New Era (2)

In 1512, Europe had no intention of containing the rise of the Ottoman Empire.

As the war ignited by an attack on Venice expanded with France, the Pope, fearing the once allied France, formed the Holy Alliance.

This Holy Alliance, consisting of the Papal States, Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, Venice, and England, expelled France from Milan, the largest city in Northern Italy.

The Medici family, who had been exiled from Florence, managed to regain their rule with the Pope’s help after 18 years, but—

“Are we being completely disregarded?!”

The Doge of Venice expressed his rage.

The ugly truth hidden beneath the guise of the Holy Alliance reared its head during post-war arrangements.

Maximilian I, the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, firmly refused to relinquish the lands acquired during the war, causing Venice to be in anguish over lost territories.

The problem was that even the Pope subtly sided with the Emperor, stirring the ire of the Venetians.

“When did we fall so low as to be disregarded?”

The Doge lamented, casting his gaze downwards.

A meticulously bound book rested on the armrest of his chair.

“This country’s condition is so desperate that such seditious literature thrives.”

“Most honorable Doge, even so, we cannot designate it as a forbidden book.”

“I know.”

Waving away his minister’s concerns, the Doge glanced at the book titled “The Tale of the Prince,” which narrated the story of the infidel Sultan, Yusuf, currently enjoying a sensational popularity.

The Doge had even read it himself.

“It’s no wonder it’s popular. Given the dire reality, who wouldn’t enjoy a refreshing story like this?”

Daily, fierce battles of truth raged on.

However, the tale of overcoming various crises with a clever plan, combined with a sweet romance with a former slave girl who became a concubine, appealed to people of all ages.

Banning a book that served to ease anxiety would be fatal for the already precarious position of the Doge.

Externally, the nation was chaotic, yet internally, stories about foreign emperors flourished.

Which ruler would enjoy seeing this, but there were no alternatives.

The problem was that this situation didn’t seem like it would improve anytime soon.

– An envoy from the Ottomans has arrived.

“Well, it’s about time… Let them in.”

With the Doge’s permission, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged man with a turban strode in confidently despite the sharp glares.

The man didn’t even offer a simple courtesy, standing tall as he greeted.

“I come as Abdi Pasha, bearing a letter from the great Padishah.”

The Doge slightly scowled at the arrogant demeanor and responded.

“I am Leonardo Loredan, Doge of Venice. Present the letter.”

At this command, a minister cautiously took the letter offered by the envoy and handed it to the Doge, whose arm trembled as he read.

With a grimace, the Doge glared at the envoy.

“A threat, you say? Is this a letter?”

“It contains constructive talks for the improvement of relations between our two nations.”

The part concerning the prohibition of arms sales from the Mamluks was acceptable.

Whatever happened this year while waging war against France, it was a shock to hear that not only had the Safavids fallen, but the main forces of the Mamluks had been annihilated.

The fall of the Mamluks was a fact, compelling Venice, vital to Mediterranean trade, to become closer to the Ottomans.

However, the price that Yusuf demanded for friendship was simply too steep.

“Why on earth should we return the spoils taken from Constantinople 300 years ago?!”

The Fourth Crusade, which took place between 1202 to 1204, horrifically plundered Constantinople, and the one leading the raid was the rep of the Crusaders and Doge of Venice, Enrico Dandolo.

Expecting Venice to return treasures from that time, after it had completely revived, was simply shocking.

Of course, the envoy remained unfazed by the Doge’s furious reaction.

“After all, the Padishah is also the Roman Caesar.”

“What nonsensical—”

“Are you insulting the Padishah right now?!”

Although it was merely one of his titles, the envoy glared at the Doge with a furious expression.

Seeing the envoy’s fierce reaction, the Doge found himself at a loss for words, prompting the envoy to growl.

“Very well. Returning the spoils is not an urgent matter, so that can be postponed for now. But remember this.”

“…What are you saying?”

“A new era has dawned. Those who comply shall live, while those who do not shall die.”

