Whispers in the Palace
Dolmabahçe Palace gleamed in the morning light, its marble walls glistening like pearl along the Bosphorus. Courtiers bustled through its endless corridors, servants hurried with trays of delicacies, and eunuchs whispered gossip in shadowed alcoves.
But beneath the brilliance of chandeliers and the murmur of fountains, there was tension. Everyone had noticed it.
The young Prince Abdulhamid was different.
Once, he had been quiet, respectful, almost overlooked compared to other princes. A boy of dutiful prayers and calm manners, not one to stand out. But in recent days, something in him had changed. His eyes had sharpened, his posture carried authority, and when he spoke, his words cut deeper than any vizier's.
In the palace, whispers spread like fire.
"The prince… he debates like a scholar."
"I heard he corrected his mathematics tutor — the tutor!"
"Nonsense. He even lectured the physician about unseen creatures that cause disease. Ghosts, he said! Madness."
"No… not madness. Genius. Dangerous genius."
The young Abdulhamid had become a man the court could no longer ignore. And already, the shadows of envy and suspicion began to gather.
The Dangerous Brilliance of a Reborn Prince
The classroom smelled of ink and parchment. A large blackboard stood at the front, covered in chalk equations. Rows of polished desks lined the chamber, and on them sat maps, compasses, and drafting instruments.
Abdulhamid leaned forward, chalk in hand, as he completed a complicated series of equations on the board. His tutor, an elderly Greek scholar named Ioannis, frowned, stroking his beard nervously.
"Highness," the tutor said slowly, "what you have written… I do not understand. This is not mathematics I have ever seen."
Abdulhamid turned, smiling faintly. "It is called calculus. A tool that will allow us to understand movement, change, the flow of rivers, the fall of cannon shot, even the orbits of planets."
The tutor blinked. "C-calculus? Where could you have—?"
"It is not important where," Abdulhamid cut him off gently. "What matters is that our empire lags behind because we rely on old knowledge while Europe runs forward with new sciences. If we do not master these, we will always be slaves to their inventions."
The room was silent. Even the servants listening outside held their breath.
Later that afternoon, in a different chamber, his physician examined him. "Highness, your health is remarkable. But I must protest your words earlier. You told the younger pages that disease comes from… invisible organisms? Creatures that cannot be seen? Forgive me, but that is superstition."
Abdulhamid's eyes gleamed. "It is no superstition. These organisms — call them microbes — are the true enemy. They spread in filth, in unwashed hands, in water left stagnant. If our people learn to fight them, we will lose fewer lives to plague and cholera than to the Russians' guns."
The physician chuckled nervously, unsure if it was genius or delusion.
That night, at dinner in the grand hall, the royal family gathered. Sultan Abdülaziz sat at the head, his frame heavy, his beard thick and dark. His eyes were sharp, watching his nephews and courtiers with suspicion.
The conversation turned to Europe. Ministers debated whether to seek French loans or British alliances. Abdulhamid, seated quietly, finally spoke.
"Uncle," he said calmly, "Europe offers loans, yes. But every coin they lend us is a chain around our neck. If we depend on them, we will one day find ourselves slaves in our own palace."
The hall went silent.
One minister scoffed. "Such harsh words from one so young. Highness, you cannot expect the empire to function without European gold."
Abdulhamid's gaze pierced him. "And what happens when the gold is gone, and the interest remains? Shall we sell the empire piece by piece, until nothing is left? No. The solution is not their gold, but our own steel."
His uncle frowned. "Steel? You speak of weapons?"
"Of more than weapons," Abdulhamid said firmly. "Steel for rails, for ships, for machines. If we master industry, we master independence."
The room was tense. Some were astonished. Some were enraged. And some — the ambitious — saw danger.
That night, whispers spread.
"The prince is dangerous."
"He speaks as though he is already Sultan."
"No… he speaks as though he knows the future."
Seeds of Suspicion
Alone in his chamber, Abdulhamid stood by the window, gazing at the moonlit Bosphorus. His mind raced. He had spoken too boldly, too soon. But time was short, and he needed to plant seeds.
He whispered to himself:
"The empire cannot survive as it is. I must move carefully, but I cannot be silent. Already the wolves circle. If I hesitate, I will be devoured."
His hand clenched on the balcony rail. I will not repeat the mistakes of my first life.
Behind him, the shadows shifted. A eunuch slipped silently into the room, kneeling.
"My prince," he whispered, "forgive my intrusion. But I bring word. Certain ministers have begun to question your loyalty. And… Prince Murad is gathering men who resent your sudden rise."
Abdulhamid's lips curled into a cold smile. "Good. Let them plot. While they whisper in shadows, I will build my own eyes and ears. They shall see that Abdulhamid is no lamb to slaughter."
He turned back to the Bosphorus, the moon casting silver upon his face.
"Let the court think me strange. Let them think me dangerous. In time, they will see the truth. I will not simply be a prince who knows too much… I will be the Sultan who knows everything."
The night wind carried his vow into the darkness.