Sunday, 11th December 1538 / 945 H
Topkapi Palace, Istanbul
"…Your Majesty" Ibrahim started, eyeing at the piled-up documents "You were granted your wish." A snicker slipped at the end. The Sultan's words at Basrah had come true.
"Haha, very funny Ibrahim. Who knew reforming a century long system would be so horrendously bureaucratically complex." His brows scrunched Suleiman said sarcastically.
Hearing this Ibrahim chuckled, "Well that's a clue to reform which system next."
"Your right, the administration system needs to be demolished and rebuilt from its foundation. Though, this will have to be done with the first stage of our reforms to prevent further complications. Which means more papers." The sultan let out a sigh of frustration "Who on this God blessed earth thought we need this many documents to run a nation?" Suleiman shook his head.
"Well, while that is true. Most of the officials themselves are truly talented and well versed in their posts. It's best we take their opinions when starting the reforms later." Ibrahim advised lightly
"I can't deny that. They handle matters such as this on a daily basis." Suleiman stopped to clear his head "Well, all is in the name of God and progress, isn't it?" Finished reading a document he handed it to Ibrahim. "After you process this hand it to the court calligrapher to engrave my tughra on it."
"Indeed, your Majesty, with the Timar system reformed both the populace and the sipahis cavalrymen will benefit tremendously." Taking the paper Ibrahim went a side table and started working on his pile of documents.
Scribble Scribble
For a moment the room was silent as they both focused on finishing their work.
"Your right about that Ibrahim, I had been sitting on these reforms for too long. The success of the Atolye system has filled our treasury enough to fund this reform." Suleiman said proudly
"Indeed, your Majesty." Ibrahim chuckled "Without the Atolyes this project would only be an idealists dream."
"Oh? My dear Pasha, are you calling me a naïve idealist ruler?" Suleiman raised an eyebrow.
"I apologize your Majesty," Ibrahim stood up, bowing theatrically "This lowly servant has overspoke, do spare me from flogging."
Hahaha!!!
They laughed at their own theatrics.
One couldn't blame them, the past year had been filled with stressful situations. Slipping once they would have jeopardized the reforms and cause antagonizing the Timariot lords.
Ever since Sultan Mehmed I established the system in 1413 the Sipahi – Ottoman cavalry units – were allowed by the central government to tax the populace in the lands allocated. This was not ownership of the lands; the lands still belonged to the Daulah.
The Sipahi received a portion of the local taxes in exchange for their services in war. Furthermore, they still had to take care of their territories and were still bound to the Daulah's laws.
For a century the system allowed the Ottomans to have readily available cavalry at their beck and call while also receiving a cut of the taxes. However, Suleiman noticed that while local lords mostly took care of their lands there wasn't much improvement in them either.
The reforms that Suleiman proposed was progressive for the current era. Expensive and lengthy they would have drained the treasury dry if not for the eight major Atolyes. The Atolye system proved to be revolutionary, the first among them, the Iron Atolye, proved so wildly profitable that Suleiman wasted no time establishing six more.
To secure the granaries, he created the Grain Atolye.
For essential raw resources, he ordered the founding of the Lumber Atolye and the Mining Atolye.
To meet civilian needs, he established the Furniture Atolye and the Cloth Atolye.
And for refinement and luxury, he added the Salt Atolye and the Glass Atolye.
In time, these seven Atolyes became welcomed and beloved institutions across the empire. Their positive image stemmed from Suleiman's Policies: local industries were not competitors. Instead, any craftsman or specialist whose trade aligned with an Atolye was either recruited into it, partnered with it, or supported in elevating their craft beyond the Atolye's own tier.
Tailors who once made simple daily clothing now found themselves crafting high-quality garments. Villagers and craftsmen who had worked with grain, lumber, glass, salt, furniture, metalwork, or mining were lifted into a new standard of skill and production.
As supply gradually increased, the prices of these goods began to fall, and for the first time many ordinary citizens enjoyed a noticeably better standard of life. The suppliers themselves prospered as well. With more people able to purchase their wares, their profits rose rather than shrank.
