I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

What’s the justification? (2)

The Mamluk cavalry, adorned with magnificent helmets that covered their cheeks, turned sharply at the commander’s signal and twisted their bodies to shoot arrows backwards.

The arrows flew straight without so much as a single one falling, showcasing the high level of training of these cavalrymen, yet the expression on the Mamluk Sultan’s face was tightly sealed as if in discomfort.

A Royal Mamluk, following him, cautiously asked, “Your Sultan, why do you seem so troubled?”

The position of Sultan among the Mamluks is not passed down by blood but elected from those based in the Cairo Citadel.

To become Sultan, one did not shy away from assassination, and among those who reached that position, there were none who were not cruel or incapable.

Even those who ascended to the throne typically could not last more than an average of seven years before losing their lives; thus, the reigning Sultan, having maintained power for over ten years, was certainly not incompetent.

Now at the age of 60, with a beard that had turned completely gray since assuming the throne, the Sultan glared ominously at his counterpart.

“Do not dare to pry into my heart.”

“I-I apologize, Your Sultan.”

The Sultan callously disregarded the apologetic Mamluk.

While Mamluks could anytime become adversaries, they were also essential in maintaining power.

‘Thus, it’s not something I should say to them.’

The reason why neither the Ottomans nor the Safavids had been able to introduce the matchlock guns was due to the Mamluk cavalry.

For the Mamluks, who maintained their power through force, a matchlock unit, which could be turned into an excellent fighting force with a short training period, was a threat that could undermine their power.

If the matchlock unit were to be introduced, they would surely lose their lives at the hands of those troops within six months.

The Sultan turned his gaze towards the training Mamluks.

Under the luxurious animal skin, they wore chainmail, and the horses they rode were adorned with costly armor.

Normally, one would feel secure in such impressive attire during a war, but today, it felt exceedingly insufficient, just as a subordinate rushed over.

“Your Sultan! Urgent news!”

Sensing the urgency, the Sultan asked, “…Have they finally begun moving?”

“Yes! The Ottoman Army has commenced their advance. It appears they are headed towards Diyarbakır!”

It was news heralding the start of war.

*

A warm spring arrived, and the frozen earth thawed, painting the fields green.

It was time to plant crops, and a farmer, carrying a sack of seeds, tilted his head and placed his ear to the ground.

A faint sound grew clearer through the soil, and with a startled expression, the man lifted his head.

“What, what’s happening?!”

Startled, the farmer looked up and vaguely saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance.

Perhaps the village had seen that scene too, as a dull bell rang, and the man hastily grasped his sack and fled towards the village.

Climbing to a slightly elevated area in the village, the man could see clearly what he had witnessed.

“Oh Allah.”

The man quietly called upon his deity.

As the sun set, the wide plains were gradually engulfed by a massive army.

Having lived his entire life in a small village of just over a hundred people, it was the first time he had ever seen so many people.

The cavalry in the lead moved like a thick, moving wall, while the infantry and the caravan of camels trailing behind felt like something from a dream.

Overwhelmed by their sheer numbers, the man spoke in a trembling voice.

“A-aren’t we supposed to run away?”

“Where to?!”

The army looked like it would reduce the village to ruins just by trampling through, and fear quickly spread.

While he had never encountered an army of such size, sometimes they could be even more terrifying than bandits.

Hearing their hope for the army to pass without incident, it seemed that the army indeed marched past the village, disappearing slowly into the distance.

It took about an hour for the immense force to completely vanish, and the villagers exhaled only a sigh of relief.

However, half a day later, they were struck with fear again upon seeing a larger main force than the earlier advance.

They were people who had only heard about wars but were now witnessing its reality.

Yusuf, the instigator who brought terror to southeastern Anatolia, brushed the mane of his horse.

“Marching is truly a hardship.”

Although Yusuf had participated in wars countless times before, marching was always a challenge.

Even with a chef trailing him, the food was far inferior to what he’d eaten in the Topkapi Palace.

If this were the capital, the chef would have surely lost his head for less than a hundred offenses.

Water was just as tricky; if one couldn’t find clean water while marching, it was much better to simply drink wine.

It wasn’t just about eating and drinking.

The marching unit included not only men but also horses, camels, and even sheep being hauled along for food. There were many livestock included.

Thanks to this, the path traveled by the army was like a toilet of dung, and those who couldn’t wash properly carried an unpleasant smell.

It meant there were moments when his sense of smell felt cursed.

As Yusuf grumbled lightly, the Grand Vizier following next to him chuckled softly.

“It’s not an easy task, having traveled through many battlefields over the years, but at least, with the Padishah alongside us, the soldiers are surely more energized, no?”

While one could summon more troops upon leaving the capital, it naturally boosted morale.

Given that Yusuf was already receiving great support among the Ottoman subjects, his spirits soared higher with his direct expedition.

“High morale is good, but maintaining it is more important.”

There is no romance in war.

During World War I, Europeans who had joined the war with romantic notions faced the brutal horrors of battle.

One could tell much about how, to a significant extent, European culture became bleak and pessimistic.

Even in this era where the value of human rights and life is relatively low, fear of death remains a common thread.

“The best way to maintain morale is to achieve victory, isn’t it?”

At those words, Yusuf raised one corner of his mouth.

“And as for tasting that victory, there are no easier opponents than Dulqadir and Ramazan.”

The Safavids were gathering their troops around Diyarbakır and Tabriz, while the Mamluks were amassing at the northernmost city of Aleppo.

Aleppo, which refers to that place in Arabic as meaning ‘milk’, was where the story of the patriarch Abraham sharing his sheep’s milk with the hungry originated.

