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Conclusion (1)

While there is a fear that stems from ignorance, akin to reaching into a box without knowing its contents, there is also a fear that comes from knowledge.

After dawn broke, the Mamluks felt that fear acutely.

Had they been unaware of what cannons were, they might have regarded the five hundred cannons pointed at them as mere heavy pieces of metal that could be dangerous.

But the Mamluks knew that cannons were monstrous machines capable of turning thick, high walls into mere rags in an instant.

Drrrrrr!

The cannons surrounding the stronghold appeared as an impenetrable iron curtain.

It was clear that the target was not the walls, but the Mamluk camp itself, as the gunners adjusted the angle of the cannons downwards, and the envoy who had left yesterday returned in a hurry.

“Your Majesty! Didn’t you say we would be given time to deliberate?!”

“So, did I not give you that time?”

Indeed, time had been given.

Just a single night.

The envoy, struggling to swallow his mounting frustration and anger, spoke hastily.

“This is not something that can be decided easily! A mere night is not enough!”

“Very well. I shall grant you more time.”

With that, Yusuf pointed to the sky.

“I will wait until the sun reaches its zenith. No more than that.”

“Your Majesty?!”

With only a few hours left, the envoy’s horrified shout was met with the fierce faces of the Silahtar.

“Who dares raise their voice before us?”

“Enough.”

As Yusuf raised his hand to intervene, the soldiers sheathed their half-drawn swords.

At that moment, the clicking sound of weapons being sheathed served as a warning to the envoy that he had come perilously close to death.

Yusuf turned away sharply and said,

“Go and deliver the message. The time given is running short, and if I see any foolish movements, this mercy will come to an end.”

They could wonder how he saw it, but Yusuf genuinely considered it mercy.

No matter the reason, they were enemies who had come to harm their own side. What merit was there in sparing them?

Once the envoy departed, the Grand Vizier spoke.

“Your Majesty, they will not surrender.”

“I know. They are merely a ragtag bunch without a leader to make such decisions.”

Even if they had a leader, it was uncommon for someone to choose to surrender without battling first.

“They probably intended to either fight to the death or flee, or perhaps retreat to Tabriz.”

The first two choices involved great losses, so they might have narrowed it down to the third option.

One could tell from the several nightly openings of Tabriz’s walls.

“That is why I hastened the timeline.”

“For the Safavids, it would not be an easy decision to open the gates to the Mamluks.”

No matter the alliance, once 40,000 troops were deployed, who knew what might happen?

It was a potentially dangerous situation, much like Venice, which had ravaged Constantinople rather than engaging in Islam.

‘That simply cannot happen. It will be my land in the future; if there is to be plunder, it must be mine.’

Even looting had its limits, and if done, it must remain within controlled bounds.

There was no time to negotiate with Tabriz, and unless they wished for a battle akin to suicide, the only action left for them was one.

“Inform the gunners. Should they show any signs of fleeing, they are to bombard immediately.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

At this point, the core of the Mamluks had to be decimated.

*

“What have we decided?”

In response to his subordinate’s question, the governor of Damascus, one of the four major cities of Islamic culture along with Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem, spat out a thick glob of saliva.

“There are fools who suggest attacking despite the numerical disparity, and cowards who call for surrender. Tell the soldiers to pack quickly.”

“Understood.”

“Yes, to preserve as many troops as possible, we must flee first.”

The priority was to maintain his troop strength to secure his position as governor.

Sadly for him, he was not the only one with that thought; those with fewer troops were moving much more swiftly than him.

“Stop them! Don’t let them escape!”

“Get out of the way, you fools!”

In a flash, it was a complete mess without an opportunity to organize.

A figure on the outskirts of the camp quickly grabbed only the bare essentials and mounted his horse with 300 subordinates to flee outside the camp.

The switch was pulled by the Ottoman soldiers waiting for it.

With a rumble that shook the heavens, a tremendous roar echoed.

—Boom! Smash!

—Neigh!

The explosive sound was so massive that even horses, trained as battle steeds, were startled into rearing up and whinnying.

The explosion was so deafening that the ringing in one’s ears drowned out even the sounds of neighing from nearby horses.

Thus, the large metal fragments flying overhead felt as unreal as any nightmare.

“Oh Allah.”

As a soldier observed the vast, dark shadow that filled his vision, that was his last exclamation.

Bombs fell down upon the encampment and the soldiers’ heads.

Having met the Ottoman Padishah twice as an envoy and survived, the governor of Damascus, who had heard that Allah would care for him, ended up battered by a ricocheted shell.

“Everyone, calm down! We must remain composed!”

The overwhelming booms and enormous shells raining down were shocking, but the troop casualties were not as severe.

Unlike the walls that suffered catastrophic damage, each shell only claimed a few lives at most.

When he had finally managed to calm the chaos with his words, Yusuf simply offered a straightforward solution.

Drrrr! Drrrrrr!

“Come on! Put in a bit more effort, you lot!”

Feeling the strain in his muscles, the soldiers exerted their strength while the wheels clattered as they moved.

All reserve cannons had moved to the front lines of battle, and the Janissary officer suggested with a hint of worry,

“We are short on gunners to operate the cannons.”

“That’s fine. They’ll learn while firing. Besides, what if they can’t aim properly?”

Even haphazard shots were likely to hit someone.

It was a benefit of the Ottomans being stocked with powder.

*

The cannons raining down were an unstoppable kind of violence.

Terror reigned, leaving no moment to sleep.

