Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 128

Traps and Snares (1)

Highlands at 1790m above sea level.

Kabul would later become the capital of Afghanistan, a massive city inhabited by millions. But at this time, it was a small city with a population of less than 40,000.

Snow lay thick on the Hindu Kush mountains, named so because it was said that Hindus went there to die [a place of final pilgrimage or self-sacrifice].

It was a familiar sight, but the grandeur of nature was overwhelming. Behind the man gazing blankly at the scene, a rough voice spoke.

“Padishah [a Persian title meaning “Great King” or “Sovereign”], do you truly intend to go to the land of the Safavids?”

If heard in another country, it would be ridiculed—such a small territory to call its ruler Padishah.

However, for the man who turned his head, Babur, a descendant of Genghis Khan and Timur, who had created vast empires, it was a title he rightfully claimed.

“Farukh, I truly like this city. The land is rugged, and the people speak twelve different languages, making conversation difficult, but it is still a new haven.”

To revive the glory of Timur, he sought to capture Samarkand, a central hub of the Silk Road along with Chang’an [present-day Xi’an, China] and Constantinople [present-day Istanbul, Turkey].

However, he was severely defeated by Shaybani Khan of the Uzbeks, losing his homeland and fleeing to Kabul.

Even in Kabul, where he had fled, he faced numerous trials, including being driven out by rebellions, but Babur’s dream remained unbroken.

“However, I do not intend to be content here! I have a mission to reclaim the glory of my ancestor Timur. To do so, I must receive aid from the Safavids to capture Samarkand.”

“Padishah, they have rejected our request for help. How can a country at war have the capacity to aid us?”

“See the world broadly. The Safavids’ crisis may not be a bad thing for us.”

Having experienced all sorts of crises and survived, Babur realized that he should not be fixated on the immediate future.

“In the past, if we had reached out, we would have inevitably become a vassal state. However, if we utilize this opportunity, we can start on equal footing. In the long term, it will be a better outcome.”

“If we prepare and depart now, we might arrive in the war-torn west around next year. Can the Safavids endure until then?”

At the worried words of his subordinate, Babur clicked his tongue.

“Foolish talk. The Safavids and the Mamluk dynasty [a former slave soldier dynasty that ruled Egypt and Syria] have joined forces. Do you think they will easily fall?”

“The power of the Ottomans is considerable enough that the two had to join forces. Moreover, the Padishah leading them is said to be so capable that he has repeatedly defeated the Shah.”

Babur shook his head at the rebuttal.

“The Shah’s defeats were due to bad luck. He is the one who used the skull of that dreadful Shaybani Khan as a cup. He will surely overcome it, and until we arrive, the Safavids will stand firm.”

Babur, the first emperor of the great Mughal Empire, was certain.

***

Kugugung! Koong!

-T, the walls are collapsing!

A portion of the fortress walls, struck by repeated cannon fire, crumbled with a deafening roar.

The soldiers atop the walls didn’t even have time to scream before being buried along with the collapsing ramparts.

As the stones that formed the walls cascaded down the slope, the artillerymen firing the cannons worked even faster.

Someone once said that life is a comedy in the distance but a tragedy up close. [referencing a famous quote about perspective]

Similarly, the sight of cannons lined up and recoiling backward with flames might be spectacular from afar, but it was a horrific reality for the nearby artillerymen.

“Push faster! Unless you plan to keep firing all day, push faster, you bastards!”

Returning the cannon to its original position after it recoiled with each shot was agonizing work that made muscles scream.

Moreover, the work wasn’t finished just by pushing the heavy cannon, dragged by camels, forward while sweating profusely.

“You son of a bitch! Why aren’t you running faster?! Are you collecting rainwater!”

A young soldier, who had accidentally spilled the water bucket amidst the chaotic shelling, hurriedly brought back a bucket filled with water.

Without the water bucket, they couldn’t fire, so there was no choice.

A soldier waiting nearby soaked the muzzle cleaning rod wrapped in wool into the water bucket, and as the gunner blocked the touchhole with a thimble-clad thumb, he shoved the cleaning rod into the barrel.

-Tsssseeee

The heat of the barrel was so intense that the sound of water evaporating could be heard.

