Rebellion and Opportunity (1)

As if the sky had been punctured, torrential rain poured down, and beyond the rough sound of the rain, the roar of angry waves could be heard.

The torches, drenched in oil, flickered as they threatened to extinguish, prompting the soldiers manning the watchtower to huddle closer together.

“Ugh, when will this damned rain ever stop?”

“Even if it does, it’ll only be for a few days before it starts pouring again. What’s the fuss about?”

Winter in Teke, located in southern Anatolia, could be described as chilly weather with relentless rain.

Rains fall roughly ten days a month, so the soldiers in Teke were too accustomed to situations like this and had little time to complain.

They simply turned the topic of conversation elsewhere.

“I heard not long ago that our Sanjakbey might not be returning.”

It had already been almost five months since Selim had left Teke, and his comrade spoke in a dismissive tone.

“What does it matter what the higher-ups think? Well, it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t come back.”

“It was tough enough with all that training and such. The cavalrymen seemed relieved too. He came back empty-handed from the last battle, after all.”

Selim had made great contributions in the Dulqadir War, but to the soldiers, it felt like a fight where they risked their lives without any reward.

It wasn’t a fight where they could fill their pockets with loot from conquests or pillaging, and Selim hadn’t been in Teke long enough to have their complete loyalty.

It was only natural for dissatisfaction toward Selim to brew.

“Well then, it’s fine for us. We won’t have to get dragged into useless fights and put ourselves in danger.”

As he said this, the soldier let out a long yawn.

In Teke, the enemy was far away, and the only potentially dangerous coastal line seemed safe against the rough seas.

The guards were essentially just going through the motions, barely managing to stave off the creeping drowsiness.

Suddenly—

Thud, thud, thud—

The sound of mud being squished underfoot was joined by the sharp clattering of horses’ hooves, prompting the soldiers to rush outside to see.

A dark shadow loomed over the village beyond the castle walls, and amidst intermittent screams, the soldiers sounded the alarm bell in haste.

“Please!”

Fearing that the harsh sound of the rain would drown out the alarm bell, the soldiers desperately waved their arms, only to hear something they should never have heard.

The clashing of dozens of swords and furious shouts echoed, followed by a heavy vibration against the castle walls.

—Boom!

—The castle gate opened!

The gate that should have held firm, ensuring the castle walls served their purpose, opened weakly, and the soldiers rushed towards the gate in panic.

In this brief time, a dozen corpses lay sprawled on the ground, and facing down dozens of foes guarding the pulley was the commander, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Kill them quickly! Slay them and close the gate!”

As the sound of hooves drew closer, urgency poured into his voice, and the soldiers wielding their weapons moved with desperation.

However, the enemies guarding the pulley, able to close the gate, showed no fear of death.

Even after being stabbed dozens of times, the enemy held onto the blades protruding from their own bodies, fervently calling upon Allah, exuding an aura of deep madness.

Their efforts bore fruit.

“Allah!”

“Judge the heretics!”

Thousands of cavalry surged in, mercilessly slaughtering the soldiers trying to block the gate, sweeping through the castle.

A middle-aged man, who arrived late under heavy guard, knelt before the man gasping for breath with his back against the pulley.

“Shah… Shakul.”

“Ah, brother. What a desolate sight this is.”

The man called Shakul reached out to caress the other’s face, as if filled with sorrow.

As if he had many things to say, the man opened his mouth several times, but ultimately bowed his head, and Shakul gently closed his eyes.

Shaking off the blood and rainwater from his hands, Shakul shouted to those looking at him.

“Brothers, the time has come! A great Shiite era that drives out false beliefs is upon us!”

“Oh, Shakul! Allah!”

“Jihad! It is the time for holy war!”

A nightmare-like night when blood mingled with rain due to the unwelcome visitors arriving in the dark.

In a Teke transformed into a hellish scene, Shakul’s rebellion began.

*

The Ottoman Empire was continuously expanding, which consequently weakened its control over the provinces.

In the provinces, they only seized major strongholds, allowing influential figures to govern smaller units like villages and tribes on their own.

This power was so beyond the reach of the central government and even the Sanjakbey that there were places actively resisting taxes and enjoying their exemption through force.

Due to the declining grip over localities, rebellions were fairly frequent in the Ottoman Empire.

However, large rebellions that could occupy a big city were quite rare.

“Damn those bastards.”

Karaoglu Ahmed Pasha, leading eight thousand cavalry southward to catch the rebels occupying Teke, spoke irritably.

Just as there’s a road above a city, there was an upper administration called Eyalet over the Sanjak.

This Eyalet existed in the core regions of the Ottoman Empire, Rumelia and Anatolia, and those governing it were called Beylerbey, meaning the Bey of Beys, general of generals.

Karaoglu Ahmed Pasha was the Beylerbey of Anatolia and was responsible for suppressing the rebellion.

“Mutulu, are the enemies still lingering in Teke?”

“Yes, it seems they intend to defend using the castle walls.”

“Fools. They can’t even guard the castle properly.”

Karaoglu let out a short sigh.

If one had to assign blame, it was primarily Selim’s fault for abandoning his Sanjak, but regardless, he couldn’t openly criticize the prince.

“Five thousand enemies have been confirmed.”

It was uncertain, as it came from the claims of those who had escaped.

The more troubling matter was that Shakul, who launched the rebellion by occupying Teke, had gained renown, and those who had hesitated were beginning to join him, one after another.

It was unclear how large their numbers would grow as time passed.

