Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 7

#7. Look at This Guy? (3)

Yusuf smiled as he looked at the paper.

However, those who saw him wouldn’t dare say he was smiling. His expression was far too intense.

After a moment of silent, chilling laughter, Yusuf hardened his expression and looked down at the trembling Hassan, then called for Fatima.

“Mother.”

It had been a full 10 years since Fatima had last addressed him with such formality.

Even a cold-blooded person would have developed some affection over such a long period, but Fatima’s voice was devoid of warmth.

“Nene, subdue him.”

At this command, Nene kicked Hassan’s ankle. As he staggered, she followed up with a kick to his body, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Nene, who had effectively used Hassan’s own momentum against him, pinning him to the ground, took out a dagger from her bosom and aimed it at his neck.

It might sound easy, but subduing a large man with a woman’s body required immense strength and skill, honed over years of practice.

“N-Nene!”

Despite his pitiful cry, the knife aimed at him didn’t waver an inch. Nene was resolute.

Even though Fatima was the owner of the business, the women of the harem [private living quarters reserved for women in a Muslim household] couldn’t move arbitrarily. Nene, her right-hand woman, had been mainly managing it, and she had a deep, albeit professional, relationship with Hassan.

However, Nene showed a cold-blooded side, prepared to stab without hesitation once an order was given. Loyalty to Fatima trumped any personal feelings.

‘The suppression went smoothly.’ Yusuf thought, observing the scene.

Regardless of the truth of the contents of the paper, there was no benefit in it becoming public knowledge, so the person who knew the secret had to be eliminated.

Yusuf, having made his decision, gave a sharp order.

“Listen! From now on, prevent even a single rat from escaping this building! Seal all exits!”

“Ha!” The guards responded with a salute.

He was so stern that they followed the order, even if it meant leaving their assigned protection target. Their loyalty was absolute.

Of course, not forgetting their duty entirely, two or three guards attempted to remain in the room, but Yusuf firmly sent them all out.

With only the four of them left in the room, Fatima approached. The tension was palpable.

“Look at this.”

Yusuf handed her the paper. Fatima took it with trembling hands.

Fatima, reading the contents written on the paper, trembled and burst out in anger. Her face flushed crimson.

“How dare you! I valued you so much! This is a betrayal!”

“Calm down, Mother. It’s fortunate that we discovered this evidence and knew about it in advance. We’ve averted a potential disaster.”

Even though Hassan was trusted enough to run the business, he was still a slave. He had no real power or autonomy.

The house couldn’t be considered a completely personal space, and he couldn’t create such a space without permission.

‘He could have made one if he pushed it, but judging by the looks of it, it hasn’t been long since he received it, so he couldn’t have made such a place in such a short time.’ Yusuf reasoned.

Because it was evidence, he couldn’t burn it like letters exchanged in advance. If he entrusted it to someone, they might open it out of curiosity and get their head cut off, so he had no choice but to hide it on his body. It was a desperate gamble.

How could he have known that he would be subjected to a body search now, after not being caught for over 10 years? Fate was cruel.

Of course, there might be other reasons for hiding the evidence on his body, but the reason isn’t important. The outcome was the same.

Yusuf was lucky to have found it, and Hassan was unlucky to have been caught. That’s all there is to the story now. A simple twist of fate.

Yusuf, having calmed Fatima down, made eye contact with the trembling Hassan. His gaze was piercing.

“I wonder who it could be. If such a promise was made, it must be one of my brothers, right? I’m a prince, so I wouldn’t be paired with a mere high-ranking official. The stakes are too high for that.”

Yusuf, seeing Hassan showing clear agitation, smiled and stroked his chin. He was enjoying this cat-and-mouse game.

“Korkut? That brother must be busy playing with the pirate Urudz, since I gave him 18 galleys [a type of ship propelled by oars and sails]. He’s probably too distracted to plot against me.”

Urudz, who received the galleys from Korkut, was Baba Urudz, who would later become the governor of Algiers in North Africa. A notorious figure in the Mediterranean.

A pirate notorious for his red beard.

‘Since he’s playing in the Mediterranean anyway, there’s no chance I’ll meet him.’ Yusuf thought dismissively.

He was someone I would only get involved with if I became the Sultan, so I didn’t need to pay much attention to him. He was a problem for another day.

Yusuf, carefully observing Hassan’s reaction, mentioned the next suspect.

“Then Selim? It doesn’t seem to be him either. Well, that brother might not have enough energy to keep me in check. He’s too preoccupied with his own affairs.”

Selim was the next Sultan, but he was currently in Trabzon, a remote area, so he would be too busy worrying about his other brothers and consolidating his power.

“Ah, it’s Ahmet.”

Although he didn’t answer verbally, the reaction he got back told him that it was the correct answer. Hassan’s eyes betrayed him.

Yusuf, smiling, tapped Hassan’s head and praised him mockingly.

“Wow, a merchant is a merchant. Looks like you grabbed the right line. He has the greatest chance of becoming the Sultan, and he’s greedy enough to pull off such tricks. You certainly know how to pick a winner, or so you thought.”

