Great chapter, RIP Bedreddin, he gave the Ottomans a bloody nose for as long as he could. I feel Bedreddin's death and the tale of how he died will be spread far and wide all throughout the Balkans and Anatolia. Many will give their respects to such a man, Christian or Muslim. I wonder how things will go with Mehmed clearly on his deathbed with the illness? The Ottoman Empire is going to fracture, no doubt about that. Hope to see a Roman chapter. Keep up the great work 👍 👍 👍
Darkness before Dawn - Purple Phoenix 1416
- Thread starter elerosse
- Start date
Yes, as Bedreddin were a widely renowned Sheikh and wiseman in the Islamic world, and very popular among clerics and commoners in Ottoman territory, Mehmed could not afford to simply execute him as any other rebel. OTL Bedreddin were brought to trial in Serres, tried by a council of Islamic jurists headed by Mehmed, which had all the appearances of a "just" and "proper" procedure for dealing with a major religious contention and after 40 days of trial and heavy arguments saw Bedreddin found guilty of treason and were executed the proper way.
To have Bedreddin be decapitated on a dirty road without any proper trial will definately alienate alot of people, something Mehmed knew well but could not help as he's running out of time. It will be up to Ivan to pick up the mantle, rest assured we will see him again.
Another chapter to go, and we'll be back to Roman POV, interesting times are on the horizon
Hope that they can hold out.Another chapter to go, and we'll be back to Roman POV, interesting times are on the horizon
He has had all the necessary elements required to be forged into a defiant and strong leader, and will play a big part in the next phase of the story, when the struggle for Bulgaria begins.
A question for everyone that took an interest in this TL, how would you prefer the Roman state and the Roman people be referred to? Historically they usually adressed themselves as either Res Public Rhomaion, Basileia Rhomaion, or something similar to these names. I had used "The Empire", "Empire of the Romans" or "Eastern Roman Empire" as of now, but I'm uncertain whether or not to change to something like "Empire of the Rhomaion", or Rhomaioi, so as to be more specific and distinguish from the Classical Roman Empire.
Any suggestions or ideas is much appreciated!
Any suggestions or ideas is much appreciated!
I'd personally go with Rhomaioi as for how the people refer to themselves and use Empire of the Romans/Eastern Roman Empire as the term foreign nations use. Just my thoughts on the matter.
Thanks for the input, I do find Rhomaioi and Rhomaion more appropriate for the specific historical enviroment that this story is taking place.
CHAPTER 20 – MEHMED’S FAREWELL
CHAPTER 20 – MEHMED’S FAREWELL
Mehmed I with his dignitaries. Ottoman miniature painting, circa 1418.
******************************************************************
The sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, casting an orange hue across the Ottoman palace in the capital of Edirne. Despite his disease-ridden body that made even breathing an unbearable pain, Sultan Mehmed sat upon his throne, his face gaunt and his eyes hollowed by the relentless grasp of his illness. Yet he continued to show himself as the powerful Sultan, maintaining his dignity and majesty. The atmosphere in the palace was hushed, filled with a sense of stillness that muted the whispers of courtiers and servants.
Despite the toughness on his face, Mehmed's heart was heavy with the realization that his time on this earth was running short. The doctors had failed him, and each passing day, he felt his strength ebbing further. Yet, he refused to let his royal guards execute those who could not save him, as he knew it was not their fault, but his own. Instead, the doctors were put in house arrest so as to keep his real conditions in secret. His gaze wandered to the portraits of his ancestors hanging on the walls, beginning with his father, Bayezid the Thunderbolt, who struck fear into the hearts of Christians; then his grandfather Murad I who had conquered the lands of Europe and made Edirne his capital; then his great-grand father Orhan who transformed the tribe of Osman into a powerful state and built the initial powerbase in Bursa; and finally on Osman, the founder of house of Osman. And then, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.
"My reign has been cut short," he murmured, his voice gravelly. "I wished I could have accomplished more and worthy of my great ancestors, earn myself a place in the history of Great House Osman, and be revered alongside them for future generations."
As the shadows grew longer, a man entered the palace room, his steps moving quickly across the tiles. Although Mehmed’s vision has deteriorated so severely that he couldn’t see the man’s face, he instantly recalled the unique steps, and he squeezed a slim smile.
“Bayezid, my dearest friend, you have arrived.” Mehmed summoned his Vizier Bayezid and his sons, Mustafa and Murad as soon as he knew he was dying. As Bayezid resided in Bursa overseeing affairs in Anatolia, it wasn’t surprising that he arrived only days after his call.
