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The world is vast (1)

The pungent smell of oil numbed the nose, but the hands of the artisans applying ship sealants were busy.

Kemal Reys, glancing sideways while looking at the ship being built in the distance, remarked, “Are they here? Haji.”

“It’s been a while.”

Haji, who had gained fame as part of the Barbarossa brothers after conquering Algiers with his elder brother Ujir, followed Kemal’s gaze towards the ship under construction.

Having set sail many times for plunder, Haji observed the vessel, different in shape from a Karak.

“It’s a ship focused more on speed than a Karak.”

“That’s right. But the risk of capsizing is a bit higher,” Kemal replied.

Unlike the Karak, the narrow and long hull traded speed for risk, and the distinctive squared stern caught Haji’s attention.

Living in Algiers, it was easy to come across stories of European voyages, so Haji racked his memory.

He was certain he had heard of such a ship before. “Is this the ship called a galleon?”

“Indeed. It’s currently gaining attention as a Western ship ready to set out into deep waters. This one is special, though.”

Designed for military use, this galleon had been built with three decks instead of two, which allowed for cannons to be set up in two rows on the second deck.

The armament was impressive, and its size could compete with the largest Karak the empire owned. Observing the ship with admiration, Haji heard Kemal say, “This is the empire’s new flagship. While it might not be this large, the Padishah has commanded that more galleons are under construction.”

“Does that mean you’re envisioning faster ships to reach further worlds?” Haji clenched his fists at the mention of the world.

Despite a life spent at sea, it had only ever been in the Mediterranean.

But with news of new trade routes emerging, Haji felt his heart race as he realized the Mediterranean was merely a well.

Kemal turned his seasoned eyes towards Haji. “The Padishah has called for you specifically. A new era needs new people. I, an old man, must step back and leave the reins to talents like you.”

“Admiral…” Haji trailed off.

Kemal smiled slightly at Haji’s hesitation. “Do not worry. I know it’s too early for me to give up this position. First, let’s finish this voyage well.”

On one hand, he longed to retire and enjoy his remaining years, but on the other, it saddened him that age was forcing him to leave.

“Besides, the Padishah mentioned that even that large ship is part of the process. It means there may be even larger ships to come.”

“Larger than that ship? That would be incredible.”

“Of course, just increasing size won’t necessarily be easy, so there’s a good chance I might not see it before I die, but you, you might sail on that ship.”

Kemal pat Haji on the shoulder as he spoke. “The day that ship sets sail will be the day you must depart. Time is tight to prepare for the voyage. You should get going.”

The day for the fleet to set sail was drawing near.

*

Clack clack!

Those gathered at the harbor of Constantinople couldn’t take their eyes off the soldiers disembarking from the ship.

Leading the way was Murad, seemingly a head taller than the average person, but it was the soldiers following behind that drew the real attention of the subjects.

“Look at them! They’re all pitch-black! Are they from Africa?”

“I’ve never seen so many together before.”

Constantinople was a melting pot of the world, and African Black slaves fell within that category, so it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.

However, seeing over a hundred Black individuals moving together was an exception.

Enjoying the spectacle, as Murad stepped down from the vessel, a stern voice spoke up.

“Now that we’ve reached the capital, the soldiers must disarm. Are you trying to provoke the Padishah? Murad, you still lack the basics.”

“When did you arrive?”

“Closer than you, I suppose. It’s been a while since we met; shouldn’t we at least greet one another?”

The expressionless Mehmet clicked his tongue as he turned away, and the Janissaries around him quickly moved to disarm the soldiers.

With his soldiers being disarmed behind him, Murad climbed into the carriage with Mehmet, a twisted grin forming on his lips.

“You’re still as crafty as ever. Anyone would think the Janissaries took the initiative themselves.”

Given that it was customary for the Janissaries to take the lead in securing the capital, Mehmet stepping forward made the situation appear oddly skewed.

Without acknowledging Murad’s mockery, Mehmet replied, “Looks like you’ve grown a brain while I was away.”

Even though he had often teased Murad for being a strong but foolish brute, it seemed improbable he wouldn’t anticipate being disarmed.

It wasn’t hard for Murad to spot the ploy to draw attention upon their arrival at the capital.