Even in the original history, he called himself the Sultan of Anatolia and moved his troops to kill his own nephew. His ambition knew no bounds.

He got ahead of himself and eventually had the Sultan position taken away by Selim, but he was currently the closest to the Sultan position. He was the frontrunner.

Now that he had found the culprit, he had to go through it one by one. He needed to understand the situation fully.

“First of all, Mother, is the content of the letter true? Did you actually plan to betray me?”

“…I’m sorry. It’s true that I planned to escape to the West. But I haven’t put it into action yet. I’ve blocked the execution of funds since you changed. I swear, I haven’t done anything!”

Fortunately, there was no evidence left. He had managed to stop the plan before it was fully executed.

He almost got caught in a nasty situation. A situation that could have cost him his life.

Escaping to the West, not even another Islamic region, would awaken the Sultan’s trauma of being severely tormented by his brother Jem [a rival claimant to the Ottoman throne who sought refuge in Europe]. The Sultan was deeply paranoid about betrayal.

He doubted that he would kill a prince based on a mere slave’s accusation, but he could be killed if someone fanned the flames. Perception was everything.

‘If I had been whining about why I fell into this place from the beginning, I would have died without knowing why, right?’ Yusuf mused. He was learning to navigate the treacherous waters of Ottoman politics.

His life was a minefield. One wrong step could be fatal.

He was lucky to have found it before it was too late. He had dodged a bullet.

“There won’t be a problem as long as no one says nonsense. Secrecy is paramount.”

“That’s right. Nene, kill him.”

“Hiek?!” Hassan gasped, his eyes wide with terror.

Yusuf raised his arm to stop Nene, who was about to stab him in the neck without hesitation at Fatima’s command. He had other plans for Hassan.

“Since he’s a slave anyway, we can kill him anytime. There’s no rush. Let’s not be hasty.”

Even the cheapest disabled slaves or black slaves cost a price that ordinary people couldn’t afford, but he wasn’t stopping her just because he was stingy with money. There was a strategic reason.

It wasn’t like he had some trivial sympathy for someone when he didn’t know when he would die. Sentimentality was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

If he had such sympathy, he wouldn’t have told the Sultan to kill all the guards. He was ruthless when necessary.

“He might be threatening when we don’t know, but what’s there to be afraid of now that we know? Even if this guy goes crazy and reports to the Sultan, it doesn’t matter. We hold all the cards.”

Yusuf fluttered the paper that Hassan had received from Ahmet as evidence. He held the proof in his hands.

“Because we can present this paper to the Sultan as evidence and say that he framed me. Looking at the contents, it looks like he made a false accusation because he wanted to get out of slavery, right? We can turn the tables on him.”

Since this letter was used as evidence, it must have been written by Ahmet himself or his closest aide, and a Sultan would easily be able to find out who the culprit was. The Sultan had resources and informants everywhere.

Of course, even if he ran to the Sultan with this and said, ‘He tried to frame me!’, it wouldn’t mean anything on its own. He needed to present a convincing narrative.

Ahmet could just say that he was also deceived by Hassan. He could feign innocence.

It was just evidence to clear his name, nothing more. A shield against potential accusations.

“So, it’s better to keep Hassan alive now and make Ahmet lower his guard. He could pull other tricks if we kill him. We need to be strategic and think ahead.”

Ahmet was the successor supported by the officials, and he had the ability to throw ashes on his path. He was a formidable opponent.

Even if he grabbed him by the hair and fought him before being appointed as Sanjakbey [governor of a district in the Ottoman Empire], only he would be tired. It would be a pointless struggle.

If the current Sultan was ailing, he would have to risk his life and fight him even if he didn’t want to, so why start by exhausting himself? Patience was a virtue.

Only the other princes would be happy to see them weaken each other. He couldn’t afford to play into their hands.

Fatima, thinking that Yusuf’s words made sense, readily nodded. She trusted his judgment.

“Then we need to quietly get through this commotion. We need to manage the fallout carefully.”

“We can’t cover it up as if nothing happened since we made such a big deal. The capital is buzzing with rumors.”

He was receiving all the attention thanks to shouting Allahu Akbar [God is the greatest] and making a fuss in the capital. He had made himself a target.

It wouldn’t take long for this commotion to spread. News traveled fast in the Ottoman Empire.

“So, we need to create smoke with another incident. Hassan?”

“Yes, yes! Your Highness!” Hassan answered with a disciplined voice, eager to please and save his own skin.

Hassan, whose life was on the line, answered with a disciplined voice, and Yusuf frowned. He was annoyed by the man’s obsequiousness.

“If you don’t lower your voice, your tongue will be cut in half. Tell me honestly, don’t you have any money that you secretly took without Mother’s knowledge? Be truthful, your life depends on it.”

“I…”

“Don’t bother using your brain. You’re already beyond the point where a few coins are a problem. What’s the point of charging a death row inmate with theft? Just tell the truth.”

Hassan, trembling at the example that could never be eased, answered. He knew he had no choice but to confess.