As night fell and temperatures dropped, the cannons cooled rapidly, and some soldiers who nodded off found themselves forever asleep.

Deserters began to spring up.

“Stop! Don’t let them escape!”

Men were stealing horses and fleeing without a second thought, and the tide was uncontrollable.

However, not all deserters were safe.

“Kill all those who resist! Leave no survivors!”

Soldiers engulfed in flickering flames fired their matchlocks.

The soldiers attempting to flee, unable to establish a blockade on the Tabriz walls, were merely reduced to screaming at the tightly shut gates.

Eventually, the Mamluk forces were torn in two.

Those who gave up resistance to surrender and those who, knowing the risks, chose to flee.

—Bang!

An ally hit in the head, flying backward, but the fleeing Mamluk soldiers did not halt.

Even under a barrage of bullets, Mamluk cavalry charged towards the Ottomans, weapons raised.

Thud!

“Gah!”

Avoiding a hail of bullets, a soldier struck through the chest by a sword gasped as he clutched the blade.

Following him, a Mamluk soldier dashed through and swung his sword at the Ottoman army.

It was a literal bloodbath.

The path they had traversed became streaked with red blood, and just beyond the breach, the Sipahi and cavalry from the Crimean Khanate awaited them.

The two pursuing cavalry units inflicted heavy damage, contrary to their expectation of merely keeping the Ottomans at bay.

“I apologize, Your Majesty! We have lost about five thousand troops. Please punish me!”

“This will suffice.”

Out of thirty thousand enemies, just over ten thousand had been killed, and around fifteen thousand were captured.

Excluding the wounded who might die at any moment, that still left them with about ten thousand prisoners.

Of course, there were casualties, roughly five thousand, but all in all, it was clearly a great victory.

‘Though the Mamluks have strength, they will need to take in more recruits; the damage sustained today cannot be recovered quickly.’

Elite troops are not made overnight.

Yusuf rose from his seat and picked up the weapon beside him.

“Grand Vizier, I entrust the matters here to you.”

Many had been damaged by the bombardment to the point of becoming mere explosives, yet there were still many functional cannons left.

Taking Tabriz with no Mamluk assistance would be easy.

As Yusuf slung the weapon over his shoulder, the Grand Vizier’s eyes widened.

“That is unacceptable! There’s no need for you to go personally!”

“To sever that thief’s lifeline, I must take action myself.”

Having dealt a massive blow to the Mamluks and closing in on occupying the enemy’s capital, Tabriz, it was still a mere half-victory.

Unless Ismail’s head was taken, it was not truly a victory.

Yusuf held a close instinct that bordered on certainty.

“If I don’t kill that Ismail this time, I will regret it forever.”

The limit of the Ottoman’s reach was Tabriz.

Beyond that, they would have to contend with the natural barrier of the Iranian plateau, which has an average elevation of 1,300 meters.

If Ismail, stronger than in the original history, was to use the Iranian plateau to harass the Ottomans, the future would surely become distorted.

“Even so, there’s no need for you to take such risks yourself! Trust in the Sipahi and the cavalry of the Crimean Khanate!”

“Indeed. Please put your faith in the gods!”

The Sanjakbey, leading the Sipahis, all knelt in unison, and the Khan of the Crimean Khanate, Saadet, followed suit.

“Your Majesty, trust in me, the Khan you have made. I will not disappoint you.”

Choosing Saadet as Khan of the Crimean Khanate was partly because he was easier to manage, but also due to his decent capabilities.

With his protection, there was no way he could survive in the plains if he was incompetent.

While Saadet and the other officials had faith in their own abilities, Yusuf’s thoughts remained unchanged.

“Do not underestimate Ismail, even if it appears he has stepped into a trap.”

The area presumed to be where Ismail was located was between Diyarbakır and Tabriz.

With almost 60,000 horsemen, they could encircle him, but Ismail had more than enough ability to escape such a trap.

In the original history, even after suffering defeat at Chaldiran, he had still managed to escape, didn’t he?

“Even if the enemy runs scattered, can we guarantee we can kill Ismail?”

“Of course!”

“What if they used the Qizilbash as bait and retreated?”

Although heavy losses to the Qizilbash would deal a massive blow to Ismail, if he sought vengeance, such a response was possible.

It was vital to remember that the notion of underestimating could become a huge blunder.

“Does Your Majesty have any clever plans for capturing him?”

“Not difficult at all.”

Yusuf smiled coldly.

“All I need to do is make my presence known. Then, he will rush to kill me.”

“Your Majesty?! This is unacceptable!”

“It cannot be! I would rather allow him to escape than risk it!”

The explosive growth of the Ottomans depended solely on Yusuf.

If he were to die carelessly, it wouldn’t simply be the death of a Padishah; the entire Ottoman Empire could be shaken.

To the protests of the panicked officials, Yusuf slammed his weapon into the ground.

Thud!

“Silence!”

At his roar, the meeting hall quieted, and Yusuf bared his teeth fiercely.

“This is a resolution I must reach! No more dissent shall be tolerated. Prepare for departure!”

Despite any dissatisfaction, once the Padishah declared, no further objections could be raised.

All they could do was ensure that Yusuf would not be harmed in the slightest.

As the officials left to prepare and the meeting hall grew empty, Yusuf murmured softly.

“It is time to depart, Ismail.”

*

“Yusuf!!!”

Ismail, his face twisted like an evil spirit, bellowed fiercely.

The dust rising from the plains turned into a whirlwind, engulfing the battlefield.