With that, the envoy turned sharply and vanished, leaving behind a heavy silence.

As everyone held their tongues, Giovanni Barbaro, who had previously been an envoy to the Ottomans, broke the silence.

“Indeed, the envoy is Ottoman.”

If it had been the other way around, those actions would have meant instant death.

Following Giovanni’s remark, another saying was born suggesting “going to the Ottomans” as a euphemism for heading to one’s demise.

“Acting like an Ottoman envoy.” This referred to someone who had no fear.

*

As the year 1513 dawned and the weather warmed, the conqueror resting in Tabriz stirred.

With an army of 80,000 going down, Aleppo, Hama, Homs, and Damascus fell in quick succession.

The Ottoman conquests were unstoppable.

However, that didn’t mean the Mamluks were sitting idle.

Though their main forces had been decimated, the Mamluks were fundamentally a resilient nation.

Gathering soldiers from each city and even conscripting, the Mamluks managed to assemble an army of about 80,000.

One positive aspect was that the remaining Ottoman forces, which had moved south to stabilize the captured cities, had dwindled to around 70,000.

Naturally, this glimmer of hope shattered the moment one laid eyes on the cannons and gun muzzles lined up on the battlefield.

“O Sultan! We cannot continue like this!”

“With all due respect, we need to find a breakthrough!”

Tuman Bey, the newly appointed Sultan replacing the previously fallen Sultan, surveyed the assembly with sunken eyes.

The meeting hall, once full before the battle, now bore several empty seats.

Those weren’t merely gone – they had journeyed to Allah, and Tuman Bey swallowed hard.

‘Damn those pig-like merchants. I will make them regret this.’

Venice, which had promised to sell weapons, suddenly changed its tune right before the battle.

Earlier in the year, the Pope had unexpectedly died, causing the Holy Alliance to crumble, and Venice joined hands with the French, who had been enemies just last year.

Claiming they lacked the resources to assist, the sudden shift in support was undoubtedly a betrayal.

“How many casualties have we suffered?”

“Already, casualties have reached 20,000. In contrast, enemy losses are minor.”

Though they had some artillery and hurriedly equipped their soldiers with matchlocks, their skill in weaponry didn’t matter when the numbers were clearly in the disadvantage.

“Those insane Ottoman bastards…”

Muttering a curse, Tuman Bey pictured the enemy advancing in their bombards and firearms.

Even if they shot arrows instead of using gunpowder, they would still be in financial ruin; it was incomprehensible how the Ottomans had been stockpiling gunpowder to fire at will.

In the end, if the enemy was insane, then he too had to take on the corresponding risks.

“I will personally assassinate the Sultan of the enemy. Gather the troops.”

“O Sultan?!”

The subordinates gasped, but Tuman Bey tightened his grip on his sword and rose from his seat.

Tuman means “ten thousand,” and Bey signifies “chief,” so Tuman Bey literally means the leader of ten thousand soldiers.

In his late thirties, Tuman was easily not overshadowed in martial arts, and he opened his ferocious eyes.

“Gather those brave enough to join me in beheading the enemy leader. I will directly ambush their command.”

When it was announced that the Sultan would personally assassinate Yusuf, those possessing both talent and courage volunteered.

On a night when darkness fell, the clouds blocking the moonlight and starlight, Tuman Bey’s soldiers dashed toward the enemy camp.

– Ding! Ding!

“Enemies attack! En… Kuhk!”

Rather than wielding their weapons, the guard assigned to ring the alarm was struck down with blood spewing from his mouth, his body crumbling under the gleam of a blade.

Prioritizing his duty over his life allowed the alarm to sound, and Tuman Bey’s soldiers launched themselves at the approaching enemy.

Torches that had illuminated the campsite fell, mixing friend and foe alike, quickly filling the area with blood, cries, and screams.

Perhaps due to the fallen torches, tents began to ignite; acrid smoke and bright flames spread behind them.

“That seems to be the spot!”

