I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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Traps and Traps (2)

Having a large population is certainly a big advantage.

There are various benefits like the domestic market, workforce, and military manpower that can be mobilized in times of war. But the more important factor is the economic power of the citizens.

Population growth unsupported by economic strength leads to unemployment and poverty, and an unsustainable population becomes a burden on the country.

This is also why China implemented a one-child policy and why Europe hesitates to accept refugees.

The situation in Diyarbakır, where food warehouses burned down, was similar.

‘At least it’s better than the previous example. As long as we can hold out until the next harvest.’

Diyarbakır is a region rich in water resources, having traded with Baghdad, located 600 km away via rafts and small boats on the Tigris River.

If we can just get through this tough time, we can go back without any issues.

But the problem lay not with Diyarbakır, but with the marching Ottoman Army.

“Grand Vizier, how much food do we have left?”

In front of them was Lake Urmia, the third largest saltwater lake in the world, and it was summer, so white salt crystals covered the lake’s shore like marble.

The salty air wafted through their noses, and there was a faint image of a curious soldier tasting the salt crystals and then shivering in shock.

In the heat and dryness, it was a light-hearted distraction that the commanders didn’t mind much.

“We have enough food for about two weeks.”

“That means we can barely stretch it to a month.”

They had left behind food enough only to hold out until reinforcements arrived from the earlier occupied territories.

Of course, conserving food should be a last resort. It could dampen the morale of the soldiers and lead to accumulated dissatisfaction.

“Thankfully, we have this much left due to the cities that surrendered without much resistance.”

“It’s thanks to Hasan, whose face is now known.”

At Yusuf’s words, Hasan quickly feigned humility.

“How could it be my merit? It is all thanks to the Padishah.”

“Right, my infamy is surely greater than your mere tongue.”

“That wasn’t my intention, oh Padishah!”

“I’m just joking. Just joking.”

It was a joke that sent chills down Hasan’s spine.

While teasing Hasan, Yusuf’s smile faded, and his eyes shone ominously.

“The enemy’s capital, Tabriz, is just around the corner. We’ll see it soon.”

A trap he had set under his own neck.

*

The famous Marco Polo, known for his travels in the East, passed through Tabriz in 1275.

“It is a large city surrounded by beautiful and pleasant gardens, well-located, where Latin merchants, including those from Genoa, come to buy goods,” he described.

Tabriz was a thriving city, acting as the center of the Silk Road, and even now, remnants of that prosperity remained.

A large river flowing north to south and smaller rivers flowing east to west crossed the city’s strong, tall walls.

The grand mosques and palaces indirectly showcased Tabriz’s wealth.

Even the historical Selim ended his conquest of this city through plunder.

Before Tabriz, Yusuf curled his lip.

“We’ve crawled up here like rats.”

The soldiers marching up to Tabriz were restless not because they saw cannons on the city walls—no, it was because of the massive army lined up on one side of the walls.

The white crescent flags on a yellow background fluttered in the hot wind.

It was the flag of the Mamluks.

“What shall we do, oh Padishah?”

As Yusuf looked at the armored Mamluks, he casually replied to the Grand Vizier’s question.

“Send an envoy to the Mamluk Sultan. Let’s meet face to face since we both came from afar.”

“Understood.”

At Yusuf’s command, a white flag-bearing Janissary rushed towards the Mamluk camp, and shortly after, their meeting commenced at the center where the armies stood.

Yusuf arrived with his escort of twenty Silahtars to find the Sultan waiting with an equal number of royal Mamluks.

“Assalamu Alaikum, it’s an honor to meet you, oh Padishah.”

“May peace dwell here. That’s a rather unfit greeting for this situation. I’m not particularly glad to meet you here, Sultan.”

At Yusuf’s cold reception, the Sultan chuckled as he stroked his white beard.

“You’re still young and full of vigor. However, since Allah has arranged this meeting, we should discuss things that please Him, shouldn’t we?”

“Then for the peace of our two nations, I say—disband your army at once.”

