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# Chapter 22: Internal Organization (4)

After risking his life for the first time in a gamble, Yusuf made a determination. He vowed never to trust his life solely to the whims of luck.

To achieve this, he needed both power and information.

First of all, personal strength was out of the question. Setting aside talent, a mere child wouldn’t be able to protect himself properly.

Ultimately, he needed the collective might of a group, and with the creation of a 50-man royal guard, his life was no longer in significant danger.

‘The real issue was information power.’

This type of information couldn’t be gathered overnight.

Just looking at the endless stories of Open and Hao-mun in martial arts makes it clear how extensive a human network is required.

‘Even if funding manpower could be solved with money, I still had no legitimate way to gather info.’

No matter how important intelligence was, a prince couldn’t raise beggars or run a tavern.

The answer to this dilemma wasn’t too far off.

As more people began to seek barley tea, the patrons gathered around the shop, naturally turning it into a hotspot for rumors.

‘Honestly, it was an unexpected side income, so I was lucky.’

Never could he have imagined barley tea would be so successful so quickly, nor could he foresee such clever exploitation.

Regardless, over months, the barley tea shop spread throughout Trabzon, and the information network centered around the shop began operating in earnest.

It was still in its infancy and had many shortcomings, but at least for Trabzon, Yusuf had gathered a fair bit of information.

He looked down at Kahit, who was staring up at him with wide eyes, as if surprised at his impending death.

‘Thanks to this, I knew they were plotting something shady.’

Those who had issues with inheritance gathered around Kahit, collecting their evidence and keeping a close watch.

It was a noose that would eventually hang Burka.

He never envisioned it would take this form.

Yusuf asked with a stiffened face, “Burka Sobashi, you know what that statement meant, right?”

“…Of course.”

Burka’s face, which had just been responsible for personally beheading his own son, looked a decade older in that brief moment.

Yusuf glanced around, noticing that the surrounding crowd had drawn closer, thanks to Burka’s blood-soaked arrival, and among them were many cavalrymen.

‘An assassination of a prince would be a crime that would surely get Burka punished as his father.’

Would they dare to punish him in this atmosphere?

It had ended only in a conspiracy, and the one directly involved had beheaded his own son.

Legally, it was a murky situation; if they mentioned executing Burka, the mood would surely turn violent.

‘Do I have to let this go again?’

To think that he would kill his own son to create an escape for himself—he truly was a cunning and difficult opponent.

As Yusuf agonized over how to deal with Burka, an unexpected voice reached his ears.

“I will repay my son’s crime with my life.”

For a moment, he thought he had misheard.

It seemed this wasn’t just Yusuf’s own thought; commotion erupted around him.

“Silence!!”

Under the chilling command, silence swept over the area once more, and Yusuf locked eyes with Burka, who stood looking up at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

Was he planning some sort of trick? Yet, there was no deception in Burka’s calm tone.

Despite having the opportunity to take down the person he wanted so badly, Yusuf felt no joy.

Thus, his next words came out impulsively.

“How about I excuse everything up to now and you pledge your loyalty to me?”

He knew. He understood how foolish a choice that statement would be.

How trustworthy could the loyalty from someone who just lost their son really be? And if he missed this opportunity, capturing Burka would be even harder.

Rationally, he knew he should kill him.

‘But just killing him feels like a waste.’

He wanted his unwavering resilience in any crisis, the commanding ability that had kept his subordinates in line, and the cleverness to navigate each challenge quickly.

He wanted to risk it all to keep what he desired.

Burka responded to Yusuf’s query with a faint smile.

It was his first smile, yet the words that followed weren’t the answers he wanted.

“Prince Selim would never show such dangerous mercy.”

“…Is that a rejection?”

“Prince.”

Burka called Yusuf shortly and cautiously brushed his son’s head beside him with a complex gaze.

“Mercy is never a virtue for those who stand above others. You are now the victor; it’s time to behead your enemy’s leader and stand tall.”

It felt like he wasn’t speaking about his own life.

Yusuf suddenly had a thought in response to Burka’s words.

‘Was that it?’

Objectively assessing, no matter how exceptional Burka was, he wouldn’t be able to keep Yusuf under his thumb forever.

He lacked justification or status compared to Yusuf; it was only a matter of time before his end came.

There was no way a person of Burka’s caliber wouldn’t know that, and there was only one conclusion expected.

“Was he someone worth devoting that much loyalty to? My older brother, Selim, I mean.”

Upon Yusuf’s question, Burka widened his eyes slightly and spoke with a self-mocking tone.

“At this point, I honestly wouldn’t know. But from my perspective, he seemed like someone who would rise higher than anyone else.”

Well, considering he actually became a sultan, one could say he had an eye for recognizing talent.

Hearing Burka’s evaluation of Selim suddenly sparked Yusuf’s curiosity.

“Then how do I appear?”

“…If you had been born ten years earlier, you would have become the master of the empire.”

Ten years.

Was it really only that little difference? Yusuf chuckled, shedding any lingering sentiment for Burka.