Bayezid came to Mehmed’s side, next to the throne, a privilege only he enjoyed, showing the great trust and bond he had with the Sultan. Now Mehmed could see his friend, and he saw a face etched with concern. “Bayezid, tell the guards and servants to all leave us alone.” Mehmed was too weak make the order himself, and whispered to Bayezid.
Bayezid stood, gaze a nod to the captain of the royal guard. The captain promptly understood the intention, and guided all men and left the room.
Bayezid’s saddened greatly as he beheld his friend's waning form. The two men had shared many battles and victories together, and now they faced a new reality - the end of Mehmed's reign.
"Bayezid, my friend," Now that the room was empty, Mehmed opened his mouth, his voice trembling. "I fear my days are numbered."
Bayezid knelt before the throne, his eyes filled with tears that could barely be contained. "My Sultan, I am forever your loyal servant, and I am here at your command."
Mehmed gestured for him to rise and take a seat beside him. "Remember our battles together? When you killed that charging Timurid soldier, dragged me away from the heat of battle at Ankara, saving my life in the process? Remember our oath at the beach of Black Sea, where you swore to help me gain the throne, and I swore to you that I will be the best Sultan I could become? Remember…remember the joyful day of my coronation where you got drunk and danced in front of all men? Remember... Cough! Cough! cough!!” A violent outburst of cough interrupted Mehmed, he looked painful, red blood dripping down his beard.
“Let me call the doctors, my Sultan!”
Mehmed grabbed Bayezid’s sleeve, and gave a look of disapproval. After a while, as the cough finally went away. “Don’t bother, it will go away soon. I don’t have much time left. Do you remember our days?”
Bayezid nodded, his throat tightening. "I remember, my Sultan, how can I ever forget them? I relive the moment every day, and the vows we made still ring cling in my ears.”
Mehmed sighed, a note of despair creeping into his voice. "Yes, of course. But now, my friend, I must make provisions for the future. For the sake of all things that we held sacred, you must ensure that Murad succeed me as the new Sultan. He is young and strong, with the wisdom to lead our people. You must guide him, Bayezid, give him the same friendship and loyalty you gave me, and help him navigate the treacherous waters of politics and keep our hard-earned achievement secure."
Bayezid bowed his head, looking steady and reassuring. "I will do as you command, my Sultan, you will have nothing to worry about, Murad shall have all my loyalty and support."
Mehmed nodded, a hint of relief softening the lines of his face. "Good, and we must also make peace with our enemies. Concessions must be made to finalize a truce with the Venetians. We cannot leave unfinished business to my heir."
Bayezid agreed. "It is a wise decision, I will personally see the peace deal concluded, this will bring stability to our land."
“And the Romans, they had shown their true colors, the young and reckless Ioannes and Andronikos – unlike their father, the wise and trustworthy Manuel, they had lost the sense of awe against us. I wished I could have reminded them personally, but as things stand, it will be your and Murad’s responsibility to reforge fear into their hearts and minds. Remind them our power.”
“You have my word; I shall see to that the defiant Romans were properly punished and reminded of their place.”
“Good, and as such, you understand that our previous arrangement with Manuel, the one where I was supposed to send my two youngest sons into Constantinople as a safe haven away from infightings, is not off the table?”
“Of course, the Romans have proven untrustworthy, it would be wise to keep the young princes far away from their evil machinations.” Bayezid nodded in agreement, he was somewhat relieved that his friend, even on his deathbed, remained clear-headed.
“Alas, they already have my brother Little Mustafa and my cousin Orhan, be vigilant, they would surely play tricks upon my death.” Mehmed looked concerned yet powerless.
Bayezid placed his hand on Mehmed. “Rest assured; I will keep my eyes watchfully over the Theodosian Walls.”
“Yes, forgive my non-stop chattering, but I must give you my last instructions, so please bear with me my friend.” The voice of Mehmed grew weaker and weaker, he seemed visibly exhausted by the long conversation, yet he mustered what little strength he had to finish his last words to Bayezid: “I know my son Murad, he is much like my wrathful father, and I know the horrible tradition of fratricide in my family, I need to you find my young boys a safe place, far away from the politics of Edirne so that they may live a safe and comfortable life.”
“I had thought of that, and have found a suitable residing place deep in the Mountains of the faraway land of Persia, where the young princes will live undisturbed and safe from harm.”
