Ottoman-Russo 1770 - Taganrog Raid (I)

(This scene is the sequel from previous chapters where Aydin suddenly received the order)

As Aydın's fleet sailed through the dark waters of the Black Sea, he unfolded the sealed letter bearing the imperial tughra of Şehzade Selim. The fine parchment, heavy with the unmistakable weight of royal authority, carried precise instructions—direct, calculated, and unmistakably bold.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

To Commander Aydın Burcu,

By the order of the House of Osman and under my personal directive, you are to undertake an operation which is NAVAL RAID ON TAGANROG.

The port serves as a vital lifeline for the Russian fleet, housing their shipyards, supply depots, and defensive emplacements. Its destruction will cripple their naval operations along the Azov coastline and delay their Black Sea maneuvers. You are to employ Xebecs for this mission—swift, agile, and ideal for striking hard before withdrawing. Exploit the element of speed and surprise; do not allow the enemy time to regroup.

To ensure the success of this operation, I am providing 100 altın from my personal treasury. This sum shall cover the necessary provisions, armaments, and any discretionary expenses required for the mission. Spend it wisely.

Additionally, should the situation demand it, you are permitted to invoke my authority—but do so with discretion. My imperial emblem is enclosed within this letter. It must not be used lightly. If needed, it will serve as a mark of legitimacy among our allies and ensure cooperation from certain factions.

Bring hellfire to their shores, sever their supply lines and burn their ships. Remind them that the Ottoman seas bow to no one.

May the winds favor your sails, and may Allah guide your sword.

Şehzade Selim bin Mustafa

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Aydın exhaled sharply, folding the letter with measured hands. A prince's order was not to be taken lightly—especially one as daring as this. His fingers traced the edge of the sealed emblem, now in his possession.

"He gives me his seal… but with caution. Hah. A wise move, Shehzade."

A slow smirk formed on his lips as he turned to his officers. "Set course for the north. Ready the men, arm the cannons, and ensure every blade is sharpened."

Thanks to Selim's financial and tughra, Aydın successfully secured 10 Xebecs from nearby Ottoman coastal ports, vessels swiftly made available after urgent requests were forwarded through Selim's personal orders. With these additions, Aydın's fleet now stood at a formidable size — 5 third-rate ships of the line, several well-armed frigates, and the newly acquired squadron of 10 fast-moving Xebecs, perfectly suited for both reconnaissance and hit-and-run engagements along the Black Sea and beyond.

As the Ottoman fleet cut through the dark waters of the Black Sea, the moonlight reflected off the polished cannons and the sharpened steel of the waiting 'levends' (naval soldiers). The rhythmic creaking of the wooden hulls was accompanied by the distant sound of oars slicing through the waves.

Aydın stood at the helm, the imperial letter tucked safely within his coat. His eyes were fixed northward—toward Taganrog, the heart of the Russian naval presence in the Azov.

He turned to his second-in-command, Reşid Reis, a seasoned sailor with scars that spoke of battles past.

"Reşid," Aydın said, his voice carrying over the deck. "How long until we reach the Taganrog coastline?"

The old sailor adjusted his turban and squinted at the horizon. "With the winds at our back, two nights at most, Aydın Bey. But if the currents betray us, three."

Aydın nodded. "Good. The element of surprise is our greatest weapon. The Russians will not expect us to strike this deep into their waters. If we move swiftly, we'll burn their docks before they can react."

"A bold plan," Reşid mused. "But Taganrog is not undefended. The Tsarina's navy has stationed war galleys there, and the coastal batteries will be heavily armed. Even if we strike fast, we must expect resistance."

Aydın smirked, retrieving the sealed emblem from within his coat and flipping it between his fingers.

"That is why we won't just attack blindly." He leaned in. "We'll bait them out."

Reşid raised a brow. "How do you intend to do that?"

Aydın turned to the assembled officers on deck. "We won't approach as a full fleet. Instead, we'll send a few Xebecs ahead—sail close to their defenses, make them think they've caught a small raiding party." He gestured toward the map laid out on the wooden table. "Once their garrison mobilizes and their ships leave port to intercept, our main force will emerge from the fog and strike the harbor directly."

Murmurs spread among the gathered reisler (naval captains). The plan was audacious, but it carried merit.

"Force them to commit their fleet first," Reşid said, stroking his beard, "Then crush them before they can return."

Aydın's gaze darkened. "Exactly. If we do this right, we won't just damage Taganrog—we will shatter their ability to challenge us in the Azov."

Reşid chuckled. "You fight like a wolf, Aydın Bey. Shehzade indeed chose his man well."

