An Empire of Ashes
The Ottoman Empire was a vast body, but a sick one. Its limbs stretched across three continents, but its blood ran thin. Its heart, Istanbul, beat slower with every passing year.
Factories were few, machines imported, rails laid by foreign contractors. The treasury bled silver into the hands of bankers in Paris and London. Illiteracy was a plague, and corruption gnawed the bones of every ministry.
Abdulhamid had lived this decline once already. He had seen the empire stumble, beg for loans, and be carved apart by vultures in uniforms and suits. He remembered standing in 1918, watching Constantinople occupied, the empire's flag lowered in humiliation.
But this time, Allah had granted him another chance. And he would not waste it.
The fire of reform had to be lit — not a flickering candle, but a blaze that would burn away weakness.
A Dangerous Audience
Abdulhamid requested a private audience with Sultan Abdülaziz. This was bold — too bold for a young prince. Ministers would whisper treachery. But Abdulhamid knew hesitation was death.
The Sultan received him in the Yıldız Pavilion, its walls lined with gilt, the air heavy with incense. Abdülaziz's eyes were wary, still smoldering from Murad's betrayal.
"You ask much, Nephew," the Sultan growled. "Whispers already fill my ears. What do you want of me now?"
Abdulhamid bowed deeply. "Only to serve you, Uncle. To strengthen the empire."
"Strengthen?" Abdülaziz's tone was sharp. "Our enemies multiply. Our coffers run dry. And yet you speak as if strength is within reach."
"It is," Abdulhamid said firmly. "But not by begging loans, nor pleasing foreigners. We must master what they hold over us: industry and knowledge. Factories, railroads, schools. If we build these with our own hands, we will not need their gold."
The Sultan laughed bitterly. "Factories? Schools? You speak like a dreamer."
Abdulhamid's voice grew harder. "Dreams built Europe's empires, Uncle. Their machines make them rich, their schools train men who command armies, their rails move goods faster than caravans could in a year. If we do not follow, we will be slaves to their dreams forever."
For a long silence, the Sultan studied him. Finally, he leaned back, stroking his beard.
"You speak of fire, Nephew. But fire burns the hand that lights it. Do you believe you can control such flames?"
Abdulhamid's eyes did not waver. "I do not seek to control the fire, Uncle. I will be the fire."
The Sultan chuckled darkly. "Very well. Show me this fire. But if it consumes us, know that I will throw you into the ashes first."
The Schools of Tomorrow
Abdulhamid's first reforms were quiet, almost invisible. He began with schools.
Using his Crescent Eyes, he funneled discreet funds to build a small technical school in Istanbul, disguised as a military academy. There, he instructed his loyal men to teach mathematics, engineering, and modern sciences — knowledge that he himself whispered from memory.
He introduced concepts far ahead of their time:
Germ theory, urging students to embrace cleanliness and basic sanitation.Mechanical engineering, teaching them the principles of engines and gears.Modern agriculture, describing crop rotation and irrigation methods Europe had perfected.
Students were bewildered at first, but slowly their eyes lit with understanding. A new generation was being forged — one that would carry his vision.
The Iron Road
But education alone was not enough. The empire needed arteries of steel: railroads.
Europeans were eager to lay rails across Ottoman lands — but always for their own benefit, to connect ports to their markets. Abdulhamid knew this trap well.
Instead, he pushed for small domestic projects. Using bribed officials and loyal engineers, he began surveying a route between Istanbul and Bursa, a short but symbolic line. He envisioned a network that would one day connect Anatolia to the heart of Central Asia.
His advisors protested. "Too expensive! Too ambitious!"
But Abdulhamid pressed forward. "If a rail carries a soldier in one day where once he marched in ten, that rail is worth more than any cannon. If grain reaches the hungry in a week instead of rotting in caravans, that rail is worth more than gold. A state bound by iron cannot be broken by paper treaties."
Resistance in the Shadows
Of course, reform bred enemies.
Foreign embassies complained of "interference" in their profitable ventures. Corrupt ministers, who lined their pockets with bribes from European companies, began plotting to sabotage his efforts. Even some imams grumbled, suspicious of "foreign sciences" taught in his schools.
The whispers grew louder.
"The prince is reckless."
"He plays with fire that will burn the empire down."
"He defies tradition — and the will of Allah."
But Abdulhamid knew the truth: Allah had given him this knowledge for a reason. To reject it was the true betrayal.
Still, he could not fight openly — not yet. He relied on the Crescent Eyes to sniff out traitors, expose corruption, and silence those who plotted against him. Some were discredited, others removed quietly.
Each victory was small, but the flame spread.
A Vision for the Future
Late one night, Abdulhamid gathered his closest men in secret. Maps covered the table, marked with lines of future railways, dots for factories, sketches of steam engines.
Selim, ever loyal, stared in awe. "Highness… this… this is not the empire as it is. This is… something new."
Abdulhamid's eyes burned with determination. "This is the empire as it must be. A Pan-Turkish empire, united not only by faith but by iron and knowledge. From the Bosphorus to the steppes of Central Asia, one people, one strength. If we do this, no Europe, no Russia, no power on earth will dare enslave us again."
Silence filled the room. They felt the weight of destiny pressing on their shoulders.
The Fire Ignites
The next morning, smoke rose over Istanbul. Workers sweated as they laid the first foundations for the new school, hammering stone into place. In a workshop nearby, crude but promising machines clattered under the hands of apprentices. And in the distance, surveyors marked the ground for the iron road that would lead to Bursa.
The fire of reform had been lit.
But in the embassies of Britain and France, men in fine suits frowned over reports. In the salons of corrupt ministers, whispers of conspiracy grew sharper. Even in the mosques, preachers warned of "Western poison" creeping into the empire.
Enemies were gathering, blades sharpening in the dark.
Abdulhamid stood on the balcony of his chamber, watching the city below. He could almost smell the smoke of industry, hear the roar of future trains, feel the pulse of a new empire rising.
But he knew the truth.
"Reform is not a gift. It is war. And war has already begun."
The crescent moon rose once more over Istanbul — not serene, but burning, like a torch.