Upon hearing this, Mehmed smiled with relief, his face then darkened suddenly, and he clutched his chest in pain. Speaking quickly with a note of urgency. "And one more thing, Bayezid. Hide the news of my sickness. If I die before Murad can be enthroned, you must display me as if I were still alive. Our enemies must not know our weakness."
Bayezid's heart sank, but he knew the Sultan's plan was necessary. He swept the sweat on Mehmed’s forehead with a fine silk. "I will do as you say, Sultan. But it will be a heavy burden to bear."
Mehmed reached out and grasped Bayezid's hand, his gaze filled with determination. "I know, my friend. But you are strong. You will carry on my legacy and ensure our Sultanate thrives."
Bayezid squeezed his hand, his throat tightening with emotion. "You have done more than most could ever dream of, my true friend, you have remade our shattered country, and it was my lifelong honor to have met you and served you."
Mehmed smiled, a sad, bittersweet smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thank you, my friend. But I wanted more. So much more." His voice broke, and tears welled up in his eyes. "I wanted to see my sons grow into men, to witness my country reach new heights of glory. Now, it will all be left undone."
Bayezid's heart ached for his friend. He knew Mehmed's unwillingness and regret were profound, but he also knew that now was not the time for sorrow. He needed to be strong for Mehmed, for Murad, for the Ottoman Sultanate.
"Sultan," he said, his voice firm, "your legacy will not be left undone. I will ensure that Murad carries on your vision and leads our people to even greater heights. Your name and your deeds will be remembered forever."
Mehmed nodded, his face softening with gratitude. "I know you will, Bayezid. You have always been my staunchest ally, my most trusted friend. I am grateful for all you have done for me and for our country."
The two men sat in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Then, Mehmed spoke again, his voice firmer now. "Let us discuss the details of Murad's coronation and other details. There is much to be done, and I want to ensure that everything is in order before I... before my call to Allah."
And so, the two men talked late into the night, planning for the future of the Ottoman Empire. Mehmed's face was gaunt and his voice hoarse, but his eyes burned with determination. He knew his time was short, but he refused to go gently into the night. He would fight until his last breath, ensuring his legacy will live on.
And Bayezid, his loyal friend and vizier, would stand by his side until the end, carrying on the Sultan's wishes.
As the moon slowly rose, its silver glow filling the entire night sky, resembling a serene and mysterious painting. In this peaceful and solemn moment, the Sultan Mehmed had finally arranged with Bayezid all his affairs in order. He sat on the throne quietly, facing the end of his life.
Bayezid sat quietly besides Mehmed, gently touching his hand.
With a long sigh, Mehmed exhaled, as if carrying with it all the honors, regrets, and farewells of his lifetime. Amidst this protracted exhalation, he reviewed his brief but illustrious life, with its past glories and dreams, as well as unfinished endeavors and expectations, all dissipating into the air with this breath.
The Sultan's eyes gradually became hazy, and his body slowly lost its vitality. He lay there peacefully, as if merely falling into a deep sleep. However, his life's flame had extinguished, and his soul had left this mortal world, standing still at the age of 33.
Mehmed I with his dignitaries. Ottoman miniature painting, circa 1418.
******************************************************************
The sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, casting an orange hue across the Ottoman palace in the capital of Edirne. Despite his disease-ridden body that made even breathing an unbearable pain, Sultan Mehmed sat upon his throne, his face gaunt and his eyes hollowed by the relentless grasp of his illness. Yet he continued to show himself as the powerful Sultan, maintaining his dignity and majesty. The atmosphere in the palace was hushed, filled with a sense of stillness that muted the whispers of courtiers and servants.
Despite the toughness on his face, Mehmed's heart was heavy with the realization that his time on this earth was running short. The doctors had failed him, and each passing day, he felt his strength ebbing further. Yet, he refused to let his royal guards execute those who could not save him, as he knew it was not their fault, but his own. Instead, the doctors were put in house arrest so as to keep his real conditions in secret. His gaze wandered to the portraits of his ancestors hanging on the walls, beginning with his father, Bayezid the Thunderbolt, who struck fear into the hearts of Christians; then his grandfather Murad I who had conquered the lands of Europe and made Edirne his capital; then his great-grand father Orhan who transformed the tribe of Osman into a powerful state and built the initial powerbase in Bursa; and finally on Osman, the founder of house of Osman. And then, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.
