Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 177

Became the Sultan of the Ottomans – Episode 177 (177/213)

Scam Even (1)

Thanks to the sacrifice of the Swiss Guards, Clement VII escaped to Castel Sant’Angelo through a secret passage in St. Peter’s Basilica, but his situation remained precarious.

Castel Sant’Angelo, originally Emperor Hadrian’s family tomb, had become the Papal States’ exclusive refuge and prison for the Pope after Rome’s fall.

Built on a 15-meter-high brick foundation, the 21-meter-high cylindrical Castel Sant’Angelo was essentially a fortress within Rome, effectively besieging the Pope.

Hoping for a holy war to save Rome, the Pope initially felt a surge of expectation upon hearing the first cannon fire and shouts. Trapped with no means of escape, he watched anxiously.

That hope was dashed when he saw the red-flagged army wearing turbans overrun Rome.

“How can these infidels run rampant here?”

Clement watched from the walls, horrified.

The sight of Roman citizens thanking the Ottoman army was as surreal as the Sack of Rome itself.

Accusations of apostasy [abandonment of religious belief] seemed irrelevant.

With hundreds dying daily, no one cared about devils or infidels.

“Your Holiness, the Ottomans have sent another envoy.”

“What do they say?”

“They repeat their demand: now that they have saved Rome, they ask us to open the gates.”

“…I will consider it further.”

The Pope looked down, his face drawn and weary.

A cart piled with corpses moved slowly, and the rubble that had blocked the streets was cleared, setting Rome on the path to recovery.

However, acknowledging the Ottomans’ central role in this recovery was difficult for the Pope.

Upon hearing the Pope’s refusal to leave the fortress, Murat spat, looking up at Castel Sant’Angelo.

“I wonder how long he intends to stay cooped up. Yagiz, what if we knock on the door a bit?”

“If you’re thinking of using cannons to ‘knock,’ you should reconsider. He’ll only retreat further into his shell like a turtle,” Yagiz Pasha, Murat’s long-time advisor, cautioned.

Murat clicked his tongue. “My father would have done it that way.”

“You are not the Padishah [Ottoman Emperor], Prince. If you don’t want to be scolded for failing your mission, calm down.”

Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, Bishop of Ostia, who had been listening, added calmly, “The current Pope is cautious, to put it nicely, but indecisive, to put it frankly. He’s the type to be paralyzed by hesitation, so he won’t come out easily.”

“It doesn’t matter; we don’t necessarily need to drag him out.”

Murat turned to Alessandro.

“How long do you intend to follow me? You may return to Ostia now.”

“How can I return when Rome is in such a state? If help is needed to rebuild Rome, I will do my best to assist.”

“Do as you please.”

With that, Murat headed towards St. Peter’s Basilica, where the cardinals were waiting.

Alessandro’s words were smooth, but his attempt to increase his influence during the Pope’s absence was obvious.

‘It’s good to have even one person we can talk to.’

It’s a world where people demand their belongings even after being rescued from drowning.

They might be grateful for saving Rome now, but that gratitude won’t last forever. I can already sense growing discomfort with the Ottoman army.

As a city that has been the heart of Christianity for so long, the deep-seated antipathy towards Islam is understandable.

‘I understand why my father said this land cannot be held.’

Even without external resistance, the city could revolt at any moment.

Murat entered St. Peter’s Basilica, guarded by Ottoman soldiers, and stood before the assembled cardinals.

“It seems most of those who were coming have arrived.”

The cardinals were unnerved by Murat’s indifferent opening.

With few exceptions, all the cardinals in Rome were gathered. Few dared to display courage with the Ottoman army glaring at them, and even fewer could refuse to attend this meeting where Rome’s fate hung in the balance.

“I have no intention of breaking our promise not to annex Rome into the Empire. Our Empire came only to save Rome from being plundered.”

“…Then do you intend to withdraw now?”

Asked with a glimmer of hope, Murat smiled slyly.

“How can the Empire simply leave when Rome is in such dire straits? Without mercenaries to defend the city, others like the Habsburg army might return.”

That was unacceptable.

The Sack of Rome had occurred because the army, largely composed of unpaid mercenaries, lacked a commander. It was an extreme situation, and normally, even if occupied, Rome wouldn’t have been plundered so thoroughly.

Of course, no one dared to speak frankly with the Ottoman army filling the cathedral.

“We helped with great difficulty, and we can’t allow the same tragedy to happen again. It would be a wasted effort.”

“Then what do you intend to do?”

“The Empire will help Rome rebuild and become self-sufficient.”

None of the cardinals wanted such help, but fearing the Ottomans might change their minds if they refused, they reluctantly agreed.

“The exact treaty will be drawn up after the Pope opens the gates, but the biggest problem is, of course, money, isn’t it?”

Rome had suffered damage comparable to the Great Fire of Rome during Emperor Nero’s reign. The cardinals felt suffocated at the thought of rebuilding it.

“I was hoping to cover it with the spoils the Empire obtained, but it won’t be enough. So, we need your sincerity.”

“What do you mean! The loot taken was not a small amount!”

“That’s right! No matter how much reconstruction costs, this is too much!”

When money was mentioned, the cardinals protested fiercely. Murat frowned and slammed his fist on the platform.

The gauntlet-clad fist shattered the platform, silencing the cardinals as fragments of wood scattered. It was a blow powerful enough to crush a person’s head.

“Quiet. I believe those who can pay a large sum to the Habsburg army for safety can donate an even larger sum for Rome’s reconstruction.”

The cardinals despaired at this blatant robbery.

***

“Are we just going to watch?!”

