Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 124

The Stage for War is Set (2)

Kemal Reis, leading a fleet laden with supplies for the army, arrived in the southern part of the Ramadan Emirate. He stroked his beard as he took in the sight before him.

Having spent many years as an Ottoman admiral, he could confidently say he had never seen anything like this.

‘Can that even be called a fleet?’

There were a few ships that looked sizable, but even those were few and far between.
The majority were pathetic fishing boats, not even fit to be used as pontoon bridges connecting the Balkan and Anatolian peninsulas.

They were the kind of boats that would break in two upon impact, without even needing cannon fire. And more than anything, what was strange was…

“They really can’t sail. I could do better with my eyes closed.”

Some boats were panicking from a few cannon shots, rowing haphazardly and colliding with each other, even capsizing.
The Ottoman sailors couldn’t bring themselves to laugh at this farce, watching with dumbfounded eyes.

“Goodness, can’t they even swim?”

“You could throw a pig into the sea and it would swim better than that. What are those morons?”

“Looks like some of them are seasick? Look at them throwing up over there.”

The Ottoman army, unaware that the boats were filled with Dulkadir soldiers, even the rowers, to carry as many men as possible, saw it as a truly bizarre fleet. They assumed these men were seasoned sailors, not conscripted soldiers crammed onto fishing boats.

“Kemal Reis, what are your orders?”

“Pull a few of those drifting fellows out of the water. Let’s see who they are.”

Following the admiral’s command, the soldiers rescued those on the verge of becoming fish food, and two prisoners were thrown before Kemal Reis.

Kemal Reis looked down at the two trembling men, brought aboard the massive ship and facing the barrels of guns.

“Who are you?”

“#[email protected]%!”

The man in front spoke in an unintelligible language, and Kemal nodded, saying,

“Throw that one back into the sea. He’s useless.”

At this order, the sailors dragged the struggling prisoner and threw him back into the sea.

A loud splash echoed with the faint screams, and Kemal turned his head again.

“Can’t you speak either?”

“N-No, I can!”

“Then I won’t need to save you again. So, who are you?”

Though his accent was thick, it was understandable. The captured prisoner, half in fear and half in bewilderment, asked back.

“…You attacked without even knowing who we were?”

“You speak strangely. If it’s not an Ottoman ship, there are only two kinds of ships you meet at sea: those to sink and those to plunder. That’s all.”

Even the Mamluks, who could be considered friendly, had become enemies.
The prisoner, who had been opening and closing his mouth several times at Kemal’s words, which wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call piracy, gave up and answered.

“We are soldiers of Dulkadir. Bey Bozkurt is aboard the flagship.”

“Bozkurt?”

Kemal, wondering why that guy was here, soon understood the situation and nodded.

“The Padishah [Ottoman Sultan] is wise. You guys were running away.”

“Kemal Reis, what should we do? Capture them?”

“There’s no need to harm our own people. Put a hole in the bottom of the flagship. If they want to live, they’ll surrender.”

Shortly after, a cannon was fired, and a soaked Bozkurt was pulled out of the water.

***

Adana, the capital of the Ramadan Emirate, is a city with a long history, appearing even in the Epic of Gilgamesh, humanity’s oldest heroic epic.

Located near the Cilician Gates, the only mountain pass connecting Syria and Anatolia, it has served as a strategic point and transit hub since the Roman Empire.

Despite its Mediterranean climate, it is situated in the middle of a basin surrounded by the Taurus and Nur Mountains.

To the south is the sea, and to the north is the Seyhan River, which flows into the Mediterranean, resulting in high humidity even during the dry winters.

Thanks to this, Yusuf, sitting on the throne of Adana Castle, was filled with the hot and humid air.

Yusuf’s face was full of annoyance as he looked down at those kneeling before him, feeling the unpleasant stickiness on his skin.

“Bozkurt, you escaped quite well. The way you run away and cause trouble is truly rat-like.”

Even the carpet on the floor was made of cotton instead of wool due to the hot and humid temperature, and Bozkurt, kneeling on it, spat blood-mixed saliva onto the floor.