"My reign has been cut short," he murmured, his voice gravelly. "I wished I could have accomplished more and worthy of my great ancestors, earn myself a place in the history of Great House Osman, and be revered alongside them for future generations."
As the shadows grew longer, a man entered the palace room, his steps moving quickly across the tiles. Although Mehmed’s vision has deteriorated so severely that he couldn’t see the man’s face, he instantly recalled the unique steps, and he squeezed a slim smile.
“Bayezid, my dearest friend, you have arrived.” Mehmed summoned his Vizier Bayezid and his sons, Mustafa and Murad as soon as he knew he was dying. As Bayezid resided in Bursa overseeing affairs in Anatolia, it wasn’t surprising that he arrived only days after his call.
Bayezid came to Mehmed’s side, next to the throne, a privilege only he enjoyed, showing the great trust and bond he had with the Sultan. Now Mehmed could see his friend, and he saw a face etched with concern. “Bayezid, tell the guards and servants to all leave us alone.” Mehmed was too weak make the order himself, and whispered to Bayezid.
Bayezid stood, gaze a nod to the captain of the royal guard. The captain promptly understood the intention, and guided all men and left the room.
Bayezid’s saddened greatly as he beheld his friend's waning form. The two men had shared many battles and victories together, and now they faced a new reality - the end of Mehmed's reign.
"Bayezid, my friend," Now that the room was empty, Mehmed opened his mouth, his voice trembling. "I fear my days are numbered."
Bayezid knelt before the throne, his eyes filled with tears that could barely be contained. "My Sultan, I am forever your loyal servant, and I am here at your command."
Mehmed gestured for him to rise and take a seat beside him. "Remember our battles together? When you killed that charging Timurid soldier, dragged me away from the heat of battle at Ankara, saving my life in the process? Remember our oath at the beach of Black Sea, where you swore to help me gain the throne, and I swore to you that I will be the best Sultan I could become? Remember…remember the joyful day of my coronation where you got drunk and danced in front of all men? Remember... Cough! Cough! cough!!” A violent outburst of cough interrupted Mehmed, he looked painful, red blood dripping down his beard.
“Let me call the doctors, my Sultan!”
Mehmed grabbed Bayezid’s sleeve, and gave a look of disapproval. After a while, as the cough finally went away. “Don’t bother, it will go away soon. I don’t have much time left. Do you remember our days?”
Bayezid nodded, his throat tightening. "I remember, my Sultan, how can I ever forget them? I relive the moment every day, and the vows we made still ring cling in my ears.”
Mehmed sighed, a note of despair creeping into his voice. "Yes, of course. But now, my friend, I must make provisions for the future. For the sake of all things that we held sacred, you must ensure that Murad succeed me as the new Sultan. He is young and strong, with the wisdom to lead our people. You must guide him, Bayezid, give him the same friendship and loyalty you gave me, and help him navigate the treacherous waters of politics and keep our hard-earned achievement secure."
Bayezid bowed his head, looking steady and reassuring. "I will do as you command, my Sultan, you will have nothing to worry about, Murad shall have all my loyalty and support."
Mehmed nodded, a hint of relief softening the lines of his face. "Good, and we must also make peace with our enemies. Concessions must be made to finalize a truce with the Venetians. We cannot leave unfinished business to my heir."
Bayezid agreed. "It is a wise decision, I will personally see the peace deal concluded, this will bring stability to our land."
“And the Romans, they had shown their true colors, the young and reckless Ioannes and Andronikos – unlike their father, the wise and trustworthy Manuel, they had lost the sense of awe against us. I wished I could have reminded them personally, but as things stand, it will be your and Murad’s responsibility to reforge fear into their hearts and minds. Remind them our power.”
“You have my word; I shall see to that the defiant Romans were properly punished and reminded of their place.”
“Good, and as such, you understand that our previous arrangement with Manuel, the one where I was supposed to send my two youngest sons into Constantinople as a safe haven away from infightings, is not off the table?”
“Of course, the Romans have proven untrustworthy, it would be wise to keep the young princes far away from their evil machinations.” Bayezid nodded in agreement, he was somewhat relieved that his friend, even on his deathbed, remained clear-headed.
“Alas, they already have my brother Little Mustafa and my cousin Orhan, be vigilant, they would surely play tricks upon my death.” Mehmed looked concerned yet powerless.
Bayezid placed his hand on Mehmed. “Rest assured; I will keep my eyes watchfully over the Theodosian Walls.”