He wouldn’t forcefully keep him around any longer; killing him honorably would be a fitting end for an enemy.

“Is there anything you want to ask one last time?”

“…If possible, I would like to ask for my last requests to be handled by my subordinate, Arda.”

“Burka!!!”

Arda, Burka’s right-hand man, shouted loudly.

As if he couldn’t bear it, he shook his head, and a stern voice echoed out.

“Arda, didn’t you say you would be by my side at the end? It’s time to fulfill that promise.”

At Burka’s words, Arda came forward with a tremendously distressed face.

He wasn’t oblivious to the meaning behind it.

It was a summons for Burka to partake in his own demise and also a plea for Yusuf to accept him afterwards.

Understanding this made it even harder for him to move.

Burka spoke to the sword-wielding Arda, who hesitated.

“Kahit will be waiting for you. I’ll go ahead; you watch the prince’s end.”

“…Thank you for everything.”

The sword Arda plunged pierced through Burka’s heart and emerged from his back, and as the ground soaked in red, Burka slowly lay down.

He was the one who had continued to call Yusuf by the title of prince until the very end.

Watching silently as Burka died with a calm smile, Yusuf shouted loudly.

“I will issue orders!!”

At Yusuf’s cry, those who witnessed Burka’s demise knelt with one knee.

Arda, drenched in Burka’s blood, lowered his head and responded.

“Command me.”

“From now on, I will forgive the past! Any disruptive acts will not be tolerated from here on! And.”

Yusuf looked down at the two fallen.

“Burka Sobashi and his son Kahit should be given a proper burial.”

“Understood!!”

The chorus of voices filled the castle.

It marked the end of a long internal organization.

*

The tumultuous year of 1499, which had thrown Trabzon into chaos, had passed, and a new year began.

At Yusuf’s summons, the kadis and sobashis from thirteen kazas gathered.

Gathered once more in the banquet hall where they first met Yusuf, these individuals could hardly speak without trepidation.

In less than half a year, the lord of the Trabzon sanjak had made it known to the world that he was no mere 11-year-old child.

With an unforeseen support policy, he had captured the hearts of the cavalry and boldly reached into matters of inheritance, tightening the reins.

The strategy was clever, and his momentum was that of a champion.

Now, no one could consider him a young prince anymore.

The doors to the banquet hall, wrapped in a heavy silence, opened, and Yusuf entered, having physically and mentally matured over half a year.

Although still weak, he naturally exuded the aura of a ruler, and the 13 kadis and 13 sobashis bowed their heads toward him.

“Greetings, Lord Sanjakbey.”

Walking with assured steps among the bowed figures, Yusuf slowly surveyed the banquet hall.

Other than Arda standing in Burka’s place, there was no one new.

The same faces, the same scene, yet their attitudes were like night and day.

No one questioned his rule.

“Everyone, raise your heads.”

At this, they all lifted their heads, and Yusuf welcomed them.

“It’s nice to see you again. I look forward to working well together from now on.”

“I will serve you diligently.”

With their reply, a translucent window appeared before Yusuf.

[Clearly, the Sanjakbey of Trabzon, score +5]

Receiving score as well felt very real.

It affirmed that he had become the definite master of this place.

‘Additionally, I received enough score to activate my second trait.’

Finally, he was able to cast his gaze a bit further.

*

“Burka is dead? That Burka.”

Selim frowned as he read a letter sent by his informant.

The long-observed Burka wasn’t someone who would make silly mistakes, and there was no way he could be outdone so easily in such a short time.

If this was the capacity of his younger brother…

“Perhaps I should have killed him back then, no matter what.”

Even without killing Burka, he thought that at the least, he could have held him back for over five years.

With events turned this way, regret set in.

“Now that Burka is dead, there’s no point in regretting it.”

With the obstacle removed, he would have entirely gained control of the sanjak.

He had no one, like the deceased Burka, to pledge loyalty to him, nor any means to attempt an assassination.

If Burka had even managed to survive, he could have used him for some attempts.

“What a foolish child, choosing death.”

Despite sacrificing himself and his beloved son for the sake of his remaining family and subordinates, Selim simply viewed him as foolish.

To a failure who couldn’t handle something as simple as a hindrance, he felt only that much emotion remaining.

Crumpling the letter that outlined how much effort Burka had poured in, and how he met his demise in sworn loyalty, Selim slammed his hand on the table.

“Whatever the case, I have no need to worry about the young brother. All he can do now is wait for his day of death.”

He knew that better than anyone.

Even excluding the young brother, there were still six other competitive siblings.

Once he ascends to the sultan position, he could kill as many as he liked; the key was overcoming those remaining six.

Compared to Trabzon, the capital was much closer now, yet it was still distant compared to the other siblings.

To bridge that gap, there was only one way.

“I need support… Is it only the Crimean Khanate?”

While it had been impossible to seek aid while in Trabzon, now that he had broken away, it seemed worth a try.

Thus, history began to twist.