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The stage of war has been set. (2)

Leading a fleet laden with supplies for the army, Kemal Reis scratched his beard as he gazed at the scenery before him in the southern Emirate of Ramazan.

Though he had spent many years as a captain of the Ottoman fleet, this was undoubtedly the first time he had seen such a sight.

“Can such vessels even be called a fleet?”

Though there were some ships that appeared sizable, even they were few in number.

Most of the vessels resembled shabby fishing boats that wouldn’t even serve as a proper bridge connecting the Balkan Peninsula and Anatolia.

Without cannon fire, a mere collision would split those ships in two, and what was more peculiar was—

“Truly terrible at sailing. I’d do better with my eyes closed.”

He even witnessed ships floundering about after firing a few cannon shots, colliding and capsizing.

The Ottoman sailors could only watch this farce with incredulous eyes.

“Goodness, can’t they even swim?”

“You could toss a pig in the sea and it would swim better than that. What are those idiots doing?”

“Looks like there’s someone seasick? Look, they’re throwing up over there.”

The sight of soldiers from Dulqadir filling every rower position, oblivious to the fact that they were boarding a strange fleet, looked truly bizarre to the Ottomans.

“What shall we do, Kemal Reis?”

“Rescue a few of the drifting ones. Let’s check what they’re up to.”

At the captain’s command, the soldiers rescued individuals barely avoiding becoming fish bait, and two prisoners were tossed at Kemal Reis’s feet.

Shivering under the muzzle of a gun, Kemal Reis looked down at the two dragged onto the massive ship.

“Who are you?”

“#[emailprotected]%!”

As the one in front spoke incomprehensibly, Kemal nodded.

“Throw him back into the sea. He’s useless.”

Upon this order, the sailors took the struggling prisoner and hurled him back into the sea.

With a scream that faded away, accompanied by a loud splash, Kemal turned his head again.

“Can you not speak either?”

“I—I can!”

“No need to save anyone else, then. So, who are you?”

Though the dialect was mixed, it wasn’t entirely unintelligible, and the captive looking at Kemal with a mix of fear and confusion replied.

“…You attacked without knowing who we were?”

“You’re speaking nonsense. Unless it’s an Ottoman ship, there are only two types of ships we meet at sea. Ships to sink and ships to plunder. That’s it.”

Even the Mamluks, who could have been considered allies, had become foes.

With such pirate-like words uttered by Kemal, the prisoner seemed to give up, mumbling the answer.

“We’re from Dulqadir. The captain is the Bay of Bozkurt.”

“Bozkurt?”

As he pondered why that guy was here, Kemal soon grasped the situation and nodded.

“Padishah, you mean. You lot have fled.”

“Kemal Reis, what should we do? Should we capture them?”

“There’s no need to harm our own troops. Just make a hole in their ship. If they want to live, they’ll surrender.”

A moment later, a cannon fired, and Bozkurt, soaked, was retrieved from the water.

*

Adana, the capital of the Emirate of Ramazan, appears in the epic poem “Epic of Gilgamesh,” making it a city with a long history.

It had been a strategic point and a transit site since the Roman Empire, lying close to the Cilicia Gate, the only mountain pass connecting Syria and Anatolia.

Though enjoying a Mediterranean climate, its location in a basin surrounded by the Taurus and Nur mountains, combined with the Seyhan River flowing to the south towards the sea and north towards the Mediterranean, resulted in high humidity even during low rainfall winters.

Consequently, warm, humid air wafted into the nose of Yusuf, who sat on Adana Castle’s throne.

With a sticky discomfort on his skin, Yusuf looked down at those kneeling before him, filled with irritation.

“Bozkurt, you ran away well. Such a rat-like behavior, evading capture and causing trouble.”

Due to the hot and humid temperature, even the carpets laid on the floor were crafted from cotton rather than wool, and Bozkurt, kneeling on it, spat blood mixed with saliva onto the ground.