“Yes, forgive my non-stop chattering, but I must give you my last instructions, so please bear with me my friend.” The voice of Mehmed grew weaker and weaker, he seemed visibly exhausted by the long conversation, yet he mustered what little strength he had to finish his last words to Bayezid: “I know my son Murad, he is much like my wrathful father, and I know the horrible tradition of fratricide in my family, I need to you find my young boys a safe place, far away from the politics of Edirne so that they may live a safe and comfortable life.”
“I had thought of that, and have found a suitable residing place deep in the Mountains of the faraway land of Persia, where the young princes will live undisturbed and safe from harm.”
Upon hearing this, Mehmed smiled with relief, his face then darkened suddenly, and he clutched his chest in pain. Speaking quickly with a note of urgency. "And one more thing, Bayezid. Hide the news of my sickness. If I die before Murad can be enthroned, you must display me as if I were still alive. Our enemies must not know our weakness."
Bayezid's heart sank, but he knew the Sultan's plan was necessary. He swept the sweat on Mehmed’s forehead with a fine silk. "I will do as you say, Sultan. But it will be a heavy burden to bear."
Mehmed reached out and grasped Bayezid's hand, his gaze filled with determination. "I know, my friend. But you are strong. You will carry on my legacy and ensure our Sultanate thrives."
Bayezid squeezed his hand, his throat tightening with emotion. "You have done more than most could ever dream of, my true friend, you have remade our shattered country, and it was my lifelong honor to have met you and served you."
Mehmed smiled, a sad, bittersweet smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thank you, my friend. But I wanted more. So much more." His voice broke, and tears welled up in his eyes. "I wanted to see my sons grow into men, to witness my country reach new heights of glory. Now, it will all be left undone."
Bayezid's heart ached for his friend. He knew Mehmed's unwillingness and regret were profound, but he also knew that now was not the time for sorrow. He needed to be strong for Mehmed, for Murad, for the Ottoman Sultanate.
"Sultan," he said, his voice firm, "your legacy will not be left undone. I will ensure that Murad carries on your vision and leads our people to even greater heights. Your name and your deeds will be remembered forever."
Mehmed nodded, his face softening with gratitude. "I know you will, Bayezid. You have always been my staunchest ally, my most trusted friend. I am grateful for all you have done for me and for our country."
The two men sat in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Then, Mehmed spoke again, his voice firmer now. "Let us discuss the details of Murad's coronation and other details. There is much to be done, and I want to ensure that everything is in order before I... before my call to Allah."
And so, the two men talked late into the night, planning for the future of the Ottoman Empire. Mehmed's face was gaunt and his voice hoarse, but his eyes burned with determination. He knew his time was short, but he refused to go gently into the night. He would fight until his last breath, ensuring his legacy will live on.
And Bayezid, his loyal friend and vizier, would stand by his side until the end, carrying on the Sultan's wishes.
As the moon slowly rose, its silver glow filling the entire night sky, resembling a serene and mysterious painting. In this peaceful and solemn moment, the Sultan Mehmed had finally arranged with Bayezid all his affairs in order. He sat on the throne quietly, facing the end of his life.
Bayezid sat quietly besides Mehmed, gently touching his hand.
With a long sigh, Mehmed exhaled, as if carrying with it all the honors, regrets, and farewells of his lifetime. Amidst this protracted exhalation, he reviewed his brief but illustrious life, with its past glories and dreams, as well as unfinished endeavors and expectations, all dissipating into the air with this breath.
The Sultan's eyes gradually became hazy, and his body slowly lost its vitality. He lay there peacefully, as if merely falling into a deep sleep. However, his life's flame had extinguished, and his soul had left this mortal world, standing still at the age of 33.
Great chapter, RIP Mehmed, I believe the Ottoman Empire will crumble despite Bayezid's attempts. Everyone will be looking to take a slice of the leaderless state. Keep up the great work
He's 15 years old, 2 years younger than when he took the throne OTL.
Consider that OTL he lived only 2 years more, the grueling military campaigns and the constant stress of having everyone either wanting to kill you or exploit you, is very detrimental to your physical and mental health.
Donald Reaver
Donor
A dangerous age to come into power, brimming with the energy to prove himself worthy of his ancestors. Resenting those who try to train him in judgement and restraint. Rashness and pride may be his true foes.
Yes, some mistakes are doomed to be repeated over and over by every generation - some lucky to learn, grow and rebound from that, other not so lucky.