In any case, the Mamluk forces gathered here, which the West referred to as Aleppo, were estimated to number around 50,000.

Neither the Mamluks nor the Safavids were opponents to take victory for granted.

“If we occupy Ain Tab from Dulqadir, controlling the Mamluks will become much smoother.”

Ain Tab earned the nickname ‘Guardian’ after a group of 300 militia defended themselves for 11 months against 5,000 enemy soldiers in the 20th century.

It was suitable land to keep the Mamluks in check.

“As long as it proceeds as planned.”

Receiving Yusuf’s gaze, Hasan bowed deeply.

“Rest assured.”

“It must be so.”

After meeting Yusuf’s sharp stare, Hasan nodded firmly with a resolute expression.

Preparation was thorough, and there was absolutely no problem.

*

When Yusuf’s main army arrived near Elbistan, which was already half in ruins, the preceding Sipahi had already reached near Malatya.

Including the logistics unit managing supplies and spare horses, the army amounted to nearly 40,000 men.

Most were unaware that Bozkurt had set its sights on striking the back of the Ottomans, but the power holders of Dulqadir were watching this movement closely.

Just like a lion within us brings fear even when we know it won’t attack.

Moreover, the very individual who had destroyed the western portion of the feared Safavids was Yusuf, hence the fear multiplied.

On top of that, the Ottoman Army intentionally added to that apprehension.

“I need to check on the livestock. Step aside!”

“Oh dear, how could we try to deceive Lord Sanjakbey?”

While purchasing the quantity of food they could use from the merchants of Dulqadir and renting camels for transport, Sanjakbey scoffed at the comment.

“What do you believe will compel you people to trust the Dulqadir folk?”

“E-excuse me? How could you say such a thing…?”

Seeing the panicked face of the merchant as he averted his gaze, Sanjakbey spat sharply.

“Hmph, how have you cowards treated us when we helped you against attacks from the Safavid? You’ve done nothing but stand by and do nothing instead of helping.”

The justification Yusuf had presented when attacking the Safavids included mentions of his brother killed by the hands of the Qizilbash.

Having lost noble blood while aiding Dulqadir, it could hardly be seen kindly that he was now receiving no help in return.

Fortunately, the transaction went smoothly, yet the merchant, having received the fierce glares of the Sipahis, went back to spread the news.

As grim feelings spread across Dulqadir, the Sipahis on reconnaissance encountered a group.

“Is that them?”

“Yes, indeed, Sobashi.”

In peacetime, the Sobashi of the Sipahi played police chief roles helping the merchants in major cities, but in times of war, he commanded hundreds of troops.

After receiving assurance, Anil gazed at the opposing group.

Though they couldn’t communicate verbally, the warriors, bearing expressions of hardened resolve, certainly appeared to be nomadic.

“Everyone, are we clear on our mission?”

To Anil’s question, a Sipahi with a sly smile responded.

“We’ll make sure they get wounded just enough. No need for worry.”

“Let’s end this well, so we can indulge in lamb dishes. Nothing recovers from wounds better than meat, right?”

“I’ll ensure you all feast well.”

With a light laugh directed at the cheers of his subordinates, Anil clenched his tense hands.

It wasn’t a difficult task at all.

It wasn’t about risking their lives; as long as he caused some damage without actually hurting them, that would be the goal.

No Sipahi feared getting injured, so they could smile and execute the task at hand.

‘This task is being observed by the Padishah. It must succeed.’

If this operation were to fail and disappoint Yusuf, he didn’t even want to imagine what would happen afterward.

With just over 200 enemies, their hearts steeled, began to increase their pace, and Anil drew his sword.

“Let’s go!”

Having heard there were already several witnesses around, the Sipahis quickened their speed, and the troops of both sides collided swiftly.

-Clang!

As the two swords clashed, shockwaves released a wince as Anil fought hard against the rebound and slammed shoulders with the rival, causing them to stumble.

With an opening created on his opponent, Anil thrust his sword in, and a fiery pain along with the smell of iron filled the air.

“Damn it!”

Feeling warm blood running down his forearm, Anil struck across the ribcage of his unsteady opponent.

After exchanging blows, the Sipahi swept past and swiftly turned their heads for a second clash.

While neither side delivered lethal strikes, they stained their leather armor with blood before long.

Then, as they began to feel the heat of the battle combined with the spill of blood, an incident occurred.

“Cough?! Why, why?!”

An excited horse bumped into the enemy’s horse, and abruptly, the swinging sword changed direction, piercing the heart of a Sipahi.

The man, who had been smiling smugly just a moment ago, twisted in shock and collapsed to the ground as the sword withdrew.

“%@#!!”

As the spasming Sipahi breathed his last, the startled warrior clasped his bloodied sword and waved his hand frantically.

But upon seeing their fallen comrade, the Sipahi’s eyes ignited with fury.

“Kill them all!”

*

“17 loss on our side, and 50 enemies dead. You fought well, didn’t you?”

At Yusuf’s chilling inquiry, Hasan trembled uncontrollably.

“I won’t take your life considering the hard work so far. Capture them all.”

There was no need to clarify whom he meant.

As Hasan hurriedly left the scene, the Grand Vizier spoke to Yusuf, who averted his gaze.

“Wasn’t the plan about accepting the cost of our losses? If we’re considering just the justification, this is far better.”

“I know. I just feel displeased. Grand Vizier.”

“Yes, Your Padishah.”

“Relay this to Bozkurt. Inform them that we received their declaration of war quite well.”

*

“What the hell is this nonsense?!”

Bozkurt clasped his head.