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The war’s stage was set. (3)

Establishing a buffer state is an extremely strategic act.

It is determined that the benefit of not having a border with a small buffer state outweighs the gains from occupying it.

The Mamluks, gathering their troops in Aleppo, were exhibiting a relatively relaxed wait-and-see approach for this very reason.

According to the plan, Dulqadir, who was supposed to attack the Safavids, would likely strike the Mamluks first.

However, as if knowing this fact, they consumed both buffer states before the Safavids, directly bordering the Ottomans.

It felt like a fire was lit at their feet.

“Did the Sultan of the Ottomans truly say that?”

In the stronghold of Aleppo Citadel, all the power holders preparing for battle had gathered.

Salima, kneeling before the Sultan of the Mamluks, bowed his head even deeper under the piercing gazes of the governors ruling each city and high-ranking Mamluks.

“He did indeed. He disregarded the statement that our homeland would not overlook this incident while presenting a confession paper.”

To be precise, there was a threat implying he would remember their faces, but that detail was not what mattered.

Given the chilling atmosphere, it was fortunate that it had ended with mere threats.

The Sultan of the Mamluks, Ashraf Khan Sup Gauri, stared intently at the two papers in his hand.

There was no need to check the script; it was evident that both Mahmud Bey, who had turned traitor, and the one from Bozkurt, stained with blood, had written them.

“Let everyone voice their opinions. What should we do?”

At the Sultan’s question, accusations erupted immediately.

“Of course, we must take revenge! This is a complete disregard for us!”

“He is as greedy as a pig, to the extent that he doesn’t seem worthy of inheriting the bloodline of the previous sultan. We cannot just let this slide.”

A distinct sense of crisis loomed, given that they were now bordering the Ottomans.

Until now, there had been hidden expectations that the Safavid side, which had continuously collided with them, might restrain their greed, but this incident shattered that hope completely.

This was a blatant act of provocation; their greed would surely reach the Mamluks.

However, not everyone was in favor of an attack.

“I empathize with the anger! But Sultan, we have secured an intimidating defensive line by occupying two countries. An attack is difficult.”

“We cannot cross the Nur Mountains to attack Ramazan’s land, and it’s also hard to bypass Ain Tab’s defenses. Please reconsider!”

As opposing opinions emerged, backlash spilled among the proponents of attack.

“Are you saying that we, with our powerful Mamluk cavalry, could lose to them?!”

“Let’s think realistically! There’s such a disparity in military strength; how can you be so foolish as to suggest an attack?”

“Foolishness?!”

“Yes! Even if we were to win, the losses on our side would be severe. Whose benefit would that kind of battle serve?!”

As shouts exchanged from both sides, the Sultan, whose face was scrunched in a frown, yelled out angrily.

“Everyone, shut up!”

With the thunderous voice, silence fell, and the frowning Sultan reached a conclusion.

“We will not engage the Ottoman army before dealing with the Safavids. However, we cannot stand idly by while the Safavids suffer.”

There was no need to struggle through the already established defenses at Ain Tab.

Crossing the 2,680 km long Euphrates River, which flows from the eastern Anatolian highlands through Ain Tab and Baghdad to the Persian Gulf, they could join forces with the Safavids.

“We will also establish a defensive line in Aleppo and lead reinforcements eastwards. Prepare the necessary supplies.”

“I will obey!”

Although this would be an expeditionary force, the fortunate aspect was that they could buy food locally while traversing through the allied Safavid territory.

Thinking it was a reasonable decision, the vassals accepted the orders, while the Sultan gestured to Salima, who had returned from his diplomatic mission.

“I have something to say. Please wait a moment.”

As the nobles left, only Salima remained, and the Sultan asked him.

“What was the strength of the Ottoman forces? Speak frankly.”

“…We were overwhelmingly outmatched. Particularly in firearms.”

“Just as I thought.”

Nodding heavily, the Sultan seemed deep in thought, while Salima, after some hesitance, steeled himself and spoke.

“It’s not too late. We must bring in matchlock guns. That is the only way we can achieve victory!”

