Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 10

#10. In the Flow of Time (1)

Yusuf, who had been gazing out of the carriage window, turned to Hassan, who was riding with him at his command.

“I wonder why we’re suddenly going to the slave market?”

He chuckled at Hassan, who looked at him as if he had seen a ghost.

Hassan’s emotions were so transparent that Yusuf could easily guess his thoughts.

“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not going to sell you. I’d sooner kill you than sell you.”

“I-I never thought that! Please believe me!”

“Just kidding, just kidding.”

Hassan’s legs were shaking, making it clear he hadn’t taken it as a joke. But, Yusuf mused, weren’t those the kind of jokes a boss made?

Enough with the jokes; it was time to evaluate Hassan’s usefulness.

“Hassan, as you know, I’ll be going to Trabzon soon. That place has been under Selim Hyung-nim’s [older brother/respected leader] rule for a long time. What do you think is the biggest problem there?”

“…The problem is that his followers remain.”

*See? Our Hassan is a useful slave.*

“Then what’s the solution?”

“……”

Hassan fell silent.

Cold sweat streamed down his partially exposed forehead, and his hands trembled.

*If he sighs once, he’ll faint.*

It was time to stop tormenting him.

He hadn’t even lost all his belly fat yet, and it would be a waste if he had a heart attack from being teased too much.

“It’s simple if you remember why we operate the Devshirme [Ottoman practice of conscripting Christian boys] in our empire.”

*Devshirme refers to a system of forcibly recruiting boys, primarily Christians from the Balkan Peninsula, to raise them as soldiers and officials. These children were converted to Islam, learned Ottoman Turkish, and received extensive education. The most promising were directly affiliated with the imperial family or high-ranking officials, while those excelling in military skills became Kapikulu Sipahi [regular cavalry] or Janissaries [elite infantry].*

The reason this system was introduced was to counter the influence of the Turkic nobles.

“As you know, the faction created through Devshirme checks the Turkic nobles who oppose the Sultan and reinforces the Sultan’s authority.”

“So, you mean we’re also going to use Devshirme to raise a pro-government force?”

“Are you crazy? Two people had their hands cut off for trying to falsely conscript in Trabzon. Do you want me to suffer the same fate?”

Even a dog snarls if you touch its food bowl, but if you touch the Sultan’s food bowl, your hands will fly off.

“And I don’t have the *yoyuu* [余裕 – Japanese for leeway/margin] to raise people right now. That’s why your life is still attached.”

If he had the leeway, Fatima, who felt betrayed by the years they had spent together, would have dissected Hassan into ‘hot’ and ‘mountain’ [referencing a crude method of execution] and thrown him to the dogs.

Because this is an era where a traitor is fortunate to die without torture.

Yusuf clicked his tongue at the pale Hassan and stood up as the carriage stopped.

“It means I need a pro-government force. If possible, the more readily available and quickly deployable, the better. I came to the slave market to explore that possibility.”

According to his plan, he had to confront Ismail I within three years, and he needed to consolidate his power before then.

Stepping out of the carriage, Yusuf was met by a massive crowd.

The fact that he arrived in a carriage was as inconsiderate as driving a car on the sidewalk, but no one dared to complain, especially after seeing his menacing escort.

Of course, this crowd hadn’t gathered solely to buy slaves.

Even the cheapest slave was like a luxury imported car in modern times, far beyond the reach of ordinary people.

“Is that the textile market over there?”

“Yes, it was built by Conqueror Mehmed II.”

You shouldn’t think of the textile market as just a neighborhood market.

It was a luxury mall selling expensive fabrics, jewelry, and artifacts, and a hub where merchants from all over converged.

Consequently, the commercial district, including the slave market, was densely packed, and the sheer number of people made it difficult to move, as was evident now.

*I don’t have any money to spend on luxury goods, so I’m not even going to think about looking around.*

If he had that kind of money, he wouldn’t even consider using Hassan after putting him on a diet.

He wasn’t particularly interested in luxury goods, but he could play marbles with jewels and dominoes with gold if he became the Sultan, so he had no regrets.

“Let’s go in.”

Yusuf took the lead and entered the large building with the sign “Esir Pazarı,” which meant slave market.

The guards were vigilant, preventing the riffraff who couldn’t afford slaves from entering, but no one dared to block Yusuf, who was entering with a formidable escort.

Yusuf, entering the slave market for the first time, experienced a culture shock.

To put it bluntly, it was like seeing an adult movie for the first time.

Of course, that didn’t mean he felt any sexual desire.

Slaves, regardless of gender or age, were scantily clad, and merchants soliciting customers and bargaining customers raised their voices nearby.

The merchants, inspecting teeth and probing bodies to demonstrate a slave’s worth, treated them as mere commodities.

Of course, having witnessed heads being beheaded on his account, he didn’t harbor any naive sympathy for the slaves.

*I just realized this is the era.*

You might say, ‘What’s so new about that when you’re using Hassan next to you?’ but honestly, can’t you easily see people being treated like slaves in modern times?

