I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

---

# Chapter 28. Time to Step Forward (1)

With Venice, Genoa, the other major trading city-state of Italy, lost its colonies in the Crimean Peninsula, the Black Sea has completely turned into an Ottoman lake.

Entry into the Black Sea was strictly controlled unless one was on an Ottoman ship, and the once bustling waters, filled with countless Western vessels, became eerily quiet.

“Back in my day, the coastline was teeming with ships,” was a nostalgic lament of those now lying in their graves, as the glory of Black Sea trade had faded into the mists of time.

However, that only meant fewer ships were sailing than before; it didn’t mean they were impossible to see altogether.

One could still observe ships docking in the harbor a dozen times a day, yet as three vessels approached, the cavalry guarded the harbor with the utmost vigilance.

This was because a significant person was aboard.

“We’ve finally returned,” Aishe said, gazing longingly at Trabzon.

Though it had been less than a year, too much had transpired during that time.

Entering regions stricken by plague only to find hellish landscapes was one thing.

Faces filled with despair marked the passing of family and friends, and the eyes of the locals burned with fury at outsiders.

To the point where they had even suffered ambushes, yet Aishe prevented her soldiers from killing the attackers.

“It’s only natural for them to be enraged—they’ve been abandoned by their people.”

Although lockdowns were a basic measure to prevent the spread of the plague, to them, it felt more like abandonment.

With no aid coming in, anyone escaping out of desperation risked being shot by soldiers stationed outside.

It was understandable that anger would take root in people merely hoping death would overlook them.

Aishe asserted, “We just need to do what we ought to do. If we do, everything will change.”

There were many who opposed extending compassion, but Aishe led the group.

On her orders, they quietly set up camp on the outskirts of the village and commenced serious medical work.

If someone had mentioned vaccinations during peacetime…

“What nonsense are you talking about? We might as well just hold our noses!”

They would have replied like that.

Experiencing the plague sweeping through their filthy, stinking surroundings, they thought one reason for falling ill was the very malodor.

For those using perfumes and spices to mask the stench, the idea of vaccinations felt completely foreign.

But this wasn’t peacetime, and desperate people began to gather at their door like a swarm.

Thanks to Yusuf’s advice, their sanitary conditions improved and the plague quickly began to subside. This miraculous change spread news rapidly to the outside world.

“Did you hear? An envoy delegation from the Empire is halting the plague!”

“That’s nonsense! It’s all been said to be a miracle already!”

“The tribal leaders tried to dissuade her, but Lady Aishe was determined to go in, isn’t that right? Clearly, God was moved by her actions.”

Those in power, realizing the circumstances late, tried to suppress the rumors, but it was already too late to stop the tales where Aishe was the main character.

Aishe was already being referred to as a saint in Circassia.

Even though she was the respected woman of an Ottoman prince, it was not unbelievable for her to visit a plague region and show a miracle.

You could hear praises for Aishe wherever you went in Circassia.

Sinen, who had gotten onto the carriage with Aishe, cautiously asked, “Wouldn’t it have been better to stay in Circassia rather than return to Trabzon? The prince would surely understand.”

In Circassia, she was a saint, but in Trabzon, merely a prince’s concubine.

There was no need to even ponder which life was better.

However, Aishe nonchalantly chose the latter.

“If I fulfill my role as a mediator with Circassia, he would certainly understand.”

“The prince prioritizes practicality after all.”

“Still, I want to be by the prince’s side more than any wealth or fortune.”

Even if it seemed like a foolish choice, her determination never wavered.

“And if I had said I would stay in Circassia, many would likely not live out their days.”

At Aishe’s playful words, Sinen burst into laughter.

They were reminded of the torturous times spent under the manipulation and fabrication using the title of a saint.

Fortunately, things had turned out well; there had even been several moments more dangerous than when they were in the plague zone.

As they chatted lightly, the carriage arrived at the castle, and upon stepping down, Aishe’s eyes widened.

“Aishe, you’ve finally returned. I missed you so much.”

With sweet words, Yusuf, who had matured even more, took her hand.

Aishe’s face bloomed red like a flower as she shyly replied, “I missed you too.”

Yusuf, pulling Aishe into an embrace, sparkled with joy.

‘The stage is set.’

Just as Ismail revealed himself to the world, it was time for him to make his move.

*

For princes destined to kill their siblings, brotherhood was a luxury, and friendships were a fanciful emotion.

