Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 137

Became the Sultan of Osman – Episode 137 (137/213)

The Ottoman Empire (1)

Clack.

As the ornately decorated box opened, a worn cloak and a simple sword were revealed.

Like most artifacts, the object itself isn’t inherently special. It’s the person who used it that gives it significance.

“Al-Mutawakkil.”

“Yes, Caliph.”

What must it feel like to address someone else by the title you once held?

Even without the heightened perception granted by special traits, the sense of loss he felt was palpable.

“Do not be regretful. It’s not as if the title brought you only good fortune.”

Using religious authority as a means of governance is a common practice throughout history, and Islam was not exempt from this trend.

The Caliph, who governed Islamic society, initially held an elected position but later transitioned to a hereditary one and eventually became a figurehead with no real political power.

The Mamluks, a dynasty of slave soldiers, also maintained a Caliph as a figurehead to bolster their legitimacy.

‘Even if he merely played the role of a puppet, it must be difficult to relinquish that attachment.’

Now that he had been stripped of the title of Caliph and the relics of Muhammad—external symbols of his authority—his complaints were inconsequential.

“Return and prepare to depart for Constantinople. It will be where your family resides from now on.”

In the heart of the empire, he had to behave discreetly if he wished to avoid accusations of treason, let alone bask in past glory. Al-Mutawakkil, resigned to his fate, turned and walked away, a picture of dejection.

The small gathering that had assembled for the ceremony to formally transfer the title of Caliph bowed in response to Yusuf’s gesture and withdrew.

He had already been using the title of Caliph before obtaining formal legitimacy, and the dynasty didn’t place excessive importance on the title anyway.

“With this, I’ve acquired most of the essential elements for governing the Muslim world.”

In addition to the title of Caliph and Muhammad’s sword, there were numerous other relics of Muhammad to be transported to the capital.

Besides the sword and cloak, there were also footprints bearing his foot imprint, as well as strands of his beard and teeth.

Considering the keys to the holy sites in Mecca that would soon be acquired, it was sufficient to sway the hearts of Muslims harboring discontent.

“All that remains is to reclaim the loot seized by Venice.”

“They won’t relinquish it willingly.”

“Since they regard them as historically significant spoils of war, they won’t easily part with them.”

Even in modern times, it’s common for looted cultural artifacts to remain unreturned under various pretexts, and the situation was no different in this era.

Moreover, the stolen loot included not only the four bronze horses but also marble panels from St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice.

It was obvious that they would do everything in their power to avoid returning them.

“If they stubbornly refuse to return them, I can always charge them with the crime of printing books containing my story without permission. It’s selling quite well, isn’t it?”

Printing a book managed and published directly by the dynasty, especially one recounting the life of the current Padishah [Ottoman Emperor], without authorization, could provoke national tensions.

‘They must have enjoyed copying and selling it to their heart’s content.’

When the opportune moment arrives and they receive the bill, they will realize the perilous nature of their actions.

Being at odds with the Ottomans, who controlled half of the Mediterranean, would be a heavy burden when they needed every penny during the ongoing war.

Yusuf rose from his seat and walked toward his office with Shemsi.

“If we can recover the looted items, we can secure the support of the Rum [Eastern Roman Empire/Byzantium]. It was a deeply painful chapter in their history.”

No matter how cruel and ruthless his actions might seem, they would still pale in comparison to the Fourth Crusade, which infamously plundered Constantinople at the time.

People of all social classes, men, women, and children, were subjected to horrific acts of violence, including rape, abduction, violence, and murder, and even noblewomen and nuns were not spared from the devastation.

The tombs of former emperors were desecrated, and not only were the burial goods looted, but the bodies were also thrown into the streets.

Of course, nearly 300 years had passed since then, so the pain of that era might have diminished considerably.

‘All I have to do is widely publicize the atrocities committed by the Crusaders at the time to rekindle their memories.’

That’s precisely the purpose of the organization I established, isn’t it? This is the moment to put it to use.

“More importantly, Shemsi Pasha, you don’t appear to be in good health.”

He rarely looked well due to overwork, but today he seemed particularly haggard.

At Yusuf’s inquiry, Shemsi glanced at him with a hint of resentment.

“Isn’t it because of the drink Your Majesty bestowed upon me?”

“It tasted familiar, but the flavor must have been even more intense. Were you pleased?”

He was accustomed to drinking barley coffee, or Orzo, so it was his mistake to consume it without hesitation, mistaking it for something familiar.

He couldn’t sleep for some reason, so he became engrossed in paperwork with his eyes wide open.

