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Traps and Trapping (3)

Dawn broke.

The chilly air from the night dissipated as if fleeing, and the brown-stained hair, tainted with blood, fluttered short.

The elder, who had once reigned in an era, was withered rather than decayed, and Yusuf, looking up at him, brushed his right neck with his hand.

As he felt the lingering, painful scab of a long scar, a bitter voice echoed.

“I worry it might leave a mark.”

“What’s so concerning about this minor wound?”

In response to the Grand Vizier’s worried words, Yusuf casually replied.

After all, no one had the courage to inflict a wound on the Padishah; it was a scar he had crafted himself, making the concern pointless.

“Padishah, those who know will surely discern the truth behind this wound you bear.”

“Indeed, the Sultan had no motivation to harm me calculatedly, risking himself.”

To the Mamluk, the very idea that the Sultan died at a meeting was unfathomable and filled with rage.

Yusuf claimed before the furious envoy that the Sultan had attacked him first, and this was the narrative spread throughout the Ottoman Army.

It was a blind game; only the dead and the loyal Silahtar had witnessed the actual situation.

“You have splashed muddy waters over an unprovable truth. That alone is worth a knife to the body.”

“Nevertheless, this incident will leave a stain upon you. Perhaps it would have been better to leave it to the old gods…”

Killing the Mamluk Sultan at a meeting was an impulsive act, but it was planned from the outset.

Yusuf coldly replied to the Grand Vizier, who repeated what had been said before the plan.

“Don’t be deluded, Grand Vizier. Do you really think your reputation is at the level to face the Sultan?”

The Grand Vizier wasn’t going as an envoy, and was he really discussing it face-to-face with the Mamluk Sultan while having only minimal guards?

That was absurd. There was a hierarchy in such matters.

The Sultan had not realized that the Padishah, who would attend the meeting in person, might take his life, hence he had let his guard down.

Yusuf scoffed.

“A stain? Yes, this incident will indeed be a stain. But the situation won’t change.”

There was nothing immediate to worry about.

The reason to maintain basic principles between nations is that it can provide grounds for invasion or lead to isolation.

But Europe considered the Ottomans a demon appearing among mortals, and the Safavid and Mamluk, both Islamic nations, were merely adversaries.

Whether it’s a disgrace or a notorious name, it wouldn’t change much.

“But, Padishah. That stain will be passed down to future generations. Was it worth your sacrifice?”

“Grand Vizier, I have no intention of becoming a noble and honorable enemy at the expense of my subjects’ lives. If I can save even one more life and get closer to victory, then it’s fine if I’m called a devil.”

It was a resolve he had pledged when he was reborn in Trabzon.

The Grand Vizier, seemingly moved, knelt and spoke softly.

“Padishah, I shall also walk this thorny path with you.”

Yusuf shook his head firmly.

“No need.”

“Padishah?”

Seeing a response he hadn’t expected, the Grand Vizier was flustered as Yusuf smiled playfully.

“After retiring from the Grand Vizier position, shouldn’t you be doing the duties I’ve entrusted to you?”

“…Then I shall rather walk the thorny path.”

“Not a chance. There’s no one else suitable but you.”

While exchanging a conversation steeped in half-joking jest, Yusuf looked towards the Mamluk encampment.

After the bloodied meeting, the Mamluks, who seemed ready to attack at any moment, were still as statues.

But to Yusuf, it was evident.

“A disorganized rabble who have lost their center will soon collapse like a sandcastle. Prepare yourselves.”

“I shall follow your command.”

As the ordered Grand Vizier vanished, Yusuf gazed at the Mamluk Sultan, whose eyes seemed to have lost all light, staring blankly at his own army.

What thoughts might arise in them as they observed their conduct?

*

“It isn’t enough that you so cruelly killed the Sultan at the meeting, but now you mock him like this! Not even the devil would commit such heinous acts with such audacity!”

In the Mamluk meeting room, a heated uproar erupted.

A man’s face was flushed with rage as he spoke, glaring fiercely at the assembly.