“I feel sorry for the subjects of Teke, but it might actually work out for the best. Let’s seal off Teke and request reinforcements from the nearby Sanjaks.”

“That sounds best.”

The Anatolia Eyalet had been controlling the region west of Anatolia close to the capital, managing seventeen Sanjaks under its command.

If they called for troop extraction from nearby locations, they could surely deal with the enemies.

Just as Karaoglu reached this conclusion, an unexpected visitor arrived when he was halfway from the Eyalet’s capital, Ankara, to Teke.

“The army of Prince Şehinşah has arrived!”

As about six thousand cavalry approached late in the evening, Karaoglu, who had hurriedly sent out soldiers, smiled broadly.

He welcomed the slow-moving Şehinşah army, seemingly not considering them a threat.

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.”

“I thank you for your hospitality. I’m glad to meet you, Beylerbey.”

Seeing that they weren’t enemies, Şehinşah glanced at the soldiers preparing their camps and spoke gently.

“It’s said that empty hands carry an unpleasant odor. Although I wasn’t formally invited, how could I come empty-handed our first time meeting? I’ve brought a gift.”

“Haha, your visiting to offer help is more than enough.”

“There’s no need to refuse. Okai.”

At Şehinşah’s signal, the one standing behind him, Okai, slowly stepped forward and reached into his robes.

Awaiting the kind of gift that would be presented, what was handed to Karaoglu was a blade sharp enough to cut.

“Gah…”

Grabbing onto the blade that pierced his throat, Karaoglu widened his eyes in disbelief as Şehinşah spoke softly to him.

“The gift is the warm embrace of Allah. You may go ahead first.”

“I-it’s an enemy!”

With a scream that resembled a wail, Şehinşah’s army, who had waited for this moment, attacked Karaoglu’s troops.

Caught completely off guard that the prince would turn out to be an enemy, Karaoglu’s soldiers fell in a matter of moments, and behind Şehinşah, Ishbat approached.

“It’s dangerous here. We should withdraw for now.”

“Of course, we must.”

As Şehinşah began to turn away, he seemed to remember something and looked back at Ishbat.

“Ishbat, you’ve worked hard during this time.”

Swish—

As Okai’s blade severed Ishbat’s head, his face bore an expression of complete confusion, and indifferent, Okai kicked the severed head.

Gazing emotionlessly at the shattered skull, Şehinşah leisurely continued walking.

“Okai, you may announce it to the world now.”

Having killed Ishbat, Şehinşah, now free from the shadow of Ismail, declared,

“I, Prince Şehinşah, hereby declare myself the Sultan of Anatolia from this moment forth.”

*

“It has begun.”

In the enormous conference hall.

Yusuf, seated at the highest position, surveyed the surroundings.

First, he saw Yağız Pasha, the Sanjakbey of Kenik, who had conquered Erzurum together with him, Hakan Pasha of Rajasthan’s Sanjakbey, and Isak Pasha, the newly appointed Sanjakbey of Erzurum.

Behind them filled the remaining seats were Yusuf’s loyal Kadis and subordinate officials.

The news had just come in that Karaoglu’s army, moving to suppress the rebellion, had been ambushed by Şehinşah and annihilated.

No one present was unaware of the ripple effect this incident would cause.

“Pasha, what of the Circassians and Georgians?”

“Both will send ten thousand and fifteen thousand troops, respectively, and are expected to arrive within a month.”

A total of twenty-five thousand; this was the maximum number of troops they could mobilize.

Both the Circassians and Georgians were in a fractured state, in no position to send out more troops wary of foreign threats.

“And our side?”

“We can mobilize around ten thousand troops without overextending.”

That made thirty-five thousand combined.

It was a considerable amount of force for one prince to be capable of mobilizing.

Moreover, if the Sanjakbeys supporting Yusuf joined in, their numbers would increase.

“What shall we do?”

At the request for an action plan, Yusuf responded.

“There is no need to rush without just cause. Let’s observe a little longer.”

The rebellion triggered by Shakul and Şehinşah had crossed the line into something to be taken lightly.

Now, the Sultan’s options were limited to dispatching a central army alongside the Grand Vizier and identifying a prince to assist in quelling the rebellion.

Yusuf, maintaining his composure, reached a decision.

“If we are not selected, we will raise an army.”

Yusuf came to the same decision as the other princes.

*

“Şehinşah, how could you?”

Bayezid lamented with a despondent expression.

It was an inevitable fate for princes to take each other’s lives.

However, inciting a rebellion was a completely different matter, and he had to be taken aback by the shocking news of Şehinşah’s betrayal.

“…Padishah, it’s already too late. The call for Şehinşah’s punishment is growing louder.”

Even Hadi Ali Pasha, who could be considered Bayezid’s confidant, spoke in such a manner.

From the moment he killed Karaoglu, Şehinşah had crossed a line from which he would never return, and both the military and officials clamored for him to be killed.

Letting out a long sigh, Bayezid said,

“Very well, we must decide. Grand Vizier.”

“Please issue the command.”

“I shall assign you eight thousand central troops.”

The Grand Vizier and officials awaited the words to follow.

The prince designated to help suppress the rebellion alongside the central army would essentially claim the position of the next Sultan.

Having deliberated for a long time, Bayezid finally spoke a name.

“Convey to Prince Yusuf. He is to assist the Grand Vizier in quelling the rebellion.”

“Understood!”

Responding with a resounding affirmations, Bayezid felt an overwhelming fatigue wash over him, closing his eyes.

A decision had been made that Ahmed and Selim could not accept.