“A, just a little.”

He knew it. He had suspected as much.

Even in modern times, where everything is computerized and can be investigated, there are always guys who embezzle company funds, so there’s no need to mention it now. Human nature never changes.

It was probably a small amount that Fatima knew about and turned a blind eye to, but the fact that it existed was important. It gave them leverage.

“You wouldn’t have eaten it all by yourself, would you? How many people are there involved?”

“…Three.”

Yusuf chuckled at the gaze that was almost like seeing a ghost. Hassan was terrified of the consequences.

“What are you surprised about? It’s not a lot if there are four of you, including you. It won’t be a problem to liquidate the business even without those people, right? We can afford to lose them.”

“The remaining people are enough. The business will survive.”

Well, it’s not like he’s doing a difficult business, so it would be hard to liquidate. The operation was relatively simple.

Fatima, who was listening to Yusuf and Hassan’s conversation, nodded. She understood the plan.

“Then we’ll handle this incident as if it happened because we discovered Hassan and some of his people embezzling. We’ll use this as a cover story.”

“Still, it would be less noisy if we gave them a lenient punishment considering their past contributions. It will make the story more believable. Then what’s left is this guy…”

Hassan’s eyes were filled with fear and a glimmer of hope at the gaze that was fixed on him. He was caught between despair and a desperate desire to survive.

“I’ll use this guy for now. The other side will think it’s better that he’s with me. He’ll be a valuable asset, or so they’ll believe.”

“Is there a need to keep a guy who betrayed you by your side? It would be better to put him in a suitable place and kill him. Get rid of him permanently.”

If he was appointed as Sanjakbey, there would be no need to keep him alive. He would be expendable.

“Mother, how many people do I have that I can trust and use right now? They’re all untrustworthy guys anyway, so it’s better to use a guy I have by the leash. At least there should be a safety device, so if I die, kill this guy too. He’ll be my insurance policy.”

Originally, when a high-ranking person died, the people below them were buried alive with them. It was a gruesome tradition.

He didn’t have a taste for being buried with a potbelly, so it would be nice to share at least his life with him. A morbid sense of humor.

“Okay, I’ll definitely kill him. Consider it done.”

Hassan trembled but was relieved at Fatima’s confirmation, and Yusuf raised one corner of his mouth at the sight. He was amused by the man’s naivete.

“Hassan, it’s not time to be happy. I’m saving you because you’re capable. I’ll kill you anytime if I don’t like you. Don’t get any ideas about betraying me again.”

“P, please leave it to me. I won’t disappoint you.”

But I wonder if he knows. He was blissfully unaware of the precariousness of his situation.

That he’s overcome three near-death experiences in just a few days. He was living on borrowed time.

Anyway, this is the best he can do right now. Some might ask why he would bother saving and using a traitor. It seemed counterintuitive.

‘I have so few people to use that I have to borrow even a cat’s paw, so why can’t I use a traitor?’ Yusuf reasoned. He was willing to use any means necessary to achieve his goals.

Anyway, when he becomes the Sultan, he will have to use even the guys who stood on the side of the other princes and tried to kill him. Politics was a game of alliances and compromises.

It was comfortable to think of it as just practice. A training exercise for the challenges ahead.

Practice making a hateful guy think he would rather die. A twisted form of leadership.

Once the conclusion was reached, the aftermath was handled quickly and efficiently. The loose ends were tied up.

Hassan was stripped of his position, and the other three received a lenient punishment of returning what they had eaten. Justice was served, albeit with a degree of pragmatism.

Fatima said with a smiling voice to Yusuf, who was thinking that a lot had happened in just a few hours of outing. She was impressed by his handling of the situation.

“Seeing you do it today, it doesn’t seem like this mother needs to step in. You’re more than capable of handling things on your own.”

“No. I still need a lot of help. Your experience and guidance are invaluable.”

“No, even the current Sultan couldn’t have done this well at your age. You have a natural talent for leadership.”

“You flatter me. But I appreciate the compliment.”

Whether that statement was true or not, it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that he was learning and growing.

Anyway, his opponents were not little kids but monsters who had built their power 20 years before him. He was facing seasoned veterans.

Experience, wealth, and manpower were all things he couldn’t compare to. He was at a significant disadvantage.

‘But I have to do it.’ He had no other choice.

If he didn’t want to die. Survival was his only motivation.

He learned one more fact through this incident. A crucial piece of the puzzle.

‘Ahmet wasn’t the one who tried to poison me and sent the assassins.’ He had been wrong in his initial assessment.

There was no reason for him to overdo it when he had the Hassan card. It didn’t make sense strategically.

“Then who could it be?” The question haunted him.

Unlike what he had inferred in front of Hassan, anyone could be the culprit. The list of suspects was long and varied.

Anyway, they would eventually shed blood with each other. The conflict was inevitable.

Yusuf’s eyes shone coldly. He was ready for war.

***

“Your Highness, it is the Padishah’s [Ottoman Sultan’s] order for you to enter the palace immediately.”

The time to determine fate has finally come. The moment of truth had arrived.