After the gunpowder residue inside the muzzle was wiped away and the barrel cooled down to some extent, they hastily loaded the cannon by pushing in the precisely measured gunpowder with a ramrod.

“T, the enemy! The enemy is coming out!”

Startled by the shout, the artillerymen raised their heads and saw it.

The sight of cavalrymen, clutching swords, pouring out through the battered and open fortress gate.

-For the Shah!

-Allah is with us!

These were cavalrymen tasked with stopping the shelling at all costs.

Already prepared to die, the spirit of the cavalrymen pouring out was fierce, incongruous with the unfavorable war situation.

The scholar, who was adjusting the firing angle considering the ground dug up by cannon fire, was restless.

“S, shouldn’t we run away?! We’re all going to die like this!”

“Shut up, it’s distracting! Either raise the angle properly, or scribble formulas or whatever on the ground!”

The scholar cowered at the snarling words of the gunner.

As the rapidly descending enemy drew closer, the sound of intense drumming was heard.

Clang!

“Get out of the way!”

The scholar, pushed aside by a rough hand and rolling on the ground, raised his head in a mix of bewilderment and anger, and immediately lowered it.

The eyes of the Janissary [elite Ottoman soldier], wearing a long hat that drooped down to his neck and carrying a gun on his shoulder, gleamed with murderous intent.

As befitting the title of the Ottoman Empire’s elite soldiers, the Janissaries quickly formed ranks and aimed their guns at the enemy.

The cavalry, who had dangerously descended the slope littered with debris from the battered fortress walls and ground dug up by stray cannon fire, came right up to them.

Just as the faces of the cavalrymen lowering their bodies with swords drawn and the pebbles kicked up by the horses’ hooves became clearly visible, a thunderous voice was heard.

“First row, fire!”

-Tatatatang!

-Hiiiiing!

With the signal, bullets rained down, and the cavalrymen riddled with holes were slammed to the ground.

The sight of the fallen corpses bouncing tens of meters and the heavy horses collapsing with broken necks was surreal.

Although the vanguard was annihilated, the following cavalrymen gritted their teeth and increased their speed even more.

It was as if God might be moved by their will and grant them a chance, but the second row, which stepped forward as the first row retreated, was merciless.

With the ensuing crossfire, only a handful of the cavalrymen survived, and what the barely surviving cavalrymen faced were blue-tinged bayonets.

Those who had watched the terrifying enemy forces turn into a bloody mess right before their eyes were stunned, and soon a shout that awakened their spirits erupted.

“What are you staring at?! Move quickly!”

“Are you crazy, trying to get us all killed?! Why are you reloading twice?!”

At the shouts of the gunner, who was experienced in war, the shelling continued, and the fortress walls, which had been cracked like small fissures, collapsed like dominoes.

Yusuf, who was watching the scene while sitting on a chair, asked the Janissary Agha [commander of the Janissaries].

“What is the condition of the cannons?”

“Among the cannons made of iron, there are quite a few that have cracked and must be discarded. Most of the cannons made of bronze seem to be fine if cooled.”

“That’s fortunate. How much gunpowder did we use?”

“It seems we’ve used more than half of our supplies.”

The fortress walls had been pounded by shelling for three days.

There was a joke that they had brought more gunpowder than rice, but at the words that less than half remained, the surrounding subordinates looked aghast.

The Janissary Agha, who commanded the army, spoke cautiously.

“The gunpowder consumption was too great. If we had deployed the troops sooner, we could have reduced the gunpowder consumption.”

They could have crossed the fortress walls faster if they had accepted sacrifices, but Yusuf waved his hand.

“It’s fine. The time it takes to raise people is longer than the time it takes to make gunpowder. And this is enough.”

The grand fireworks display was sufficient.

No matter how good the shelling is, it is ultimately people who plant the flag.

“Bring Diyarbakir to me.”

“Yes! Padishah!”

Soon, the sound of drums and the shouts of soldiers gripping their weapons echoed.

It was the sound signaling the finale.

***

“It’s not too late now! You must flee!”

Arrows fell towards the enemy forces surging up the hill, but it was merely the last desperate act of those who had lost their final stronghold.

Despite his subordinate’s cries, Nur Ali slowly surveyed the castle.

