Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 155

The One Who Came to India (1)

The previous Pope, Leo X, had created numerous problems.

Leo X, from the Medici family, lacked financial prudence and indulged in extravagant luxury.

Early in his reign, he depleted the Vatican’s treasury and raised 3 million ducats by selling over 2,000 ecclesiastical positions. However, after eight years as Pope, he was 400,000 ducats in debt.

He squandered millions of ducats in just eight years—an enormous sum, considering that Charles V spent 850,000 ducats in bribes to become the Holy Roman Emperor.

Furthermore, he triggered the Reformation by authorizing the sale of indulgences [pardons for sins] to fund the construction of St. Peter’s Basilica.

In short, the current Pope, Adrian VI, had to resolve the many issues left by his predecessor and was doing his best to do so.

At least, that’s what the Pope thought as he addressed the assembled cardinals.

“Do you hear? The voices of the citizens out there.”

The cries cursing the “barbarian Pope” who colluded with heathens were clearly audible even within the Vatican.

“We hear them well, Your Holiness. But can we silence so many citizens?”

“It is the behavior of the ignorant. It will subside with time.”

“We believe so too, Your Holiness.”

Watching the cardinals chuckle as they spoke, the Pope clenched his fist.

The cardinals were the primary opponents of abolishing indulgences and prohibiting the sale of church positions.

It was impossible for that inflammatory letter he had seen to spread throughout Rome in just a few days without the cardinals’ involvement.

‘The very fact that they presented me with the personal letter is part of their scheme.’

Those eager to isolate the Pope would never have shown him the heathen emperor’s letter without scrutinizing it first.

The Pope suppressed his rising anger and asked in a strained tone.

“Would it have been better to support Emperor Charles from the beginning?”

Adrian had served as Charles V’s personal tutor and maintained a close relationship with him, but he claimed neutrality to govern fairly as Pope.

The cardinals reacted ambiguously to this question.

“We cannot say.”

“Then was it wrong to arrest Cardinal Soderini, who was plotting with the King of France?”

“We cannot say.”

“…Then was it wrong to cut off your financial allowances?”

Watching the cardinals sneer without offering any excuses, the Pope felt a tightening in his chest.

Rome, steeped in secularism, was overwhelming for him, a devout clergyman who celebrated Mass daily and a highly educated professor.

It was rare to find a cardinal who didn’t have at least one illegitimate child, and many seemed to prioritize wealth over God.

Rome, as he had envisioned it upon his election as Pope, was nothing like this. He had been so unfamiliar with Rome that he had worried about where he would even stay.

“Where is the Lord in this place?”

As the Pope lamented in a low voice, the door burst open, and a hurried voice announced.

“Your Holiness! The heathen emperor has sent another personal letter!”

Seeing the cardinals smile as another “heathen’s” letter arrived, the Pope gritted his teeth.

Internally, cardinals consumed by worldly desires isolated him, and externally, Roman citizens denounced him as a heathen barbarian.

The Pope felt as if the world was conspiring against him.

“Is this the trial the Lord has set before me?”

The cardinals’ eyes flickered at the Pope’s unexpected remark. After reading the letter, the Pope rose from his worn seat.

“Satan seeks to obstruct the reform of the Church. If so, I must not yield any further.”

He would expend the last of his life to achieve reform without fail.

The Pope gazed down at the cardinals with unwavering determination.

***

Yusuf chuckled at the news from the Papal States.

“He’s more resolute than I anticipated. A worthy man sits as Pope.”

Of course, Adrian VI was politically inept, but he was far superior to the previous Pope, Leo X.

Unlike his predecessor, who reveled in extravagant luxury, he led by example with a very frugal lifestyle.

To the Roman citizens, who valued visible splendor over sound finances, he likely seemed like a barbarian ignorant of art.

“The Pope has declared his renewed commitment to reforming the Church. He’s attempting to revise the system of indulgences again.”

“He will face another fierce conflict with the cardinals. Didn’t he fail last time because they blocked him?”

Yusuf laughed at Suleiman’s words.

He had lit the fuse, but he didn’t particularly care about the outcome. However, the way things were unfolding was intriguing.

“Now that matters have progressed this far, I hope the Pope lives a long life.”

The war with Italy was already on the horizon, and within the Papal States, a key player in the conflict, the Pope and the cardinals were at odds.

Furthermore, Martin Luther, advocating for the Reformation, was also actively campaigning, making it difficult for them to focus on the Ottomans.

‘In the original timeline, he died from overwork and the heat, but who knows what will happen this time.’

With his changed mindset, he might live longer if he avoids being poisoned.

For a moment, Yusuf fell silent, gazing ahead, content to observe the events in Europe from a distance.

-Pull carefully! Move slowly!

The wooden wheels of the cannon creaked as it rolled over the wooden planks leading onto the ship, and the workers maneuvering the cannon shouted instructions.

The sight of cannons awaiting their turn, filling the harbor, was enough to exhaust anyone just by looking at it.

“How are the quantities?”

“We have enough siege cannons to meet the French army’s demands, but we’re short on naval guns for the pirates.”

“We couldn’t avoid it, given the recent surge in demand for naval guns. I wish Tahir were still alive.”

Yusuf stroked his well-worn gun.

The artisan who had been with him since Trabzon had dedicated himself to his craft until his back was bent, but he couldn’t defy the passage of time.

The secret cannon-boring machine was created under Tahir’s guidance, so his absence was keenly felt.

Suleiman, who had studied the boring machine with Tahir, smiled sadly as he remembered the artisan’s gruff voice.

“He has left behind disciples.”

“Tsk, we can’t bring the dead back from Allah’s embrace, so we must make do. Instruct them to build additional boring machines for naval gun production.”

