Four years have passed.

The man, shedding his mud-stained work clothes, let out a long sigh.

The revolting smell of manure and sweat tickled his nose, and his body groaned from the grueling labor in the fields.

Born as an upper-class citizen and having served as a diplomat, physical work was tough for him, but he was grateful to have at least a small piece of land to feed his family.

As he organized the theories he’d been contemplating while working, he noticed a man getting off a cart.

“Cosimo Rucellai, what brings you here? The day of the meeting is fast approaching.”

“Hahaha, I didn’t come just for idle chit-chat.”

The Rucellai family was one of Florence’s prestigious families, alongside the Medici and Strozzis, and it was a rare occasion for them to visit such a smelly farm.

The man, who carelessly hung up his work clothes, led Cosimo to a seat, and Cosimo slowly surveyed the interior of the house.

The farm was shabby and dilapidated.

Having been involved in assassination plots against the Medici family and subjected to severe torture, the man was left with nothing but a small farm and a mountain of debt.

Thanks to his reputation as a writer, he could pay off the debts quickly, but he still faced a bleak future.

“May I ask why you have come? Is it perhaps something you shouldn’t mention at the Rucellai Garden Meeting?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not here to discuss something that heavy.”

The Rucellai Garden Meeting was a prestigious academic event hosted by the Rucellai family, and the current host was Cosimo Rucellai himself.

Two years ago, when he had become distasteful to the Medici family, it was thanks to Cosimo that he was able to attend this meeting.

“I have something to say about the Ottoman Empire.”

“The Ottomans…”

It was a nation that had rapidly grown under the rule of a monstrous sultan.

In light of its explosive expansion, even nations voraciously munching on the Italian peninsula felt the crisis and quickly entered a state of stasis.

‘Many dismiss his biography as mere fiction, but it’s not so simple.’

Although considered as a biography, it mostly recounts the prince’s era, but many find it nonsensical and dismiss it as a novel.

However, even if only half of it were true, he was no easy opponent.

“Why suddenly bring up the Ottomans?”

“I thought of you when examining the deeds of the Ottoman Emperor. To be precise, it relates to Machiavelli’s ‘The Prince’ that you presented to the Medici family.”

At this, the man, Niccolò Machiavelli, exhaled deeply.

In efforts to drive the barbarians from the Italian peninsula and to return to politics, he had dedicated his writing to Duke Lorenzo de’ Medici, only to find it utterly disregarded.

“Don’t be too upset that the Duke didn’t even glance at it. I was able to attend the meeting thanks to having seen that manuscript, after all.”

“I’m always grateful for that.”

Machiavelli graciously expressed his thanks.

The opportunity to exchange views with young noblemen was exceedingly valuable to him.

“Enough of that. I didn’t say it expecting thanks. Anyway, looking at the emperor’s actions, it seems as if he’s following your ‘Prince’ to the letter.”

Machiavelli’s face lit up with interest.

“He behaves as known: extreme and close to villainy. Killing the Sultan of Egypt during a meeting is a prime example.”

“He claimed he was attacked first, but regardless of the truth, it’s astonishing.”

Attempting to murder an opposing ruler during a conference and actually succeeding? When this fact became known, many pointed fingers at him for being an infidel.

Of course, most of the blame was merely lip service.

“The important thing is that, thanks to his willingness to endure the blame, the war ended swiftly, allowing his country to grow at an extraordinary pace.”

‘The Prince’ isn’t a justification for treacherous schemes.

He merely stated that one must resort to dirty political means to avert a national crisis.

If treacherous schemes lead to national division, that would be an action contrary to ‘The Prince’, and previous examples sufficiently aligned with it.

“Moreover, all the other excessive and cruel acts he demonstrated were rooted in the empire’s revival.”

“Fascinating, but what’s the reason for sharing this story?”

“Would you be interested in crossing over to the Ottomans to study the emperor? To know what he’s like and predict his future actions. Of course, I would support the funding.”

The Ottomans were not only significant in Mediterranean trade, but also a nation likely to exhibit military movements at any moment, making it critically important to understand the emperor governing that nation.

Not being a fellow Christian state, and since one should remain with the Ottomans, Cosimo subtly prompted.

“It could also serve as a great opportunity for you. If you could depict the fact that the emperor revived the empire by following ‘The Prince’, wouldn’t the Duke take an interest?”

“About the Duke…”

Although Machiavelli was a fervent republican, he believed a charismatic prince to be vital to overcoming a crisis.

To liberate the Italian peninsula from the hands of barbarians like the French and Spaniards, he wished for the Duke to take the stage, and his face reflected genuine interest.

“All well and good, but to learn about the emperor, one will need to gather at least some palace gossip. What do you think we should do?”

“Why not translate ‘The Prince’ to present to the emperor? Since it describes actions that would explain his deeds, surely among those in office, there would be someone interested even if not the emperor himself.”

“That sounds like it could be worth a try.”

Funded by the Rucellai family, Machiavelli boarded a ship.

*

As the empire grew, the first place to noticeably develop was the capital.

Merchants arriving with their merchant ships and travelers coming to see the relics of the prophet Muhammad flocked to Constantinople.

However, recently among those arriving in the capital were some special individuals.

“Sir, we have arrived in the capital.”

“I know. The sights can wait; let’s keep it down for now.”

Even while walking, they weren’t letting go of the books in their hands.

Whenever their eyes met inadvertently, they exchanged fierce glares, which had become a fresh spectacle in the capital.

Yusuf sipped his coffee with a leisurely expression.

“Not bad.”

What once tasted terrible had now improved to be of the finest quality due to countless experiences.

Of course, this improvement was built on the sacrifices of his subordinates.

“Within the palace, there’s probably only the Padishah who enjoys such a thing.”

“A pricey drink indeed, but one should know how to enjoy it.”

The supply of coffee was still scant, resulting in its high prices.

It was said that the cost of drinking coffee surpassed the salaries of the subordinates.

