NOVEL NEXT Chapter 15
#Chapter 15. Sanjakbey Yusuf (1)
Selim was ready to leave as if he had been waiting for a chance to see his true face at last.
Maybe he had already packed his things, hustling about since dawn, because by morning he was fully prepared to depart, with over a hundred people ready to go.
“Brother, it’s a shame to leave like this. I wish we had more time to talk.”
“I’ve seen my brother’s face; that’s enough. A person who is leaving should do so without lingering attachments.”
So, someone knew that he had acted this way yesterday.
Selim gently patted his shoulder, and Yusuf, contrary to his inner thoughts, nodded listlessly.
To a stranger, they might have looked like brothers who couldn’t live without each other.
‘Considering how desperate we were to kill each other, this is good enough.’
Yusuf, skillfully wrapping his feelings with brotherly affection, turned his head.
“Shuleiman, it’s been nice to meet you. Stay healthy.”
“Understood.”
With a small bow, Yusuf bid farewell and then said to Selim.
“Brother, you should head off now. You have a long way to go.”
“Alright, I’ll be on my way. May Allah be with you.”
“May Allah be with you.”
Today was the last day the two brothers could share a smile together, but both said goodbye without regret.
Leading the way on horseback, Selim initiated the long procession, and Yusuf silently said his goodbyes as he watched him leave.
‘I’ll send you off nicely, so go and fight hard, brother.’
There was a reason Selim was sent to Teke among the many mountains.
In three years, another prince, Korkut, would be sent to Teke, much farther from the capital than the existing Saruhan territory.
Later, Korkut would demand his former position, but the Sultan would refuse, and under the guise of a pilgrimage, he would escape to Egypt.
Ultimately, he would be forgiven by the Sultan and return to the Ottoman Empire, but he would be too late to participate in the succession battle and would end up killed by the ascended Selim.
‘This time, that can’t happen. The more candidates there are for the succession battle, the better.’
It could be argued that changing the future rendered knowledge useless, but if things continued as they were, Trabzon would end up in chaos.
If the future was unpredictable anyway, it might be beneficial to turn it into a mass of variables.
‘Still, Selim will survive until the end.’
Though he didn’t see the other brothers, he had faith that Selim wouldn’t go down easily.
As he watched the departing procession, a system window popped up in front of Yusuf.
[Score +15 for Sanjakbey of Trabzon]
“…Is this real?”
Yusuf roughly wiped his face.
‘Wow, has our system finally regained its sanity!’ he thought, and it was truly troublesome.
Didn’t it just give him a measly point for dodging an assassination yesterday?
Right now, it felt like the system was saying, ‘Wow, your territory is utterly hopeless.’
“This place won’t be easy, either.”
Sighing lightly, Yusuf turned his body.
He had survived in the capital surrounded by darkness; surely he wouldn’t die here.
*
Trabzon Citadel, having once served as a royal castle, was impressively large.
The scale was beyond that of the palace he had previously lived in, and the vintage feel hinting at Roman remnants was not bad at all.
Though it was a stark contrast to where he had lived while in the capital, there was no time to dwell on this.
In the office were Fatima, Hasan, and another person, Shamsi, gathered together.
First, Yusuf spoke to Fatima.
“Mother, please make sure to focus on the free meal programs and donations as planned.”
“Of course, I will.”
Donations were a traditional duty of the concubines that came with the prince.
Through donations, they could win the hearts of the people and gauge public sentiment while also providing leisure activities for the concubines.
To this end, the concubines received daily financial support amounting to 50 akçe.
“And if possible, please also pay attention to the children’s education.”
“Education?”
He wasn’t suggesting public education since he wasn’t yet a Sultan in this era.
“Just teach them the basics. If you find any decent children among them, let me know.”
Without the talent recognition trait, what else could be done? It was tedious, but there was no other choice.
This was a move intended more for the distant future rather than the immediate, and Fatima nodded without a hint of annoyance.
“It seems you won’t be bored. I shall go prepare now.”
“Thank you.”
Her leaving means she wouldn’t interfere in future discussions regarding territory management, signifying her trust in Yusuf.
Fatima, smiling faintly at his gratitude, exited the meeting, and Yusuf turned to Hasan.
“Hasan, did you bring the documents on Hass?”
“Here they are.”
The documents detailed the number of livestock, what was being cultivated in the orchards, and the size of the farmlands.
These were all written out, but Yusuf only needed to check the final number.
A figure showing 150,000 akçe.
“Last year’s revenue was around 2,500 ducats. That’s quite a sum.”
Hass is something one can think of as an annual salary.
When you really think about it, arranging for salaries requires a lot of administrative effort.
You have to allocate funds per position and send money to the individuals involved. It’s fundamental that there are no omissions, fraud, or theft in between.
The easiest way to solve that is to make them fend for themselves, and the landlord granting fief to knights follows the same logic.
If it’s like this in the neighboring town, it wouldn’t be different here.
‘Hence, we have timar, ziamet, and hass.’
