New Era (4)

The news of conquering the Mamluks had the capital buzzing with excitement.

The reaction was naturally different from the fall of the Safavids, which had occurred only 11 years after its founding.

Merchants busily calculated the profits and future plans that would arise from occupying Cairo, the hub of Mediterranean trade.

Christians looked forward to pilgrimages to the holy sites in Jerusalem, while Muslims eagerly anticipated pilgrimages to Mecca.

Of course, pilgrimages were a far-off dream for ordinary subjects, but the growing hope was enough to satisfy the people.

Amid the overall lively atmosphere, Fatima calmly opened her arms.

“How are the children doing?”

“They seem to be calming down a bit as instructed by Valide Hatun.”

So replied Kalifa, brushing through her hair with a comb, while other women quickly assisted Fatima in changing her clothes.

The white waves flowing through her beautiful blonde hair carried a sense of sophistication and maturity.

Having received help to get dressed, Fatima stepped lightly.

“Of course, it should be this way. A restless heart always invites mistakes. Even if I can’t be of help to the Padishah, I shouldn’t be a hindrance.”

Fatima headed toward the largest room created with Yusuf’s permission.

As she entered, those inside greeted her respectfully.

“Welcome, Valide Hatun.”

“Yes, it seems everyone is gathered here.”

Among the representatives, Aishe greeted her, and Fatima scanned the assembled faces one by one.

For Fatima, who had lost her entire family and was sold into slavery with only Yusuf remaining as her true family, having so many relatives now filled her with nostalgia.

As her eyes scanned her grandchildren and hatuns, they landed on one woman.

“Tazlu, are you doing alright?”

“Thanks to your concern, I am comfortable.”

As she replied hesitantly in Turkish, Fatima wore a satisfied expression.

While it was rare for someone not to know the cultured language, Persian, Tazlu had to learn Turkish since she was now in the palace.

“You must take care of yourself. The Padishah’s child is growing inside you.”

At this remark, Tazlu instinctively placed her hand on her belly.

It was the result of spending last winter with Yusuf, something she could never have imagined during her confinement with Ismail.

“I will remember that.”

“If you come all the way here carrying a child, then both you and the child will endure well.”

Just like during the raid on Trabzon, she had come to the capital from Tabriz while pregnant, even against the advice of those around her.

Having withstood the hardships of the journey with a healthy body, it was no wonder Fatima said this.

‘Even though I don’t know if it’s a son or daughter yet, it’s clear she shows signs of caution.’

Aishe and Hatice wore relaxed smiles, but there was a hint of anxiety on Nigyar’s face as she held the young Kasim.

Among the four women gathered, she was the one with the weakest support base, so her worries were understandable. Fatima, clicking her tongue inwardly, took the most prominent seat.

“Valide Hatun!”

As she lowered her head at the tugging at her skirt, Hasna, Yusuf’s only daughter, beamed and stretched out her hands.

“Give me a hug!”

“Hasna!”

Despite Aishe’s stern scolding, Hasna danced eagerly on her feet, and Fatima lifted her and seated her on her lap.

It was always astonishing to experience this.

When Hasna smiled broadly, it felt as if the surroundings lit up, and she had a unique ability to soften people’s hearts.

“Is that so good?”

“Yes! I’m so happy being with you!”

“I’m glad to hear that. We must gather more often.”

With a gentle smile, Fatima patted Hasna’s head.

The idea of having such gatherings regularly came after learning that the young Yusuf had nearly been poisoned.

‘While fights later on may be unavoidable, we need to prevent flowers from blooming and withering.’

Fatima’s desire was to do her utmost to avoid such tragedies until her final breath, and her proactive exchange during these meetings reflected that intention.

Playfully pinching the chubby cheeks of Hasna, Fatima turned to Mehmet, who was staring intently at the paper.

“Mehmet, are you keeping up with the task given to you by the Padishah?”

“It’s not easy. I often discuss it with the esteemed artisan Tahir, favored by the Padishah, but it seems it will take more time to realize.”