Given that they were being laboriously exploited, Yusuf saw no reason to feel at a loss.

“By the way, have all the examinees arrived?”

“Yes. They are the highest scorers from each city. They should understand how great an opportunity this is, so you needn’t worry.”

The city examination, the preliminary stage of the bureaucratic exams, had already taken place, and most of the successful candidates were set to become local low-ranking officials.

However, those who ranked at the top would take the capital’s second exam and secure positions in the capital according to their scores.

The second capital examination was crucial, determining whether they could rise quickly to high office or had to climb up from the bottom.

“How are the other nobles reacting? I won’t tolerate any nepotism.”

Nepotism and petty hierarchies can easily emerge wherever there are people.

In Joseon alone, there was a harsh initiation ceremony for new officials called the Myeonsinrye, resulting in several deaths.

The Grand Vizier smiled gently at Yusuf’s concern.

“You needn’t worry about that. Everyone is welcoming the fact that we finally have people to distribute the workload.”

“Then make sure to take it easy at first so they don’t run away in the middle.”

“I’ll make sure to inform them.”

Once those who received their success medals become accustomed to their duties, they would profoundly realize why coffee was in endless supply in the capital.

The workload pouring in from across the vast Ottoman territory was nothing short of murderous.

Yusuf flipped through a book compiled with the Ottoman writing system completed by Suleiman.

“There are still many areas to augment, but isn’t this usable enough? It would become a new burden for busy subordinates.”

“Many lament that time is needed to become accustomed, but the pains experienced during a transition are unavoidable.”

Given that the administrative language was being replaced with the newly formed Ottoman language, they had to learn it grudgingly.

As the administrative tongue shifts to the capital, naturally the surrounding cities would follow suit.

Yusuf got up from his seat and turned to a large map displayed.

“Language is just the beginning. To become a single empire, we need to enhance human exchanges between cities much more than now.”

The Ottomans were a mixture of various ethnicities and cultures.

Although ethnic issues were not yet pressing, regional conflicts were inevitable.

‘In modern times, regional conflicts can even erupt in apartment complexes.’

To somewhat alleviate this, exchanges between different regions had to flourish.

Of course, when most subjects were engaged in farming and herding, such interactions weren’t easy, so they had no choice but to cycle officials through postings.

“If the subjects find it hard to encounter diverse cultures, then at least officials should be exposed to them. Just like stagnation leads to decay, this should also serve to prevent corruption.”

“I will convey your wishes to the subordinates, Padishah.”

Whether it be religion, ethnicity, or culture, living together makes it all trivial. It’s just how people live.

If such a scene is visible from above, then naturally a similar atmosphere would flow below, and this was the extent of what could be done for now.

Yusuf sneaked a glance at the sun.

“The exam should be starting soon. Let the subordinates know not to worry.”

“What do you mean?”

Yusuf lightly shook his coffee cup at the puzzled Grand Vizier.

“No matter how many newcomers there are, there’s enough coffee to go around. The aroma of the beans brought in this time is quite nice.”

The Grand Vizier, Hadim Ali Pasha, made a vow.

That he should quickly resign from his position and return to being a chamberlain.

*

“What is it that you called me separately for?”

“Don’t you think you should consider fixing that arrogant tone of yours?”

“Hmph, how about you fix that stuffy way of speaking before telling me? It’s not like you’re old enough to sound like those bastards.”

Murad scoffed, and Mehmet closed the book he had been reading, turning to a child humming a tune.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? Why did you call me?”

Eight-year-old Kasim looked at Mehmet with innocent eyes.

Kasim, the youngest brother, resembled Yusuf the most, and Mehmet frowned at him.

“There’s no need to act when we’re right in front of each other. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

At Mehmet’s pointed remark, Kasim squinted his twinkling eyes.

“That’s strange. Sister is fine with it, but you brothers aren’t.”

Murad, gnawing at snacks, flicked his hand dismissively.

“Where do you think you’re acting all high and mighty? You’re asking for a smack.”

“Then you’ll get in trouble with Valide Hatun again. If you hit me, make it somewhere that hurts less and is more visible, okay?”

The training of the princes was primarily supervised by Hatun, but it was Valide Hatun who managed the Hatun.

She was one of the few capable of scolding the prince, causing Murad to turn away in annoyance.

Ignoring Murad, who had the body of an adult but the mind of a child, Mehmet asked.

“Kasim, how about learning from Michelangelo?”

“It’s fun! Learning to draw is enjoyable, and learning instruments from a minstrel is great, too. People like it as well!”

Kasim, who was rather fond of being the center of attention, found this hobby to be perfect for him.

“Was that a hobby the Padishah actively encouraged?”

“Indeed.”

When Mehmet learned that Yusuf had directed Kasim’s education this way, he found it odd. After all, no one had known he had artistic talent at such a young age.

However, even after discovering his talent, he remained somewhat puzzled.

If he were the father he knew, he wouldn’t be satisfied raising his son to become an exceptional artist.

This question was resolved recently.

“Nowadays, you’re learning not only about our empire but also about the etiquette of other countries, aren’t you?”

“How burdensome! It’s not even fun, but since the Padishah ordered it, there’s no way I can skip it.”

Kasim, who was called the cunning little brat, feigned a gloomy tone, and Mehmet nodded.

“You might be used as a diplomat by your father.”

“A diplomat?”

Using a prince as a diplomat instead of a Sanjakbey was highly unusual, but if it were Yusuf, that might very well be feasible.

Not answering the perplexed Kasim, Mehmet took a sip of coffee.

It was still merely a hypothesis.

“Enough of this talk; why did you call me?”

“I thought we should have one last meeting before the two of us scatter as Sanjakbeys.”

At the mention of Sanjakbey, Murad’s face twisted with discomfort.

Fate that had been postponed came rushing in.

“Once we spread out as Sanjakbeys, there won’t be many chances to reunite.”

Cold as Mehmet was, he felt a twinge of regret deep inside.