“What a great Padishah! Your insides are as black as Satan… Cough!”

The Janissary [elite Ottoman soldier], unable to tolerate the insolent words, smashed his head into the spot where he spat, and a scream rang out.

Even Mahmud Bey, whose country was taken in a single day because of Bozkurt, trembled.

Yusuf gestured at the excessive loyalty.

“Enough. Don’t step forward unless I order it.”

“I am sorry, Padishah.”

The Janissary grabbed his hair and lifted his face, revealing Bozkurt’s face, one side of which was turning blue as if his cheekbone had been crushed.
The Ramadan officials, who had spent years away from war, frowned in fear, but Yusuf and the Ottoman officials didn’t bat an eye.

“Bozkurt, why did you attack our army?”

“…It wasn’t my order. I don’t know why they attacked.”

Yusuf smirked at that answer.

“You weren’t ordered by the Mamluks, were you? I already know there were close conversations between you and the Mamluks.”

It was true that there had been close conversations. However, it was about plundering supplies, not taking the lead in the war.

Bozkurt shouted with a very aggrieved expression.

“There was no such agreement! I swear to Allah [God in Islam], I am innocent!”

“Is that so?”

At those words, Yusuf came down from the throne and walked up to him, lowering his head.
The hand grabbing his hair and the force pressing down on his body became stronger, preventing him from doing anything rash. A soft voice was heard in Bozkurt’s ear, who gritted his teeth in pain.

“I know. I’m sure this wasn’t your doing.”

“Th-Then!”

“But didn’t you promise to stab me in the back? Did you think I would be defeated by losing some supplies?”

Bozkurt’s face was filled with shock at these words.

That Yusuf knew facts that only a select few knew, made him suddenly recall the rumors of him being a prophet, which he had scoffed at and dismissed.

Facing the swirling green eyes that seemed to devour him, Bozkurt now truly realized what kind of monster he had made an enemy of.
Yusuf, turning away from the dazed man, sat on the throne and said,

“Take him away. Get a confession that he attacked the Ottoman army first and that the Mamluks are involved in this.”

“Yes, Padishah!”

The Mamluks would definitely try to cling to this attack on Dulkadir and Ramadan.
The reason they declared the two countries as protectorates was to prevent them from falling into Ottoman hands.

‘Secure the justification for a preemptive strike with a confession.’

The confession that the Mamluks were involved was just in case. Announcing this fact right now would only mean rushing into a fight.

There was no need to grab them by the collar and drag them into the ring when the longer the Mamluks delayed their participation, the better.

‘But if the Mamluks stall until I kill Ismail…’

‘Then this will be the justification to attack the Mamluks.’

Bozkurt was lucky. Normally, he and his son would have had their heads on pikes, but his life was extended because of the justification.

Of course, it wouldn’t be more than two years at best.

“Mahmud Bey.”

“Y-Yes! Padishah.”

Although they had become enemies, Mahmud Bey felt more fear than relief as he watched Bozkurt, half-crippled, being dragged away.

Mahmud Bey’s voice trembled endlessly, and Yusuf continued as if this was the reverence he deserved.

“I will also have to announce that you, too, tried to help Bozkurt attack my empire.”

“Padishah?!”

“Is it difficult?”

Mahmud, who had never once thought of making the Ottomans his enemy in his life, lowered his head under Yusuf’s cold gaze.

There was no other choice anyway.

“I will obey.”

Now, the people of Ramadan would think that the reason the Ottomans attacked was because of their leader’s wrong choice.

Watching the Ramadan officials clenching their fists in despair, Yusuf rose from his seat.

“You may have complaints. You can appeal to Allah that you are wronged. You may even try to betray the empire. But remember this fact.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“Allah told us to forgive our enemies. But I do not.”

Hadn’t he refrained from blasting the troops with cannons and even personally met them to recommend surrender?

It was a coercive recommendation, but this was gentlemanly enough.

