Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 37

#37. Clash (3)

Screams echoed through a small village nestled beside the Chorokai River, a long waterway stretching from beyond Bayburt, past Artvin, to the sea.

To the villagers, who lived simple lives cultivating grapes and olives, the sudden appearance of five thousand Qizilbash [a militant Sufi order] was akin to the arrival of demons from hell.

Men, old and young, died like discarded toys, and even women who cursed their fate and bit their tongues to death were treated as mere playthings.

The Qizilbash, having finished their brutal games in the village ruined in a single night, mounted their horses with smirks. Nevazar, their leader, spat with annoyance.

“Damn it, those Samtskhe bastards! I’ll deal with them later!”

The Qizilbash, who had advanced near Artvin, were forced to turn their horses back towards the Samtskhe army blocking their path.

They could have broken through the palisades [defensive fences made of stakes] and the fortifications held by three thousand troops, but the heavy losses they would sustain made it an unacceptable option.

He couldn’t help but grind his teeth at the three days wasted like this.

‘It’s fortunate that I was able to quell their dissatisfaction by discovering the village.’

Even though they were united under Shah Ismail [founder of the Safavid dynasty], internal conflicts simmered within the Qizilbash due to their diverse tribal origins, and Nevazar hadn’t yet fully solidified his command.

Therefore, if discontent grew, they might disobey orders, and he couldn’t predict how those eager to usurp the Shah’s favor would react.

That was the reason the peaceful village was annihilated, leaving no survivors.

“Pakhtan! Is it true we can follow this river?”

“If you follow this river and then take the waterway heading north, you can reach the border between Lazistan and Trabzon.”

“If this operation succeeds thanks to your guidance, I will personally proclaim your contribution to the Shah.”

“Thank you!”

Nevazar gripped the reins and shouted.

“For Shah Ismail! For Allah!”

“For the Shah!”

The village, with its population of only about a hundred, was far from enough to satisfy their lust for plunder. The Qizilbash, chanting for Ismail, began their march.

After marching without incident for three or four hours, Nevazar halted the column, raising his hand as the cavalrymen he had sent for reconnaissance came galloping back.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve discovered a fortress the enemy was building ahead!”

“The enemy’s fortress?”

“It seems they withdrew during construction. We searched the surrounding area thoroughly but found no trace of them.”

Assured that it was safe, Nevazar led his troops to the location and examined the structure the scouts had discovered.

The fortress, about two stories high, would have completely blocked one side of the riverbank if completed. Nevazar tilted his head, touching the half-finished structure.

“Materials I’ve never seen before.”

He had wandered his whole life, so it wasn’t due to a lack of knowledge, but he had never encountered such building materials before.

Materials weren’t the primary concern, so Nevazar looked around and pondered.

‘What’s certain is that the enemy is aware of our movements.’

His role was to disrupt the rear or draw troops from Erzurum, so he had been moving conspicuously, making it unsurprising that they knew his route.

However, he couldn’t understand why they had so readily abandoned the fortress, which could have been used even in its incomplete state, without even putting up minimal resistance.

“Nevazar, what should we do?”

He had to make a decision; he couldn’t keep thousands of troops waiting.

“Continue forward.”

There was no other option. Should he turn tail and run without even facing the enemy?

He would be fortunate if it only ended with ridicule.

The vultures eager to seize opportunities could use this as an excuse to divide the army, and he had no choice but to press on to maintain control.

‘No matter what tricks they play, we can crush them.’

They, who had achieved consecutive victories, couldn’t possibly be defeated by the weak Ottoman bastards.

“Still, there’s no need to leave something that’s bothering us. Destroy that fortress.”

“Yes!”

It didn’t take long for the fortress to be reduced to a pile of stones as thousands of soldiers swarmed over it, and seeing its destruction, Nevazar’s anxiety subsided.

Nevazar shouted forcefully.

“Increase the marching speed even more!”

After the Qizilbash, moving even faster, disappeared from sight, Yusuf arrived with his troops a couple of hours later and whistled.