“How can peace apply only to our nations? Doesn’t peace need to dwell over all nations under Allah’s watch?”

That was essentially the same as telling him to halt the Safavid attack, prompting a sneer.

Yusuf replied, exuding irritation that represented his mood as he urged his horse.

“Do you truly think your army can defeat mine?”

“While I can’t defeat you, I believe I can sufficiently obstruct you.”

If they engaged in a siege, the Mamluks would attack and if he attacked the Mamluks first, then the soldiers inside would come out and strike from the side.

Certainly, he wouldn’t be defeated, but he would incur significant damage, making it hard to call it a victory.

In this tricky situation, Yusuf spoke confidently.

“Have you never considered that taking your time to asphyxiate yourselves might not be the best idea, even as artillery rain down from above?”

The Mamluks surely had cannons, but the number of cannons was a whole different story.

Overwhelming firepower.

In response to Yusuf’s question about whether they could withstand it, the Sultan calmly smiled.

“Oh Padishah. This isn’t an ideal situation for you, is it? If we run out of gunpowder, how do you intend to pass Tabriz? Are you foolish enough to think you could just climb over those walls defended by cannons?”

“Don’t worry, supply will come. Back home, we have enough gunpowder to burn your kingdom to the ground.”

“Supply? Supply! Do you truly believe that will come?”

Yusuf’s demeanor grew cold at the Sultan’s tone of confidence.

“Ismail must be making moves to cut off my supply lines.”

“Perhaps because you’re young, your mind works quickly. With food running short, it’s not too late for you to pull back your troops before you starve to death. Time is not on your side.”

“I see.”

If the supplies were completely cut off, they would have to retreat, spitting out the cities conquered along the way.

At least they would have to withdraw as far as Diyarbakır, and it was already August; with that, this year would essentially pass without purpose.

The duration of the war would be prolonged, and the burden would grow exponentially, so cut-off supply lines were dangerous.

If the supply were cut off…

Yusuf erupted into laughter, and the Sultan, noticing something odd, began to frown.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh Sultan, isn’t it amusing? Here they are, pinning their hopes on the assumption that supplies will flow from Dulqadir and Ramazan just because we’ve conquered those lands.”

The Sultan was aghast, and Yusuf stopped laughing.

“Pleasure to meet you like this… but perhaps it’s due to your old age that you’ve got some guts. Haven’t you heard of my infamy?”

Without even allowing the Sultan to inquire further, Yusuf pulled out a gun he’d placed at his side and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

“Cough!”

The Sultan fell as a huge hole pierced his chest, and the astonished Mamluks drew their swords for revenge, but—

-Patatata! Bang!

The gunfire from the Silahtars quickly turned the plain red, and one of the Silahtars decapitated the Sultan.

Yusuf glanced at the Sultan’s head, which hadn’t even had time to properly close its eyes, wiped the splattered blood from his face.

“Next time, don’t just recklessly show up when a bad person calls. Oh, and do pass my regards to your father.”

Yusuf coolly turned back towards the camp, and in front of the Ottoman positions, a gibbeting post was erected.

On the gibbeting post hung the Sultan’s head, its blood-stained hair fluttering like a flag.

*

Dust was swirling.

The camels quietly pulled large carts creaking from the weight, and around 2,000 soldiers transporting supplies held their torches high, even though dawn was breaking.

The soldiers armed with flintlock guns using wicks instead of fuse cords needed the torches.

From the Ottoman soldiers moving past Diyarbakır towards the main force in Tabriz came cries like screams.

—Enemy! Enemy attack!

The cavalry sent out to scout yelled madly after rising a low hill, a huge cloud of dust billowing behind them.

It was an ambush by 20,000 Qizilbash.

“Enemy attack!”

Drumbeats for alert echoed, and the soldiers hurriedly lit their wicks with the torches.

The scout was swept away in the tide of Qizilbash, disappearing without a trace, and soon the archers among the Qizilbash were right at the front.

“Fire! Shoot!”

