The Payitaht
The afternoon sun filtered through the lattice windows of the Hünkar Sofası, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floor. Sultan Mustafa III sat quietly on the elevated throne, his fingers idly tracing the edge of the sealed parchment before him. The scent of rosewater lingered faintly in the air.
The letter bore Selim's seal.
He broke it open and began to read—eyes narrowing as the contents unfurled.
Details of the recapture of Athens, not by cannon or carnage, but by coordination, negotiation, and public trust. Not a single gate shattered. No mosque desecrated; no church scorched. A city reclaimed with wisdom rather than war.
Mustafa exhaled through his nose, quietly impressed.
"Hmph. The boy took Athens... without bloodshed." He rubbed his beard. "Even I wouldn't have wagered that path. And yet... he walks it boldly."
He glanced toward the window, voice half-amused, half-musing.
"Oh Selim… You never cease to astonish me. Sometimes I wonder if you are truly of my blood, or if some forgotten saint breathed into your cradle." He paused, scoffing at himself. "No point in pondering milk long spilled. Victory is victory."
At that moment, the delicate sound of slippers over polished stone heralded the arrival of Mihrisah Sultan. She entered gracefully; her veil drawn just loosely enough to reveal a knowing smile.
"My husband," she said gently, "you look as though you've just swallowed a strange truth."
Mustafa glanced sideways at her. "Your son has taken Athens as if it were a chess piece. No siege. No fire. Just... sense. The Divan barely believes it."
Mihrisah chuckled softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"What can I say? It's my son. You gave him a crown, I gave him his spine."
The Sultan allowed a rare smile to curl beneath his beard.
"May Allah preserve him then. And may He grant him the wisdom not to shine so brightly that the court seeks to snuff him out."
She leaned in slightly. "Then perhaps it is time the court learns that light is not a threat… but the start of a new dawn."
~~
Somewhere in the Ottoman Lands — Undisclosed Location
Shadows flickered along the stone walls of the dimly lit chamber. Only a single lantern burned—its flame barely alive, like the breath of secrets.
Four figures stood around a low table, their faces veiled by cloaks and silence.
"The course of events has shifted," the first speaker murmured, his voice gravelly and cold. "Since Taganrog, we assumed the Ottoman collapse would follow its natural rhythm. But this prince... this Selim... he sees too much."
"Indeed," the second replied. "Our echelons in Athens have confirmed—he intends to build a school. Not for royals. Not for elites. For everyone."
He spat the last word like a curse.
"A dangerous notion," the third added. "To educate the masses is to awaken them. If the Greeks and the Turks begin to think together... the rot we planted will start to wither."
A fourth figure stepped from the corner, arms behind his back. His tone was calm—too calm.
"The Russians? Let them bleed in Moldavia. Their usefulness wanes. Selim's influence spreads faster than their regiments."
The others said nothing.
"We move to Plan B," he continued. "Begin the next phase. Destabilize from within. Stir the wolves in the court. Turn the sabres inward."
The first one nodded slowly. "Let the Sultan think his Empire breathes again. Let them believe in unity."
The second added, "The greater the hope, the sharper the fall."
One by one, they slipped back into the shadows, leaving only the lantern's flicker behind.
Only those who walk in light will fear the abyss.
~~
Governorate Palace, Athens Eyalet
For now, our focus shifted toward rebuilding the city. Among the first priorities was the reconstruction of the roads—arteries of trade, movement, and order. We chose not to pave blindly into the future, but rather to honor the wisdom of the past.
Though we lacked modern industrial cement technology, we had something else: Roman knowledge, long buried but never lost. Thanks to our continued use of pozzolanic materials in our hammams and aqueducts, especially in Anatolia and the Syrian provinces, we had both precedent and resources. What we needed now was application.
Still, not everyone was convinced.
~
In the palace courtyard, gathered around parchment blueprints and maps of old Roman routes, I listened as one of the lead builders stepped forward—face sun-worn, eyes skeptical.
"My shehzade," he began, respectful yet firm, "if we are to proceed with the standard stone-and-mortar approach, using current materials and hauling methods, the cost will be high. Even with local stone, the labor and lime needed would exhaust our provincial funds."
I looked down at the schematic of the road between Athens and Corinth. Cracked. Uneven. Once strong, now crumbling.
"Then why not use what already stood the test of time?" I said.
The man blinked. "You mean... the Roman foundations?"
"Not just their foundations," I replied. "Their method. The Romans ruled these lands once. Their roads remain even after their empire fell. We do not need to surpass them—we only need to remember them."
Another mason nearby, younger but sharp, nodded slowly. "You speak of the volcanic ash-lime mixtures... the old pozzolan formula?"
"Yes," I answered. "We still use similar blends in our bathhouses, our arches, even in some old fortresses in Anatolia. You've seen it with your own eyes. With proper compaction and layered construction, it will hold—and it will cost far less in the long run."
The older builder scratched his beard, thoughtful now. "We'd need crushed brick. Sand. Lime in stable proportions. It can be done… though we'll need time to teach the younger hands."
"Then teach them," I said simply. "We are not just building roads. We are building a path forward. One that does not wear down after every storm."
The men exchanged glances—and nodded.
~~
The construction of roads across Athens, begin its journey, with connecting Athens with surrounding villages and small towns, to maintain the accesibility and the ability of local trades. The workers applying the roman cement, with proper ones, including the steps to channel the water because of rains.
We also went to local workshops to survey the tools the craftsman used in their daily operation. Some workshops manage to maintain it in good condition, but there are cases where their tools are too old and even obsolete. Most of it because of lack of funds, and they just used from their predecessors.
I need to increase its capability for the empire to enter the industrial revolution or it will be a mess. But from what I detect, to enter this, even a basic supplies of tools must be there. If the basics is lost then whats the point of having an advanced one?
"Cemil, we will create a new workshops just to produce the basic tools in Athens." I said.
"But there's already too many shops doing that, adding one will not solve the problem."
I pondered again and think. "Well, how about we invest it? Just like how we invest in those Venetians, we can invest it here as well."
"That might be a great idea, my shehzade."
Thanks to proper documentation, and persuasion. We manage to secure 4 local workshops to supply the tools, whether for construction, crafts, shipbuilding, as long as it can be supplied. Well of course, with a small portion of profit.