Chapter 64:The Puppeteer in the Shadows

Dear Oxzinax, Oxsinus, Mustifa_89, no_one_4250, Falken19, 00Zero, Daoist8ZKfWR, Nirvana_homeless, Ridwan_Nugroho_0749, and Muhammad_Al_Aizat,

I am incredibly grateful for your support and generosity in sending Power Stones to my book Osman II: Rebirth of a Dynasty. Your encouragement motivates me to keep writing and sharing this story with you all. Thank you for being part of this journey—it truly means a lot to me!

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The pale light of the moon hung over the Turkmen encampment. Not a single star could be seen in the sky, as if the ominous harbingers of fate were hidden within the darkness. In one of the most esteemed tents of the encampment, Aslan Bey, the leader of the Turkmen, was engrossed in a deep conversation with two important guests. For the Turkmen, freedom was as sacred as gold and the sword, and Aslan Bey was a leader who upheld these values. But tonight, nothing would be an ordinary night.

Inside the tent, a weak candlelight flickered, while the guards outside vigilantly watched their surroundings. Yet, the danger would come from within. A short while later, the tent door suddenly opened, and a servant entered, carrying a bowl of water that the bey had requested earlier. Aslan Bey turned to his guests, interrupting his conversation to nod in satisfaction at the servant's arrival. However, something felt off. The man's face seemed swallowed by shadows, and his voice trembled slightly as he offered his greeting.

As he extended the bowl of water, Aslan Bey suddenly clutched his throat in agony. His guests leapt to their feet in shock. In the midst of the chaos, the assassin drew a dagger, aiming it at the bey's neck, but one of the guests reacted swiftly, intercepting the blade just in time. The guards outside, alerted by the commotion, rushed into the tent. A brief struggle ensued. The assassin thrashed, attempting to free himself from the grasp of the men who had seized him. But the crowd inside the tent overpowered him. A rope was quickly found, and the man's hands were tightly bound.

Aslan Bey lay motionless on the ground. A thin wound marked his neck, and a slow trickle of blood dripped from his throat. One of the guests knelt beside him, checking his pulse. With sorrowful eyes, he slowly shook his head and said, "Aslan Bey has fallen as a martyr." A heavy silence filled the tent. From that moment, the Turkmen encampment was without a leader.

As the assassin was dragged outside, he passed through the shocked and furious gazes of the crowd. His peculiar demeanor suggested a sense of duty rather than anger. He muttered a few words in an unfamiliar language and lifted his head toward the dark sky. One of the elders of the encampment remarked, "This traitor has much to say. There's clearly something we must learn from him."

This event left the Turkmen encampment shrouded in deep mourning and growing suspicion. Who was this man who had killed their leader? Who had sent him? No one could have foreseen that this bloody assassination was merely the first step in a greater scheme that would soon engulf the Turkmen lands in flames.

The air of mourning that had gripped the Turkmen encampment after the death of Aslan Bey quickly turned to anger. The assassin, hands bound, knelt in the center of the camp, surrounded by the furious gazes of the crowd. His face appeared pale under the light, yet his eyes held a cold determination, as though he was beyond everything happening around him. A group of elders from the camp was gathered in a tent, preparing to interrogate the culprit.

Aslan Bey's blood could not go unavenged. Turkmen traditions regarded responding to such a treacherous attack as a sacred duty. Yet the origins of the assassin and the powers behind this heinous act remained a mystery. A search of the assassin's belongings might provide a glimmer of light in the darkness.

Hızır Ağa, one of the prominent leaders of the camp, cast a stern look at the crowd and spoke:

"It is our duty to uncover who this man is and why he came here. Everyone, calm yourselves!"

The murmuring crowd reluctantly stepped back. Meanwhile, the assassin, flanked by two guards, was led into Hızır Ağa's tent. Inside, before the questioning began, the man's belongings were carefully searched.

The first item uncovered was a small dagger from his belt. The craftsmanship was fine, unlike a typical Turkmen blade. Strange shapes and symbols were etched into the hilt. Hızır Ağa examined it closely and whispered:

"These designs are familiar... They resemble the daggers used by Shah Abbas's men."

As the search continued, a small seal was discovered in the assassin's inner pocket. The motif on the seal left the interrogators in stunned silence. This golden seal clearly bore the insignia of the Safavid court. The atmosphere in the tent grew tense in an instant. The memory of past conflicts with the Safavids was still fresh among the Turkmen. This seal was undeniable evidence of Shah Abbas's involvement in the assassination.

Clutching the seal tightly, Hızır Ağa stormed toward the assassin and shouted angrily, "You will speak!" But the man remained silent, his gaze defiantly challenging Hızır Ağa. Another leader, Musa Bey, stepped forward and spoke in a calm tone:

"He may not speak, but his belongings tell us plenty. Shah Abbas's hand has reached even these lands."

Outside, the people of the encampment were unaware of these revelations, but the tense expressions of the elders exiting the tent betrayed the gravity of the situation. The murmurs among the crowd grew louder. It was clear something significant was unfolding.

Hızır Ağa gathered the other leaders and, with a grave expression, began to speak:

"This cannot be a coincidence. Shah Abbas is openly challenging us. This is a declaration of war against the Turkmen tribes!"

That night, while the fires in the Turkmen encampment were extinguished, the flames of anger and vengeance continued to grow, fueled by mounting evidence and a call for courage. Shah Abbas's mark had lit the spark that would bring the Turkmen leaders together.

The death of Aslan Bey and the seal found on the assassin marked the beginning of days filled with anger and uncertainty for the Turkmen. Hızır Ağa, Musa Bey, and the other leaders convened in the largest tent to discuss their next move. The evidence pointed directly to the Safavids, but making such an accusation carried great risk. Such a claim could ignite the flames of rebellion.