“Shouldn’t we be exacting vengeance for the Sultan’s unjust killing? Have we been wasting time for days now?!”

It had already been over ten days since the Sultan’s bizarre death.

Those who had cried out for vengeance during the incident were now merely dragging their feet.

In his heart, he wanted to behead the ones in front of him instead of the tyrants of the Ottomans.

“Calm down. It’s not like we don’t know we need to take revenge. But we can’t recklessly attack the Ottoman army either.”

“Even if we could win, it would come at a great cost. It’s time to think rationally. How can a mere governor act on emotion?”

The admonishing tone irritated him.

His hands trembled from anger, but he knew the truth.

The fact that the Ottoman army was provoking them by placing the Sultan’s death as a bounty revealed that they were confident in their position.

“What about that guy holding Tabriz? Durmish Khan Shamlu, in the same state?”

“Still the same. He mentioned that he couldn’t assist, as his orders from the Shah were to defend Tabriz.”

“Those filthy pigs! This is precisely why we shouldn’t aid the Shiite heretics! They’re the ones who caused the Sultan’s death!”

As he vented his anger toward the Safavid, defending words came forth.

“It’s understandable. We did not come to attack the Ottoman army but to prevent their interference.”

“Ahem, isn’t that too soft on the heretics? Nonetheless, opposing the attack without Safavid’s aid means we are outnumbered.”

With this statement, silence fell over the meeting room as Mamluk officials and Emir governors exchanged hurried glances.

There were those who shouted for vengeance against the Sultan, those against revenge, and those who insisted on involving the Safavid.

The common thought amongst them was the same.

‘The one who currently holds the military power will be the next Sultan.’

‘To push out Tumān, who remains in Cairo, they need military strength now.’

The Mamluk Sultan wasn’t of royal blood.

The Sultan was elected by the Emir governors and Mamluks, and as soon as he rode a horse draped with the emblem of the Sultanate, he became the Sultan officially.

If those gathered here could garner enough support, they could assume the role of Sultan in the place of the deceased Sultan, backed by absolute power in the capital.

It was natural to feel greed, and a voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

“What is the rush for vengeance? Time is on our side. They will soon collapse, and then we can take our revenge without haste.”

If Ismail had cut off the supply lines, attacking the starving fleeing Ottoman army would allow them to eliminate the tyrant’s head easily.

Everyone knew the truth.

Yet, they only raised their voices to gain retribution before seizing military power.

Just as a fierce and subtle power struggle re-energized, the entrance of the meeting room swung open, and a soldier rushed in urgently.

“Th-the army! A new force has appeared from the north!”

“A force from the north?”

“Could there really be an army from there? What’s their scale?”

As the gaze of those with high status focused on him, the soldier gulped and continued.

“I-it seems there are more than ten thousand cavalry. And they’re bringing a tremendous amount of supplies.”

“Could it be Ismail? It seems the Qizilbash under his command are plundering the enemy’s supplies!”

Surely, such a large cavalry didn’t just drop from the sky; it was the most likely deduction.

There were several questions: why had they come with so many supplies and appeared from the north, but nothing beyond that crossed anyone’s mind.

Another soldier entered as the meeting room’s tent opened.

“O-our Ottoman army has begun to move!”

“It seems they’re moving to retrieve the stolen supplies! We must stop them!”

There was no time for thought. If they regained the supplies, everything would end.

In tandem with the advancing Ottoman army, the Mamluk forces began to move as well.

*

It was immense in scale.

The supply convoy, protected by the tightly reigned cavalry, resembled a small city on the move.

As thousands of camels trudged along, the earth shook as if from an earthquake.

“It’s the Qizilbash!”

A sharp-eyed Mamluk shouted.

The red cord wrapped around the white turban was a symbol of the Qizilbash.

“Thank goodness! Truly, it is Ismail! I can’t believe he brought back so many supplies.”

The commander cheered with joy.

It seemed the Ottoman army had hurried to deploy its 30,000 cavalry, equal in number.