Yet even with the vast wealth generated, Suleiman refused to implement his reforms all at once. He divided them into stages. He understood well that the empire lacked sufficient trained manpower to enact everything immediately. Moreover, the reforms themselves were intertwined; some required earlier measures to be completed before they could function as intended.
The first stage focused on the local administration. Every Timariot lord was now required to maintain a dedicated centre of administration within his lands. This had to be a structure separate from the lord's residence, staffed by officials appointed directly from the capital.
Each official would serve one year before being reassigned elsewhere. Through this rotation the Daulah could finally keep an unclouded eye on the condition of its provinces and monitor them with precision.
For most Timariot lords the requirement posed little difficulty. Having been educated by the Ulama, they carried reputations for upright conduct and disciplined upbringing. Their true concern lay not with oversight but with cost.
When the decree made it clear that the treasury would shoulder the cost of constructing the facility and the salary of the officials, their hesitation dissolved. Many accepted the reform with relief, eager to avoid wrestling with the famously labyrinthine administration themselves.
"Ling-ling talked to me this morning." Suleiman began after his laughter settled down.
"Oh? What did her Majesty say?" Ibrahim asked curiously, the sultan didn't often speak of his family during office.
"The representatives from the Atolyes had reported they are struggling to find enough qualified employees. To fill the gaps, they have been training new hands from scratch."
"Costly and time consuming," Ibrahim nodded
"Quite. They will need to wait for the second stage of the reforms before they see a steady flow of trained manpower."
"The second stage will take us much time. Establishing foundational madrasahs in every Timar and advanced ones in every Zeamat and Hass is just the first step. It would take years before the madrasahs produce competent graduates."
"We are fortunate that the Ulama offered to send their disciples to teach in our madrasahs. Praise be God."
"God bless them for that. Their support spares us from an immediate shortage of teachers. Though the real difficulty lies in natural sciences. Finding teachers for those subjects exposed how little we have invested in nurturing such minds." Ibrahim exhaled, rubbing his brow.
"True. We have long had an abundance of scholars in matters of faith and administration. Yet those versed in natural sciences are mostly gathered in only a few cities. Baghdad, Mecca and Cairo. Even Istanbul has fewer than we expected."
"A sobering reality," Suleiman said. "Despite the prophet and God urging us to observe the universe, the state haven't invested enough toward such learning."
"There is no need for regret, Your Majesty" Ibrahim replied. "Once the second stage begins, we can expect the people will enrol in great numbers. Skilled graduates will be sought after by the Atolyes and later by the national research institute planned for in the third stage."
"Indeed, with the reforms passed all we need to do now is materialize them." Suleiman nodded.
Scribble Scribble
For the next few hours, the room was silent as they both concentrated on finishing their work.
A few hours later
The room looked far neater than it had that afternoon. Much of the paperwork had been processed and carried away by palace officials. Ibrahim had excused himself when the sun began to sink, just as the maids arrived to light the candles.
Creak…
"Suleiman beloved… the sun has set. Have you eaten?" Slowly opening the door, a woman entered the room.
Draped in an olive-green dress, Hurrem stepped inside, her presence settling into the room like warm dusk. Her European features caught the candlelight with gentle sharpness, a reminder of her distant origins and the path that had brought her here.
"Hurrem. Hearing your voice is always a delight." Suleiman lifted his head from the last stack of documents, his gaze softening the moment he saw her.
"Beloved, you know I adore your sweet words…" Hurrem smiled, walking nearer. "But don't think you can escape the question."
"I would never dream of it," Suleiman laughed quietly. "Your presence simply stole my attention. If there is fault, it lies with your elegance."
He opened his arms in invitation.
Hurrem's eyes glimmered with teasing intent. Rather than stepping into his embrace, she glided to a nearby chair, dragging it toward him with exaggerated care.
"A chair?" Suleiman lifted a brow. "Is it more important than your husband's arms?"
