The words struck the Sultan like a whip.
His mind reeled with confusion. How could this be? He had never been taught the true burdens of ruling—not by his father, nor by any of the elder viziers. Governance had never been his calling. That duty had always been reserved for his younger brother, Ali Çelebi, the co-ruler with actual administrative experience.
To Sultan Mehmed, rule had always been simple. The coffers kept filling. The armies kept growing. The people praised him—calling him wise, noble, unmatched. He basked in it. Deep down, he knew he had done little to deserve the acclaim, but he believed it nonetheless.
He would tell his court with a proud laugh, "Had I lived a hundred years ago, Constantinople would already be mine!"
The court smiled, but never believed him. That didn't stop him from believing it himself.
Until now.
Until reality struck like thunder.