There might be trustworthy subordinates, but a friend to share idle chitchat and laughter was nonexistent.

Yet to Yusuf, Aishe was something special.

Even a light conversation brought him joy.

“There was a kid who was crying about how much it hurt when he got vaccinated, but brought a flower to thank me a few weeks later. He was adorable!”

“Was he a boy?”

“Who knows? What do you think?”

With mischief sparking in her green eyes, Yusuf shrugged his shoulders.

“Must’ve been a girl. If it was a boy, he wouldn’t be showing off in front of me.”

“…Do you have to make it so boring?”

Aishe pouted as Yusuf ruffled her hair roughly.

Considering the oppressive times where obedience was enforced, Aishe’s every playful action bated astonishment.

But for Yusuf, this side of her was enjoyable.

‘It feels great to be just me, not a prince.’

It made him feel like he understood the vintage cliché of ‘You’re the first to give me this.’

They’d been chatting for hours now, yet boredom was nowhere to be found.

“How about sharing some stories about the prince?”

“Hmm… I don’t have anything particularly entertaining to say.”

Stories about farming, cement, or soldiers weren’t exactly riveting topics.

Pausing to think, something crossed Yusuf’s mind.

“Remember when I asked Mother to introduce me to a smart kid if she found one?”

He had asked Fatima, as he lacked the knack for spotting talent.

“Of course. Nene was teaching children at the free lunch place.”

“I discovered a kid among them who could be called a genius.”

To be honest, he had low expectations.

It was better to use trained scholars than to raise someone who wasn’t particularly smart from the start.

Yusuf had almost forgotten after asking Fatima, but lo and behold, he had caught a big fish.

“How old is he?”

“He’s the same age as Selim’s son, Suleiman. Seven years old.”

“That’s young, isn’t it?”

That was indeed a disappointment.

No matter how talented, he was still too young to be useful right away.

“Still, after trying to teach him various things, he picks them up quickly. Once he’s ten years older, it could be worth looking forward to. But honestly, age isn’t the real issue.”

There was a major obstacle for utilizing that child.

As Aishe was curious about his response, Yusuf was interrupted by the guard’s voice in his ear.

“Your Highness, the cadhi of Trabzon, Omer Effendi, requests to see you.”

Yusuf’s face turned sour upon Omer’s arrival, who typically wouldn’t come unless something important was at hand.

There was only one reason he could show up at this time.

“In the end, I’m caught.”

Letting out a light sigh, Yusuf allowed him to enter, and the door opened to reveal the stern-looking Omer.

Holding a small child’s hand.

Omer, with his sharp eyes, glanced at Yusuf.

“Greetings, Sanjakbey.”

“Alright, what’s the matter?”

Yusuf asked as if he knew nothing, while Omer pushed the child forward.

“Yaya, is that him?”

Yusuf wished he could give a hint but didn’t feel like it was appropriate due to Omer’s intimidating gaze.

The child referred to as Yaya paused for a moment and nodded.

“…Yes, that’s him.”

“Sanjakbey, you know my son, right?”

He knew him very well.

Yusuf probably knew more about Yaya Effendi than his father, Omer Effendi.

For starters, Yaya was a milk brother of Suleiman.

When Suleiman’s mother couldn’t nurse anymore, Yaya’s mother, Apife, was asked to breastfeed him, making them milk brothers.

‘This wasn’t anything special.’

The term ‘milk wet nurse’ referred to any woman who breastfed another’s baby, so it was rather common.

And if that had been all, there wouldn’t have been any reason for Yaya to be remembered in history.

Yaya was renowned in the fields of science, medicine, and geometry and was held in high esteem in Islam, which was why he could be written into history.

‘Among seamen, he was revered as one of the saints of Istanbul.’

In short, it meant a guaranteed lottery win if he could persuade that stern cadhi.

“I assume you know him. After all, you taught my son directly.”

“Well, there isn’t anything wrong with my teaching.”

At the very least, it would have been far superior to the education available in this era.

To Yusuf’s assertive comment, Omer nodded.

The cadhi was one of the leading intellectuals of the time, and there was much knowledge even Omer wouldn’t have known.

However, there was a problem.

“Why on earth are you teaching him how to make gunpowder? And what’s with these strange gunpowder weapons? Are you planning to raise my son as a technician instead of a scholar?”

With Omer’s piercing gaze, Yusuf clicked his tongue inwardly.

Raising a technician was proving to be quite the challenge.