Giggling, Hurrem set the chair beside him, then promptly ignored it to slip into his embrace anyway.
"…Hmm, how I missed your warmth." she murmured, nestling against his shoulder.
"We only parted in the morning…" Suleiman replied, amused and helpless at her theatrics, though comforted all the same.
Flicker
The candlelight danced slowly as it burned and melted
The room settled into quiet, the silence filled only by the steady sound of their breaths.
"To answer your question," Suleiman said at last, "I ate earlier in the adjoining room. I haven't neglected myself that badly."
"How thoughtful of you to remember my question," Hurrem laughed, curling onto his lap without hesitation.
"Of course, unlike a certain someone I didn't forget that they dragged a chair here just to sit on my lap." he teased, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"My" Hurrem laughed, playfully punching his shoulders "Someone is awfully spiteful I didn't rush into their arms."
"You wounded my heart grievously. It screamed when you chose a chair over me," Suleiman declared, hand pressed theatrically to his chest.
"Don't worry your Hurrem is here to heal the pain." Hurrem laughed before linking her hands around Suleimans neck to kiss him.
"… Hmm, it seemed to work. The pain is fading." Suleiman smiled "You know what? It still aches, I need more." He leaned in.
For the next few moments they relished in each other's presence, banishing the loneliness in their hearts.
"I went with Mahidevran to the outskirts of the capital today." Sated, Hurrem began "We oversaw the early construction of the research institute. The workers have started digging the foundation. The architect mentioned they plan to use Saqiyah lifts, so they're preparing the aquifers."
She shifted off his lap to the chair, not wanting to burden him as he listened.
"That's good. With Saqiyah lifts we can build higher and make better use of space." Suleiman said, his arm wrapped around Hurrem's waist.
"True, but the current Saqiyah lifts are too cumbersome. They move to slowly and unstable, they need to be improved."
"Your right. If all goes well with the third stage of reforms, architecture will see real breakthroughs nationwide."
"Uhm" Hurrem acknowledged "National infrastructure project… Quiet a stale name for such an ambitious endeavour, beloved."
"You'll make Ibrahim cry, you know he coined it such." Suleiman laughed "I know you had past grievances with him, but he has apologized. Publicly even. And trust me he is sincere."
"I know" Hurrem said with a soft chuckle. "I forgive him, but he will still have to face consequences."
"You do as you see fit, my love," Suleiman laughed, trusting Hurrem wouldn't do anything harmful.
"Thank you, beloved. That means much." She winked, then rested her head against his shoulder.
The mention of the past dimmed her gaze for a moment, and she closed her eyes, letting the quiet wrap around them again.
Years ago, when Hurrem first stepped into the Harem, the palace was nothing like the calm sanctuary it had become. The air back then tasted faintly of blood and unease. Tensions simmered. Rumours from past reigns clung to the halls like stubborn shadows. Every glance felt like a test, every smile a veil.
When she became one of Suleiman's favourites, the tension sharpened. The friction with Mahidevran grew quickly. Mahidevran had long been the favourite and had earned genuine respect. Even Ibrahim supported her, for Mahidevran had proven her value to the Daulah through her actions and through her son.
Suleiman saw the storm brewing inside the palace. And he made a choice. Hurrem had been grateful he chose the path of peace, for she knew herself well enough: if blood were spilled on her account, she would carry the weight in her conscience to her grave.
But the peace was fragile and did not settle fully. The tension eased for a time, only to coil anew when their sons - Selim and Mustafa - began openly competing. Each tried to prove himself the worthier heir. As a mother, Hurrem stood by her son. But deep inside, she dreaded the future. Rivalry between brothers had never ended kindly in their history.
Then Suleiman returned from his eastern campaigns. And with him came a new wife. Not a concubine, but a legitimate wife like herself and Mahidevran.
Hurrem remembered the moment she heard it. Her heart folded in on itself. She feared the fragile balance would collapse entirely. She imagined Yueling arriving proud, ambitious, ready to grasp influence or spark new rivalries.