The noticeably reduced pile of documents inside the opened office indirectly testified to his labor throughout the previous night.

“Before discussing the flavor, I’m hesitant to drink it again. What exactly was that concoction?”

“Are you referring to Kahwa [Coffee]? It’s a beverage gaining popularity in Mecca as a means of preventing drowsiness.”

The coffee beans, native to the Ethiopian highlands, had only recently arrived in Mecca via the Red Sea.

“The imams [Muslim religious leaders] will likely disapprove of this drink.”

“They’re quite conservative. I heard it was temporarily banned in Mecca anyway.”

Yusuf sat at his desk and inhaled the aroma of the coffee beans.

Compared to modern, diverse, and refined coffee, it had many rough edges, but the familiar scent strangely stirred his heart.

He was reminded of the times when he couldn’t shake off his memories of modern life and even made barley coffee, but a decade had already passed since then, and time seemed to fly by.

Shemsi, observing Yusuf brewing the slightly diminished coffee, asked with a somewhat bitter expression.

“Are you planning to distribute it among your subjects?”

“Didn’t you witness the effects firsthand? It will be of great assistance to the subjects who constantly lament their lack of time.”

“…That’s not what I meant when I said I didn’t have enough time, was it?”

At least, he didn’t mean it with the intention of working day and night.

At this point, he felt it would be preferable to endure hardship in Cairo than to work in the capital where the Padishah resided.

At least he wouldn’t have to witness the Padishah handing out Kahwa as if doing a favor when he complained about being pressed for time.

Sensing Shemsi’s resentful gaze, Yusuf rolled the coffee beans in his hand.

“I didn’t prepare this solely to torment you. I’m contemplating making it the empire’s primary export in the future.”

“I’m uncertain if it will succeed. As I mentioned earlier, isn’t it a drink that conservative individuals will detest?”

“It will succeed.”

Shemsi’s concerns were not entirely unfounded.

The conservative anti-coffee faction targeted establishments akin to modern cafes and denounced coffee, asserting that its effects on the mind resembled those of alcohol.

In Europe, it was labeled the devil’s drink and suppressed because it was a beverage consumed by pagans.

Of course, despite all the obstacles, it eventually became an indispensable drink for modern people, so there was no need to fret about its success.

“And there’s a favorable situation for selling Kahwa right now, isn’t there?”

“Are you referring to the national exam you intend to hold?”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I’m alluding to.”

The news that subjects would be selected through examinations had already spread by word of mouth, and nobles, as well as merchants and other affluent individuals, were preparing to secure official positions for their children.

It was said that the palace was already inundated with inquiries regarding the content of the exam.

In particular, the aspirations of Christians and Jews, who faced difficulties in holding official positions and had to settle for being merchants, were exceptionally high.

‘In any case, only those with substantial economic resources will be able to step forward for the initial exam.’

This mirrored the limitations of the civil service examination system in Joseon [Korean Dynasty].

The proportion of commoner passers was as high as 1/3 of the total, but the majority of those commoners were wealthy individuals who could dedicate themselves to studying without engaging in manual labor.

It was inevitable in an era where most people were impoverished and there was no public education.

“There will be plenty of people willing to purchase Kahwa to aid their children’s studies.”

“Even if conservative individuals attempt to dissuade them, they won’t heed their advice because it concerns their children’s future.”

Originally, caffeine is an indispensable ally for test-takers, isn’t it?

He felt no remorse for advancing that timeline by hundreds of years.

After a moment of contemplation, Shemsi nodded.

“We need to assess the environment where we can cultivate it first, but we also need to enhance the yield.”

“And we must meticulously manage it to prevent it from leaking to other countries. If necessary, we should occupy the highlands where it was initially discovered.”

The commodity value of coffee was so immense that even Ethiopia in East Africa, its place of origin, had to be occupied.

Even if he couldn’t prevent it indefinitely, he had to avert the scenario of having the pie he diligently cultivated snatched away.

At Yusuf’s words, Shemsi frowned slightly.

“It seems like things are escalating.”

“Consider it as doing it for the sake of checking Portugal, which is a good land to occupy. If Eastern trade expands and we engage in further commerce, it will become an even more indispensable product.”

If you examine it closely, the Opium War, which was a deplorable conflict, was triggered by the trade imbalance with the Qing Dynasty [China].

There were numerous items imported from the Qing Dynasty, such as tea, silk, porcelain, and medicinal herbs, but the only British product that sold well was wool.

As silver flowed into the Qing Dynasty due to the trade deficit, the British resorted to selling opium to counteract this.

It can’t be deemed a positive thing, but for the British, it was a grave matter that necessitated waging war to sell opium.

