Proposal to Father

As we arrived at Topkapi Palace, it was full of courtiers and advisor rushing around, performing their duties during the war.

I stepped inside, my hands clasped behind my back, flanked by Cemil. In my arms, wrapped in fine cloth, was the prototype of my latest creation—a weapon unlike anything the empire had seen.

My father, Sultan Mustafa III, sat behind a mahogany desk, his sharp eyes scanning over diplomatic papers. He exuded authority, yet there was an exhaustion in the way he rubbed his temple. The war had already begun to weigh on him.

The Grand Vizier, Moldovancı Ali Pasha, stood nearby, discussing a matter quietly with another minister. The Sultan, sensing our presence, looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Ah… Selim." His voice was firm, yet not unkind. "I was wondering when you would come. I assume this is about your recent—activities?"

I took a step forward, offering a respectful bow. "Hünkârım, I wished to present something that could change the course of our war efforts."

The Sultan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what could my eight-year-old son possibly bring to the table that my generals have not already considered?"

I motioned for Cemil, who carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing the rifled musket prototype. The polished steel barrel gleamed under the flickering candlelight. Unlike our current matchlock muskets, this one bore a more refined design, featuring rifling inside the barrel.

"This, Father, is a new model of musket. Unlike our current firearms, this one has grooves carved inside the barrel. These grooves make the bullet spin, increasing its range and accuracy significantly."

The Sultan leaned forward slightly, his gaze narrowing.

Moldovancı Ali Pasha gave a skeptical chuckle. "Shehzade, our Janissaries already wield the best muskets in the empire. What need do we have for a different design?"

I expected this.

"With all due respect, Grand Vizier, our current muskets are smoothbore. They lack precision beyond a certain distance, making them ineffective in longer skirmishes. The Russians, as you know, already including the disciplined in-line formations firing. If we do not adapt, we will suffer greater losses."

The Sultan exhaled, tapping his fingers on the desk. "And what proof do you have that this… rifling is more effective?"

I gestured to Cemil, who retrieved a sheet of parchment containing my calculations and tests. "I conducted preliminary trials, Hünkârım. The results show a significant increase in effective range and accuracy—nearly twice that of our standard muskets."

The Sultan studied the parchment but said nothing.

Ali Pasha crossed his arms. "Even if this is true, Shehzade, you fail to address the larger problem—production. Our foundries are already working tirelessly for war supplies. To replace all Janissary muskets with this new model would take years."

Cemil cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Shehzade Selim does not suggest a full replacement, Pasha. Instead, we propose that specialized units be equipped with them first—perhaps the 40th Orta Regiment in Edirne, as a trial force."

I nodded. "A smaller-scale integration, Father. If successful, we can expand production."

The Sultan leaned back, rubbing his chin. His eyes studied me—not with dismissal, but calculation.

"Tell me, Selim. Why are you so certain this will work?"

I met his gaze without hesitation. "Because our enemies have already begun to evolve. The British and Austrians are experimenting with rifling. If we do not take the first step, we will fall behind. We have already lost too much ground to the West, Father. If we do nothing, we will only continue to lose."

Silence filled the chamber. Moldovancı Ali Pasha looked to the Sultan, waiting for his judgment.

Finally, Mustafa III exhaled. "You speak of great change, Selim. Change that does not happen overnight."I pressed forward. "No, Hünkârım, it does not. But all great change begins with a single step."

A pause. Then—a small smirk tugged at the corner of my father's lips. "You truly are my son," he muttered, shaking his head.

He glanced at Ali Pasha. "Draft an order. The 40th Orta Regiment will be given the first batch of these muskets. If their performance proves superior, we will discuss further production."

Moldovancı Ali Pasha hesitated but ultimately nodded. "As you command, Hünkârım."

Taking a careful breath, I stepped forward once more. "Hünkârım, there is one more thing."

My father raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. "You like making bold requests, do you, Selim?"