“Enough!”

The Sultan roared in response, speaking in a growl.

“Who told you to voice your opinions? I have no intention of bringing in additional matchlock guns!”

“B-but, Sultan!”

“I said enough! You should return now!”

Salima, who had suggested what he thought was necessary, left in silence after the Sultan’s harsh dismissal.

Returning to his assigned quarters, Salima lay on his bed, losing track of time while sorting through his complicated thoughts.

Bringing in matchlock guns was needed no matter how he thought about it, and he resolved to bring it up again the next day as he forced his eyes shut.

Knock, knock!

“Open the door! I have something to say regarding my diplomatic mission.”

Wondering who on earth could be visiting at this late hour, Salima opened the door.

What he saw through the opened door was a gleaming blade reflecting the moonlight.

He felt a scorching pain as a sword pierced through his body, and he struggled to grasp the hand holding the sword, trying to speak.

“O-why?”

“Why did you speak such useless words to the Sultan?”

As blood spilled and his mind clouded, Salima realized what ‘useless words’ meant and felt a wave of dizziness overcome him.

It was the visit of the Mamluks, which would jeopardize his position due to the introduction of matchlock guns.

As the blade smoothly withdrew, fallen Salima gazed despairingly at the closed door.

And in his mind appeared the monstrous Sultan of the Ottomans, who had shown off his military might.

‘No wonder he looked so relaxed. He must have known that the Mamluks, being the vested interest, would block the introduction of firearms.’

Even as his vision darkened, the cooling realization hit him like a jolt down his spine.

The Sultan of the Mamluks, who had vehemently opposed the introduction of matchlock guns earlier, likely knew this would happen to him.

‘Or perhaps the Sultan of the Ottomans might have known as well.’

Imagining the cold green eyes for the last time, Salima breathed his last.

*

With the conquest of Ramazan, the supply line had notably shortened.

Using the route through the Nur Mountains leading to Maraş was certainly shorter.

If they were to transport supplies through the Cilician gate to Kayseri in preparation for possible Mamluk attacks, the overland travel would be at least 200 km shorter than before.

Although about a month was wasted, the outcome was well worth the wait.

Prior to advancing into Diyarbakır, the territory of the Safavids, there was movement between Yusuf’s main forces and Ain Tab’s troop.

There was no need to have many cavalry, the Sipahi, in Ain Tab, which was primarily defensive.

“Beylerbey.”

“Yes, Your Padishah.”

Yusuf consoled the Beylerbey of Anatolia, Dukaginzade Ahmed Pasha.

“Our top priority is to secure the area around Ain Tab and stabilize the supply routes. It is crucially linked to the outcome of the war, so do not be disappointed if it seems like an opportunity slips away.”

“Do I dare to feel such disappointment?”

Although he spoke like this, he felt a hint of regret.

To achieve the Grand Vizier position, he needed to perform well in this war.

As if sensing this thought, Yusuf patted his shoulder.

“This war won’t be resolved overnight, so do not be impatient. You will have your chances.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“And there’s no need to move exclusively defensively. There is a high chance that the Mamluks will mobilize their forces to support the Safavids.”

If the Safavids were defeated, the Mamluks would be next.

They would definitely move if they didn’t want to fall separately.

“If it seems feasible to break through Aleppo’s defenses, you are free to act at your discretion. But!”

Yusuf’s hand tightened on Dukaginzade’s shoulder.

“If your ambition unnecessarily strains our forces, you will have to bear the consequences.”

“I will keep that firmly in mind.”

The vassals were well aware that Joseph wouldn’t hesitate to take drastic actions against anyone who foolishly disrupted their plans, regardless of their title.

The great Padishah was never merciful to his vassals; from a certain point, he was even kinder to the subjects.

After passing by Dukaginzade, Yusuf mounted his horse, and the main forces began the march towards Diyarbakır.

Another tedious march began, and Yusuf spoke to the Grand Vizier riding alongside him.

“Grand Vizier, feel free to speak your mind, no matter how rude it may sound.”

The permission to be rude was an immense privilege.

