As we are preparing ourselves to Edirne, we move with Sahin and Cemil, followed by 1 detachment of Special Janissary Royal Guards. Technically it was assigned to me with Sahin as its commander. Previously, Sultan had entrusted the detachment to Sahin due to his roles. And though, I've had experienced on the Taganrog, this is the first time that I'll be entering the battlefield.
~~~
As we approached the outskirts of Edirne. There, standing in formation, was Muhtasin Pasha, flanked by a handful of Janissaries. Among them, the familiar face of Ahmet Karamir stood out—older now, broader in the shoulders, and bearing the quiet confidence of someone who had seen transformation.
Muhtasin Pasha stepped forward and saluted, his right fist to his chest in the old style.
"Assalamu'alaikum, my Şehzade. It seems this is your second visit to Edirne. The city is honoured."
I returned the gesture with a nod. "Wa'alaikumussalam, Pasha. And to you all." My gaze then turned to Ahmet, who stood straight with discipline but allowed a flicker of pride to show in his eyes. "And Ahmet-effendim… you've grown sturdier since we last met. I hear you've been hitting your marks at impressive distances."
Ahmet bowed low with one hand over his heart. "The honour is mine, my Şehzade. I am only able to progress thanks to the opportunity you gave me."
I stepped forward and extended my hand toward him. "Well, I knew you had it in you. And once again—well done."
There was a brief, awkward pause. Ahmet's eyes flicked between my hand and Muhtasin Pasha, clearly unsure. He had been taught the protocols of respect, and shaking hands with a member of the imperial family—especially without invitation—was not part of those lessons.
From behind me, Cemil smirked. "Come now, Ahmet-boy. You should know by now that our Şehzade gave up on formalities the moment he started sneaking into blast furnace workshops."
That earned a chuckle from some of the Janissaries nearby, and even Muhtasin allowed himself a smile. I gave Cemil a knowing look but didn't deny it.
Ahmet hesitated just a moment longer, then grasped my hand firmly. "It is an honour, truly."
I clasped his hand with equal respect.
As we turned toward the barracks, Muhtasin gestured toward the hill. "The men are ready. If you would like to review their formation drills later, I've also arranged for a demonstration with the new rifles. Ahmet can lead it."
"I'd expect nothing less. Let's make the most of the time we have, Pasha. We will move soon."
The sun glinted off polished helms as we made our way down the slope, the unity of the 40th Orta marching quietly behind us. Whatever came next, these were the men who would carry its weight.
~~~
The sharp echo of boots against polished stone accompanied us as we made our way through the corridors of the barracks toward the tactical chamber. The building bore the scent of gun oil and aged timber, and the rhythmic sound of distant drills resonated like a war drum through the walls. This was not a palace—but it was the place where real victories were forged.
Muhtasin Pasha led the way, holding the heavy iron-ringed door open as we entered the war room. Inside, a large oak table dominated the center, its surface already spread with hand-drawn maps, wax-sealed reports, and crude topographical sketches of the Peloponnese. At the far end of the table stood a man draped in a dark wool kaftan and marked by a sharp pair of eyes—Çelebi Bey, the provincial governor of Edirne.
He turned as we entered and gave a formal nod. "My Şehzade, Muhtasin Pasha. I've been expecting you."
"And you've kept everything ready, I see," I replied, stepping forward, letting my eyes scan the maps laid out. Morea was there scratched in black ink, dotted with towns and red marks at fortified rebel positions. The cities of Patras, Kalamata, and Nafplion were circled. It was started during Count Orlov, from Russian empire, instigated the rebellion focusing on Morea province and further into Athens. Well technically, rebellions in Morea are more likely influence the whole area of current Greece but not all of it since the most heated was from Athens to most Morean areas. Well, of course thanks to my skill, we managed to know it beforehand.
Muhtasin joined me by the table. "So the order came. I had a feeling it would. Just didn't expect you'd be the one to carry it."
I pulled the sealed scroll from my belt, setting it down on the table. "By direct command of the Sultan. The 40th Orta is to be deployed to quell the rebellion focusing on Eyalet of Morea. You may mobilize the nearby provincial troops to assist with mission."
Çelebi Bey frowned slightly, reaching for the scroll. "It's as we feared then. The rebellion isn't dying down—it's spreading. The rebels are now encroaching passed Athens and to the above, which can destabilize the region. Rumors of Russian arms shipments persist, and the locals are convinced by the rebels, though the Taganrog was a success, but they only crush the navy stationed there."
Muhtasin leaned over the map. "We'll have to move fast. If they fortify the mountain passes between Arcadia and the coast, we'll bleed ourselves trying to take them back. What's the current estimate of their strength?"
"Hard to say. According to intel we received, there are deserters, armed peasants, and foreign aid—maybe five to six thousand? But that includes irregulars. If we hit them hard at the command center, the rest will scatter." Çelebi gestured to a marked village inland from Kalamata. "Reports say their leadership has gathered here. French uniforms. Possibly mercenaries. Possibly volunteers. But they're not Ottomans."
I narrowed my eyes. "So we may not only be dealing with Greeks. And as always, we have to know if there's supporters of this rebellion other than Count Orlov."
Most of them nodded.
Muhtasin straightened and looked toward one of his aides. "Have the rifles been fully issued to the Orta?"
"Yes, Pasha. The rifles has been inspected, we managed to fill the powders supplies. And the rest is good and ready."
"Celebi bey, how's the steel furnace going?"
"Well, the production has been focused on making the muskets and its munitions, since the royal officials was supervising, its not doing much. And that's all."
"I see, well its better than nothing."
Actually when I mentioned the steel furnace. Its more like to a makeshift version of furnace. Since it was still on small scale, the expectation is that it can only support a small production. Although with previous successes, the question still remains, how to mass produced?
I turned to Ahmet, who stood beside the wall in silence until then.
"And the men? How are they adapting to the rifles?"
Ahmet responded with confidence. "If I were to say, it was better than expected, my Şehzade. The line formations are still being drilled, but our rotation reloads are improving. Range accuracy has increased—especially when firing from stable ground. But morale is the most impressive. The men feel they're wielding something new. Something sharp. It changes how they think. And since the new training drilling method was introduced, most soldiers didn't expect to be that many drills."
"Good," I nodded. "We'll need every edge we can muster. The fastest we can finish it, the quicker the rebellion dying down"
Muhtasin placed both hands on the table. "Then it's settled. The 40th Orta marches for Morea within five days. We'll establish contact with the Salonica reinforcements en route."
"We've arranged horses, carts, and gunpowder to be drawn from the local reserves. Logistics won't be perfect, but it'll hold. The last thing we want is to run out of powder in the hills." Çelebi Bey added grimly.
I looked over at Şahin and Cemil, who both exchanged silent nods. But this rebellion, other than instigation from outside. It seems the greeks have also decided. Its natural, since they demanding independence from the Ottomans quite later. But of course, I'm not gonna let them did.
~~~