Reflecting on the dynasty’s history, despite their squabbles, being bound by brotherhood was quite exceptional.

‘Hasna played a significant role in that.’

The affection they held for Hasna wasn’t merely because she was an adorable younger sister.

It was because Hasna acted as an intermediary that fostered the sense of togetherness among the family.

The more they showed affection and cherished her, the more they could indirectly feel that they were, after all, brothers.

However, the time to live as children ignorant of the world’s affairs was drawing to a close.

“Murad, from now on, we are rivals.”

“I already knew that even without you saying it.”

“I still think you don’t fully grasp it. I wonder how you can enjoy the snacks you’re munching on, knowing they could be laced with poison.”

Murad spat out the snack he was chewing and uncomfortably gazed at the half-eaten morsel.

Though it was unlikely to be truly poisoned, he could already sense what kind of life awaited him as a prince.

Rising from his seat, Mehmet placed a hand on Murad’s head.

It was a head he had never touched except when they were very little.

“I’m saying this as your brother, so listen well.”

Don’t die an empty death.

With those words, Mehmet left the room.

*

“Why did you call me separately?”

“Can’t you learn to fix that cocky tone of yours?”

“Hmph, how about you work on that stuffy way of speaking first? That doesn’t even sound like the talk of a proper gentleman.”

With a scoff, Murad’s words made Mehmet close the book he was looking at and turn to the child humming a tune.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? Why did you call me?”

Eight-year-old Kasim gazed at Mehmet with eyes full of innocence.

Among the four brothers, Kasim most resembled Yusuf, prompting a frown from Mehmet.

“No need to act like that in front of us. We know exactly what’s on your mind.”

At Mehmet’s pointed comment, Kasim squinted his shiny eyes.

“That’s strange. Sister is fine with it, but you brothers do not let me.”

Murad, chewing roughly on snacks, waved his hand dismissively.

“Where do you think you’re strutting around? You’re asking for a whack.”

“Then you’ll get caught by Valide Hatun again. If you’re going to hit me, please make it somewhere less painful and more conspicuous!”

While the training for princes was fundamentally managed by the Hatun, it was Valide Hatun who oversaw Hatun.

She was one of the few people who could scold the prince, causing Murad to turn his head away in annoyance.

Ignoring Murad, who was physically an adult but mentally still a child, Mehmet inquired.

“Kasim, how about taking lessons from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds fun! Learning to draw is enjoyable, and playing instruments with a minstrel is delightful. People also seem to enjoy it.”

Given Kasim’s affinity for attention, the hobby truly suited him well.

“Wasn’t that a hobby greatly encouraged by the Padishah?”

“It was, indeed.”

When Mehmet learned of Yusuf’s direction for Kasim’s education, he found it perplexing. No one had recognized any artistic talent at such a young age.

Yet, even after it was discovered, it remained curious.

If he were the father he knew, he wouldn’t be satisfied with raising his son to be an exceptional artist.

This question was resolved just recently.

“Recently, you’re learning about the etiquette of not just our empire, but other countries too, aren’t you?”

“How tiresome! It’s boring, but since the Padishah ordered it, I can’t dodge it.”

Kasim, known as a cunning little brat, pretended to sound despondent, and Mehmet nodded in agreement.

“You might end up being utilized as a diplomat by your father.”

“A diplomat?”

Utilizing a prince not as a Sanjakbey but as a diplomat was unheard of, yet if it were Yusuf, it could very well happen.

Mehmet, who didn’t offer any explanation to the puzzled Kasim, sipped his coffee.

It was still merely speculation.

“Now, enough of this talk. Why did you summon me?”

“I believe we need to organize a final gathering before the two of us take off as Sanjakbeys.”

The mention of Sanjakbey provoked an uncomfortable twist in Murad’s face.

Destiny, postponed until now, was leaping right up.

“Once we scatter as Sanjakbeys, we won’t have many opportunities to reunite.”

Although cold, Mehmet held a touch of regret within.

Looking back on the royal history, despite quarreling, being within the confines of brotherhood was quite a special affair.

‘Thanks to Hasna.’

The affection held for Hasna wasn’t merely because she was a beloved younger sister.

Instead, Hasna played the role of a middle ground that fostered the sense of being a family.

The more love they showed and the more they cherished her, the more it reminded them of their bond as siblings.

Nevertheless, the time to live blissfully ignorant of the world was drawing to a close.

“Murad, from now on, we are competitors.”

“I already knew that without it being stated.”

“I still think you haven’t grasped it well. I wonder how you can enjoy those treats, knowing they might be laced with poison.”

Murad spat out what he had been chewing and cast an uncomfortable glance at the half-eaten snack.

It was unlikely to be truly poisoned, yet the realization of the life he was expected to lead as a prince started settling in.

Standing up, Mehmet put a hand on Murad’s head.

It was a head he’d never touched, aside from when they were very young.

“I’m saying this as your brother, so listen well.”

Don’t die a meaningless death.

With those words, Mehmet exited the room.

*

“Why the separate summons?”

“Can’t you fix that arrogant tone of yours?”

“Hmph, how about you fix that stuffy way of talking first? This isn’t the language of old men.”

Murad rolled his eyes at Mehmet, who closed his book and turned to the little humming child.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What is it?”

Eight-year-old Kasim stared at Mehmet with innocent, wide eyes.

He most resembled Yusuf among the four brothers, causing Mehmet to frown at him.

“There’s no need to put on an act in front of us. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

At Mehmet’s pointed comment, Kasim furrowed his brows.

“That’s odd. Sister accepts it, but you brothers don’t.”

Murad, munching on snacks, waved his hand dismissively.

“Stop pretending to be all high and mighty. You’re asking for a smack.”

“Then Valide Hatun will scold you again. If you’re going to hit me, do it where it hurts less and shows more, okay?”

Though education for the princes was fundamentally directed by the Hatun, it was Valide Hatun who managed the Hatun.

She was among the few capable of reprimanding the prince, which only served to irritate Murad.