“Only you brothers would catch on and wait for it. And since my area’s quite rough, I have to keep my guard up.”

The Arab nomads, Bedouins, are not to be taken lightly just because one forcefully subdued them; he had experienced several dangerous betrayals.

Had he not learned such tactics to stand out, he might have faced even worse betrayals by now.

“You didn’t figure that out on your own; you learned it from the Hatun, I’d wager. She’s quite skilled in such matters.”

“So, what? Are you dissatisfied with that?”

“No, it’s fine. Looks to me you’re doing your part, so the Padishah won’t be disappointed.”

After his indifferent remark, Mehmet closed his eyes, and Murad turned his head sharply.

As the carriage fell into silence, they arrived at the Topkapi Palace, and upon reaching the audience chamber, they paid their respects to Yusuf.

“Greetings, Padishah.”

Yusuf gazed long at his two kneeling sons, and as the silence became awkward, he finally spoke up.

“I heard there was a disturbance at the harbor?”

Having just learned about the recent events, Murad flinched while Mehmet remained unbothered, as if he had anticipated it.

It meant he was aware of everything occurring in the capital, causing Murad to bow his head deeper.

“I apologize, Padishah. I acted disrespectfully.”

“I’m aware. It’s fine; you two may jest, but do remember whose land this is. This is no longer the place you played in as children.”

“We will be careful, Padishah.”

Though Yusuf’s cold warning might have warranted offense, neither showed any sign of it.

As the Osmanlis, they were cautious of anything that might challenge the Padishah’s authority, and the fact that the over fifteen-year-old princes were even allowed in the capital was a great concession.

Even Aishe and Hatice couldn’t accompany their sons to the capital because of Hirem’s pregnancy.

“Murad.”

“Yes, Padishah.”

“I’ve heard the news. You’ve gathered an interesting troop, comprised entirely of Black slaves.”

Unlike during the age of imperialism, the African slave trade hasn’t seen the rampant abduction and sale of individuals yet—such occurrences were instead limited to capturing and selling the enemies from rival tribes.

“So, there’s nothing special about African slaves,” it signified.

Capturing war prisoners as slaves was a common occurrence in this era.

“The scale of your slave army is about 2,000.”

“Due to the long distance, we’ve only brought 500.”

While 500 was a large number, it was not a significant burden given that the price of a Black slave was often 1/10 to as much as 1/20 the cost of a White slave.

The price alone was not what mattered; it was something else.

“What about their capabilities?”

“I’m confident in them. While they can’t match the Janissaries, they should suffice as a respectable elite force.”

Looking down at Murad confidently answering, Yusuf nodded.

“We’ll see whether it’s an empty boast or not during this war.”

As long as success is proven, he intended to order Shamsi in Cairo to form a unit of Black slaves.

Aware that those with vested interests would likely oppose losing their power to the cheaper Black slaves, he had postponed the initiative, but if results were shown, it could serve as a starting point.

“You must perform well to not disappoint me.”

“I understand, Padishah.”

The urgency laced in Yusuf’s words struck Murad deeper than being surrounded by enemies, compelling a firm reply.

Having finished speaking with Murad, Yusuf turned his head towards Mehmet.

“When can we expect reinforcements from the Circassians and the Crimean Khanate?”

“According to the sailors who arrived today, they should arrive within two weeks.”

Clenching his fists in response to their discussion, Murad realized asking Mehmet about this implied he had successfully incorporated the two factions, and it showed he was far ahead in territorial expansion and troop cultivation compared to himself.

Observing Murad’s reaction closely, Yusuf allowed a faint smile to break on his lips.

‘While Mehmet currently holds greater power, Murad’s potential for growth is greater.’

Much of Africa was still largely unclaimed, and the more effort Murad put forth, the more opportunity the empire had to extend its reach.

The more results Murad produced, the better for the empire, so he needed a little nudge.

“You have a mischievous side.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Feigning ignorance of his intent to annoy Murad, Yusuf stood up from his seat.

“Return and prepare for war. The expedition is soon.”

Troops were gathering from all over the Ottoman Empire.

*

A message arrived from Suleiman, who had set sail first to India.