It’s not a complex concept.
If annual income is less than 20,000 akçe, it’s called timar, if it’s under 100,000, ziamet, and if it’s above 100,000, it’s called hass.
The difference from the West is that land ownership belongs to the state, and they can only receive income from it.
Especially, hass land could only be given to very high-ranking officials or royalty.
‘In modern terms, it’s like being a building owner in Gangnam who can live in considerable luxury.’
If it weren’t for the insane brother-murdering system, he’d have been satisfied living like this.
Yusuf, gazing at the documents, asked Hasan.
“Did you receive this from Selim’s people?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Well, he did not have time to investigate directly.
Handing the documents back to the observant Hasan, he said, “You check it out yourself. Thoroughly verify there are no issues. There’s bound to be something.”
He had a stronger faith in what he saw than in the documents.
He believed that this brother wouldn’t just hand over the land cleanly.
‘If it were handed over nicely, I’d truly send the great Selim straight to the Sultanate in a bridal sedan.’
That wasn’t going to happen.
Once Hasan left, Yusuf was left alone with Shamsi in the large conference room.
‘What an enigmatic person.’
Even now, Shamsi wore a perfectly expressionless face devoid of any emotions, and even if he were to dance naked in this moment, it seemed like not a single eyebrow would twitch.
His poker face was so impressive that the way he learnt to conceal emotions by observing would have served its purpose even in abrupt encounters with Selim.
If this was the level of what he picked up through minimal exposure, how extraordinary must the original be?
‘If he were just a person with a blank face, I’d have brushed him off, but his skills are commendable in contrast.’
Worrying whether swallowing him might cause a problem and regretting spitting him out, it was truly the dilemma of a delicious bone.
In any case, there was no option; he’d have to trust him since he hadn’t plotted anything underhanded so far.
“Pasha, have you had enough discussions with the cadis and sipahis during the banquet?”
The cadi was a judge and managed the kazas, while the sipahi was a local reserve cavalryman.
One could say these were the two pillars supporting the territory, one through civil means and the other through force.
“The cadi of Trabzon was gentle and experienced. What’s unfortunate is that he seemed to have a firmly established viewpoint. As for the sipahi, there was considerable sentiment towards the departing Şehzade Selim.”
In simpler terms, it meant the cadi was a nagger, and the sipahi was a widow unable to forget someone who had left.
Just hearing this brought a sense of suffocation from two towering mountains.
“If you were Pasha, what would you have done?”
“I would have hosted a banquet to build rapport.”
That was a conventional approach, and it was the least damaging method, but this was a long-term project.
The key figures of the territory were Turks, and Selim had seen to their preferential treatment since his first appointment, earning their goodwill.
It wouldn’t be easy to reverse that in a short time.
‘Shamsi shouldn’t be unaware of that either.’
Yusuf intuitively realized that Shamsi was presenting him with a kind of test.
It could be a chance to evaluate his skills and governance methods.
‘If you want to see that, then I should show you.’
No matter how capable a talent was, if they didn’t mesh well, they couldn’t work together.
Yusuf thought this would serve as a good test for both of them and issued a command.
“We must host a banquet. We can’t just work without seeing each other. While the banquet draws attention, Pasha, gather some information for me.”
“What specifically do you mean?”
“Hmm… let’s start with the sipahis? Investigate their timar conditions and who inherits it among the older sipahis.”
At Yusuf’s words, Shamsi raised an eyebrow, expressing an unusually visible emotion.
It was that serious.
“Shouldn’t there be considerable backlash?”
“Of course, meddling with inheritance would naturally provoke that.”
If the issue of inheritance arises, it becomes chaos in modern times; how much worse would it be during this period?
Yusuf wasn’t unaware of the potential problems, but he said with undeniable composure.
“But doesn’t that fall under the exclusive rights of the Sanjakbey?”
The sipahi could be seen as a knight in Europe; they received timar as a fief, and in times of war, they had to participate in exchange for that benefit.
However, as previously mentioned, they had only obtained the right to collect taxes, so they couldn’t arbitrarily bequeath it, especially since related military matters were meticulously managed by the Ottomans.
The Sanjakbeys leading the sipahis were the first line of filtering that.
“…Understood. I will take on the investigation.”
With a demeanor suggesting he would keep an eye on what results would arise, Shamsi paused for a moment, then spoke.
“Prince, let’s not forget. Quick actions are the deeds of the devil, while those who are slow are favored by Allah.”
After leaving that advice, Shamsi disappeared, and Yusuf reclined in his chair.
The more haste, the more time wasted. He knew that common saying well.
“I have no time for that; it can’t be helped.”
What if he didn’t know the future? It would have been frustrating but not anxious.
How long would it take if he used a conciliatory approach? Three years? Five years?
It would be better to take risks now rather than just watch countless incidents unfold and weep helplessly.
“After all, there are no established paths in life.”
There is only a straight line with different directions.
Yusuf calmly cast away his fear.