“They completely smashed it. Was the opposing commander more cautious than I thought?”

The personality of the opposing commander was irrelevant. Once they stumbled into the trap, their fate was sealed.

Yusuf, watching the soldiers moving quickly as if there was no time to lose, asked Arda.

“It takes time to harden, so we can finish by sunset, right?”

“Of course.”

There was no need to build it beautifully, strongly, or high. It didn’t matter if they had to destroy it and rebuild it after this battle.

No matter how shabby it was, it would be their undoing.

Yusuf, with a matchlock rifle [early type of firearm] slung over his shoulder, wore a mischievous smile.

***

“Pakhtaaan! Why didn’t you tell me there was something like this!”

“That, really, it wasn’t here until recently!”

“Then did that fortress spring up from the ground!”

Nevazar, rebuking him with bloodshot eyes, glared at the fortresses located on both riverbanks.

The only gap, the river itself, was blocked by chains and palisades, and soldiers on the fortresses were aiming their arrows.

He couldn’t send troops to the opposite riverbank to exploit a gap because hundreds of cavalrymen were holding their bows, waiting for them to attempt a crossing.

‘He can’t go to the mountains either.’

He couldn’t ride a horse up a mountain, and wandering through the mountains in enemy territory would be suicidal.

Nevazar, realizing there was no way to move forward, drew his sword and beheaded Pakhtan.

“Ne, Nev…”

Nevazar, averting his gaze from Pakhtan, who clutched his neck and collapsed, foaming at the mouth, gripped the reins and shouted.

“Everyone retreat! Retreat!”

It was evening when they discovered the fortress, and the Qizilbash, who turned their horses around, had to ride all night without resting properly.

They knew they had to escape this obvious trap as quickly as possible, leaving no time for rest.

“Damn cowards!”

About fifteen hundred cavalrymen, who had been chasing them from the fortress they had fled, followed at a distance. When the Qizilbash turned to attack, the pursuers also turned away without hesitation.

In addition to the cavalrymen who were harassing them, the sounds of unseen people and the arrows that rained down, suggesting hidden troops in the mountains, were enough to drive them mad.

The Qizilbash were furious.

‘To dare treat us like prey.’

They knew they were being deliberately herded like game, and they turned back the way they had come, vowing revenge.

The Qizilbash, retreating with terrible murderous intent, arrived the next morning at the place where the fortress they had destroyed had stood, and they were speechless.

“…Is this the trickery of an evil djinn [genie]?”

In Islam, evil djinns were associated with Satan, and people believed they could cast strange spells.

The scene before their eyes defied understanding, leading them to consider such supernatural explanations. The fortress they had destroyed was standing tall once more.

It was lumpy, as if made of haphazardly piled stones, and its bizarre shape inspired fear.

Nevazar, unlike the other Qizilbash who were stunned, bit his lip until it bled.

‘I don’t know how they did it, but we can’t pass by without taking heavy losses.’

The sides of the fortress, where gaps might have been, were densely packed with barricades made of palisades. On the opposite riverbank, unimpeded, thousands of cavalrymen waited to cross the river.

In front, there were fortresses and obstacles; in the rear, fifteen hundred cavalrymen; to the left, a mountain; and to the right, thousands of cavalrymen waiting to cross the river.

“Damn it!”

Nevazar, cursing in his completely surrounded situation, admitted defeat.

The operation had already failed, and all that remained was to minimize troop losses and escape this trap.

Nevazar made a quick decision; there was no point in holding out and dying of thirst.

“Hodaram! Take five hundred soldiers and attack the cavalry in the rear.”

It was virtually a death sentence, but Hodaram gladly accepted the mission.

The five hundred cavalrymen who received Hodaram’s instructions turned their horses, and Nevazar shouted loudly.

“Can you stop us with just those palisades!”

“No!”

“Let’s go, brothers! Salvation is with us!”

The Qizilbash, responding with thunderous voices, drove their horses forward without fear.