The henchman pointed to an area that looked significantly larger and was gathering forces to repel the ambush.

– Tatatadang!

“Gah?!”

It seemed the allies were prepared to take the risk of being hit; gunfire rang out, piercing the leading soldiers’ bodies.

Though several died in an instant, the clash of blades between the Ottoman riflemen and the Mamluk swordsmen ensued without a moment to reload.

“Quickly, go!”

“Ugh, we must succeed!”

“Stop them! Stop them!”

Thanks to those who threw themselves forward to clear a path, Tuman Bey reached the front of the gigantic tent.

‘Finally!’

With the thought that he only needed to kill the enemy’s Padishah, he entered the brightly lit tent, only to be met with a single coffin.

In the wide-open coffin, there was no corpse, only a yellow Mamluk banner lay within.

“…A trap?”

Staring at the coffin designed as if to accommodate him, Tuman Bey smiled wryly while a tremendous noise rang out.

As gunfire poured through, he collapsed onto the coffin, placing a hand on the flag.

The sight of the yellow flag being stained red seemed to herald the end of the Mamluks.

*

In 1513, on a scorching summer day.

The city known as Al-Qahirah in Arabic and Cairo in English.

Beginning at the Nile Delta, where most of the Egyptian population resided, this city earned its reputation as the largest in the Arab world.

Angry soldiers arrived at the firmly closed gates of Cairo after a failed assassination attempt.

“The plan is unfolding perfectly.”

The chances that Tuman Bey would attempt the assassination were fifty-fifty.

Historically, he had tried to assassinate alongside his followers, but instead of Selim’s tent, he mistakenly entered the Grand Vizier’s, failing the assassination.

After killing the Grand Vizier and running away, Tuman Bey had executed a guerrilla operation; thankfully, he had been able to kill him easily.

“O Padishah.”

With the Sultan dead, there was no one to lead the resistance, leaving only the task of persuading the Pashas and amirs similar to those of the Ottomans to surrender.

To the envoy departing to propose surrender, he said:

“Tell them this: If they delay their surrender, we will increase the cannons aimed at the gates, and for every cannon, we will kill one of them.”

“I will convey this.”

About an hour after the envoy entered Cairo, Yusuf called for the Janissary agha.

“Point ten cannons at Cairo.”

He didn’t specify one at a time.

*

Not only did he kill the envoy, but Yusuf became infamous for personally taking down the Sultan.

Knowing that they could genuinely be killed, the amirs opened the gates of Cairo, as the Ottoman troops entered, waving red and yellow flags in front.

The colors symbolized a pardon, but with the heads of Tuman Bey and others who attempted assassination displayed prominently, terror enveloped Cairo.

As Yusuf marched into the open citadel of Cairo, he declared:

“This is not the end, but we have overcome one hurdle.”

To the south lay Mecca to conquer, and he still hadn’t taken Baghdad or areas near the Persian Gulf.

It would take until next year to fully subdue the remaining territories, but no significant resistant forces remained.

“Now, the Empire must prepare to see a broader world. We need to lie low for a while.”

“With the empire’s land nearly doubling instantaneously, it is unavoidable.”

To solidify the governance, it would take at least five years to deal with the remaining resistance.

Just like a snake swallowing a large prey takes time to digest, the Ottomans needed time to assimilate their territories.

“Instead, we must start preparing now to venture into the wider world ahead. We must focus on two things.”

“What are they?”

“First is the canal.”

We must grasp the situation, but if the Mamluks’ canal under construction is completed, it would connect the Mediterranean and Red Sea, yielding enormous benefits.

Nodding in agreement at the mention of the canal, the Grand Vizier tilted his head curiously.

“What is the second?”

“It’s a drink known as kafa or qahwa that’s circulating from Mecca. It will lead you into a new era.”

From now on, the Ottomans would experience nights and days without end.

The Grand Vizier felt a chill in that moment.

With the name of the Mamluks erased from the world, a new era was dawning.