Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 134

The New Era (2)

In 1512, Europe was in no position to curb the growing power of the Ottoman Empire.

As France expanded due to the war initiated by their attack on Venice, the Pope formed the Holy League to counter France, their former ally.

The Holy League, comprising the Papal States, Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, Venice, and England, successfully drove France out of Milan, the largest city in northern Italy.

The Medici family, who had been exiled from Florence, managed to regain control after 18 years with the Pope’s assistance, which was fortunate, but…

“Damn it, are they simply ignoring us like this?!”

The Doge [chief magistrate] of Venice voiced his frustration.

The unpleasant truth concealed behind the Holy League’s facade began to surface in the aftermath.

Maximilian I, the Holy Roman Emperor, stubbornly refused to relinquish the lands he had seized during the war, causing anxiety for Venice, which had lost territory.

The problem was compounded by the Pope’s subtle alignment with the Emperor, further frustrating the Venetians.

“Since when have we become so insignificant as to be ignored like this?”

The Doge lamented, his gaze falling to a book placed on the armrest of his chair.

“With the state of the country so disheartening, it’s no surprise these subversive books are gaining popularity.”

“Doge, even so, we cannot classify it as a forbidden book.”

“I know.”

The Doge dismissed his subordinate’s concern with a wave of his hand.

The book, translated as ‘The Story of a Prince,’ recounted the tale of the infidel Sultan Yusuf and was currently enjoying widespread acclaim.

The Doge himself had even read it.

‘It’s easy to see why it’s popular. With reality so bleak, people are drawn to such an uplifting story.’

Although heated debates about the story’s authenticity occurred daily.

The narrative of overcoming various crises through bold and meticulous planning, coupled with a sweet romance with a slave girl who is now a concubine, appealed to everyone, regardless of gender or age.

Designating a book that offered solace from anxiety as a forbidden book would be detrimental to the Doge, whose position was already precarious.

The country faced external turmoil, yet internally, stories about a foreign emperor thrived.

No ruler would welcome this situation, but there was no alternative.

The problem was that this situation was unlikely to improve anytime soon.

-An Ottoman envoy has arrived.

“What’s inevitable has arrived… Let him in.”

At the Doge’s command, the door swung open, and a middle-aged man wearing a turban strode in confidently, undeterred by the piercing stares.

The man, dispensing with even a basic greeting, stood tall and addressed them.

“I am Abdi Pasha, bearing a letter from the great Padishah [Ottoman sovereign].”

The Doge, slightly annoyed by the arrogant demeanor, responded.

“I am Leonardo Loredan, the Doge of Venice. Bring me the letter.”

At this instruction, a subordinate carefully took the letter from the envoy and handed it to the Doge, whose arm trembled as he read the contents.

The Doge, his face contorted, glared at the envoy.

“Is this a threat, or a letter of diplomacy?”

“It contains constructive proposals for the advancement of relations between our two countries.”

The stipulation strictly prohibiting the sale of weapons to the Mamluks was acceptable.

Regardless of the events of the war with France this year, not only was the Safavid dynasty defeated, but the Mamluk main force was also decimated.

The fall of the Mamluks was inevitable, and for Venice, whose Mediterranean trade was crucial, closer ties with the Ottoman Empire were necessary.

However, the price Yusuf demanded for friendship was exorbitant.

“Why on earth should we return the spoils of war taken from Constantinople 300 years ago to you?!”

The Fourth Crusade, which occurred from 1202-1204, brutally plundered Constantinople, a city of the same faith, and the leader of this looting was Enrico Dandolo, the representative of the Crusaders and the Doge of Venice.

Venice had prospered immensely after this looting, so the demand to return the spoils was naturally met with shock.

Of course, the envoy remained unfazed by the Doge’s outburst.

“The Padishah is also the Caesar of Rome, so it is only fitting.”

“What nonsense…”

“Are you insulting the Padishah now?!”

Although it was merely one of his titles, the envoy glared at the Doge with an angry expression.

When the Doge hesitated to respond due to the envoy’s sharp reaction, the envoy growled.

“Very well. The return of the looted goods is not an immediate concern, so we will postpone it for now. But remember this.”