“Is there sufficient potential?”

“Of course. I have managed to produce a small amount of iron.”

The principle itself was not difficult.

It was fundamentally about replacing charcoal with a newly discovered substance called coke.

However, research was still needed to mass-produce the necessary equipment and verify the mines in the area described by Yusuf.

This project required much time due to numerous trial and error beyond mere intellect.

“The Padishah is truly a remarkable person.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Each piece of knowledge he casually shares is not lightweight at all.”

From the specifics about steel production to the complex script system that made Suleiman scratch his head, these achievements were not things one could quickly accomplish.

‘It’s as if he prepared for centuries.’

Mehmet, recognized for his sharp intellect, felt he could not even begin to measure up to Yusuf.

“Indeed, that is a side of the Padishah. However, there’s no need to worry as long as it benefits the empire, right?”

“That is true.”

Had someone else possessed such knowledge, it wouldn’t have been taken so lightly as it is now.

These were vital pieces of information, ones he would gladly torture someone for if necessary.

After discussing sufficiently with Mehmet, Fatima turned toward Murad, who was stifling a yawn.

“Murad.”

“Ugh… What? Yes?! Valide Hatun!”

“Ha ha, that’s funny! Say it again!”

As Hasna burst into laughter at Murad’s missing front tooth, the taller-than-Mehmet Murad scratched his head in confusion.

“Valide Hatun?”

What was so hilarious that Hasna nearly tipped backward, Fatima quickly caught her.

Unaware of how dangerous it had been, Fatima watched Hasna, who giggled in her arms, and lightly laughed, as if resigning herself to it.

“I’ve heard you excel in martial arts. But are you also reading books?”

“I-I’m reading diligently?”

As Murad raised his eyes in uncertainty, Mehmet lowered the paper he had been perusing.

“Murad, even if you don’t study anything else, make sure to gather military knowledge.”

“Uh?”

At the unexpected statement, Murad widened his eyes, and Mehmet completely set down the paper he had been holding.

“It means the chances of you being on the battlefield in the future are higher than mine.”

While he had not been appointed as a sanjakbey yet, he understood where he would be active as soon as he received a letter concerning iron production.

The area between the Crimean Khanate and the Circassians, one without even a decently built town, would be the responsibility of developing that region.

While focusing on developing iron ore and coal together, the likely military actions he would encounter would be predominantly defensive.

However, Murad was different.

“Isn’t your only specialty doing hard labor? If you’re not unloading cargo at the harbor, where else will you be besides the battlefield?”

“Is that so? But why are you suddenly telling me this?”

Thanks to their steady parents and Fatima, while they didn’t fiercely despise each other like other royal siblings, they weren’t particularly close either, making this advice surprising.

In response to Murad’s question, Mehmet returned to studying the papers and casually replied.

“I don’t want to overwork myself unnecessarily. Besides, your father will haul you into work whether you like it or not.”

*

“I wonder when my sons will grow up quickly.”

Yusuf, engrossed in papers, wore a frustrated expression.

It was one thing that Ilhan, son of Shamsi, had moved to Cairo, but the problem was that he had brought along a pile of paperwork.

While routine matters could be resolved through the divan meetings, important decisions and financial documents had to be examined personally.

‘It could be delegated to someone else, but then those greedy scoundrels would emerge.’

Honestly, completely preventing corruption was challenging, but there was always a line to be drawn.

Taking even some actions to show he was watching them would make them more cautious, but given the size of the country, even that was not an easy task.

Shamsi, who was beside him and reviewing documents related to Cairo, slightly furrowed his brow.

“Isn’t there quite a lot for me to deal with in comparison?”

“I’m just not as clever as you think.”

“I don’t know who said such nonsense to the wise Padishah.”

Having been scolded many times for that remark, Shamsi was now speaking without a shred of honesty.

For a moment, Yusuf, who took his gaze off the documents, asked the waiting Janissary.

“Is there any unusual activity from Spain regarding Tarabulus?”

