Steel and Guns

Cemil's eyes widened as he processed the information. "Steel technology? Is that another new mineral you've discovered?"

"Not quite," I replied, shaking my head. "It's still iron, but refined differently—burned at much higher temperatures to transform it into steel. This process gives it unmatched strength and versatility. With steel, we can revolutionize weaponry, construct fortresses that defy time, and build ships that dominate the seas. It's a foundation for progress you can scarcely imagine."

Cemil rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his calloused fingers brushing against the stubble of his beard. "How high are we talking? Surely this isn't the work of an ordinary forge."

"Precisely," I said, nodding. "We would need advanced bellows or even a blast furnace to reach the required temperatures—over 1,500 degrees celsius. But with the right tools and knowledge, it's achievable. And once we master it, the possibilities are endless."

Cemil's brow furrowed. "1,500 degrees celsius? What's degrees celsius?"

I paused, realizing my mistake. The metric system wouldn't exist for centuries. "Ah, forgive me. What I mean is, to make this steel, we need to burn iron at a heat far greater than what blacksmiths use in their forges. Think of the hottest fire you've ever seen—then imagine something twice as hot."

Cemil's eyes widened again, this time with a mix of awe and skepticism. "Twice as hot? That sounds… dangerous. But if it's possible, how would you proceed?"

"We'll build a new kind of furnace," I said, gesturing to the workshop around us. "One capable of reaching those temperatures. Gather the workers—we'll need their strength and skill to bring this vision to life."

Cemil nodded, his expression shifting from doubt to determination. "Understood, my shehzade." He turned and left to summon the workers, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor.

At a Shadowed Building on the Outskirts of Edirne

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of smoke and secrecy. Three men huddled around a rough wooden table, their voices low and urgent.

"The crown prince is here in Edirne," whispered the first man, his tone cautious. "His presence complicates our plans."

The second man, a burly figure with a scar running down his cheek, frowned deeply. "With the Janissaries stationed here, our chances diminish. We can't afford interference."

The third man, lean and sharp-eyed, leaned forward with a sly grin. "According to our sources, they didn't bring the elite guard. It's just the 40th Orta Janissaries—the Edirne garrison."

The second man barked a laugh, his voice dripping with mockery. "Ha! Just them? This will be child's play."

The first man's voice grew grave, his eyes narrowing. "Do not underestimate him. The prince is said to possess wit and intelligence beyond his years. He is no ordinary child."

"Bah!" The second man waved a dismissive hand. "A child is a child, no matter how clever. What disruption could he possibly cause us?"

As the shadows deepened, their voices faded into the night, leaving their schemes shrouded in secrecy.

~~~

Cemil wiped his brow with a cloth, his face streaked with soot and sweat. He gestured toward the towering structure that now loomed over the workshop. "My shehzade, as per your orders, we've completed the construction. But I must ask—why such grand proportions? It's unlike anything we've ever built."

I stepped forward, the glow of the furnace casting flickering shadows across the workers' faces. The air was thick with the scent of charcoal and molten metal, and the heat pressed against my skin like a living thing. "Because this is no ordinary forge," I said, my voice steady. "It is a blast furnace, designed to reach temperatures so high that iron will transform into steel—stronger, more flexible, and capable of reshaping the destiny of our empire. This is the key to progress."

The workers exchanged uncertain glances, their hands gripping their tools tightly. Whispers rippled through the group until one man, his face weathered by years of labor, stepped forward. "But my shehzade, no one has attempted such a thing before. How can we be sure it will work?"

I met his gaze, my voice filled with conviction. "True. No one has tried it. But history does not favor the timid. We will be the first, and our success will echo for generations."

Encouraged, the workers nodded, some with newfound determination. The massive furnace stood ready, its iron frame gleaming in the firelight.

~~~

The moment had arrived. The heat radiating from the blast furnace was unlike anything I had ever felt—sharp, oppressive, alive. It seared the air, turning the workshop into a sweltering crucible. I stood back as the workers, clad in protective gear I had ordered crafted, began the process.

"Add the coke and limestone," I instructed, watching as the raw materials were fed into the roaring inferno. "This recipe will intensify the heat and refine the iron."

The sound was deafening—a symphony of crackling flames and the rhythmic roar of the bellows. Sparks flew like miniature comets, illuminating the faces of the workers as they toiled. The molten metal began to flow, glowing with an almost divine brilliance, and the workers guided it into molds with practiced precision.

"We'll craft a kilij as our first test," I announced. "A weapon worthy of the Ottoman Empire."

As the steel cooled and the sword took shape, the air was thick with anticipation. When the kilij was finally drawn from its mold, its blade shimmered in the light—sleek, sharp, and unmistakably strong.

The workers erupted into cheers, their earlier doubts replaced by pride. I held the weapon aloft, its weight perfectly balanced in my hand. This was more than a sword; it was a testament to what we could achieve.

"Mark this day," I said, my voice ringing out above the clamor. "Today, we take the first step toward a new era."

"Long Live the Empire!" they shouted, their voices echoing through the workshop.

"Long Live Shehzade Selim!"

~~~

Later, as the workshop quieted and the furnace's heat waned, an odalık approached, her steps light but deliberate.

"My şehzade, a guest requests an audience with you."

"Send him in," I said, straightening slightly.

The man who entered was one of the key workers involved in the blast furnace project. He bowed respectfully before speaking.

"My şehzade, I must say I am deeply impressed with what we have accomplished. If I may, I humbly request that you entrust this endeavor to us. With skilled hands and proper oversight, we could expand production and bring this technology to every corner of the empire."

I studied him for a moment. His confidence was not arrogance, but conviction—an understanding of the potential before us. With capable men like him overseeing the initiative, we could gather more workers, accelerate production, and stimulate the economy to heights never seen before. But such an undertaking would require careful planning, clear directives, and unwavering discipline.

"Your dedication is commendable," I finally said. "This project is indeed a monumental step forward. However, expansion must be handled with caution. Steel alone does not win wars—discipline, strategy, and unity do."

The man nodded, showing no disappointment—only determination.

Then, an idea sparked to me. "Actually, there's something I want you to come up with. I have the draft here for a musket rifle and its bullets. So if you can produce it, then I can entrust the blast furnace project to you."

As the man nodded, suddenly he stunted. "Wait, rifle musket? What's that?" I quickly gave the draft of the musket rifle and its bullets. Luckily we didn't have to create its propellant. The man look the draft of the musket rifle and its bullets. Actually, it's just the same, but only the barrel is different.

"If this adjustment is the only thing, well including the bullets. I think we can start the production."

"Good, then I shall entrust you with the blast furnace project. Also I allow you to build several at the royal property."

"Thank you, my şehzade. I shall not let you down." He bowed deeply before taking his leave.

As the door closed behind him, I turned to Cemil. At the same time, an order of royal seal from Istanbul arrived, as one of the Janissaries rushed to me and gave it.

"Summon Muhtasin Pasha," I instructed. "It seems we have received news from Istanbul. Also, you still have nitrocellulose?"

"Yes, luckily our team in Istanbul managed to figure out how to produce more." Cemil stated.

"Excellent, once at Istanbul, I'll suggest to my father to construct a munitions plant for you."