None of the buildings near the fortress walls were standing intact, and even the mosque that had praised Allah had its roof collapsed.

As Nur Ali looked down at the city that had collapsed as if eaten by insects, the flames rising with thick black smoke entered his eyes.

It was the warehouse where food and weapons were stored, and it was the last mission he had received.

“I am done. You all should flee. I have vowed to Allah that I will meet my end here.”

“…We will die with you.”

“Nonsense. This is a moment when even one more person is needed to aid the Shah’s great cause. Leave!”

At Nur Ali’s command, the subordinates who bit their lips tightly paid their respects and ran.

In the space left alone, Nur Ali said bitterly.

“If you can survive, you must survive.”

The Ottoman army, which had already reached the collapsed fortress walls, swept through the Safavid army like a wave.

Knives were plunged into the backs of fleeing soldiers, and the sharp screams of women echoed.

It was the signal announcing the looting, and as Nur Ali looked down at the landscape that had turned into hell, angry footsteps were heard behind him.

“Nur Ali Khalifa! So you didn’t cowardly run away!”

It wasn’t the Ottoman army.

It was the Kurdish people, who were about to have their food burned and be looted.

Nur Ali spoke to those clutching the dull knives they had taken from the soldiers.

“Take me to the Ottoman Padishah.”

“What trickery is this?!”

The leader of the group shouted in anger at the unexpected words, and Nur Ali said calmly, as if death was not imminent.

“I merely wish to see the one who has repeatedly blocked the Shah’s path one last time. This will be better for you than taking my head.”

At these words, the man drew his sword and swung it at Nur Ali.

***

The madness of war had descended on Diyarbakir.

The fear of not knowing when one would die was basely revealed during the three days of looting.

It was an endlessly harsh time for the defeated, who had lost all rights due to the defeat in the siege, and one who was filled with anger about this writhed on the floor.

“You wished to see me? Nur Ali Khalifa.”

It was a miracle that he was alive.

Nur Ali, who couldn’t even sit, let alone stand, because all the tendons in his body seemed to have been severed, only raised his head and looked at Yusuf.

“Cough, I merely wished to see the Shah’s greatest obstacle… obstacle before I departed.”

“You are a foolish man. Was it so important to see my face once that you didn’t even run away? Grand Vizier [chief minister of the Ottoman Empire].”

“Yes, Padishah.”

“I should have sent a portrait along with the heads of the envoys.”

“That is too much consideration for those who will soon ascend to Allah.”

As they exchanged trivial jokes, Nur Ali sneered.

“It doesn’t seem like something the one who has already killed my fleeing subordinates should say.”

Yusuf smiled gently.

“You know well.”

At those words, Nur Ali bit his lip tightly as he saw the head that had rolled right in front of him.

He thought that this meticulous enemy would not have left any room for escape, but the reality was simply devastating.

“So, are you satisfied to see the one who will throw your master into Allah’s embrace?”

“…The final victor will be the Shah.”

“That is the delusion of a defeated dog. Go ahead first. I will send your master soon.”

At Yusuf’s gesture, the soldiers grabbed Nur Ali roughly and dragged him away.

As Nur Ali, who would be torn to death by the enraged Kurds without even a proper corpse remaining, disappeared, the Grand Vizier warned.

“We should not take his words too lightly. Haven’t we received reports that about 40,000 Mamluk troops gathered in Aintab and Aleppo have moved?”

“I know. They will make a last-ditch effort. But one must take risks to catch big game.”

Yusuf looked back in the direction of Tabriz, which would become a trap.

***

“Shah, Diyarbakir has fallen, and the Ottoman army has begun to march towards Tabriz.”

“…Nur Ali. What happened to Nur Ali?”

At Ismail’s question, Ustazlu lowered his head deeply.

“He completed all the missions the Shah gave him in Diyarbakir and was executed.”

“Was that so.”

At the news that his subordinate, who had been with him for a long time and whom he trusted, had died, Ismail gripped the reins tightly.

“I will pray for my brother’s soul before Yusuf’s head.”

“I will obey!”

The 20,000 Qizilbash [Safavid army] who followed Ismail marched south to cut off Yusuf’s supply lines.