“It seems they are preparing for a possible attack, but there are no significant movements.”

Northern Africa was a tangled mess between the Islamic powers supporting pirates and the Spanish territory captured to catch those pirates.

The nearest city in the territory expanded to the west was a pirate stronghold that Spain had taken three years ago, a port city known in English as Tripoli.

“If there aren’t any significant movements yet, we can wait and see. After all, they’re going to deal with the Barbarossa brothers.”

The true fame of Barbarossa began when he seized Algiers, which was now under Spanish rule.

The act of kidnapping Michelangelo was more of a side benefit; their actual intention was to keep Spain in check.

The advantage of employing pirates as subcontractors was that there was little burden in using them.

“How are merchants getting along?”

“Merchants who had halted trade to avoid war are starting to increase bit by bit. The problem is that the goods coming in from the East are underwhelming.”

“Of course, there are those who recklessly stir things up.”

Yusuf lightly tapped the desk.

In the future, the world would turn its gaze toward the sea, and the importance of timber would rise to a much more critical level than it is now.

According to a shipbuilding book published in the 17th century, to build a large ship, the amount of wood needed equated to 1800 units, enough to clear an entire forest.

‘Ultimately, to escape the timber problem to some degree, connecting canals becomes the priority.’

The main shipyards were located near the capital and Alexandria, which had just been conquered, and the primary sources for purchasing timber were mainly East Africa and India.

Because Europe wouldn’t sell critical timber to a nation that might ignite them at any moment.

The construction of the canals had turned out to involve more work than expected.

“…Why do you look at me like that, Padishah?”

“Because I have great expectations of you.”

Not only from prisoners but, like the New Deal policy, he wanted to employ starving subjects to expedite the canal construction.

Realizing the underlying impatience in his words, Shamsi raised an eyebrow.

“Did I not mention beforehand? Quick action is the work of Satan; slow deeds are what Allah delights in.”

“Then let’s do it quickly enough to astound Satan. That way, Allah will also be greatly pleased.”

“Then the Padishah should also quickly peruse the documents to a degree that might astonish Satan.”

Yusuf, clicking his tongue, returned his focus to the papers.

If there had been a Westerner present at that moment, they might have fainted in shock.

After all, he was quite an unremarkable figure for a Sultan gaining infamy that surpassed Mehmet II, who had caused fear with the fall of Eastern Rome and many conquests.

How much time had passed? Outside the window, the red sunset began to set, and a candle made from expensive whale oil flickered to life.

– Padishah, a messenger has arrived.

“Let them in.”

Upon Yusuf’s permission, the door opened, and the messenger hastily greeted him.

“What is the matter?”

“I bring word that Mecca has been conquered! As a token of submission, he is sending the son of the Sharif who governs Mecca and the keys to the holy sites.”

Mecca is an incredibly significant city in Islam.

Among the five duties of a Muslim are to pray five times a day facing Mecca and to make a pilgrimage there at least once in a lifetime.

There was no need to elaborate on its importance, and the face of the reporting messenger was visibly brightened.

“Janissary.”

“Yes, Padishah.”

“Bring Al-Mutawakkil.”

“I will carry out your command.”

Al-Mutawakkil was currently the Caliph, and once the Janissary left, Shamsi asked.

“Are you finally considering officially taking the Caliphate?”

“There’s no harm in it, right?”

It only added another expression to describe him, and there was no reason not to accept the Caliphate, an office akin to the Pope in Islam.

Yusuf, who casually stated a shocking remark that would horrify any devout Muslim, beckoned to the messenger.

“If you’ve conquered Mecca, surely there must be something to bring back?”

“Here it is, Padishah.”

Receiving a pouch made of expensive cloth, Yusuf smiled satisfactorily as he checked its contents.

He appeared to be much more pleased than when acquiring the Caliphate, prompting Shamsi to ask.

“What is this?”

“This? It’s something very good.”

Coffee beans spilled from Yusuf’s hand.

The devil’s drink had fallen into the most dangerous person’s hands.