Ignoring the adult-bodied but child-minded Murad, Mehmet continued his inquiries.

“Kasim, what do you think about learning from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds fun! Drawing is enjoyable, and learning instruments from a musician is delightful too. People seem to like it as well!”

Given Kasim’s tendency to crave attention, that hobby was perfect for him.

“Wasn’t that a pastime the Padishah encouraged actively?”

“Indeed.”

Mehmet found it initially surprising that Yusuf dictated such an artistic direction for Kasim, considering no one knew he had artistic talents at such a young age.

However, even with this realization, it still seemed peculiar.

The father he knew would likely not be content with simply raising a son to become a superb artist.

That question was recently resolved.

“Nowadays, you’re not only learning about our empire but also about the etiquette of other nations, aren’t you?”

“How tedious! It’s no fun, but since it’s the Padishah’s command, I can’t ignore it.”

Feigning despair, the cunning young Kasim sighed, and Mehmet nodded in sympathy.

“You might end up being used as a diplomat by your father.”

“A diplomat?”

Utilizing a prince in the diplomatic realm instead of as a Sanjakbey was an unprecedented move, but Yusuf could definitely pull that off.

Mehmet didn’t answer Kasim’s puzzled expression and took a sip of his coffee.

It was still merely a theory.

“Let’s put this aside. Why did you summon me?”

“I think we need to have a last gathering before we separate as Sanjakbeys.”

The mention of Sanjakbey awoke a pained expression on Murad’s face.

Destiny, which had been delayed, was now rushing forward.

“Once we disperse as Sanjakbeys, opportunities to reunite will be scarce.”

Though Mehmet was composed, a sliver of regret lay within him.

Looking back at the legacy of their dynasty, despite their quarrels, being confined within brotherhood was a rare thing.

‘Thanks to Hasna’s influence.’

Their affection for Hasna wasn’t solely based on her being a lovely younger sister.

Hasna served as a vital link that fostered familial affection.

The more they loved her, the more it reinforced their connection as brothers.

But the time to remain blissfully oblivious to reality was swiftly coming to an end.

“From now on, we shall compete against each other, Murad.”

“I knew that already, you don’t need to remind me.”

“I’m not sure you actually do. How can you continue to eat those treats so happily, well aware they might be poisoned?”

Murad spat out the snack he was chewing and looked uncomfortably at the half-eaten treat.

He was certain no real poison would be present, but the severe reality of royal life was beginning to dawn upon him.

As Mehmet rose from his seat, he placed his hand on Murad’s head.

Aside from when they were very young, he had never touched his brother’s head before.

“Listen well: don’t throw your life away foolishly.”

With those words, Mehmet left the room.

*

“Why summon me separately?”

“Can’t you learn to fix that cocky tone of yours?”

“Hmph, how about you work on your old-fashioned way of speaking instead? You don’t sound like anything that fits your age.”

Murad snickered at Mehmet, who closed his book and turned to the humming child.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What’s up?”

Eight-year-old Kasim gazed up at Mehmet with innocent eyes.

He resembled Yusuf the most among the four brothers, causing Mehmet to frown at him.

“There’s no need for pretense in front of us. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

At Mehmet’s accusation, Kasim furrowed his brows.

“That’s strange! Sister is okay with it, but you brothers aren’t.”

Murad, munching on snacks, waved his hand in dismissal.

“Stop acting all high and mighty; you’re just asking for a smack.”

“Then you’ll get in trouble with Valide Hatun again! If you’re going to hit me, please make it less painful and somewhere visible!”

While the princes’ training was mainly managed by the Hatun, it was Valide Hatun who ruled over the Hatun.

She was one of the few capable of scolding the prince, prompting Murad to turn in annoyance.

Ignoring the grown-bodied child Murad, Mehmet asked.

“Kasim, what if you learn from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds fun! Learning to draw is enjoyable, and music lessons from a minstrel are great too! People seem to like it!”

Kasim’s personality, one that craved attention, made this hobby quite suiting.

“Was that a pastime the Padishah encouraged?”

“It certainly was!”

When Mehmet discovered that Yusuf had propagated Kasim’s artistic education, it struck him as odd since no one had seen any talents at such a young age.

But even after the realization, there lingered a level of confusion.

The father he knew wouldn’t be satisfied with merely raising an exceptional artist.

This confusion was resolved recently.

“Are you not learning not only about our empire but also about the customs of other countries now?”

“How burdensome! It’s no fun, and it’s an order from the Padishah, so I can’t refuse.”

Kasim, often called the cunning little brat, pretended to sound downcast, and Mehmet nodded in agreement.

“You might end up being used as a diplomat by your father.”

“A diplomat?”

To use a prince as a diplomat instead of a Sanjakbey was highly unconventional, but if it were Yusuf, he could easily do that.

Not responding to the puzzled Kasim, Mehmet sipped his coffee.

It was still merely speculation.

“I want to put this aside for now. Why did you call me?”

“I thought we should arrange one last get-together before we depart as Sanjakbeys.”

At the mention of Sanjakbey, Murad’s expression crumpled uncomfortably.

Fate, previously delayed, suddenly rushed toward them.

“Once we scatter as Sanjakbeys, the chances of reunion will be few.”

Though cold in demeanor, Mehmet felt a twinge of regret inside.

Looking back on the histories of the dynasty, sibling squabbles but still preserved within a brotherly bond was quite extraordinary.

‘Thanks to Hasna’s influence.’

The affection felt for Hasna wasn’t only because she’s an adored younger sister.

It was because Hasna had played a crucial role in nurturing a sense of family between them all.

The more affection shown, and the more they treasured her, the more they felt they were brothers.

However, the time of living blissfully ignorant was rapidly concluding.

“Murad, from now on, we’re rivals.”

“I already knew without you saying that.”

“I don’t think you truly grasp it yet. Just imagine, how relaxed you are munching on those snacks, while they could even be poisoned?”

Murad spat out what he was nibbling and glanced at the half-eaten treat with discomfort.