“What great Padishah! You’re as dark-hearted as Satan… cough!”

Unable to hold back his anger, a Janissary smashed the rebellious man’s head down into the spit, eliciting a scream.

Mahmud Bey, who had lost his country overnight due to Bozkurt, trembled in fear.

Indulging in excessive loyalty, Yusuf waved his hand.

“Enough. Don’t act up before I give orders.”

“I’m sorry, my Padishah.”

As the Janissary grabbed Bozkurt’s hair and forced him to look up, one side of Bozkurt’s face turned dark blue, likely from a shattered cheekbone.

The Ramazan officials, who had spent a long time away from war, frowned in fear, while Yusuf and the Ottoman officials showed no signs of flinching.

“Bozkurt, why did you attack our army?”

“…I didn’t give the order. I don’t know why we were attacked.”

Upon hearing this answer, Yusuf raised the corners of his mouth.

“You aren’t acting on the Mamluks’ orders? I already know that they have had close communications with one another.”

While it was true that such discussions occurred, they spoke of plundering supplies, not of leading a war.

Bozkurt shot back with an utterly aggrieved face.

“That promise was never made! I swear to Allah, I am innocent!”

“Is that so?”

With those words, Yusuf stepped down from his throne and walked right up to Bozkurt, forcing him to bow.

The grip on his hair and the pressure on his body intensified, causing Bozkurt to wince in pain as a soft voice whispered in his ear.

“I know. This wasn’t your doing.”

“Then, what!”

“But, did we not agree to strike me in the back? Did you think I’d lose simply over some stolen supplies?”

At these words, Bozkurt’s face turned pale in shock.

To think Yusuf knew a fact that only a few were privy to made the rumors of having crossed paths with a prophet flash through his mind.

Now encountering those rolling green eyes, Bozkurt truly felt the weight of the monster he had turned against.

Severely shaken, Yusuf turned his back on him, resuming his seat on the throne as he said.

“Take him away. Get both a confession of attacking first against the Ottoman army and that Mamluks are involved in this incident.”

“Yes, my Padishah!”

The Mamluks were bound to take this to heart, even after the attack on Dulqadir and Ramazan.

They declared the two nations as protectorates to prevent them from falling into Ottoman hands.

“By securing a confession of preemptive attack, we solidify our justification.”

The confession connecting the Mamluks would serve as a safety net. Announcing it right now would only lead to calls for a swift confrontation.

The longer the Mamluks delayed joining the fight, the more beneficial it was as there was no need to drag them onto the battlefield.

However, if the Mamluks dragged their feet until Ismail was dead—

“Then that will be the justification to attack the Mamluks.”

Bozkurt was lucky. Normally, his neck would have been hanging from a gibbeting post alongside his son, but his life had been prolonged due to justification.

Of course, it would be no more than two years at most.

“Mahmud Bey.”

“Y-yes, my Padishah.”

Though they had become enemies, seeing Bozkurt being dragged away, half-dead, filled Mahmud Bey not with delight, but with dread.

His voice trembled endlessly as Yusuf spoke nonchalantly, as if bringing up a matter that was naturally to be accepted.

“You must also declare that you aided Bozkurt to attack my empire.”

“My Padishah?!”

“Is that too difficult?”

Having never once thought to take the Ottomans as enemies, faced with Yusuf’s cold gaze, Mahmud bowed his head.

After all, there were no remaining choices.

“I will comply.”

Now, the subjects of Ramazan would believe that the reason for the Ottoman attack lay in their leader’s poor decisions.

Feeling the anguish as he clenched his fists, Yusuf stood up and looked at the Ramazan officials.

“You may have grievances. If you feel wronged, you may cry out to Allah. You might even contemplate betraying the empire. But remember this fact.”

“…What do you mean?”

“Allah said to forgive one’s enemies, but I shall not.”

Not only did he aim to grind their military to dust with cannon fire, but he even offered them a chance to surrender instead of simply executing them.