A faint smirk tugged at my lips, but I quickly composed myself. "This is related to the muskets, Father. Instead of interfering with our current weapons production, I propose that we entrust this new project to my team in Edirne—where I have already begun developing a blast furnace for advanced metallurgy."

Moldovancı Ali Pasha, who had been listening intently, now narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. "A blast furnace? And where, might I ask, did you get such an idea, Shehzade?"

I expected resistance. I had, after all, made rather unorthodox moves for an eight-year-old prince.

"From the reports of European developments, Pasha," I answered smoothly. "The British and the Austrians have been advancing their steel production. Our foundries are still using traditional iron forging, but with a blast furnace, we can produce higher-quality metal at a greater scale—not just for muskets, but for artillery, shipbuilding, and infrastructure."

Ali Pasha gave a skeptical chuckle, shaking his head. "And tell me, Shehzade, where exactly did you acquire the knowledge to build such a thing? Surely not from our tutors, as none of them have ever mentioned such a device."

I felt Cemil shift slightly beside me, anticipating my response.

I met the Grand Vizier's gaze evenly. "The world is changing, Pasha. The knowledge exists—it is simply not yet widespread. If we fail to embrace innovation, we will be crushed under the weight of those who do."

Mustafa III exhaled, rubbing his temple. He had heard such arguments before, especially when dealing with the resistance of the Janissaries and the old guard of the empire.

Ali Pasha, however, was not finished. "Even if such a thing could be built," he said, leaning forward, "who is paying for it? Our treasury is already stretched thin from mobilizing the army, reinforcing fortresses, and financing this war. The Sultan has no excess to waste on the private ventures of a prince."

I remained composed. "I am not using the imperial treasury, Pasha. I have financed this from my own personal funds—the allowances granted to me as Shehzade."

The room fell silent. Ali Pasha's expression darkened. "Your… personal funds?"

My father now looked at me more closely. "Selim… how much have you spent?"

"Enough," I admitted. "Enough to construct the first prototype and begin testing. But to continue, I need oversight. I need someone I trust to ensure that the project is managed properly. That is why I propose entrusting it to my team in Edirne—under Muhtasin Pasha's supervision."

The Sultan leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in thought. "You have taken quite a risk, Selim."

Ali Pasha shook his head, his frustration barely concealed. "A risk indeed, Hünkârım! A prince funneling his funds into an experimental project without official approval—this is not something that should be taken lightly!" 

I stood my ground. "And yet, if successful, this project will reduce our dependence on foreign iron and weapons imports, improve domestic production, and prepare our military for a new age of warfare. You see it as a gamble, Pasha—I see it as an investment in the empire's future."

Mustafa III sighed deeply, weighing the words between me and his Grand Vizier. Finally, he spoke.

"Selim, I do not doubt your intelligence, nor your ambition. But ambition without caution is dangerous. You do not yet understand the weight of failure at this level." I nodded. "Then guide me, Hünkârım. Teach me."

A flicker of something unreadable passed across my father's face—pride, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity. He looked at Ali Pasha. "For now, we will allow this project to continue under supervision. Issue a decree—Selim's foundry in Edirne is to be formally inspected by my officials. If the furnace proves useful, we will discuss expansion."

Ali Pasha clearly disagreed, but he could not defy the Sultan's word. "As you command, Hünkârım," he said reluctantly. My father turned back to me. "Do not make me regret this, Selim."

I bowed deeply. "I will not, Hünkârım."

As I left the chamber, Cemil whispered beside me. "You always have a plan, don't you?"

I smirked. "Of course. And now, I have permission to make it a reality."

"Still, an 8 year old, successfully, created a new improvement on musket, having a private army of its own, and a furnace that can produce a greater iron than iron itself. You have to prepare for it, my shehzade? I'm afraid there will be more people who might be targeting you."

Hmm, indeed what Cemil said, indeed has its point. But well, its a small price to pay.