It’s improbable there’d be real poison, yet the bitter reality of the life ahead loomed closer.

Mehmet, rising from his seat, rested his hand on Murad’s head.

He had never touched that head since they were little.

“I’m saying this as your brother, so listen closely.”

Don’t die a meaningless death.

Finishing his words, Mehmet exited the room.

*

“Why did you call for me separately?”

“Can’t you manage to tone down that arrogant attitude?”

“Hmph, why don’t you fix that uptight manner of yours first? You don’t sound approachable for your age.”

With a scoff, Murad glanced at Mehmet, who closed his book and shifted focus to the humming child.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What’s the matter?”

Eight-year-old Kasim gazed up at Mehmet with innocent wide eyes.

Among the four brothers, he bore the closest resemblance to Yusuf, causing Mehmet to frown disapprovingly.

“No need to act in front of us. We can clearly see through your thoughts.”

Kasim squinted at Mehmet’s assertion.

“That’s strange! Sister doesn’t mind it, but you brothers do!”

Murad, crunching his snack, waved dismissively.

“Stop performing; you’re practically inviting a hit.”

“If you do, Valide Hatun won’t spare you! When you hit me, make it somewhere less painful and more visible!”

The Hatun held primary responsibility for the prince’s education while Valide Hatun oversaw the Hatun.

Among the few entitled to discipline the prince, her authority made Murad turn away in annoyance.

Disregarding Murad, who possessed the body of an adult yet a child’s mindset, Mehmet asked.

“Kasim, how would you feel about learning from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds fun! Learning to draw is an adventure, plus music lessons from a minstrel are exciting! People enjoy it too.”

Kasim’s fondness for gaining attention made this hobby perfectly suited for him.

“Was that a hobby the Padishah favored?”

“It surely was!”

When Mehmet initially heard Yusuf directed such artistic initiatives, he found it puzzling since nobody had noticed those talents at such a young age.

Yet, even after recognizing that talent, confusion remained.

The father he remembered wouldn’t necessarily be satisfied merely raising a son to be a great artist.

This inquiry was resolved just a while ago.

“Nowadays, you’re not just learning about our empire but also the customs of other counties, correct?”

“How tiresome! It’s hardly entertaining, but since the Padishah commanded it, I can’t refuse.”

Kasim, often dubbed a clever little brat, donned a faux moping demeanor, and Mehmet consented with a nod.

“You might get engaged as a diplomat for your father.”

“A diplomat?”

Employing a prince in diplomacy rather than as a Sanjakbey was unprecedented, yet Yusuf could easily manage that.

Not supplying any confirmation to the perplexed Kasim, Mehmet quenched his thirst with coffee.

Merely a theory for now.

“Let’s drop this topic for the moment. Why did you beckon me?”

“I consider it necessary to prepare a concluding gathering before we all branch off as Sanjakbeys.”

Murad’s expression twisted uncomfortably at the mention of Sanjakbey.

The impending fate, long postponed, was now rushing toward them.

“Once we branch out as Sanjakbeys, we’ll have fewer chances to meet again.”

Despite his cold demeanor, Mehmet harbored a hint of regret within.

Looking back at the dynasty’s history, despite their bickering, being bound by brotherhood was significant.

‘Thanks to Hasna.’

The affection held for Hasna wasn’t solely because of her adorable nature as the younger sister.

She had also served as a key link in fostering familial bonds.

The more they expressed affection and cherished her, the more they felt they were indeed brothers.

However, their time of living blissfully unaware was swiftly drawing to a close.

“Murad, henceforth, we shall be rivals.”

“I already knew, even without your reminder.”

“I still doubt you truly grasp it. How can you relish those snacks while pondering they could be tainted with poison?”

Murad spat what he was chewing, glancing down at the half-eaten snack with discomfort.

Real poison was unlikely, but the gravity of the royal life fully revealed itself to him.

Standing up, Mehmet rested his hand on Murad’s head.

He hadn’t touched that head since their younger days.

“What I’m about to say comes from being your brother, so pay attention.”

“Don’t die in vain.”

With that final word, Mehmet left the room.

*

“Why the private summon?”

“Can’t you tone down that cocky attitude?”

“Hmph, why don’t you first fix that stuffy manner of speaking? You don’t sound your age.”

Murad scoffed at Mehmet’s words while closing his book and glancing at the humming child.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What is it?”

Eight-year-old Kasim gazed up at Mehmet with innocent eyes.

He was the brother who resembled Yusuf the most, prompting a frown from Mehmet.

“No need to pretend in front of us. I clearly see what is on your mind.”

At Mehmet’s assertion, Kasim squinted.

“That’s strange! Sister doesn’t mind my ways, but you both are harsh.”

Murad, munching on snacks, flicked his hand dismissively.

“Stop with the act, or you’re asking for a smack.”

“If that’s the case, you’ll be in trouble with Valide Hatun! If you’re going to hit me, please choose a place that hurts less and shows more!”

While the training of the princes was under the primary care of the Hatun, it was Valide Hatun who managed that responsibility.

She was one of the few privy to scold the prince, which irked Murad enough to look the other way.

Ignoring Murad, who had the physique of an adult but a child’s cognition, Mehmet turned to Kasim.

“Kasim, how about receiving lessons from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds interesting! Drawing is fun, and learning from an artist is exciting! People tend to enjoy it as well.”

Kasim, known for his craving attention, found the hobby fitting him perfectly.

“Was that a pastime actively encouraged by the Padishah?”

“It certainly was!”

When Mehmet first learned that Yusuf had ordered such a path for Kasim, it puzzled him; no one had known of that talent at such an early age.

Yet even after acknowledging the talent, it remained bewildering.

The father he knew would hardly settle for merely nurturing an excellent artist.

This question only resolved itself recently.

“Are you learning about other countries’ customs in addition to those of our empire lately?”

“It’s such a burden! It’s not entertaining at all, but since it’s the order of the Padishah, I can’t refuse.”