Though it was an aggressive proposal, it was still quite gentlemanly.

However, if they betrayed him, they would understand deeply why the Ottomans were considered the Dark Lord of Europe.

Just like Georgia.

*

Bewilderment and shock.

The emotion of the Mamluks upon hearing that the Ottomans attacked Ramazan after Dulqadir.

It all started with the appearance of the Sipahi troops around Ain Tab.

They guarded southern Dulqadir so thoroughly that operating a single vanguard was difficult, and by the time they were informed, Yusuf’s army had already crossed the Nur Mountains.

“Find out what’s going on right now!”

It was a grave mistake to withdraw the ambassador from Maraş, fearing the Ottomans might suspect Dulqadir’s betrayal.

Had there been ambassadors whom the Ottomans couldn’t carelessly dismiss, they could have fetched information without major hindrances.

Regretting his late action was all in vain, as the accurate news only reached Aleppo after everything was already over.

“Dulqadir attacked the Ottomans first?! That Bozkurt couldn’t have done that unless he was mad!”

“But the battle has certainly occurred. Numerous witnesses confirmed that many Sipahi died, and the word is already spreading throughout Dulqadir.”

The Sultan of the Mamluks crunched his teeth.

“…You’ve fallen prey to that vile punk!”

Using the blood of his soldiers as an excuse to devour Dulqadir and Ramazan first.

It was the moment when his plans shattered into pieces.

“I shall send an envoy! I must firmly warn them! This act cannot be tolerated!”

Upon the Mamluks Sultan’s declaration, the envoy to the Ottomans, with survival rates lower than Russian roulette, set out for Adana.

The envoy, who reached Adana without delay, witnessed the Ottoman army completing preparations to advance against the Safavid.

Had they been a moment slower, they would have found themselves chasing the rear of the marching troops.

“This is the Ottoman army.”

Opportunities to spy on the enemy were rare, and observing the Ottoman soldiers left the envoy feeling utterly overwhelmed.

The number of cannons, transported like battle wagons, was nearly impossible to count.

Those soldiers tending to their guns and crafting lead bullets filled one side of the plains.

At this point, it felt as if they were deliberately attempting to instill fear through their overwhelming display of force.

Shaking off his fear, as the envoy entered Adana Castle, Yusuf himself came out to greet him.

“You’ve had a difficult journey. I hope you’ll pardon the chaos before departing.”

With a smiling face and gentle gestures.

In stark contrast to the notorious reputation of entering the lion’s den, this demeanor seemed rather benign.

Unless the gibbeting posts lined up beside the castle gate were present.

“…Are you trying to pressure me with this?”

The blood dripping from the gallows signified that the bodies had not long departed from this world.

In response to the envoy’s question, Yusuf merely shrugged.

“It coincided with the timing of executions. Anyway, you might have heard of these names.”

Yusuf pointed to each gibbeting post.

“Sharukh, Ahmed, Suleiman. Hmm, was this one Turk?”

“That’s a man named Turak.”

The envoy recognized the names. They were Bozkurt’s sons.

“Where is Bozkurt?”

“That one hasn’t left the embrace of Allah yet. Sadly, he’s mourning for the children he sent ahead.”

For now, it was a relief that Bozkurt was still alive, and the envoy bore a firm expression as he spoke.

“This is the Sultan’s letter. He apologizes for occupying the two protectorates and has commanded you to withdraw the troops.”

“How lengthy the nonsense treads.”

Yusuf brushed aside the letter as if uninterested, scoffing as he said.

“I’ve already obtained confessions that both Dulqadir and Ramazan have turned hostile against the Ottomans. You can recognize their handwriting, right? Take it away.”

The envoy, receiving Bozkurt’s confession stained with blood, bore a grave expression.

“…The home country will not overlook this matter.”

“Good. I’ll make sure to remember your insolent face clearly.”

The envoy fled, terrified by those chilling words, while Yusuf watched him leave with deepening resolve.