Yusuf gave the order, watching the Qizilbash rushing like moths from the fortress.

“Fire!”

A rain of arrows poured down on the charging Qizilbash.

-Heeheeing!

“Kkeueok!”

Even as comrades, struck by arrows, fell from their horses and became lumps of meat, the Qizilbash did not slow down. They split to both sides, avoiding the fortress, and rammed into the palisades with their bare bodies.

The stakes, now adorned with corpses, failed to stop them. Those who rushed in afterwards trampled over the palisades.

The Qizilbash, who crushed the quadruple barricade while building a mountain of corpses, suffered hundreds of casualties but broke through the terrible barrier.

However, this was not the end of the walls awaiting them.

“Raise your spears!”

At the commander’s order, Yusuf’s bodyguards, armed with light armor and long lances, raised their spears in unison.

The wall made of hundreds of spears revealed its ferocious teeth, and the commander shouted.

“Charge!”

“A, avoid!”

The Qizilbash, who had not even properly formed their ranks, hurriedly tried to resist, but the bodyguards charged in before they could even fire an arrow.

Puk, puk!

With a sickening sound of tearing flesh, the 5-meter-long spear pierced three or four people at the same time, and the Qizilbash, now skewered, rolled on the ground.

When the bodyguards who had released their spears dodged, the second wave that rushed in again swept through the Qizilbash.

“Ugh!”

They were dying in vain. Those who were meant to help the Shah achieve great things!

Nevazar, his whole body soaked with the blood of his subordinates he had trampled on, looked around with a face like a demon.

Those who turned their reins towards the mountains to avoid the cavalry charge broke their necks while rolling down the slopes, and those who tried to escape to the opposite riverbank were shot to death by the Sipahis [Ottoman cavalry] who had been waiting for an opportunity.

The river had long been dyed red with the blood shed by his subordinates, and screams and voices calling out to God echoed from all directions.

In the nightmarishly terrible situation, Nevazar’s eyes caught sight of a boy looking down at them from the fortress.

“It’s you!”

Nevazar drew his bow.

***

Matchlock rifles are really hard to shoot.

I struggled to finish preparing to shoot one shot, but the battle was almost over.

‘Am I going to get PTSD [Post Traumatic Stress Disorder]?’

The smell of blood and the terrible sight of thousands of people being slaughtered was disgusting, even though I had orchestrated it.

In Yusuf’s eyes, who frowned slightly, he saw someone who appeared to be a commander shooting an arrow at him.

As he blankly watched the arrow flying slowly, as if in slow motion, his vision turned black.

Puk!

“Are you okay?”

With Arda’s heavy voice, his vision cleared, and he saw Arda with an arrow stuck in his shoulder.

Before Yusuf could answer, he pulled the trigger towards the enemy commander who was taking out another arrow.

The lit fuse touched the gunpowder and ignited, and after a moment, a large recoil and acrid smoke blocked his view.

“I didn’t hit him after all.”

It’s not that there’s a problem with my shooting skills; it’s the gun that’s the problem. Really.

Yusuf, averting his gaze from the opposing commander who had been shot by an arrow and collapsed, asked Arda.

“Did you have to block it by getting hit? You could have knocked it away with a sword.”

“If it’s okay if I accidentally miss and it gets stuck in your head, I’ll do that next time.”

What’s with being so sulky?

“Thank you. I’ll ask you again next time.”

To be honest, I think it would have just missed even if he hadn’t blocked it because he’s still short, but I didn’t bother pointing that out.

Because Arda, whose ears were slightly red, seemed to know it too.

He’s really going to get upset.

“That guy must be the commander. Arda, cut off his head and send it to Ismail as a gift.”

“I understand.”

Yusuf, who turned his gaze to Arda, who nodded, looked around.

‘If Ismail had been here, we wouldn’t have won so easily.’

It was hard to imagine that that monstrous human would fall for such tactics.

Well, still.

“It’s a great victory.”

The winner is me.