Kasim, often called a clever little boy, pretended to lament, and Mehmet nodded, understanding the sentiment.

“You might end up being used as a diplomat by your father.”

“A diplomat?”

It was uncommon for a prince to be utilized as a diplomat rather than as a Sanjakbey, but Yusuf was undoubtedly capable of that.

Ignoring the perplexed expression on Kasim’s face, Mehmet took a sip of his coffee.

It was still merely a deduction.

“Let’s set this aside for now. Why did you call me?”

“I thought we should have a final assembly before we all depart as Sanjakbeys.”

Upon hearing “Sanjakbey,” Murad’s face contorted with discomfort.

Destiny, which had been deferred, now loomed ahead.

“Once we spread out as Sanjakbeys, opportunities for us to reunite will diminish.”

While cold in demeanor, Mehmet felt a hint of regret stirring within him.

In retrospect, sibling rivalry rarely thrived when contained within the bonds of brotherhood.

‘Thanks to Hasna.’

Their affection for Hasna was not merely due to her being a beloved younger sister.

She had served as a bridge fostering unity among them.

The more they expressed love and cared for her, the more they felt they indeed shared the bond of brotherhood.

Nevertheless, the timeline for living in pleasant ignorance was swiftly concluding.

“From now on, we shall contend with each other, Murad.”

“I gleaned that even without your declaration.”

“I still think you don’t quite grasp it. How can you so enjoy those snacks, aware that they may be tainted with poison?”

As Murad spat out the treat he was chewing, he glanced anxiously at the snack still half-eaten.

There was no true poison, but he now felt the stark reality of the life awaiting him as a prince.

Mehmet rose and placed a hand on Murad’s head.

Aside from their early childhood days, he hadn’t touched his brother’s head before.

“Listen carefully, for I speak as your brother.”

Don’t let your life end meaninglessly.

After uttering those words, Mehmet exited the room.

*

“Why the separate call?”

“Can’t you learn to soften that cocky tone?”

“Hmph, why don’t you try fixing that uptight way of speaking first? You don’t sound like someone of your age.”

With a dismissive scoff, Murad regarded Mehmet, who closed his book and turned to the child humming a tune.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What is it?”

Eight-year-old Kasim lifted his gaze to Mehmet with bright and innocent eyes.

Among the four brothers, he bore the closest resemblance to Yusuf, leading Mehmet to frown at him.

“There’s no need to act when we’re in front of each other. We know exactly what’s on your mind.”

At Mehmet’s sharp retort, Kasim squinted his large eyes.

“That’s odd! Sister is good with it, but you brothers are no fun.”

Murad, chomping down on snacks, flicked his hand dismissively.

“Stop acting like you’re above everyone. You’re just asking for a whack.”

“Then you’ll surely get scolded by Valide Hatun! If you’re going to hit me, make it somewhere that will hurt less and be more visible!”

While the education of the princes fundamentally lay with the Hatun, it was Valide Hatun who managed her.

She was one of the few allowed to reprimand the prince, causing Murad to turn his head away in annoyance.

Ignoring Murad’s childish behavior, Mehmet then addressed Kasim.

“Kasim, how about learning from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds fun! Drawing is interesting, and learning music from a minstrel is great, too! People love it!”

Given his fondness for attention, this hobby was perfectly suited for Kasim.

“Wasn’t that a pastime actively encouraged by Padishah?”

“It was indeed!”

When Mehmet learned that Yusuf had directed such artistic instruction towards Kasim, it struck him as odd, as no one had noticed that talent before he was that age.

However, even after realizing the talent, it still seemed puzzling.

If the father he knew were so inclined, he wouldn’t be entirely satisfied merely nurturing a future artist.

This question had only recently cleared up itself.

“Are you not, of late, learning about the customs of other countries, alongside our empire?”

“What a burden! It’s utterly boring, but since it’s an order from the Padishah, I mustn’t refuse it!”

Kasim, often seen as the clever little brat, adorned a faux sulk as he spoke, prompting Mehmet to nod.

“You could very well end up being a diplomat for your father.”

“A diplomat?”

Using a prince not as a Sanjakbey but as a diplomat was unprecedented, but indeed Yusuf could manage such a thing.

Mehmet offered no further explanation to the perplexed Kasim and sipped his coffee.

That was yet mere speculation.

“Let’s not dwell on this any longer. Why did you summon me?”

“I think we should convene one last time before we scatter as Sanjakbeys.”

The mere mention of “Sanjakbey” led Murad’s expression to twist with discomfort.

Destiny, which had been postponed enjoyed on their heads, was now speeding to meet them.

“Once we are separated into our offices as Sanjakbeys, opportunities for reunions will dwindle significantly.”

Though cool in demeanor, Mehmet carried a touch of regret beneath.

Reflecting on the historic saga of their dynasty, even amidst squabbles, remaining within the close confines of brotherhood was quite a rarity.

‘Thanks to Hasna’s influence.’

The affection they felt for Hasna wasn’t solely due to her being a beloved younger sibling.

Rather, it was Hasna playing a key role in sustaining familial unity.

The more affection sorrow was yet displayed, the greater the reminder they felt of their shared brotherhood.

But now, the time for living blissfully ignorant would soon draw to an inevitable end.

“From this moment forward, we are rivals, Murad.”

“I already figured that out even without your mention.”

“I genuinely doubt you know what that entails. How can you enjoy your treats while fully aware they might be poisoned?”

Executing his words, Murad spat out what he had been munching and regarded the half-eaten treats with discomfort.

Real poison was unlikely, yet the reality awaiting him as a prince began to dawn.

As Mehmet rose from his seat, he placed a hand atop Murad’s head.

Aside from their early years, he had not touched that head at all.

“Consider this as your brother speaking:”

Don’t die without reason.

Finishing that counsel, Mehmet stepped out of the room.

*

“Why the separate summons?”

“Can’t you tone down that cocky attitude?”