Even setting aside the occasional news of salt farm slavery, the workload of modern people exhausted from overtime isn’t necessarily better than the lives of the slaves being sold here.

*The slaves sold in the capital are unlikely to be used as rowers, which is an extreme job, so if you compare it, it feels like living as a private for the rest of your life.*

It felt even more terrible when he thought about it that way, but regardless, witnessing the selling process firsthand was a different experience.

There was a high possibility that those slaves would outlive him, and with Yusuf’s memories, it didn’t take long for him to shake off his emotional reaction.

Yusuf, having processed his initial emotions, began to survey the slave market in earnest.

It wasn’t difficult to distinguish between slave traders and customers.

The customers wore expensive fabrics and flashy accessories, practically shouting ‘I’m rich’.

Among these people, who were like Gangnam building owners in modern times, Yusuf exuded a unique presence.

It wasn’t just because of his numerous escorts, but because his every step conveyed authority.

Yusuf subtly noticed the gazes directed at him but paid them little attention.

*As long as they don’t try to kill me.*

The past few days had been too eventful to be bothered by mere stares.

Yusuf stopped in front of a slave.

“How much is this slave?”

It was a sturdy black slave.

Judging by the muscles on his body, he seemed capable of considerable strength.

“As expected of a noble person, you have an eye for quality. Just 80 ducats.”

“Expensive, isn’t it?”

80 ducats was 4,800 akçe [Ottoman currency], an amount an ordinary person could save in over four years if they lived frugally.

The merchant must have quoted a high price expecting bargaining, but considering that the cheapest slaves were disabled or black, it was within the expected range.

“Don’t overthink it. If you’re uncomfortable with what’s hanging down there, we can cut it off for you. I have connections with technicians who make eunuchs for the palace, so you don’t have to worry. How about removing half of it?”

At these words, the slave, who had been standing like a stone statue, flinched.

Yusuf acknowledged the need for eunuchs.

Even if he couldn’t stop the eunuchs from becoming playthings for the queen and concubines, he had to at least prevent other people’s children from becoming heirs.

It was like being parasitized by a cuckoo.

But he had no perverted desire to mutilate anyone unnecessarily, and Yusuf shook his head.

“No, that’s okay, but I have something to ask.”

Although the deal fell through, the merchant maintained his business smile.

Just looking at the escorts surrounding him, he could tell that the person in front of him was of considerable importance.

“Are there any Circassians among the slaves here?”

That was the real reason he had come all this way.

Circassians were an ethnic group from the region around Sochi, Russia, on the Black Sea coast, and were renowned for their beauty, much like Koreans view Ukrainians.

They were so famous for their beauty that later the harems of the Ottoman and Safavid empires were filled with Circassian women, and they were even depicted as attractive beauties in several Russian literary works.

They were also relentlessly hunted for slaves because of this perception, eventually converting from Christianity to Islam to avoid slave raids.

*But I’m not interested because of their beauty.*

He was walking on thin ice, so why would beauty be a priority now?

The reason he was interested in Circassians was because of their reputation as Mamluks [slave soldiers], the heavy cavalry of the Mamluk dynasty.

*Even if they’re not Mamluks, they won the war against the formidable Timur Empire, so they must be inherently brave warriors.*

That meant they would be reliable if he could bring them to his side.

“Oh, you mean Circassians? I happen to have one. You’re in luck.”

The merchant smiled brightly and led Yusuf to the Circassian slave he was looking for.

However.

“Look at her. Beautiful blonde hair, translucent skin, and even green eyes. She has the face of a perfect Circassian beauty. Contrary to popular belief, their hair color is usually dark, so it’s rare to find such a typical beauty.”

The problem was that the person in front of him was a girl who looked like she was about a middle school student.

With this level of beauty, she shouldn’t be sold to a slave trader but rather presented as a gift to the Sultan’s harem or a high-ranking official’s concubine, but he hadn’t come to look for a woman.

Before Yusuf could say anything, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“You dog-like things. Trash that’s not even worth using as horse feed.”

It was a curse, but when the slave used fluent Ottoman, he asked the merchant.

“Is she really a Circassian? As far as I know, they have their own language.”

“She learned it by eavesdropping for two months just to curse.”

If that was true, it meant she was very intelligent.

He hadn’t planned to acquire a female slave, but if she was this smart, he needed to reconsider.

“What’s your name?”

“I have no name to tell you bloodlines that will fall into hell like you!”

Hassan’s face, who was listening nearby, turned pale.

She had openly insulted the Sultan’s bloodline. If she knew his identity, she might be torn apart.

However, Yusuf smiled as if he hadn’t heard the curse.

“You shouldn’t say such things; it’s like spitting on your own face.”

“…What?”

Yusuf softly curved his mysteriously shining green eyes towards the girl, who was expressing doubt amidst hostility.

“Half of me is from the same bloodline as you.”

The girl’s eyes widened as if she had heard a secret of birth in a morning drama. [Korean soap opera]