“…What is it?”

“A new era has begun. Those who adapt will survive, but those who do not will perish.”

With those words, the envoy turned sharply and departed, leaving behind a heavy silence.

When everyone hesitated to speak, Giovanni Barbaro, a former envoy to the Ottoman Empire, broke the silence.

“He certainly acted like an Ottoman envoy.”

If he had behaved like that within the Ottoman Empire, he would have been beheaded instantly.

Following ‘going to the Ottoman Empire as an envoy,’ which became synonymous with going to one’s death after Giovanni’s remark, another proverb emerged.

‘Acting like an Ottoman envoy.’ It described someone who had nothing to fear.

***

The year 1513 dawned, and as the weather warmed, the conqueror who had been resting in Tabriz began to move.

As an army of 80,000 descended, Aleppo, Hama, Homs, and Damascus successively surrendered, and the Ottoman conquest appeared unstoppable.

However, the Mamluks were not standing idly by.

Despite the annihilation of their main force, the Mamluks remained a formidable power.

The Mamluks gathered troops from every city and even conscripted soldiers, amassing an army of 80,000.

A piece of good news was that the Ottoman forces, having left behind troops to secure the occupied cities, had been reduced to approximately 70,000 as they marched south.

Of course, this hope was dashed the moment they saw the cannons and gun barrels arrayed on the battlefield.

“Sultan! This cannot continue!”

“With all due respect, we must find a way to break through!”

Tuman Bay, who had ascended to the throne as the new Sultan following the death of his predecessor, surveyed the conference hall with weary eyes.

Several empty seats were visible in the hall, which had been full before the battle began.

These were not the seats of those who had fled, but of those who had gone to Allah [died], and Tuman Bay clenched his teeth.

‘You pig-like merchants. I will make you regret this.’

Venice, which had promised to sell weapons, abruptly changed its stance before the battle.

The Holy League had dissolved with the sudden death of the Pope earlier this year, and Venice had allied with France, their enemy of the previous year.

They offered excuses about lacking the capacity to help, but their sudden change of heart was clearly a betrayal.

“How many casualties have we suffered?”

“Already, casualties amount to 20,000. In comparison, the enemy’s losses are negligible.”

They had managed to acquire some cannons and hastily produced matchlock guns to equip the soldiers, but weapon proficiency was secondary to the overwhelming disparity in numbers.

“Those insane Ottomans…”

Tuman Bay cursed, recalling the sight of the enemy, armed with cannons and guns, advancing relentlessly.

Even if they were shooting arrows instead of gunpowder, they would be struggling financially, yet he couldn’t fathom how these men had been stockpiling gunpowder since when to use it so recklessly.

In the end, if the enemy was crazy, he had to take just as many risks.

“I will assassinate the enemy Sultan myself. Gather the troops.”

“Sultan?!”

The subordinates were shocked, but Tuman Bay gripped his sword and rose from his seat.

Tuman meant ten thousand, and Bay meant the best. In other words, Tuman Bay’s name meant the leader of ten thousand soldiers.

Tuman Bay, still in his late 30s, was a skilled martial artist, and he opened his eyes fiercely.

“Gather soldiers who are brave and skilled enough to behead the enemy leader with me. We will directly attack the enemy command.”

The declaration that the Sultan himself would assassinate Yusuf, not someone else, drew volunteers who possessed both skill and courage.

As darkness fell, and the clouds obscured the moonlight and starlight, Tuman Bay’s soldiers charged towards the enemy camp.

-Deing! Deng!

“An, an enemy attack! Enemy… Keheok!”

The guard, prioritizing ringing the alarm and informing of the enemy’s attack over using his weapon, collapsed, vomiting blood from the flashing blade.

Thanks to the guard’s dedication to duty over his own life, the alarm spread, and Tuman Bay’s soldiers clashed with the rushing enemies.

The torches that had illuminated the campsite fell, blurring the lines between friend and foe, and soon the surroundings were filled with blood, shouts, and screams.

Whether the tents had caught fire from the fallen torches, a smoky smell and bright light emanated from behind.

“It seems to be that way!”