He reported that he had secured nearly 400 tons of saltpeter.

The ministers who heard Suleiman’s correspondence with Yusuf couldn’t hide their astonishment at the quantity of 400 tons, similar was Yusuf’s reaction, who knew the vast amount of saltpeter in India.

‘Surely a land that digs to create saltpeter.’

Though the amount of 400 tons might not seem impressive, in the context of Korea, before the Imjin War, the total amount stockpiled for military purposes was less than 20 tons.

While 400 tons was a significant quantity, the importance was in the ease of acquiring saltpeter in the future.

“Hassan Pasha, we’ll no longer need to make saltpeter from dung anymore.”

“…That’s truly a relief.”

“Don’t be too disappointed. At the very least, thanks to you, I’ve been able to secure our empire’s supply of saltpeter.”

The time before bringing in saltpeter from India was like a transitional phase, and it had played its part sufficiently.

“With sufficient gunpowder, we can increase our artillery number further.”

“Padishah?!”

“It’s just a joke. We have a shortage of gunners, so there’s little we can do.”

Yusuf, who took firepower seriously more than anyone, calling it a joke, gave the ministers both a sense of relief and anxiety.

Knowing that if they had sufficient gunners, they could afford to expand their artillery even more.

“Besides, we’ve reached a stage where preparing for war would be wise,” he said.

Yusuf gazed at the fleet leaving the capital.

Leading the way was the three-deck galleon as the fleet bound for Ming started to move in earnest.

The cheers of the subjects echoed as they saw the fleet fly a red flag, accompanied by the sound of drums drifting away.

“It’s a magnificent ship. It seems unbeatable on the sea.”

“It’s a good ship, but still lacking.”

Yusuf’s goal was to create the ultimate wooden battleship.

Still in the research phase, but with craftsmen gathering and refining their ideas, results would be forthcoming.

‘A battleship that wouldn’t sink easily even in an intense bombardment and could fire massive volleys.’

Unless a ship of equal caliber emerged, it wouldn’t easily sink.

“When that day comes, it wouldn’t be bad to venture out to sea once.”

“Padishah?”

The Grand Vizier, having heard such strange remarks, inquired back.

“It’s nothing.”

Calmly denying it, Yusuf continued watching the diminishing fleet.

Although it was a fleet, there were only thirty ships setting out from the capital, and more vessels were to join at the major ports to head to India.

“About 85 ships should be enough to make a decent impression.”

Considering a robust display could cause the Ming to jump in panic, that was none of his concern.

“Then let’s hasten our preparations for departure too.”

By coincidence, the expedition period coincided, as troops meant for Hungary were nearly gathered.

Including the Akıncı cavalry raiding around Hungary, the forces numbered up to 70,000.

At Yusuf’s command, the aides dispersed to make last-minute preparations for departure, and as the number of people dwindled around, Mehmet cautiously spoke up.

“Padishah.”

“What is it?”

“While the empire is powerful, I worry you might be underestimating Hungary. Shouldn’t you at least delay the fleet heading East?”

Understanding the concern behind Mehmet’s words was not difficult at all.

“Looks like you’ve studied your history well, Mehmet.”

France had a reason to expect the Ottomans would merely occupy Belgrade. Charles V was also taking a watchful stance for a reason.

Shifting into Hungary’s renaissance, Matthias Corvinus had only been dead for less than 40 years, and he remembered the nation’s strength all too well.

“Though weakened compared to its prime, do you still harbor faith in their strength?”

“That’s right. Because of that faith, the empire’s envoy was not killed.”

This argument had merit, and Yusuf patted Mehmet on the shoulder.

“If you think that way, this endeavor will surely be a good experience for you, Mehmet.”

“Yes, Padishah.”

“The world is vast.”

And there are many inexplicable events.

*

Upon hearing news of the Ottoman invasion, Ruyos II ordered the Hungarian nobles to send troops to Belgrade.

Upon realizing the imminent Ottoman invasion, Ruyos II burst with rage as he learned news from Belgrade.

“Why! Why! Why isn’t anyone sending troops?!”

The king’s commands were completely ignored by the nobles, and the defensive forces protecting Belgrade barely numbered a thousand.

The curtain on war was about to rise.