“Hmph, why don’t you first fix that uptight manner of speaking? You don’t sound like you belong to your age.”

Murad scoffed in response to Mehmet, who closed his book before focusing his attention on the humming child.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What is it?”

Eight-year-old Kasim looked up at Mehmet with wide, innocent eyes.

He was the brother who most resembled Yusuf among the four, prompting a frown from Mehmet.

“There’s no need to put on an act while we’re here together. I can read your thoughts like a book.”

At Mehmet’s pointed remark, Kasim squinted his eyes.

“That’s odd! Sister doesn’t mind it, but you brothers have an issue with it.”

Murad, munching on snacks, flicked his hand dismissively.

“Stop with the antics, or you’re just asking for a smack.”

“If you do, you’ll face Valide Hatun’s wrath! If you’re going to hit me, at least make it hurt less and be more noticeable!”

While the training of princes was fundamentally managed by the Hatun, it was Valide Hatun who oversaw that responsibility.

She was one of the few allowed to chastise the prince, which only irritated Murad further.

Ignoring Murad’s childishness, Mehmet turned to Kasim.

“Kasim, how about taking lessons from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds fun! Drawing is cool, and learning music from an artist is awesome too! People seem to love it!”

Given Kasim’s craving for attention, the hobby was a perfect fit for him.

“Was that a pastime actively endorsed by the Padishah?”

“It certainly was!”

When Mehmet discovered that Yusuf had promoted such an artistic route for Kasim, it puzzled him, as no one had caught wind of such talents at that tender age.

However, even after recognizing that, it still seemed perplexing.

If the father he knew were aligned with such inclinations, he wouldn’t merely be satisfied with making his son a skilled artist.

That question finally cleared up recently.

“Are you also picking up the etiquette of other countries alongside that of our empire these days?”

“What a hassle! It’s flat-out boring, and since it’s an order from the Padishah, I can’t decline!”

Kasim, ever so clever, pretended to be downhearted, and Mehmet nodded his understanding.

“You could potentially take up a role as a diplomat for your father.”

“A diplomat?”

To employ a prince in the diplomatic sector instead of a Sanjakbey was highly unconventional, but Yusuf certainly could manage such a scenario.

Mehmet offered no further explanation to Kasim’s befuddled expression, instead enjoying a sip of his coffee.

Yet, it remained nothing more than theory.

“Let’s set this aside for now; what did you call me for?”

“I thought we should gather one last time before we branch off as Sanjakbeys.”

When “Sanjakbey” was uttered, Murad’s face twisted in discomfort.

The destiny, long postponed, was now rushing toward them.

“Once we scatter as Sanjakbeys, reunions will be rare to come by.”

Although cold in demeanor, Mehmet held an inkling of regret brewing within him.

Looking back through the annals of their lineage, despite the squabbles, being confined in the brotherhood was quite a stroke of fortune.

‘Thanks to Hasna.’

The affection held for Hasna wasn’t solely because she was a charming younger sister.

She had shown herself to be an intermediary nurturing their kinship.

The more love they expressed and the more care they exhibited towards her, the more it subtly reminded them of their bond as siblings.

However, their time amidst blissful unawareness was on the verge of closing.

“From this point on, we will contend with each other, Murad.”

“I already knew that, even without being told.”

“I’m not sure you’re fully cognizant. How can you indulge in those goodies, considering they could be laced with poison?”

Murad spat out what he was chewing and gazed uncomfortably at the half-eaten snack.

It was doubtful there’d be a real toxin, yet understanding the journey ahead in princely life was becoming clearer.

Rising from his seat, Mehmet placed a hand on Murad’s head.

Aside from childhood days, he hadn’t touched his brother’s head in a long time.

“Mark my words as your brother:”

Don’t waste your life foolishly.

Finishing the advice, Mehmet left the room.

*

“Why train me so separately?”

“Can’t you do away with that arrogance?”

“What’s the deal, do you think you have room to tell me? Maybe you should tidy up your own tongue first, old man.”

Rolling his eyes, Murad lounged casually, yet Mehmet closed his book and began to pay attention to the humming child.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What is it?”

Eight-year-old Kasim peered back at him with innocent delight in his eyes.

Among his siblings, he most resembled Yusuf, which caused Mehmet to sigh disapprovingly.

“No need to act with me. I see straight through what you’re thinking.”

At Mehmet’s impassioned remark, the boy narrowed his eyes.

“That’s bizarre. Sister doesn’t mind, but you two act all proper.”

With a hasty glance, Murad shook his head and chortled at his brother.

“Save the act; you’re practically begging for a hit, you know.”

“Then you’ll end up causing a problem with Valide Hatun! If you hit me, at least make it somewhat less painful where it will stand out!”

While the education of the princes usually lay under the Hatun’s direction, it was Valide Hatun who reigned above.

She was one of the few with the authority to scold the prince, prompting Murad to glare at his brother.

Ignoring Murad’s childlike banter, Mehmet redirected attention back toward Kasim.

“Kasim, would you enjoy lessons from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds amazing! Learning to draw is fun, and musical lessons from a bard are awesome! People seem to really dig it too!”

Kasim, being fond of drawing attention to himself, noted this interest was aptly suited to him.

“Didn’t the Padishah encourage that hobby strongly?”

“Indeed!”

Upon learning that Yusuf had set Kasim on such an artistic path, Mehmet found it curious; no one had shown knowledge of artistic tendencies at such a young age.

But even upon learning of it, it still seemed quite puzzling.

If he were the father he recognized, he surely wouldn’t simply be satisfied cultivating an exceptional artist.

Only recently had that question resolved itself.

“Besides, you’re recently learning not only about the empire but also about the entire world’s etiquette, right?”

“What a hassle! It’s dull and tiresome. Yet, since it’s the Padishah’s command, I have no choice but to comply!”

Kasim, often regarded as a clever little brat, feigned discontent, and Mehmet acknowledged his sincerity with a nod.

“You could be used as a diplomat for your father in the future.”

“A diplomat?”

