Proclamation of War

January 1770,

Edirne Palace, Edirne 

Looking again at the royal decree that had just arrived from the capital, I thought to myself, "I knew it—my father was bound to declare war against the Russian Empire. However, if history had followed its original course, he would have executed the Russian envoy, which directly led to war with Russia. It seems my father is not as reckless as history remembers him to be."

"So, are we returning to Istanbul?" Cemil asked me.

"If we go by the decree, yes," I replied. "But before that, I want you to bring our rifled musket and the new bullets that Ferhat just finished crafting."

"As you command, Shehzade." Cemil immediately set off for his next task.

Then, Muhtasin Pasha arrived with his two janissaries as escorts. "My shehzade, your orders please?"

I contemplate for a while, trying to figure out the next move. Not gonna lie, with my current situation, it was a bit impossible yet too fast. Maybe we need to retreat for a while. 

I studied him carefully. He had been loyal so far, but absolute loyalty was a rare thing in the Ottoman court. The fact that I had entrusted only his forces with the new Nizam-i Cedid training made me hesitate. If my father saw this as a threat rather than an innovation, would Muhtasin protect me or betray me?

For now, I had to trust him.

"You will remain in Edirne," I finally said. "Ensure that the troops continue their training under the new methods. Let no one else outside your ranks witness it—especially not the Janissary corps in Istanbul."

Muhtasin placed a fist over his chest and bowed. "It will be as you say, Shehzade."

I nodded, but my thoughts were elsewhere. The weapons were promising, but was it worth depleting the Ottoman House's treasury further to expand production? My father was already under pressure from the Janissaries and several political power from Umara' (the pashas), Merchants and the Ulemas. Pouring more resources into advanced metallurgy might draw unwanted attention. But if we didn't push forward, our armies would fall further behind Europe's.

A decision for another day.

Before we departed, I turned to Cemil. "What news of Aydın?"

Cemil smirked. "Still causing waves, I hear. He's been patrolling the northern waters with his fleet—five ships, a small squadron, but enough to be a thorn in the Russians' side. His superiors are impressed with him."

Deep in my heart, I was impressed with Aydin's initiative. But there's a plan I already devised. 

"Send word to him," I instructed. "Tell him to remain on high alert. If Russia makes its move at sea, I want to know before my father does. Also, take this royal seal to Aydin, He'll know once he reads and remember, make no one know about it."

Cemil nodded. "Understood."

As we mounted our horses, I cast one last look at Edirne. A city on the cusp of change. If my plans succeeded, it would become the birthplace of a new Ottoman military. If they failed, I would be remembered as nothing more than another misguided prince.

With that thought, we rode for Istanbul.

~~~

As we entered Istanbul, the city was alive with tension. News of my father's declaration of war had spread like wildfire. The streets buzzed with murmurs of impending battle. Merchants gossiped in the bazaars, Janissaries sharpened their blades in the barracks, and the imperial court was a storm of divided opinions. The empire stood on the precipice of conflict, and everyone knew it.

"It seems the Ottomans and Russian are preparing for war. Again!" One of the Venetian Merchants said with his friends.

"Hah, just another conflict between these two empires, like cats and dogs" The second merchant added.

"Shush, we don't want any trouble with the janissaries, if they heard about it, we might get caught for slander."

At Topkapi Palace, the atmosphere was no different. The corridors, once filled with the relaxed hum of palace life, were now lined with hastily assembled court officials. Servants moved in hushed urgency, carrying messages between viziers and military commanders. The smell of ink, parchment, and burning incense filled the air as scribes worked tirelessly, drafting orders to the farthest provinces of the empire.

As I stepped into my chamber, a Janissary officer arrived, bowing respectfully before handing me a scroll bearing the Sultan's seal. I took it, breaking the wax seal carefully.

It was an official command from my father. I was to remain in the palace, away from military matters.

I clenched my jaw.

I knew I was only eight years old, but that did not mean I was ignorant. I had studied warfare, economics, and politics with a mind beyond my years. To be sidelined at a time like this was infuriating.

Cemil watched my reaction carefully.

"You disagree, my shehzade?" he asked.

"Of course I do," I muttered. "I may not command armies, but I can contribute in other ways."

Cemil smirked. "And what do you have in mind?"

I looked at the scroll again. If my father would not allow me on the battlefield, then I would act from within the palace. If I could not fight with a sword, I would fight with my mind.

St. Petersburg, Russia – Tsarina Catherine's Court

Far to the north, in the grand halls of the Winter Palace, whispers filled the air.

The Ottoman Empire had declared war.

The Russian court was divided. Some aristocrats sneered at the Ottoman's decision, calling it the last act of a dying empire. Others, particularly the military strategists, saw the declaration as an opportunity to seize Crimea and push Russian influence further south.

Tsarina Catherine II, draped in regal furs and adorned with the finest pearls, listened to her advisors with a measured gaze. She tapped her fingers against the gilded armrest of her throne, deep in thought.

"And so," she finally spoke, her voice smooth but firm, "the Sultan has taken the bait."

A murmur of approval rippled through the chamber.

Count Nikita Panin, her chief diplomat, stepped forward. "We let them come to us. The Ottoman army is vast, but it is outdated. We lure them into a war of attrition, force them to drain their resources, and then crush them."

Before the Tsarina could respond, General Pyotr Alexandrovich Rumyantsev stepped forward, his expression filled with ruthless determination.

"Why stop there?" he suggested. "We take Crimea. With the Khanate under our control, we gain access to ports, supply routes, and a forward base to launch coordinated offensives into the western front. The time has come to end Tatar rule and bring Crimea into the Russian fold."

A tense silence followed before one of the generals nodded in agreement. Then another. And another. The momentum was shifting.

Catherine smiled, pleased with the boldness of her commanders. "Both strategies have merit. And I like them both. Proceed immediately. Russia will not simply react to war; we will dictate its course."

The court fell into a knowing silence. Moments later, orders were dispatched. Troops mobilized. Russia had made its move.

In Edirne, Muhtasin Pasha oversaw the continued training of his regiment under the Nizam-i Cedid reforms. The Janissaries, though formidable, were reluctant to embrace these changes. Still, they drilled relentlessly, preparing for the inevitable march north.

Across the empire, the Sultan's orders echoed. The Anatolian Timariots were summoned, the Kapudan Pasha readied the navy, and fortresses in Moldavia and Wallachia were reinforced. In the heart of the capital, blacksmiths toiled day and night, forging weapons, armor, and ammunition.

Meanwhile, Ottoman scouts reported increased Russian movements near Dniester. The storm was coming.

~~~

In the cold expanse of Crimea, Russian forces assembled. General Rumyantsev's army, battle-hardened from the Polish campaigns, reinforced key fortresses. The Black Sea Fleet moved into strategic positions, ready to counter any Ottoman naval incursions.

In Kiev and St. Petersburg, messages flew between commanders, ensuring every province was prepared. The Russian war machine was awakening.

The Ottoman Empire had declared war—but it was Russia that planned to end it on its terms.