“Judging by the infidels’ actions, we’re going bankrupt.”

A week had passed since Murat’s announcement, and the Ottoman army’s presence in Rome was increasingly frustrating.

Unlike the cardinals, the citizens welcomed the Ottoman’s promise to rebuild Rome.

With many homeless and living on the streets, reconstruction was their top priority.

The cardinals were pressured to pay up, not by the Ottomans, but by their own citizens. And judging by the Ottomans’ attitude, this wouldn’t be a one-time donation.

The cardinals, meeting in secret, voiced their frustrations. One suggested:

“There’s still a chance. Several countries, including Florence, are reportedly raising troops in response to the infidels occupying Rome.”

“Is it possible?”

“It is. The Ottoman army here is only about ten thousand strong. We can deal with them before the walls are rebuilt.”

The countries, including Florence, were likely gathering troops for their own gain, but the cardinals preferred them to the Ottomans. They offered more room for compromise.

“His Holiness has also vowed to hold out as long as possible.”

The moment the Pope signed the treaty entrusting reconstruction to the Ottomans, it would be irreversible.

The Pope, holed up in the castle to save himself, was proving helpful. The cardinals prayed for a positive outcome when the door burst open.

A late-arriving cardinal rushed in, panting.

“The Ottomans!”

“Yes, we were just discussing the Ottoman problem.”

“It’s not that! More Ottoman troops have arrived! And with the Ottoman’s first prince!”

Thinking, ‘Already?’, the cardinals rushed outside and were speechless at the sight of the Ottoman fleet filling the Tiber River.

The sheer number of supplies and troops disembarking made it clear they had been sent after hearing about the occupation of Rome.

It seemed they had been preparing long in advance, sending a chill down the cardinals’ spines.

‘Does the real infidel emperor have the gift of prophecy?’

It seemed impossible unless he had foreseen the future, and it also meant their plans were ruined.

As no one could speak, a man walked alongside the giant Prince Murat. His steps were light but firm, and his handsome face and ruthless green eyes gave off an aura of oppression.

There was no need to ask his identity; the cardinals’ expectations were confirmed.

“This is my older brother, Prince Mehmed. He came to help with the reconstruction. He will be a great help in this desolate land.”

“I am Mehmed. From now on, you will have to talk to me, not my younger brother.”

“I’m sure you have a lot to discuss at your first meeting, so I’ll excuse myself.”

Murat, passing the cardinals, clicked his tongue.

“Tsk, it would have been better if you had gathered and made a treaty with me before my brother came, instead of uselessly racking your brains. Have a hard time.”

“What does that mean?”

As Murat disappeared without explaining, Mehmed spoke.

“After reviewing the situation, it seems Murat’s calculations were off. There are many things to consider, starting with the cost of stationing the army to protect Rome. Don’t worry, I’ll calculate it at the level of Italian mercenaries, even though they are elite soldiers.”

The cardinals, receiving a new, lengthy list starting with the price of using Ottoman prisoners as labor, deeply understood Murat’s words.

The Pope, realizing there was no point in resisting, emerged from the castle and signed the treaty for the reconstruction of Rome.

***

Even in the original history, the Sack of Rome symbolized the fall of papal power, and now the Ottomans were added to the mix.

The West was already in turmoil over religious issues, and the blame game spread rapidly over the unprecedented situation of the Ottomans being stationed in Rome.

The Habsburgs were the first to be targeted.

In response to criticism for the Sack of Rome, Charles V declared it was the fault of the Lutheran mercenaries.

The blame shifted to the Lutherans, the first Protestants, who argued it was due to the corruption of the Papal States.

France, heavily criticized for allying with the infidels, poured fuel on the fire, arguing that the Ottomans couldn’t be considered a purely Islamic state, given their rescue of Rome.

‘I occupied Rome, and the West is on fire.’

Yusuf tore up the letter he was holding.

“There’s no reason for the Empire to burn with the West. What is this, a mosque in Rome? We’re not going to fight the West and the Crusaders.”

Through this reconstruction of Rome, the Christian factions within the Ottoman Empire gained power, and the Empire is transforming from an Islamic state into a secular one.

There was no reason to do the crazy thing of building a mosque in Rome, as the Islamic fundamentalists wanted.

‘Now that Mehmed has gone to Rome, there’s no need to worry about that side for a while.’

As the saying goes, ‘the right person in the right place,’ Mehmed was much better suited for the reconstruction of Rome than Murat.

It’s necessary to pay close attention to the situation in the West, but there will be no major problems for now.

Yusuf tapped the armrest, recalling a letter he had received earlier.

“The Ming Dynasty has asked for help suppressing pirates, huh.”

If the Ming Dynasty requested it, perhaps because of the weapons provided by the governor of India, it meant the situation was serious.

‘It’s just pirates anyway.’

The Empire’s fleet, mainly composed of large ships, is unlikely to suffer much damage suppressing pirates, and the subsequent events depend on Suleiman.

“I wonder if he’s doing well.”

***

-Long live, long live, long live! (萬歲萬歲萬萬歲)! [Ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand times ten thousand years! A traditional Chinese salutation for the emperor.]

Beijing, Ming Dynasty.

A resounding cry echoed through the sky in the heart of the great Ming Dynasty.

The cry of ‘long live,’ punishable by treason if used for anyone other than the emperor, announced the emperor’s arrival.

With civil and military officials lined up on a scale far grander than in Joseon [ancient Korean kingdom], Suleiman took his example and licked his lips.

Yusuf had given him only one order regarding his reception by the emperor:

‘Deceive the emperor, even if you have to lie.’

Suleiman swallowed, his mouth dry.