Using a prince in such roles rather than as a Sanjakbey was an unconventional route, yet Yusuf was certainly capable of doing so.

Not providing further explanation to the perplexed Kasim, Mehmet took a quick sip of coffee.

Still a working theory.

“What’s done is done; why summon me?”

“I thought we should have a final meeting before this all ends as we separate into our new roles as Sanjakbeys.”

Upon hearing the reference to “Sanjakbey,” Murad grimaced in discomfort.

Fate, previously kept at bay, was now rushing in.

“Once we’re apart as Sanjakbeys, chances to meet again will dwindle.”

Though cool and collected, Mehmet held a hint of remorse in the corners of his heart.

Reflecting on their dynasty’s history, contention was common, but being held together by a brotherly bond was indeed uncommon.

‘Thanks to Hasna.’

The love they each felt for Hasna wasn’t marked just because she was the most adorable younger sister.

More so, Hasna served as a key element fortifying the understanding within the family.

The more affection they displayed and the more value they placed upon her, the more they could feel the brotherhood.

However, the period of living in comfortable ignorance had swiftly reached its culmination.

“From here on, we’ll be rivals, Murad.”

“I don’t need you to remind me of that.”

“I still fear you might not entirely grasp it. How can you consume those treats, knowing they could very well be poisoned?”

Taking a hasty bite, Murad nearly spat out what he was chewing and stared awkwardly at the half-eaten snack.

While it’s dubious poison was present, he felt the reality of a prince’s life beginning to express itself more vividly.

Standing from his chair, Mehmet laid a hand gently atop Murad’s head.

Being past their very youth, he hadn’t touched that head for some time.

“I’m imparting this as your brother, so listen closely.”

Don’t waste your life in vain.

With that closing remark, Mehmet departed the room.

*

“Why did you assemble this secret meeting?”

“Can’t you ease up on that cocky tone?”

“Hmph, you should fix that crusty old-fashioned way of speaking first. You don’t sound like someone who’s young.”

Murad scoffed, and Mehmet, without further ado, closed his book and turned his attention to the little humming child.

“Kasim.”

“Yes, brother? What’s wrong?”

Eight-year-old Kasim looked up with innocent, wide eyes.

The brother who bore the closest resemblance to Yusuf among the four elicited a frown of disapproval from Mehmet.

“There’s really no need to act in front of me. I can read you like a book.”

At Mehmet’s direct remark, Kasim squinted with curiosity.

“That’s odd! Sister doesn’t have an issue, but you two are so rigid!”

Murad, munching hastily on his snack, waved his hand dismissively.

“Please, spare me the pretense. You know you’re just asking for a hit.”

“If you hit me, you’ll definitely get in trouble with Valide Hatun! If you’re going to hit me, better do it where it hurts less and is more visible!”

While the princes’ education primarily fell into the care of the Hatun, it was Valide Hatun who held the ultimate authority over her.

She was one of the only few who could scold the prince, nudging Murad to glance away in irritation.

Ignoring Murad, who possessed an adult’s frame yet a child’s mentality, Mehmet turned his inquiries back to Kasim.

“Kasim, what would you feel about taking lessons from Michelangelo?”

“That sounds like so much fun! Learning how to draw is exciting, and getting lessons on instruments from bards is incredible! People really enjoy it too!”

Kasim’s character, fond of being in the limelight, meant this hobby suited him perfectly.

“Was that a pastime favored actively by the Padishah?”

“It was, indeed!”

When Mehmet found out that Yusuf had pushed Kasim toward such artistic endeavors, he was perplexed; no one had recognized any artistic talent at such a young age.

However, even after recognizing it, it left him bewildered.

If he were the father he recognized, he surely wouldn’t be satisfied merely fostering a talented artist.

This question had been resolved just recently.

“Now you’re not only learning about our empire, but also about the customs of all other lands, correct?”

“How tiresome! It’s dull and agonizing! Yet because the Padishah commanded, I can’t avoid it!”

With a pretense of a heavy heart, the cunning Kasim displayed his so-called plight, prompting Mehmet to nod his understanding.

“You might indeed find yourself used as a diplomat for your father someday.”

“A diplomat?”

Utilizing a prince in diplomatic roles rather than a Sanjakbey was a notable exception, yet Yusuf was capable of duplicating just that.

Mehmet provided no extra clarification to the confused look on Kasim’s face and quietly sipped his coffee.

It merely remained a hypothesis for now.

“Let’s dismiss this topic; what did you call me here for?”

“I think we should have one last rendezvous before we all split off into our duties as Sanjakbeys.”

As soon as the mention of Sanjakbey left his lips, Murad’s face twisted with discomfort.

The fate that had lingered in the background was now knocking on their door.

“If we break apart into Sanjakbeys, opportunities for reunion will dry up.”

Despite his composed demeanor, Mehmet felt a twinge of regret for what it could mean.

Reflecting upon the history of their dynasty, it was rare for families, even amid quarrels, to find warmth within each other.

‘All thanks to Hasna.’

The affection they held toward Hasna was more than the mere love for a younger sister.

Rather, it was Hasna serving as the lifeline, weaving unity through their lineage.

The more displays of affection and the more tender care shown—and the more they aimed to treasure her—led them to realize they were indeed brothers.

Yet the playful moment in blissful innocence had come to an end.

“From this point forward, we are rivals, Murad.”

“I knew that before you told me.”

“I’m not convinced you truly know. How can you enjoy those little treats if they could be poisonous?”

Sputtering at the implication, Murad spat out the snack he was eagerly chewing and stared at the remaining morsel, unease creeping in.

While it was doubtful there would be any real danger, he now recognized the stark reality of what being a prince would entail.

Standing upright, Mehmet set his hand gently atop Murad’s head.

Aside from moments in their early youth, he hadn’t touched Murad’s head in ages.

“I say this lovingly as your brother:”

Don’t let yourself be cast away fruitlessly.

With this closing notion, Mehmet departed from the room.