The Throne Awakens
The crown was upon his head, the empire at his feet. But a crown without action was a gilded cage. Abdulhamid knew this bitter truth: the empire was not yet his to command, not truly. Not while it was divided, decayed, corrupted.
He had sworn before Allah that he would not waste this second chance. The Sultan of this life would not drift upon the currents of fate. He would seize the wheel, and drive the empire where it must go.
The world outside sharpened its knives. The Balkans still smoldered. European powers circled like vultures. Inside the empire, viziers whispered, old men clung to customs, and clerics feared any change that threatened their power.
But Abdulhamid would not wait. His reign would not begin with hesitation. It would begin with fire and steel.
And so, his first decrees would shake the empire to its very foundations.
The Decree of Factories
The Divan gathered for the new Sultan's first council session. Ministers expected speeches, perhaps small reforms, cautious promises. Instead, Abdulhamid's words struck like thunder.
"Issue this decree immediately: the empire will establish three new arsenals, two textile mills, and a railway line connecting Anatolia to the capital. The treasury will fund them from military spoils and new tariffs. Foreign imports of rifles and uniforms are to be reduced within three years."
The ministers erupted.
"Impossible!" cried one. "The treasury cannot bear it!"
"Factories are for Europe, not us!" shouted another.
"Railways invite European meddling!" warned a third.
Abdulhamid's gaze cut them down.
"No. Factories are for survival. Railways are for unity. Steel is the lifeblood of the future. Those who cling to the past will drown with it."
He pounded the table with his hand. "Write the decree. Not tomorrow. Now."
Selim later whispered with awe: "Sultan, you have declared war on the old world."
Abdulhamid's voice was iron.
"Yes. And I will win."
The Cleansing of Corruption
Next, Abdulhamid turned to the cancer that rotted the state: corruption.
The Crescent Eyes had delivered him thick dossiers on dozens of officials — tax collectors who pocketed coin, generals who sold supplies, judges who took bribes.
In a single night, he signed orders dismissing twenty men of high office. Their estates seized, their families exiled.
The court trembled. Some feared a purge without end. But to the common people, the message was clear: the Sultan was no puppet.
In the streets, whispers turned to cheers. Merchants said: "At last, a ruler who punishes thieves in silk robes." Farmers muttered: "Perhaps now our taxes will reach the capital, not some Pasha's pocket."
Fear had changed sides. For the first time in years, it was the corrupt who trembled.
The Question of Religion
Reform did not end with steel and coin. Abdulhamid knew the empire was fractured by sects and creeds, each jealous of the other. If he was to forge one people, one identity, faith itself must be reforged.
But how?
He summoned the leading ulema and patriarchs, scholars and priests, to the palace.
"You fear division," Abdulhamid began, his voice calm. "Yet division has already devoured us. The Serbs fight in the name of Orthodoxy. The Greeks dream of Byzantium. Even among Muslims, Arab, Kurd, and Turk quarrel. Enough."
He rose, eyes blazing.
"From this day forward, we will not be Serb or Arab, Greek or Kurd, Sunni or Shia. We will be Turk. And our faith will not divide, but unite. One empire, one people, one creed."
The clerics stirred, some in outrage, some in awe.
One dared to protest: "But Sultan, the people will not surrender their heritage—"
Abdulhamid cut him short. "I do not ask. I decree. We will reform our schools and mosques to teach one path, one unity. In time, all will join willingly, for unity will bring strength and prosperity."
There was silence. The decree was written. And though the clerics grumbled, none dared defy him openly.
The European Envoys
The foreign ambassadors were quick to respond. Britain sent a note of "concern." Austria muttered about "destabilization." Russia outright warned of "dangerous centralization."
The envoys demanded an audience.
In the gilded hall, they stood before Abdulhamid, cloaked in arrogance.
The British envoy sneered: "Your Majesty, surely you realize industrial expansion requires foreign expertise. Better to let British firms manage your new factories."
The Austrian added: "And your talk of assimilation is reckless. You risk rebellion."
Abdulhamid listened, then smiled coldly.
"Gentlemen, the empire is not a toy for Europe's amusement. We will build with our own hands. We will unite by our own will. And if rebellion comes, it will be crushed not with petitions, but with rifles forged in our own foundries."
The Russian growled, "You defy Europe?"
Abdulhamid's reply was ice.
"No. I defy decay. If Europe finds that dangerous, so be it."
The envoys left in fury. But Abdulhamid had made his point: the Ottomans would no longer beg for scraps.
The Streets React
As the decrees spread, so did unrest. Conservative imams preached against "heresy." Old Pashas muttered in their mansions. European merchants threatened boycotts.
But in the streets, something different stirred.
Artisans dreamed of new work in factories. Young men spoke of railways carrying them across the empire. Mothers whispered of schools that would teach their children more than rote prayer.
And everywhere, the Crescent Eyes whispered in return, guiding, encouraging, silencing dissent when needed.
The empire was trembling, yes. But it was not the tremor of collapse. It was the tremor of birth.
The Sultan of Fire and Steel
That night, Abdulhamid stood alone on the balcony of Topkapi. Below, Istanbul glowed with torchlight, the sea shimmering under moonlight.
He whispered to himself:
"In my first life, I was cautious, too cautious. I compromised, I delayed, and the empire crumbled. This time, I will not wait. I will strike first, strike hard. Fire and steel will rebuild us."
Behind him, Selim entered quietly. "Sultan, the decrees are issued. The empire changes already."
Abdulhamid's eyes never left the horizon.
"Good. Let it change. Let the world resist. I will not yield. Allah gave me this second chance, and I will forge an empire worthy of His gift. One people. One faith. One destiny."
The night was silent but for the beating of the waves. And yet, it seemed the empire itself trembled — as if awakening from a long sleep.
The reign of Abdulhamid had begun not with whispers, but with fire and steel.