It was something he could only receive from the Grand Vizier, who also happened to be his father-in-law, and he was one of the few who could seize this opportunity to offer genuine advice.

If it were anyone else, even if they laid down the groundwork, a pole might be placed where their neck should be.

Seemingly having something to say, the Grand Vizier opened his mouth.

“I believe that every action taken by the Padishah holds valid significance, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to welcome the envoys with appropriate etiquette to elevate our dignity?”

“Etiquette.”

After having gone so far as to send envoys to Allah, it was not surprising that this conversation popped up.

“There is an old tale. When asked to teach etiquette, it was said that one should treat their elder like a father, their younger brother like a son, and a friend like a brother.”

It was one of the Arab proverbs, though it may or may not still exist today.

Yusuf continued in a playful tone.

“So I’m treating the envoys with the dignity of a friend.”

What kind of place was the Ottoman royal house?

To claim the Sultan’s position, one could poison their own father, and if one wanted to survive, they would have to kill off all their brothers, promoting a succession battle that left only one son alive.

“It’s a relief that I haven’t killed them off completely, even while treating them like brothers.”

“Your Padishah…”

Observing the dismay of the Grand Vizier, Yusuf chuckled lightly.

“I’m joking. I will adjust according to my counterpart, so do not worry too much. And the envoys coming will surely adjust to me anyway.”

If they wished to live, that is.

No matter how much of a Grand Vizier they were, it was merely a suggestion, and they could not impose their will. So Yusuf changed the topic.

“If you permit the Beylerbey to attack the Mamluks, wouldn’t it be better to deal with the Mamluks before the Safavids?”

“No, we must kill Ismail before dealing with the Mamluks.”

“With all due respect, I fail to understand why Your Padishah holds such wariness toward him.”

It was a valid question to ponder.

The current Ismail had been winning streaks in battle, expanding the power of Shiites to a point where the Ottomans felt threatened, which was entirely different from history.

According to the records against Yusuf, Ismail hadn’t come out victorious even once, and the western region was burning, leaving his support base precariously unstable.

It would be strange to regard Ismail as more dangerous than the Mamluks.

“I know Ismail better than anyone. The current Ismail, having learned from defeat, is more dangerous than the puppet-like Mamluk army.”

This Ismail, who understood defeat better than the historical figure who didn’t know it, posed a greater threat.

Yusuf fiddled with his tightly-held firearm.

“We must kill Ismail no matter the cost this time.”

If they let him slip away, he would return as an even greater monster.

The success or failure of this expedition rested upon Ismail’s neck.

*

In a small town where Armenians claiming to be Noah’s descendants coexisted with Persians.

A stench of blood permeated the air in Yerevan.

“Shah, Your Shah! Why are you doing this?!”

A man, trembling and pleading desperately, stood surrounded by the gruesome bodies of his family and servants.

His wife and daughter had long been dragged away by the Qizilbash, and blood dripped from the sword held in Ismail’s hand.

“Are you asking for a reason?”

“Y-yes, I am.”

“Do you think I would not know you colluded with the Ottoman spies?”

Pointing a knife at the dazed man’s neck, Ismail ordered his subordinates.

“Take him away. Go and cut his flesh into pieces as a warning.”

“Yes, Your Shah!”

“P-please spare my life! I made a mistake!”

Dragged away like a beast to the slaughter, the man vanished, and Ismail wiped the blood off his sword with a cloth.

“That sneaky rat has been scurrying around far too actively. To the point of being nauseating.”

While it seemed easy to say he found them quickly, capturing those who had fallen into the hands of spies was a difficult feat.

If the man hadn’t acted hastily due to his anxiety, he likely would not have gotten caught right away.

“I’ve caught only those with long tails, but the days without blood seem endless. How many unexposed ones might still be out there?”

“However, the warning provided by those already killed should suffice. They won’t act recklessly now.”

At his subordinate Ustajlu’s words, Ismail sheathed his knife, revealing the azure blade.

“Now, all that’s left is Yusuf. I just need to present his head to Allah.”