However, if they betrayed him, they would feel to the bone why the Ottomans were considered the devil of Europe.

Like Georgia.

***

Confusion and shock.

That was the Mamluks’ reaction to the news that the Ottomans had attacked Dulkadir and then Ramadan.

It started with the Sipahi [Ottoman cavalry] units appearing around Aintab.
The southern part of Dulkadir was so heavily guarded that it was difficult to operate even a single reconnaissance unit, and by the time they belatedly received the news, Yusuf’s army had already crossed the Nur Mountains.

“Find out what’s going on immediately!”

With the thought that the Ottomans might suspect Dulkadir’s betrayal, withdrawing the Maras ambassador was a mistake.

If there had been an ambassador whom the Ottomans couldn’t easily stop, they could have brought information without much interference.

Regretting what was already too late was meaningless, and by the time the accurate facts arrived in Aleppo, everything was already over.

“Dulkadir attacked the Ottomans first?! Bozkurt wouldn’t have done that unless he was crazy!”

“But it is a confirmed fact that a battle took place. There are many witnesses who say that several Sipahi died, and the story is already widespread throughout Dulkadir.”

The Mamluk Sultan gritted his teeth.

“…I’ve been tricked by that wicked brat!”

Using the blood of his soldiers as justification to devour Dulkadir and Ramadan first.
The plans he had made were shattered to pieces.

“Send an envoy, send an envoy to issue a stern warning! This is absolutely unacceptable!”

At the Mamluk Sultan’s declaration, an envoy to the Ottomans, with a lower survival rate than Russian roulette, departed for Adana.

The envoy, who arrived in Adana via ship without delay, witnessed the Ottoman army finalizing preparations to advance into Safavid.

If he had been a little later, he would have been chasing after the tail of the marching army.

‘This is the Ottoman army.’

The envoy, who rarely had the opportunity to accurately spy on the enemy, felt rather intimidated as he observed the Ottoman army with his own eyes.

The cannons loaded in the form of battle wagons were too numerous to count with the naked eye.

Soldiers, busy cleaning their guns and making lead bullets by lighting fires, filled one side of the plain.

At this point, he couldn’t help but suspect that they were openly showing their power to intimidate him.
The envoy, struggling to shake off his fear, entered Adana Castle, where Yusuf personally greeted him.

“You must have had a hard time coming such a long way. I hope you will understand that things are chaotic as we are about to leave.”

A smiling face, gentle gestures.

It was a sight that didn’t match the infamous reputation of going to the Ottoman envoy being more likely to survive than entering a lion’s den.

If it weren’t for the rows of pikes lined up next to the gate where he was greeted.

“…Are you trying to pressure me with this?”

The blood dripping down from the pikes with heads on them indicated that they had not been dead for long.
Yusuf shrugged at the envoy’s question.

“It just so happened that the execution and timing coincided. Well, you might have heard of these people’s names.”

Yusuf pointed to each pike one by one and said,

“Shahrukh, Ahmed, Suleiman. Hmm, was this one Turka?”

“That is Turak.”

The envoy also knew the name. They were Bozkurt’s sons.

“Where is Bozkurt?”

“He has not yet departed to Allah’s embrace. Sadly, he is resting in sorrow for having sent his children ahead of him.”

At least Bozkurt was still alive, which was fortunate, and the envoy said with a stiff face.

“This is the Sultan’s letter. He demands that you apologize for occupying the two protectorates and withdraw your troops.”

“He wrote nonsense in a grand manner.”

Yusuf, who casually pushed the letter aside as if he had no interest in it, said with a sneer.

“I have already received confessions that Dulkadir and Ramadan were hostile to the Ottomans. You can recognize their handwriting, can’t you? Take it.”

The envoy’s face stiffened severely as he received Bozkurt’s confession, stained with blood, unlike Mahmud Bey’s clean one.

“…Our country will not stand idly by this matter.”

“Good. I will definitely remember your arrogant face.”

The envoy fled as if running away at the chilling words, and Yusuf watched his departing back with sunken eyes.