Diplomatic Declaration

January 1770, Topkapı Palace, Istanbul

The imperial council chamber buzzed with quiet murmurs as Sultan Mustafa III sat upon his throne, his brows furrowed in deep frustration. Around him, his pashas and advisors debated in vain, their words offering no clear resolution.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "This is getting us nowhere! While we sit here, those damned Russians continue their provocations. Arghh!" His fist struck the armrest of his throne, the sound echoing through the chamber.

Zeid Pasha, a trusted advisor, cleared his throat. "Regarding the Tayib Pasha incident, we have gathered intelligence from the remains of the enemy following the battle. Based on our findings, the forces assisting the Russians were none other than the Zaporozhian Cossacks."

The Sultan's eyes narrowed. "The Zaporozhians… Yes, I am well aware of them. Mercenaries, if I recall correctly."

"Indeed, Hünkârım," Zeid Pasha affirmed. "Now that we have solid proof of their involvement, we should summon the Russian envoys."

Mustafa III let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable. "Very well. Send for them at once."

The pashas bowed in acknowledgment.

~~~

As the discussion continued, a Janissary officer stepped forward, bowing deeply.

"Hünkârım, the diplomats from Kiev have arrived."

The room fell into a heavy silence. The gathered officials exchanged cautious glances before turning their attention back to the Sultan.

Mustafa III straightened his posture, adjusting his robes. His voice was steady but firm. "Let them enter."

~~~

The grand doors swung open as the Janissary herald announced in a commanding tone:

"Hünkârım, presenting Aleksei Mikhailovich Obreskov, ambassador of the Russian Empire."

The doors parted, and Aleksei Mikhailovich Obreskov strode into the chamber, his aristocratic features betraying neither arrogance nor submission. He wore a royal blue coat adorned with the emblem of the Russian Empire, the Medal of Saint Andrew gleaming at his chest.

He bowed slightly. "My Sultan, I, Aleksei Mikhailovich Obreskov, am at your service."

Mustafa III regarded him coolly. "Greetings, Aleksei-effendi. Have a seat."

As Obreskov moved to sit, a guard suddenly seized his arm.

"You may only sit when the Sultan commands it twice."**

Obreskov hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he quickly composed himself, remaining where he stood.

Mustafa III let the moment stretch, then finally said again, "Now, be seated."

Obreskov nodded curtly and took his place across from the Sultan.

The Ottoman ruler leaned slightly forward, his piercing gaze locked onto the ambassador. "Tell me, Obreskov—do you know why you have been summoned?"

The Russian adjusted his sleeves and offered a careful smile.

Obreskov sat carefully, folding his hands. "I assume I have been summoned regarding the border engagements near Crimea?"

Mustafa III leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his throne. "Engagements?" His tone was deceptively mild. "Tell me, Obreskov, when does an 'engagement' become a massacre?"

The Russian diplomat's expression remained neutral. "Your forces were unfortunate to meet resistance."

Zeid Pasha, standing beside the Sultan, scoffed. "Unfortunate?" He unrolled a parchment, displaying a map marked with battle sites. "Tayyib Pasha and his men were ambushed. Cut down not only by Russian muskets but by your Cossack dogs."

Obreskov exhaled, shaking his head. "The Zaporozhian Cossacks are not under direct Russian command. They act on their own accord."

Mustafa III's expression darkened. "And yet, they ride under Russian banners, use Russian weapons, and fight alongside your troops. If they act on their own, why do they always act in your favor?"

Obreskov hesitated, then gave a diplomatic smile. "Hünkârım, Russia does not seek conflict. We are simply maintaining stability in the region. Surely, you understand the need for order."

The Sultan's fingers tightened against the armrest.

"Order? Is that what you call your fortresses in Moldavia and Wallachia? Is that what you call your 'protection' of my Orthodox subjects? You violate treaties, encroach on our lands, and now, you expect me to believe this slaughter was 'unfortunate'?"

A sharp silence filled the room.

Obreskov finally spoke, his tone measured. "Hünkârım, if war is what you seek, know that Russia does not fear it."

Mustafa III rose to his feet. "War? You believe I summon you to declare war?" His voice grew heavier, his presence towering. "No, Obreskov-effendi. War has already been declared—by your muskets, by your Cossacks, by the blood of my men spilled on my soil."

Obreskov's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

He looked back at Obreskov, his eyes cold with finality.

"Tell your Empress: the Crescent does not bow to the North."

The Russian ambassador stood, giving one last bow before turning on his heel. The doors slammed shut behind him.

The Russo-Turkish War of 1768–1774 had begun.

~~~

Moments later,

"Grand Vizier, send word to my son Selim, he will be summoned back to Istanbul. Also send words to beylerbeyi and sanjakbeys, focusing on balkan province to be at ready for mobilizing." 

"Understood, hunkarim" He bowed.

"Mehmed Pasha, send the order to the Janissaries, to be at standby." 

"It shall be done, hunkarim" Kalafat Mehmed Pasha bowed.