at their frightened faces, it seems like many will die during the war, is that okay?”

“If Allah is going to take them, they will die. If they survive and create a theory, they will become Effendi [a title of respect] and gain fame.”

Becoming an Effendi, which corresponds to Sir, is not an easy task.

Those who overcome all kinds of crises and survive take everything. That was the Ottoman way.

Around the time when about 600 cannons on the front line were loaded with shells and gunpowder, the gates of Elazig opened and a cavalryman came out.

-I warn you! This is the territory of the Shah, protected by Allah! Withdraw your troops immediately!

Yusuf frowned at the thunderous voice and gestured to the Janissary [elite Ottoman soldiers] nearby.

“Ismail is like that too; I don’t know why his tongue is so long before the war. It’s noisy. Tell them to shoot him.”

“I will convey the order. Padishah.”