‘To avert this situation, we need to prepare a diverse range of export items, starting with coffee.’

The Asian region, including China in this era, is by no means inferior to the West.

Yusuf smiled mischievously and handed Shemsi the bag containing coffee.

“This is a gift. It will be more beneficial to you than to me.”

“…I am truly honored. I am so moved by Your Majesty’s grace that my body trembles.”

Shemsi received the Kahwa with trembling hands.

Despite his desire to decline, his body, sensing the need, carefully took possession of the bag.

“You will be returning to the capital soon.”

“This region is stable, and the remaining occupations are lands that are sufficient even if I don’t personally lead a campaign. It’s sooner than anticipated, but I’ll have to return.”

If he hadn’t assassinated the Sultan at the meeting, he might still be ensnared within the Mamluks.

If he eradicates the Mamluks, there will be no Islamic forces to contend with.

It was a daring action that he wouldn’t have attempted unless it was Osman, who was already notorious in the West to the extent that they would dismiss such atrocities as something to be expected.

He conserved time, manpower, and resources, so he didn’t regret that decision.

‘Still, I should gradually mitigate this notoriety.’

It’s often the case that when someone you perceived as a villain acts slightly benevolent, it feels significantly more impactful.

He was willing to greet the envoys who would arrive in the future with smiles instead of swords and guns.

“What are you planning to do upon your return to the capital?”

“Well, should I commence by creating an item to replace those exorbitant candles?”

What’s the point of enabling people to forget the night with coffee? It’s so dark that it’s challenging to decipher the letters.

“Your Majesty?!”

“Just kidding. Just kidding. Even for me, it’s a daunting task right now.”

To replace them more affordably, he would have to extract oil and refine it into kerosene, but that wouldn’t materialize overnight.

He had acquired several oil fields, including Romania, but everything from drilling to refining was not straightforward.

“Upon my return, I will have to formally announce the name of the empire.”

“The moment has finally arrived.”

Until now, the empire had been referred to by various names, such as a well-protected country, an Islamic kingdom, and a Roman kingdom, but now it was imperative to unify it under a single name.

“Yes, the official name of the empire will be Osman.”

The name was derived from the founder, Osman Ghazi, and it was not an unfamiliar term, as the people were referred to as Osmanli in official documents.

The national name underscored that the empire was the land of the Osman dynasty.

Furthermore, with the proclamation of Osman’s national name, the flag symbolizing Osman was slated to flutter throughout Osman.

It was akin to the moment when a nation was newly born, and it was scheduled to be a nationally significant event.

“If the preceding matter is a national affair, then personally, I would like to commission a family portrait.”

“A family portrait?”

Shemsi looked surprised, and Yusuf slowly moved his steps and gazed out the window.

The city, tinged red by the setting sun, was signaling to him that another day was drawing to a close.

“Yes, it’s not eternal now, but it would be pleasant to have a picture to remember that time, wouldn’t it?”

“Since you express it that way, it seems like a good idea.”

At Shemsi’s agreement, Yusuf lightly raised his eyebrows.

“But there’s a problem. The person who will paint the portrait is a man.”

It was a serious issue in Islamic culture, which mandates that women wear hijabs [headscarves] to conceal their faces from other men.

Yusuf, deeply troubled, retrieved a piece of stationery.

***

Thud!

Fragments of marble cascaded in a heap, and the dynamic male physique became more distinct.

A deep voice reached Michelangelo, who was engrossed in his work and wielding his hammer.

“Michelangelo, a letter from the Padishah.”

“I’m unaware of what’s transpiring suddenly, but leave it there.”

Michelangelo responded irritably, his concentration unbroken, but soon a chilling voice echoed.

“Regardless of how much the Padishah cherishes you, I will not condone disrespect.”

“Hoo.”

As the guard Sinan exuded a palpable sense of menace, Michelangelo reluctantly put down his hammer with a sigh.

He had defied the Pope, but it was futile within the palace, which teemed with individuals who revered the Padishah like fanatics.

Michelangelo, accepting the letter courteously, scrutinized it meticulously.

He perused the contents, which lauded his skills as a sculptor and contained light greetings, but he smiled wryly at the directive to paint a portrait.

He had been commissioned to paint pictures even before he gained recognition, so it was absurd to evade him now as a sculptor.

However, cold sweat trickled down his face as he read the subsequent passage.

-I would like to request that you paint a family portrait, but there is a predicament in that you are a man. I have heard rumors that you avoid women, but do you entertain any thoughts of being castrated?

Michelangelo dropped the letter he was reading with a thud.