If the Qizilbash joined them, they could protect the supplies while returning to Tabriz.

With such confidence, the commander led his troops, aiming to regroup with the Qizilbash when an unthinkable scene caught his eye.

“The Qizilbash is heading toward the Ottoman army’s encampment!”

“Flag! Raise our flag high!”

Wondering if he had misjudged the encampment, the yellow Mamluk flags fluttered vibrantly; however, the Qizilbash’s movement did not change.

The two forces melded seamlessly like merging streams.

It was a terrifying nightmare.

*

“An interesting idea. Whose scheme is this?”

“It is the will of God, Padishah.”

The Sanjakbey of Trabzon, Arda, had made the necessary pretense.

He hadn’t expected one who knew not this area to concoct such a plan.

The leader of the forces, Saadet, grinned brightly as he praised Arda.

“The Sanjakbey’s base is truly remarkable. They are so fearful of the Qizilbash that even if they find it suspicious, scarcely anyone sought to stop them.”

“Well done, Arda.”

“I am honored that a mere servant can be of service to the Padishah!”

It seemed quite some time had passed.

The young self had grown to youth, and deep wrinkles were etched into Arda’s once vibrant face.

“So, how do Şemsi and Hasan fare?”

“Şemsi Pasha is still in good health, but I heard Hasan is quite troubled due to his wife’s pregnancy.”

“Hasan is?”

Yusuf’s expression turned serious.

Since his mother, Fatima, was not much older than that, it was a risky age for pregnancy in this era.

“Indeed. Hasan opposed, but his wife insisted that she needed a child to assist the Padishah.”

“I see.”

Despite being a maid, Nene would willingly lay down her life for Fatima and Yusuf.

Yusuf smiled ruefully.

“Otherwise, mother may become saddened.”

“Allah will take care of her.”

“Let us hope so.”

After exchanging short goodbyes with Arda, Yusuf turned his gaze toward Saadet, who had suffered a long journey.

“Your hard work on this perilous road is much appreciated. Your achievements are quite grand.”

“I am merely a servant indebted to the Padishah. It is only right I do my duty.”

“Even so, merits are merits. Let it be remembered.”

Even though Saadet’s life was very much at stake, there was no need to treat him coldly.

Just by observing the flustered Mamluk forces rushing to flee as they waved their yellow flags, it was evident he had earned that merit, and in return, a reward or two should be granted.

Yusuf displayed his teeth as he slung the gun he had taken the Mamluk Sultan’s life with over his shoulder.

“Let’s see how the Mamluks will respond.”

*

“Padishah! Our nation and the Ottomans have forged a strong friendship against the West that suppresses Muhammad’s will.”

“Indeed.”

Yusuf looked disinterestedly at the Mamluk envoy, who was sweating profusely.

The envoy’s head, as well as the Sultan’s severed one, made the tyrant’s green eyes send chills through him.

Rumors had already spread among the Mamluks that the devil possessed green eyes, making him both infamous and feared.

“It seems this incident arose from an unfortunate misunderstanding between our two nations. I would like to retreat to handle the Sultan’s funeral.”

“The Sultan’s funeral?”

“Yes, Padishah! I beg you to remember when your ancestors passed away, and a memorial prayer was held in Cairo.”

“There was such a time. A funeral. Very well!”

As Yusuf’s answer brought a bright smile to the envoy’s face, unexpectedly, the next words came forth.

“For the amity of our nations, I will honor you by conducting the Sultan’s funeral here in our land. You shall participate directly in the rites.”

“P-Padishah?!”

The envoy’s face turned pale at the kind offer from the murderer to conduct the funeral.

“Go back and tell them. If you don’t wish to attend the funeral, I will perform it alongside you.”

Yusuf grinned ominously, forcing the envoy to choose between captivity or death, leaving the Mamluk ranks in chaos.

Unable to provide a proper response, a day passed as dawn broke, and the Mamluks found themselves staring down over 500 cannons aimed at them.

They realized one more thing about the tyrant with the green eyes.

A tyrant mad with firepower had no patience.