But Jiao Yueling was not what she expected.
Wise eyes. Measured manner. A quiet awareness that cut straight through the palace's games.
One night, Yueling sent invitations to Hurrem and to Mahidevran. A meeting in the fourth courtyard of Topkapi Palace. Hurrem had been sceptical. Mahidevran, she was certain, was wary too. But the courtyard was open, watched, impossible for treachery. So, they accepted the invitation.
Miraculously, the three of them stepped into the courtyard at the same moment, as if destiny had arranged it. For a moment they sat without speaking. Only the night wind moved around them.
Then Yueling opened her mouth.
Her voice was calm, but it carried a weight that struck Hurrem cleanly.
"In the name of God, the Most Mighty, Creator of the earth beneath our feet and the air that fills our lungs, let us speak tonight with hearts unguarded. Sisters, speak not through the masks of survival, nor the poisoned whispers of ambition, but with truth alone."
The words reverberated through Hurrem's mind, cutting through the simmering webs of hatred and the enticing lulls of ambition. They stripped away the weariness and bitterness that had settled in her bones. She saw Mahidevran go still, just as startled, just as disarmed.
Those words remained carved into Hurrem's memory to this day.
"Beloved, did you know that Yueling gathered the harem in the fourth courtyard that night?" Hurrem opened her eyes, searching Suleiman's face for the truth she already half-suspected.
"I had… an inkling." Suleiman met her gaze without wavering. "She spoke to me about the unrest in the palace many times. During one of those talks, she hinted at what she intended."
"Hmm. I figured as much." Hurrem leaned back slightly, not accusing, only thoughtful. "After that night, conciliation came surprisingly easily. Mahidevran and I only needed to face each other honestly. We didn't even need to consider the political consequences." A small, wistful smile crossed her lips. "For a moment, it felt like we were simply… a normal household. Free of consequences"
"In many ways," Suleiman said, brushing a gentle kiss on her forehead, "our house is normal. It is only the power placed upon us that twists our perception. We're fortunate to have people willing to dive into a sea of evil and shake us awake."
"Uhm." Hurrem's voice softened, nestling against him. "Because of them, I can sit here with you in peace, instead of wondering what foolish schemes are being whispered behind curtains." A smile tugged her lips "It's liberating to know that your family and home are safe and a place to put your guard down."
Suleiman let out a quiet breath, the kind only Hurrem ever heard from him in private. "It is a rare mercy," he murmured, fingertips tracing slow circles along her shoulder. "When the palace walls stop behaving like sharpened reeds and become a home again."
Hurrem tilted her head, studying him with that unguarded expression she allowed no one else to witness. "For all its grandeur, this place can feel hollow when those within it forget they are human," she said. "Yueling saw that sooner than any of us. She forced the light into corners we had let grow dim."
"My only concern now," Suleiman murmured, "is Mustafa and Selim."
"The two are in their fiercest years." Hurrem sighed. "Selim especially. They clash every time they breathe the same air." Her head tilted as she thought. "But let Mahidevran and me handle it. We reconciled. So can they."
"As much as I would rather not worry," Suleiman said, brushing a stray lock behind her ear, "the situation demands it. They are not boys anymore. Mustafa already governs Manisa. The distance alone… complicates everything."
Hurrem's hand settled over his, steady and warm. "Distance complicates, yes," she admitted, "but I would rather wrestle with these hardships than stand before God and explain why I allowed my children to turn on one another." Her voice carried quiet certainty. "Trust us. We will guide them."
Suleiman lowered his forehead to hers, his breath warm. "Then I leave it to you both," he whispered. "And know that whatever comes, I stand with you."
For a long moment, they simply remained like that, heads close, fingers intertwined. Outside, the glow of the moon shined through the palace windows, bathing the room in soft amber.
The world beyond their walls could wait. Here, in the silence everything felt as it should: the palace was a home, the family a shield, and they stood together - untroubled and unhurried.