I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

홍해의 붉은 깃발(3)

Yusuf waved his hand slightly.

Though the Ottomans were in the Mediterranean, they weren’t completely unaware of the Age of Discovery developments.

Even when it came to history, it was just two years after Magellan’s death that a copy of his voyage made its way to Topkapi Palace.

It was safe to say that almost all news reached them, and Yusuf wore a face that showed his annoyance.

“If I can’t eat it, I might as well give up and grow some sugarcane in Brazil.”

The Portuguese Empire was still a tale of a distant future, and it was reckless for a country just starting to taste money.

It seemed they had gained confidence after defeating the Mamluk and Islamic coalition in the Battle of Diu, but that was just laughable.

“What areas of the Portuguese have been identified?”

“You can consider the necessary ports on the route from Africa to India as occupied. They’ve advanced quite far beyond that.”

“It’s no surprise, given they’re obsessed with money.”

Yusuf wasn’t one to back down easily, but Europeans of this era often took it to another level.

If they had no goods to sell, they’d send the shop owner to Allah and engage in free trade—that was them.

In any case, the Portuguese had already occupied the Malacca Strait in Malaysia, one of the world’s most important trade routes along with the Panama and Suez Canals.

“Anyway, the basic policy remains the same. We need to manufacture ships to prevent them from stepping foot here again.”

The Portuguese, armed with the thought that they could do whatever it took to drop the infidels into hell, were no better than pirates.

The officials following Yusuf’s orders nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, we’re already working hard on manufacturing ships at the shipyard. Although the price of timber has skyrocketed, it’s still manageable.”

“You needn’t worry about cannons and gunpowder either.”

More ships and more cannons.

This was always the right choice.

Unlike the Portuguese, who had to go around Africa, it was all a home game for the Ottomans, so there would be no shortage of gunpowder.

The officials given Yusuf’s instructions left, and he turned his head.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty.”

Giovanni Barbaro politely took his place.

He was no fool to misunderstand the significance of having a meeting with an envoy beside him.

“I was worried about the Portuguese moving, but it seems I can put that worry aside now.”

To the Venetians, it didn’t matter if they shared the same religion; what mattered was not infringing on their profits.

Breaking the spice trade monopoly and infringing on profits, the Portuguese were just the right target for a Venetian, already in a diplomatic freeze.

Seeing Giovanni understand his thoughts well, Yusuf smiled softly.

“Right, there’s no need to worry. It’s just time for them to pay for the sins they’ve committed.”

“We were also shocked by their atrocities. I can’t comprehend how they could commit such deeds under the guise of being human.”

It was amusing to hear Venice talk about evil deeds, as they were no better than the Portuguese.

Of course, Yusuf didn’t show it because they were useful.

“Anyway, even if we push the Portuguese out, it won’t be easy to trade directly. They’ve created quite a mess after all.”

Seeing a white face was enough for them to come with axes ready to split skulls.

Such was the level of disdain that the French envoys had previously deferred to trade benefits in Cairo and Constantinople instead of using the canal.

Giovanni confidently responded to this.

“It’ll be difficult, but we can manage. I have ties with Arab merchants, and when we engaged in naval battles against the Portuguese, we also aided them, so there shouldn’t be much resentment against us.”

“If that’s what you’ve concluded, then it must be true.”

In any case, direct trade was necessary for Venice, not optional.

Once the French established trade ties with the Ottomans, the monopoly was broken, and to gain even a little more profit, they had to take risks.

As Yusuf conversed with Giovanni, he turned his head and spotted a young man among Giovanni’s entourage.

“Was it Titian Vecellio? The artist who spoke with my favorite Michelangelo.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

Titian hurriedly bowed his head, his voice trembling.

He was still haunted by Michelangelo’s advice to flee, and the thought of relaxing loosened his trousers.

He felt like an order to end up looking like a page next to him might be dropped at any moment.

“You needn’t be so tense. Why would I persecute someone I admire, like you, a great artist?”

Yusuf knew well the power of art and culture, and his words were not mere flattery, bringing relief to Titian.

It seemed the Emperor still didn’t know what he had done.

‘Well, nobles purchasing art discreetly—how would he know?’

Recalling Giovanni’s words that persuaded him to come here, Titian eased his tension.

“You say your painting is that excellent? Now, I’m intrigued.”

“It’s good enough not to be embarrassing to show to Your Majesty.”

“Ho, such great confidence. Though Michelangelo said that paintings would be better than his.”

It was funny to compare a sculptor and a painter, but for Michelangelo, who was packed with pride, acknowledging that even in painting he wasn’t better than Titian was quite a big compliment.

“This meeting must be fate; if you have the chance, feel free to visit the capital often. I’ll always have my door open for you.”

“Really?!”

Titian was so delighted that he committed the rudeness of asking back.

The moment he saw the statue again, he felt inspiration bursting forth and realized it might be his muse.

Abandoning a muse that inspires as an artist was simply unimaginable, so he had every right to be joyful.

“Indeed. Although I’ve finished discussions with the French, many will be visiting the Empire going forward.”

Jerusalem, a holy land, and Constantinople were not just significant cities in Europe, and with Yusuf’s exploits cultivating such myths, many wished to visit.

‘Anyway, those who would travel overseas in this era are likely to be wealthy.’

There was no reason to refuse those who would spend lavishly and return with fondness for the Ottomans.

“Anyway, I’ll also allow a meeting with Michelangelo, so if the opportunity arises, feel free to come.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Thanks to Titian’s genuine joy, the atmosphere became much more lively, and the conversation flowed smoothly.

The envoy group left to adjust the details they discussed, and Yusuf exited the audience hall.

“Father!”

“Yes, Hasna.”

Seeing Yusuf, Hasna smiled brightly.