The place his subordinate pointed to was clearly larger than other places at first glance, and troops were gathering to defend it.

-Tadadang!

“Keueok?!”

Those running in the lead, as if prepared to be hit by their own allies, were riddled with bullets and collapsed.

Although dozens died instantly, the bayonets of the Ottoman army and the swords of the Mamluks clashed without time to reload.

“Go quickly!”

“Keuheut, you must succeed!”

“Block them! Block them!”

Thanks to those who sacrificed themselves to clear the path, Tuman Bay reached the front of the large tent.

‘Finally!’

With the thought that he only needed to kill the enemy Padishah, he entered the lit tent, only to find a coffin, not a person.

In the wide-open coffin, there was no corpse, but a yellow Mamluk flag was placed.

“…Is it a trap?”

As Tuman Bay smiled wryly, gazing at the coffin made as if it were his own resting place, a loud noise erupted.

Tuman Bay collapsed from the bullets pouring through the tent, his hand falling on the flag in the coffin.

The scene of the yellow flag turning red seemed to herald the end of the Mamluks.

***

1513, hot summer.

The city called al-Qahira in Arabic, and Cairo in English.

It was the city where the Nile Delta, home to most of the Egyptian population, began, and it was renowned as the largest city in the Arab world.

The army, enraged by the failed assassination attempt, arrived at the firmly closed gates of Cairo.

‘Things went according to plan.’

He had estimated a fifty-fifty chance that Tuman Bay would attempt an assassination.

In the original history, he attempted an assassination with his followers, but he entered the tent of the Grand Vizier [chief minister] instead of Selim’s tent and failed.

Tuman Bay, who killed the Grand Vizier and fled, waged guerrilla warfare, so he set a trap in reverse just in case, and fortunately, he was able to eliminate him easily.

“Padishah.”

With the Sultan dead, there was no one to lead the resistance, and all that remained was to persuade the Amirs [high-ranking officers], similar to the Ottoman Pashas [officials], inside to surrender.

He addressed the envoy who was departing to negotiate their surrender.

“Tell them. If the surrender is delayed, we will increase the number of cannons aimed at the city gates, and we will kill them by that number.”

“I will convey it as such.”

About an hour after the envoy entered Cairo, Yusuf summoned the Janissary Agha [commander of the Janissaries, elite infantry].

“Aim ten cannons at Cairo.”

He didn’t say fire one at a time.

***

Yusuf, who had not only killed the envoy but also the Sultan himself, was notorious.

The Amirs, knowing that he was capable of carrying out his threats, surrendered and opened the gates of Cairo, and the Ottoman army entered, waving red and yellow flags.

It was a flag of amnesty that promised forgiveness, but Cairo was gripped with fear as they paraded with the heads of those who had attempted the assassination, including Tuman Bay.

Yusuf marched into the wide-open citadel of Cairo and declared.

“This is not the end, but we have overcome one obstacle.”

To the south, he had to seize Mecca, and he had not yet occupied Baghdad, including the vicinity of the Persian Gulf.

It would take until next year to completely subjugate the remaining areas, but there were no more major resistance forces.

“From now on, the Empire must prepare to face a wider world. We will have to lie low for a while.”

“The Empire’s land has almost doubled at once, so it is unavoidable.”

It would take at least five years to eliminate the remaining resistance and consolidate control.

Just as a snake that has swallowed a large prey takes a long time to digest it, the Ottoman Empire also needed time to assimilate its new territory.

“Instead, we must begin preparing now to venture into a wider world. There are two things we must pay attention to.”

“What are they?”

“The first is the canal.”

He would have to assess the situation, but if the canal that the Mamluks were building was completed, it would connect the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, bringing immense benefits.

The Grand Vizier, agreeing with the importance of the canal, tilted his head.

“What is the remaining one?”

“It is a drink called Kaffa, or Kahwa [coffee], that is spreading from Mecca. It is a drink that will usher in a new era.”

From now on, the Ottoman Empire’s day and night would blur.

The Grand Vizier felt a chill for a moment.

The name of the Mamluks was erased from the world, heralding the dawn of a new age.