Suleiman understood the intention behind Yusuf’s order.

The demand for naval guns had temporarily increased due to pirate activity.

Over time, the demand would decrease, and the boring machine, created with such effort, would become surplus equipment, but the purpose of increasing the number of boring machines was clear.

“Are you planning to increase the number of ships even further?”

“This is our only opportunity to expand. When war erupts in the West, I intend to send the fleet to the East.”

The war’s trajectory had become uncertain as the Ottomans grew closer to France than in the original timeline, but the war wouldn’t last forever.

Once the war concluded, they would be even more wary of the Ottomans than before, and they wouldn’t be able to carelessly deplete their forces at that time.

‘We must also consider the worst-case scenario: France betraying us.’

If the Ottomans began amassing gold coins thanks to the canal, they might have ulterior motives.

Yusuf wouldn’t be surprised if they invaded with an agreement to divide the Ottoman territories among themselves.

It’s not for nothing that the character in Aesop’s fable slaughters the goose that lays golden eggs.

Greed is a powerful motivator.

“Are you referring to the Ming Dynasty in the East? I’ve heard tales from sailors who have visited Malacca.”

“It’s a vast empire, comparable to our own.”

He said this, but in terms of potential, the Ming Dynasty was even more impressive.

Its population alone was much larger, and an empire that hadn’t yet entered a period of decline was far more formidable.

It would take time for the Ottomans, who had experienced explosive growth during Yusuf’s reign, to catch up in a short period.

‘But at least our military strength is comparable.’

The Ottomans, who had been actively engaged in wars of conquest until recently, possessed an unusually strong military.

“So, what size fleet are you envisioning?”

“At least 60 carracks [large sailing ships].”

“…Are you contemplating war?”

Although it depended on the size of the carrack, 60 ships would carry over a thousand cannons.

Suleiman was bound to react this way, considering that he was sending a force large enough to startle the other side and make them think it was an invasion.

“We need to approach them with this number to get their attention. Of course, the size may vary depending on the situation.”

“I hope the size decreases.”

Yusuf chuckled at this.

Whether it decreased or increased remained to be seen.

“Inform the Ming Dynasty to avoid unnecessary friction. If we want to prepare for a long-distance voyage, the departure will be no sooner than next year. We must lay the groundwork for the trade route in the meantime.”

“It will be a difficult task.”

Even in India alone, there were signs of resistance against the Ottomans, who had absorbed the Portuguese territory as it was.

Suppressing their dissatisfaction and proceeding smoothly would be a lot of trouble.

Yusuf patted Suleiman on the shoulder, thinking about how much he would suffer, whoever undertook the task.

“So, I’m counting on you, Suleiman Pasha.”

“…Padishah [Ottoman honorific]?”

“I’m also counting on the fleet going to the Ming Dynasty.”

Suleiman’s eyes widened. He had only recently mastered the Ottoman language and had a breather, but he was once again given a huge responsibility.

“There is no one as suitable as you. The one who leads the fleet to the Ming Dynasty must possess a certain level of dignity. But we can’t send the princes.”

Most of the princes were still young, and the empire would be thrown into chaos if they were captured or killed during the voyage.

In comparison, Suleiman had been stripped of his right to succession, but he was Yusuf’s nephew, so his status was high.

In addition, he had outstanding personal abilities, making him the most suitable person to represent Yusuf in dealing with the Ming Dynasty.

“I am grateful for the Padishah’s trust, but I lack experience in this kind of endeavor.”

“I know.”

Compared to the Suleiman of the original timeline, who had gained various experiences under Selim’s patronage, there were several shortcomings.

Suleiman worried that he might ruin the Padishah’s plan, and Yusuf understood this concern.

“Don’t worry. I have already prepared your helper.”

“Is that so?”

Suleiman’s face brightened slightly at the mention of a helper.

He didn’t know who it would be, but he could rest assured that it would be someone carefully selected by the outstanding Padishah, Yusuf.

“So, who is it?”

“Your helper? He has already departed.”

***

“Is this Goa? I have finally arrived.”

A man with a large scar on his face looked up.

The red flag symbolizing the Ottoman Empire fluttered in the wind above the fortress in the center of the port.

Goa, once ceded to Portugal, had a new owner and had become a more vibrant port than before.

“We are not Portuguese! Venice! Venice!”

“Yes, Venice!”

A merchant who appeared to be from Venice was eagerly explaining that he wasn’t Portuguese to the Arab merchants who were frowning.

Merchants who had purchased spices loaded their goods onto ships with cheerful expressions.

In the bustling port, filled with people moving busily about their tasks, the man lowered his head, startled by a sudden impact on his chest.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!”

As the boy, who apologized repeatedly in broken Turkish, tried to pass by, the man grabbed his arm.

“Your hands are quite nimble.”

The boy’s face paled as the pouch he had stolen from the man’s chest was already back in his hand.

The boy, caught pickpocketing, struggled to escape, but he couldn’t break free from the man’s grip.

The image of his friend’s wrist being severed after being caught flashed before his eyes, and just as the boy, biting his lip, reached for the small knife hidden in his chest.

“What’s going on here!”

The boy squeezed his eyes shut at the shout of the Ottoman soldier who had heard the commotion.

It was too late to run.

A rough hand landed on the head of the boy, who trembled as he braced himself for punishment.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see what just happened. How would you like to work for me instead?”

At those words, the boy cautiously raised his head and nodded slightly, noticing the subtle smile on the man’s lips.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Hasan. It’s Hasan.”

The man clicked his tongue briefly at the name Hasan, lowered his head, and said.

“My name is also Hasan. I look forward to working with you.”

The devil’s tongue has arrived in India.