Standing at the center of the tent, Hızır Ağa spoke firmly:

"Leaders, now is not the time for silence. Shah Abbas has attacked the honor of the Turkmen with this treacherous plan. If we fail to unite, he will destroy our tribes one by one!"

An elder among the group, a senior Turkmen leader, objected:

"It's easy to accuse Shah, but do we have enough evidence? This seal could be a trap. Starting a rebellion could consume us all!"

Musa Bey responded sharply to the elder:

"This seal is no coincidence. Shah Abbas's men have been roaming near our borders, coveting our trade routes. How much longer will we wait? Should we leave Aslan Bey's blood unavenged?"

The argument inside the tent intensified. Some leaders advocated caution, while others pushed for immediate action. Amid the debate, a young Turkmen leader named Davut Bey, who had been quietly listening, rose to his feet. His eyes shone like sparks within the tent.

"You are all correct," he said, "but the time for action has come. Shah Abbas sent this seal with a clear message: he believes we will cower in fear. We must show him we are not afraid. Let every tribe gather its strongest men and bring them here. If this is to be a war, we will fight together!"

These words calmed the tension in the tent. The leaders looked at one another and began nodding in agreement. Hızır Ağa approached Davut Bey and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You are young but brave, Davut. As you said, only unity can save us. Let everyone gather their soldiers and weapons. We will meet here in two days."

As the meeting ended, the leaders exited the tent with determined expressions. Each returned to their tribes, taking their most trusted men with them. In the dark of night, the sound of horses neighing and the gathering of supplies echoed across the silent lands of the Turkmen encampment.

The Turkmen people understood that this was no ordinary gathering. Men, women, and children turned their eyes toward the great tent where the leaders had assembled. The tension from the assassination was now transforming into tangible preparations for action.

Within two days, leaders and their men arrived from every corner of the Turkmen lands, carrying their swords and riding their horses. They gathered in the central square of the camp, their faces reflecting the same expression—an unwavering thirst for vengeance and freedom.

Under the leadership of Musa Bey, the assembled leaders reconvened. Pointing to the map laid out in the center of the tent, Musa Bey spoke:

"There is no turning back now. We will show Shah Abbas that these lands are not unclaimed. We will not just fight; we will dismantle his plans from the start. When we Turkmen unite, we become a storm!"

The gathering of leaders and warriors marked the first step toward rebellion. The Safavid hand that had reached into Turkmen lands would be severed by the unity and determination of its people. But this path would be bloody, and every leader knew it.

While the Turkmen beys prepared for rebellion, far from the oba, in a small town bordering Safavid territory, a man sat quietly in an inn, sipping wine. His face, with its sharp features, resembled that of a Western merchant; his light brown hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him the appearance of an ordinary Englishman. But this man, known as William the Ottoman Merchant, was not truly English. His real name was Ali, and his invisible hand had played a role in every chaotic event unfolding in the Turkmen oba.

As he sat at his table in the inn, he carefully folded a letter in his hand and handed it to his loyal servant standing nearby. "Deliver this letter immediately. Everyone will take their place. The plan is unfolding exactly as I envisioned," he said. The servant bowed slightly and exited the inn with quick steps. William leaned back in his chair, taking a small sip from his wine cup. His eyes glimmered with a sly smile.

"The Turkmen beys reacted just as I expected," he murmured. A man sitting beside him nodded in agreement.

"Yes, the beys' anger has boiled over. They'll blame Shah Abbas, and this will bind them even closer together. It seems the Ottomans will only grow stronger with this rebellion. But ultimately, the real winner is you, sir."

William ran his finger over the map spread out on the table, tracing the Turkmen territories as if marking them. "This is a game, my friend. The Turkmen will clash with the Safavids here. Meanwhile, the Ottomans will stand by, watching the conflict from the border, stepping in only when the time is right. But the most crucial point is this: who lit the fuse of this rebellion? A man known as an English merchant, tied to no nation, loyal only to gold... Me."

His grin deepened. The flawless execution of his plans filled him with satisfaction. The Turkmen beys, convinced that Shah Abbas had orchestrated the assassination, were unaware that the plot had been devised by William's men. The Safavid seal found on the assassin was another detail meticulously arranged by William.

William picked up a blank parchment from his desk and began drafting a letter. Dipping the pen into ink with care, he chose each word with precision:

**"To the Sultan Osman,

Everything in the Turkmen lands is proceeding as planned. The death of Aslan Bey and the evidence planted on the assassin have stirred the Turkmen into action. Now, a rebellion is imminent. This uprising will weaken the Safavids' power along the border and divert their attention. Meanwhile, we will emerge as the greatest beneficiaries of this chaos. Our arms trade will flourish, and the Turkmen beys will grow increasingly dependent on us.

However, this situation will not only empower the Turkmen but also the Ottomans. With your wisdom and strength, this chaos will turn to the Ottomans' advantage. Soon, the Safavids will no longer pose a threat—not just to the Turkmen but to you as well.

Your loyal servant,

William"**

When he finished writing, he gazed at his handwriting for a moment. For William, this was more than just a game of profit; it was a grand chessboard where he tested his intellect. He carefully folded the letter and sealed it with a stamp bearing the mark of the Ottoman court, summoning a courier to deliver it.

"This letter must reach Osman as quickly as possible," he ordered, and the courier set off immediately. William leaned back, savoring the satisfaction of his accomplishments. As the fires of rebellion burned in the Turkmen obas, he wondered how this letter would influence the plans unfolding in the Ottoman palace.

But there was one thing William knew for certain: no matter what happened, the true victor in this game would always be him.