I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

준비는 끝났다(2)

As the camel took heavy steps, the massive cart connected behind it was dragged along.

When the cart arrived in front of the warehouse, the workers quickly hoisted the bags loaded onto it.

“Handle with care! If that bursts, it’s all over!”

The laborers nodded half-heartedly at the manager’s words, too bothered to really respond, and headed into the warehouse.

Even today, there were still about ten bags left to move. If they dawdled, the day would end before they finished.

As flour flowed from the gaps of the bags and dust rose beneath the cart, a man approached, drawing attention.

Upon seeing the man’s face, the manager immediately stood at attention.

“I greet Beylerbey!”

“Is everything running smoothly?”

“Yes, it’s progressing without issues. You need not worry.”

Nodding in response, Dukaginzade Ahmed Pasha entered the warehouse.

Inside the immense food storage, bags of flour were piled high, and the following manager cautiously remarked.

“I have never seen so much flour stacked up like this.”

“Though it may seem like a lot, it’ll be insufficient once a hundred thousand soldiers start eating. They didn’t just build those warehouses across the nation for nothing.”

Several similar food storages were constructed throughout the country, buying and storing immense amounts of food according to the harvest season.

The Ottoman Empire operated on gold tax rather than receiving in-kind goods, and all supplies, including food, were purchased from the private sector.

Usually, such mass food stockpiling would lead to price inflation, so they had to be careful; however, this time it was an exception.

Dukaginzade tapped a bag filled with flour, saying,

“Since last year, there have been abundant harvests across the empire. Right?”

“It is said it is thanks to the Padishah changing agricultural methods nationwide.”

“Correct. With such a surplus of crops, prices have dropped, but that’s not entirely a good thing.”

The four-crop rotation method was introduced in more regions than last year, and with more harvests, grain prices fell.

Though livestock increased due to turnips and clover, livestock growth takes time, while grains provide immediate results.

The subjects, who had to sell grains to pay for goods and taxes, only faced hardship with the dropping grain prices.

“It’s fortunate the war has kept grain prices at a reasonable level.”

“Merchants say the war has allowed them to breathe a little easier.”

“Hmph, that’s just a selfish merchant thinking of their own pockets. It’d be fortunate if they weren’t gouging prices during a war.”

Dukaginzade clenched his fist as he uttered the word “war.”

This was a major war where the Sultan was leading troops directly, involving not only the Grand Vizier but also Beylerbey from Anatolia and Rumelia.

His military achievements in this war would determine if he could rise to the position of Grand Vizier.

Suppressing his boiling ambitions, Dukaginzade warned the manager once more.

“War is imminent. Even minor mistakes can lead to severe punishment, so it’s best not to mess around.”

Orders for mobilization had already been issued nationwide, and news of the upcoming war spread across the land.

The Sultan aimed to expand territory, officials wished to increase their power through military achievements, and soldiers aimed to profit from plunder.

If problems arose amidst the tangled desires of war, they could incur the Sultan’s wrath.

Just as Dukaginzade warned the manager and exited the warehouse—

-KWAANG!

“W-What happened?!”

A deafening explosion jolted the ground, and instinctively, Dukaginzade plugged his ears and shut his eyes.

As a heavy wind seemed to strike him and something crashed nearby, he opened his eyes to find himself collapsing.

“F-Fan?”

A windmill blade had embedded itself in front of him, and seeing that the distant windmill had vanished without a trace, Dukaginzade blinked in disbelief.

He nearly met Allah’s embrace before the war began.

*

“Tsk, I told them to ventilate regularly.”

Yusuf retorted irritably upon hearing the news of a windmill flying away with a loud explosion.

Dust explosions occurring in windmills grinding flour were incidents that had happened since ancient times.

“Is Dukaginzade Ahmed Pasha alright?”

“They say he is unharmed, thanks to Allah’s watchful eye.”

“Perhaps he was just lucky to survive, or unlucky to nearly die. It’s good he’s fine.”

If a power player in the empire were to die foolishly while preparing for war, bizarre rumors would surely spread.

People tend to attach significance to events that can occur randomly, whether in the past or present.

“And punish whoever neglected the windmill management after disregarding my warnings.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

Issuing orders to his officials, Yusuf drummed his fingers on the table.

The deaths of a few windmills would be no laughing matter once the war started, where all sorts of unforeseen incidents could occur.

Navies could encounter untimely storms and suffer devastating losses without ever seeing battle.

Weather could turn unpredictable, or unexpected plagues could run rampant, leading to absurd defeats in war.

“I never thought I’d be reminded of luck’s importance right before war due to a dust explosion.”

He didn’t desire random strokes of luck like Ismail falling off his horse and dying.

Simply having everything flow according to plan was sufficient for luck to play its role.

“Ali Pasha, what of the subjects’ reactions to the war?”

In a time of war, there was no need to gauge public sentiment.

No matter how much they disliked war, they had no power to stop it.

“Still, this war is likely to last several years, so having public sentiment on our side would ease our burdens.”

The period suitable for waging war typically spanned from April to October.