Aydın smirked. "Then let's not keep him waiting. Ready the men. By dawn, we move."

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and fire. The Ottoman fleet pressed forward under the cover of darkness, their Xebecs slicing through the gentle waves with near silence. The plan was set, and now, all that remained was execution.

Aydın Burcu stood at the bow of his flagship, his hand resting on the hilt of his yataghan, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Somewhere beyond that expanse of water lay Taganrog, the Tsarina's prized naval outpost in the Azov—an iron-clad fist that needed to be shattered.

As the coastline drew near, Reşid Reis stepped beside him.

"Aydın Bey, we're closing in," he murmured. "Our scouts report that the Russian patrols are light. They don't expect an attack this deep into their waters."

Aydın's lips curled into a sharp grin. "Good. That means they won't see the storm before it hits them."

He turned to the assembled reisler, the captains of the smaller squadrons under his command. "It's time. Send out the first wave."

The signal was given, and three Xebecs—light, fast Ottoman warships designed for swift maneuvers—broke away from the main fleet, heading toward the coastal defenses of Taganrog. Their sails billowed in the night breeze as they made a deliberate approach, ensuring they were just visible enough to draw attention.

It did not take long.

A watchtower on the Russian coastline lit up with warning torches, and within moments, the echoes of alarm bells carried across the water. Aydın watched as the Russian coastal garrison scrambled to react, signaling their war galleys to set sail.

"They took the bait," Reşid whispered, his excitement barely contained.

Aydın nodded. "Now, we wait for them to overcommit."

~~

Within minutes, the Russian war galleys—heavily armed, but slower than the Ottoman Xebecs—began to give chase. The Ottoman raiding ships feigned a retreat, moving away from the port while maintaining just enough distance to keep the Russians on their trail.

From the shadows of the sea fog, Aydın's main fleet remained hidden, positioned just beyond sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As the Russian galleys moved farther from the harbor, Aydın raised his arm, signaling his men.

"Now."

Like a wolfpack emerging from the mist, the Ottoman fleet surged forward.

With the wind at their backs and the Russian defenses stretched thin, the main force of Xebecs and fire ships descended upon Taganrog harbor, moving with deadly precision.

The Russians, realizing their mistake too late, scrambled to return to defend the docks—but the damage had already begun.

"FIRE!!!!"

THOMB!!! THOMB!!!!! THOMB!!!! THOMB!!!! THOMB!!!! THOMB!!! (Intensifies)

~~

With a thunderous roar of cannons, the first Ottoman volleys ripped through the wooden piers, sending splinters and flames skyward. Russian supply ships, still docked, erupted into flames as Ottoman fire ships crashed into them, igniting their gunpowder reserves in deafening explosions.

Aydın stood at the helm, his expression fierce.

"No mercy. Burn everything. Make sure they do not recover from this."

~~

The Russians, caught completely off guard, scrambled in chaos. Shouts of officers clashing with the screams of burning men, the sound of splintering wood, and the relentless barrage of Ottoman cannons filled the air.

Aydın Burcu, standing firm on the deck of his Xebec, watched the destruction unfold. His strategy had worked—the Russian fleet had overcommitted to chasing the decoy ships, leaving their naval base poorly defended.

"Reşid! Push forward! Give them no time to recover!" Aydın ordered, drawing his kilij as his men roared in response.

The Ottoman fleet advanced swiftly, using their superior maneuverability to dodge Russian counterfire. Xebecs darted between the larger, slower Russian galleys, unleashing precise volleys of cannon fire into the docks and coastal defenses.

The Russian admiral, realizing his mistake too late, desperately signaled for the retreating galleys to return. But they were too far, their heavy hulls unable to match the speed of the Ottoman raiders.

Aydın smirked. "They can run all they want, but their home is already ash."

A massive explosion rocked the port as the Ottoman raiders targeted the Russian powder magazines. The blast sent debris raining down over the city, the force knocking men off their feet. Even from his ship, Aydın felt the heat of the firestorm washing over him.

One of his officers, Mehmet Reis, approached. "Beyim, we've destroyed half their fleet in port! The shipyards are in flames, and their warehouses are lost!"

Aydın's eyes gleamed with victory. "Then it is time to leave before their reinforcements arrive."

The raiders had done their job—Taganrog was crippled, its docks ablaze, its supply lines severed. Without this key naval outpost, the Russian fleet's ability to challenge Ottoman control of the Black Sea would be severely weakened.

"Sound the withdrawal!" Aydın ordered.

Ottoman war drums echoed across the water as the fleet began their strategic retreat, disappearing into the night just as quickly as they had arrived.