A fire had broken out in the palace. Guns were firing. Servants were running around. The Janissaries were shooting the servants. They were looting the valuable items they found in the palace.
"Janissaries have stormed the palace, run!!!"
Bang! Bang!
"Sultan, the Janissaries have come for you, please escape."
Bang! Bang!
"Sultan! Sultan!"
Osman suddenly regained his senses. "Sultan, you must leave!"
He exited through the palace's secret passage.
The servant shouted, "Master! Master! The 65th Division has stormed the palace!"
Ali Ağa jumped up from his bed, startled by the sound from the door.
"Did they capture the Sultan?"
"I don't know, Master."
"Quickly, prepare my men and bring my weapons."
The servant nodded and went to carry out the orders.
After Ali Ağa and his men were ready, just as he was about to leave his house, he heard:
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Master, there are people in black veils in front of the door."
At that moment, a voice came from outside.
"Ali Ağa, let me in!"
"Sultan, you've managed to escape!"
Ali Ağa checked the surroundings and then let the Sultan inside.
The next day…
A servant entered.
"Sultan, Kara Davut Pasha has put your uncle Mustafa on the throne!"
Osman knocked over the objects around him in anger.
"That traitor must be captured. I'll behead him. How could my mad uncle take the throne?"
"Sultan, do not worry, we will suppress this rebellion. I will personally present his head to you."
Bang! The door of the mansion was broken, and the Janissaries from the 65th Division clashed with their colleagues inside.
"Don't you know, the ones you are facing are the traitors to your Sultan, those damned dogs!"
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Kara Davut Pasha shouted, "Ali Ağa, do not defend this cursed Sultan! Aren't you the Janissary commander? Don't you know this cursed Sultan wanted to abolish the Janissary corps? How can you support him?"
"My loyalty is only to the Sultan."
While Kara Davut Pasha bought time, a traitorous Janissary standing beside Ali Ağa stabbed him in the back.
"Quickly, capture the cursed Sultan."
Although Osman managed to kill a few of the approaching Janissaries, he was ultimately captured.
"Let go, I am your Sultan!"
He was knocked unconscious by the traitorous Janissary.
--
The streets of Istanbul bore witness to an unimaginable scene. The young Sultan Osman, the grandson of Fatih Sultan Mehmet, was dragged through the ancient city like a trophy of disgrace. The Janissaries, their fury unrelenting, stripped him of his royal robes, tearing away not just fabric but the dignity of the Ottoman throne. His gilded turban, once a symbol of power, was snatched from his head and tossed into the crowd like a forgotten relic.
They mounted him on a scrawny donkey, its head bowed low, as if ashamed of its burden. The Sultan, barely eighteen and a descendant of conquerors, was paraded through the winding streets lined with jeering onlookers. Women pulled their children back, shielding them from the horror of witnessing their Caliph humiliated. Men averted their gazes, torn between fear and anger.
“What happened, Sultan?” a burly Janissary taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. “Did you think your crown gave you the power to abolish us? Let the people see! Let them know what happens when even the Sultan dares to challenge the Janissaries!”
From the crowd, a young boy tugged on his father’s sleeve, his wide eyes filled with confusion. “Father, why did the Janissaries revolt?”
The father hesitated, casting a wary glance at the soldiers nearby before whispering, “The Sultan is young and bold. He believed his title alone could subdue these bloodsuckers. He thought they would allow him to destroy the Janissary corps. But power has its price, my son, even for a Sultan.”
As the procession reached the Middle Mosque, the Janissaries prepared for a cruel finale. They flung a rope over a beam, their intent clear. The crowd gasped as the rebels tightened the noose around Osman’s neck.
But before the rope could do its work, a thunderous outcry rose from the ranks of the Janissary commanders.
“Stop this madness!” one shouted, stepping forward, sword in hand.
“We will not allow you to kill the Sultan!” echoed another, his voice firm and resolute.
Their cries united, a wall of defiance against Kara Davut Pasha’s plans. The mob hesitated, the chaos fracturing as the commanders pressed forward.
“The Grand Vizier is coming!” a voice rang out, silencing the crowd.
Kara Davut Pasha, his face a mask of thinly veiled fury, raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “Enough,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “I promise you, the Sultan will not be killed. Take him to the Seven Towers dungeon.”
Osman, battered but unbroken, glared at his captors as they shoved him onto the back of a cart. Bound and treated like a criminal, the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire was carted off as though he were a mere commodity.
The cart rattled through the city, passing under the imposing shadows of the Seven Towers. At the entrance, the traitor Nazuh, the man who had killed Ali Ağa, greeted him with a sneer.
“Welcome, Your Majesty,” Nazuh spat mockingly, giving Osman a rough shove into the darkness. “Enjoy your new throne.”
The dungeon was damp and cold, its walls thick with centuries of despair. Osman stumbled forward, catching himself on the jagged stones. The heavy door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating like a death knell.
But Osman’s spirit burned with defiance. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he muttered a vow to himself.
“If I escape this place, I will take my revenge on Kara Davut Pasha, on Nazuh, and on every traitorous Janissary who dared humiliate me. By Allah, I swear it!”
That evening, the Kayser-i Rûm, the Caliph of Islam, the Servant of the Two Holy Mosques, and the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Osman, was left to the cold embrace of the Seven Towers dungeon.
History tells us that his life ended there, his blood spilled upon the unyielding stones, a victim of betrayal and ambition.
Yet, perhaps in another version of history, Osman would not face the same fate. Perhaps destiny would rewrite his end, shaping a story far removed from the shadows of the dungeon—a story where vengeance and ambition would burn brighter than ever.