Yusuf patted Hasna’s head as she jumped into his arms, hearing beside him the voices of children chattering away.

“Kasim said he’d draw me a picture, but he drew it strangely. And Mustafa found something I lost the other day, but it seems he finds everything that’s lost in the harem!”

“Is that so?”

When immersed in work, one can often overlook those close. Hasna, who came often, filled that gap.

While walking, Hasna, who hadn’t stopped talking, clapped her little hands together and said.

“Michelangelo said there might be a new attendant in the harem—what happened with that?”

“Hmmm, unfortunately, there’s no new attendant.”

“Huh, but I was sure he said there’d definitely be one.”

Seeing Hasna tilting her head, Yusuf broke into a broad smile.

“There’s no need to rush. We just need to wait until the prey we’ve caught becomes nicely plump.”

Titian was different from Michelangelo.

He was a person who would enjoy great fame and wealth in his lifetime, not some far-off future, so there was more reason to wait for him to grow further. Yusuf smirked coldly, and that night, Titian experienced an inexplicable nightmare.

*

Five ships docked in the natural harbor of Muscat, surrounded by rocky mountains that stood like a breakwater.

Basku Da Gama scrutinized the thirty-odd ships that were already harbored.

Shells had left some deep craters here and there, but overall damage was minor, and the soldiers repairing the ships didn’t look too bad.

Only upon arriving near Muscat did Basku hear news of the naval battle, and he disembarked to find someone waiting for him.

“Long time no see, Your Excellency.”

“It’s been a while, Governor.”

Basku was the first in Portuguese history to rise to the rank of Count without being royal, highlighting how highly his achievements were regarded.

Receiving a polite bow from the Indian Governor, Giorgio Lopez de Sequeira, Basku surveyed the harbor.

Muscat, located in the southeastern Arabian Peninsula, had grown into an important trading port close to India.

“The harbor looks desolate.”

“Haha, it’s not usually like this, is it? Please, come inside.”

Most of the locals had been massacred and burned, and ten years had passed since the harbor’s devastation, yet that time had been far too short for recovery.

It indeed looked empty.

Watching local inhabitants toil like slaves in ragged bodies, Basku frowned.

“Those infidels seem to be living a bit too comfortably, don’t they?”

“I’ll take care of it, Your Excellency.”

Noticing Basku’s displeasure, Giorgio signaled to the soldiers, who lashed the residents carrying loads with whips.

Even while they were being whipped, the residents were spattered with flesh and blood, Basku showed no trace of compassion.

He was the one who had pillaged ships and hung corpses as targets for practice or sent body parts as curry ingredients to locals during his voyage to India.

As he entered the fortress amidst the cries for help, which sounded more like beasts’ howls, Basku asked Giorgio.

“I hear we engaged in a naval battle with those filthy infidels. How did it go?”

“It seems the situation might be different from the battle at Diu. Their firepower level has exceeded ours.”

“Those infidels? In what way?”

Basku sighed, recalling the recent skirmish.

“From range to firing rate. Overall, our weapons are falling behind. At this rate, we have no chance of winning.”

“Could it be the case that the saying about their gunpowder weapons being the best in the world isn’t just empty talk? How could the Lord allow the growth of that infidel empire?”

Basku lamented briefly.

Just as the Ottomans sat back and heard news of the New World exploration, Europeans were also quite aware of the Ottomans in many respects.

Among those, the most famous militarily was the rumor that they loved cannons so much that they’d rather chew on gunpowder than food.

“True, if they lack firepower, the infidel emperor says to just shoot more cannons. Losing to them with cannons is inescapable.”

Given the jokes about soldiers carrying cannons instead of swords, Basku didn’t doubt Giorgio’s words.

Basku pondered deeply. Since he had been appointed as the policy advisor for India, he needed to propose a solution.

“If this becomes a war of attrition, we can only lose to those infidels. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s correct. The enemy has been able to drag many ships from the Mediterranean by digging a canal, but it’s not easy for us to replenish our vessels.”

Giorgio didn’t dare mention the finances.

Though it had not been long since they began the spice trade, it was already taking up 40% of Portuguese profits.

Considering that fewer than eight ships left Lisbon each year, the need to mention those profits was unnecessary; it was not the time to discuss financial issues.

“…Why not drag Spain into this?”

“Are you serious?”

What was the reason behind Portugal trying to undermine Magellan’s world expedition?

It was to prevent Spain from sticking its spoon in the pot.

That Basku, who had previously claimed that losing their bread and butter to Spain would lead to crisis, would say such a thing was surprising.

“Anyway, if things continue like this, spices and everything will come to an end.”

Given their numerous heinous acts, there were many who would bite their teeth whenever Portugal was mentioned.

Though they bowed their heads in repression, it was obvious they would declare a war to shatter Portugal if they started losing to the Ottomans.

“If you get too involved in petty gains, you won’t even be able to set foot here. It’s better to share the gains instead.”

“The King may oppose this.”

“I’ll have to try to persuade him. There’s also the matter of the Treaty of Tordesillas.”

Once America was discovered, and with Portugal and Spain searching for the paths to India that led to war, the treaty mediated by the Pope was Tordesillas.

According to the baselines, Spain had rights over the entire Americas except for Brazil, while Portugal had rights over the eastern territories, including Brazil.

The reason Spain tried to find India by moving west instead of circumventing Africa as Portugal did was precisely because of this.

“The King, along with Charles V, will be wary of the Ottomans’ growth, so I’m sure the conclusion will be agreeable. I’ll need to return home to convey this seriousness.”

Having stood to alert the King to the urgent situation, Basku gathered his thoughts.

Time was running out.

*

“Your Highness! Ahead is the fleet of those Portuguese bastards!”

Murad, lounging on the scout ship, smiled brightly at this shout.

Five enemy ships were approaching.