Considering the vast territories that needed to be conquered, a protracted war was unavoidable, and if they were to conquer the Mamluks too, it would take at least three years.

Of course, this was under the assumption no other unforeseen variables popped up.

In response to Yusuf’s query, the attendant Ali replied with a smile.

“Thanks to your earlier measures, the subjects’ hearts are steadier toward the Padishah than ever. No need for your concerns. Rather, it’s more of an issue to halt the Azabs wanting to join the war.”

“Is it that many?”

The Azabs referred to young men who joined the army for wartime pay.

They could be seen as a type of mercenary, often responsible for supply lines, even after the development of archers and gunpowder weapons.

“If we tally those who have requested to enlist from across the empire, it could sum up to around sixty thousand.”

“That’s an enormous number.”

It was said that during their prime, the maximum number of Azabs that could be mobilized was around forty thousand, so to have that many during a less prominent time was astounding.

“Of course, many among them might be misfits. Those who heard rumors and rushed to volunteer upon hearing the Padishah’s call.”

“Still, that’s better than having the girls dream of being slaves in the harem.”

Yusuf chuckled.

When books possessed by only a handful of powerful figures were distributed across the nation for the first time, the subjects clutched them with dazed expressions.

What was black was writing, and the yellow was paper.

In a situation where it was literally right before their eyes, the subjects sought out literate individuals to read to them, and now stories born from this spread throughout the empire through storytellers.

It wasn’t surprising that many were inspired after hearing the tumultuous lives of Yusuf and Aishe.

“Gather those who can be accepted, except for those whose deaths would cause trouble for their families.”

“Those who can’t even shoot a bow, you mean?”

In response to Ali’s puzzled inquiry, Yusuf nodded.

“Aren’t the flintlocks we made ample? Even if we hand those out, they’d earn their keep.”

Flintlock guns couldn’t be produced in abundance due to the expensive flint, which needed to be replaced after several shots as a consumable, making it tight for the central army to operate.

On the other hand, the matchlocks made for reserves were abundant; with two weeks of basic training, they could be immediately utilized in battle.

‘All visible preparations are finished.’

Thanks to the introduction of the four-crop rotation method, securing military supplies was easier, and there was no shortage of weapons and soldiers.

A book containing childhood stories also thickened the subjects’ hearts.

Even the most unstable regions of the Balkans, including Albania, stabilized by abolishing the jizya tax on non-Muslims.

‘Venice offered 110,000 ducats, including prisoners, easing our finances. A peace treaty was also concluded with the West.’

Of course, with the Kemal fleet returning, trade normalization was set, and it was evident they’d been happily selling cannons to the Mamluks.

The Venetians were known for prioritizing profit above all else, so threats would have little effect on them.

Later, once they conquered the Mamluks and opened the canal, they’d think about collecting interest as well.

Yusuf stood up and said, “Prepare, I’m heading to the harem.”

Nigyar, who had been chosen for him since becoming Sultan, was about to give birth.

He was curious about what kind of child would be born and needed to take time now before getting excessively busy.

‘Soon, an envoy would come confirming the assembled forces of the empire.’

From that point onward, the real war would begin.

*

Ismail stared coldly at a woman.

Her once glossy hair had become dull, and her baby-soft skin was now rough.

Addressing the woman staring silently out the window despite his presence, Ismail growled,

“Tazlu, the time has come to settle things with the one you’ve been sleeping with.”

A mobilization order had fallen for the Ottomans, and a note claiming that war would break out next year was crumpled violently in his hand.

Ismail approached Tazlu, who remained silent and only gazed out the window, and seized her by the hair.

Despite feeling intense pain from his brutish grip, Tazlu didn’t let out even a small scream.

“Say something, Tazlu.”

In response to his words, Tazlu opened her mouth.

“What would you like me to say? Would you like me to wish you well? The Shah shall surely win as always.”

“…Are you mocking me?”

“How could I mock the Shah?”

Having faced numerous grueling battles where victory couldn’t be guaranteed, Ismail had always fallen short against Yusuf.

The statement felt mocking, causing Ismail to release her roughly.

“Watch closely! I will show you how wrong your choice was clearly.”

With those words, Ismail turned fiercely and ordered the soldiers guarding the room to maintain strict surveillance, commanding Ustajlu who followed.

“I must send an envoy.”

“Where to?”

“To both the Mamluks and the Ottomans.”

He had already received a confirmation from the Mamluks that they would respond jointly with the Ottomans, but tight communication was essential with the approaching war.

The envoy to the Ottomans was meant to delay the war as much as possible.

‘Someday we must fight, but the longer we postpone, the better.’

Though he was angry, he did not lose his composure.

The best course of action was to buy time while strengthening national power, and Ismail drew upon his writing skills to craft an eloquent letter.

The letter contained praises for Yusuf and sought to dissolve the misunderstandings built up until now, suggesting a better direction for both nations.

Once the envoy departed, a month passed before he returned.

Only a crumpled mess of a letter remained.

The reply was Yusuf’s demand for silence.