The soldiers recruited during wartime, part of the Azabs, started firing as they were trained, even amidst the overwhelming scent of death.

The rain of bullets melted the Qizilbash, but overcoming the overwhelming difference in numbers was beyond their means.

Arrows fell like hail over the trembling soldiers raising their bayonets, and fierce blades sank into the confused ranks.

—Kill them all! They are enemies who trampled on the land of the Shah!

—No prisoners! Just kill them all!

Like a raging wave, the Qizilbash sent 2,000 Ottoman soldiers up to Allah’s embrace in no more than an hour.

Of course, due to bullets that could pierce two or three at once, the Qizilbash also suffered around 4,000 casualties.

The wet earth soaked with blood, and the newly arrived Ismail found Ustajlu on his knees, his complexion dark.

“Oh Shah, oh my Shah! This is terrible!”

Ismail, unable to get his words out properly in distress, hastily pulled back the cloth covering the cart.

It was just a mound of hay.

-There’s hay here too!

-Here as well!

What lay before them were merely horse feed.

Food for tens of thousands, gunpowder, and shells essential for shooting had all been reduced to mere fodder.

Ismail, not yet having breath leave his body, grabbed the throat of an Ottoman soldier still writhing and shouted with a twisted face.

“Where are the other supplies! Where are the real supplies! Speak, at once!”

“Cough, cough, just look around. Cough, it must be somewhere in this vast plain.”

“You bastard!”

Smack!

Ismail punched the soldier’s head hard enough to shatter it and threw the dazed corpse away, shouting.

“Find it now! We need to find the real supplies!”

“Yes, my Shah!”

As he watched the soldiers scatter in all directions, Ismail ground his teeth.

“Yusuf, where have you hidden them!”

*

“It’s been quite the journey getting here.”

“Well, it’s only natural to come when the Padishah calls for you, isn’t it?”

Shamshi, Yusuf’s closest aide, warmly welcomed Saadet, the Khan of the Crimean Khanate, with a bright smile.

Saadet had departed from the Crimea, passed through Circassia, and arrived in Georgia.

There was no reason not to welcome someone who had arrived after traversing such rugged terrain on Yusuf’s orders.

Shamshi was in awe looking at the 15,000 troops Saadet had brought with him.

“Just looking at them makes me feel secure. What excellent soldiers!”

“They are the pride of our Crimean Khanate.”

As a tributary state, they received more troops without having to pay taxes, and the cavalry of the Crimean Khanate was elite, trained through plunder and war.

Their eyes sparkled even after the grueling march, and their fierce energy was sharp enough to cut just by touching it.

“It seems that after your difficult journey here, there’s hardly time to rest.”

“Moving with supplies is rest in itself, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Your reassurance is comforting. Hasan!”

When Shamshi called, a fatigued Hasan nodded.

“The preparations for departure are complete.”

The carts full of food transported via the Black Sea, and gunpowder produced in Georgia filled the plain.

The sight was entirely different from when they had moved loaded with loot, and Saadet expressed a slight admiration.

“Oh, how splendid Padishah is. I’m sure the enemies never imagined that supplies would be moved from Georgia to Tabriz.”

“Indeed, a frightening man.”

Shamshi nodded gravely.

He intentionally let those who reached out to the Ottomans fall into Ismail’s grip to firmly solidify Safavid influence in Armenia.

With the meager army in Georgia, they had no capacity to transport supplies across lands that had fully turned into Safavid territory.

‘Moreover, to obscure Ismail’s vision, he also aggressively subjugated Ramazan.’

It was all meant to make it look as if they had taken it over just to transport supplies.

Naturally, by now, any thoughts of transporting supplies through the Black Sea and Georgia would have faded.

‘If they hadn’t previously absorbed Circassia and Georgia, this operation would have never been possible.’

Had the reinforcements from the Crimean Khanate come through Constantinople, it would have surely been detected.

The degree to which Yusuf devised this plan left a hint of fear inside him.

“Ismail, who thought he had set the trap, will soon realize he has stepped into one himself.”