Stronger Together chapter 196

So I was an Ottoman emperor now. Which meant I was in Istanbul. I  paused, mentally singing an old song I always sang to myself when  someone mentioned this city. Constantinople at this point in history.  I'd agreed to the war, because I had literally no choice. No way was  killing Drakul not my end goal in this nightmare fueled death vision.  Once I did that I sent everyone away and sat in my throne (which was  super uncomfortable because it was a fucking metal chair) to think  through my situation.

This entire thing was...wrong. First  off there was no magic in here, or at least I had none, since this was a  trial and not an execution I was guessing Drakul didn't either. Second  the old bastard was half demon and was Dracula's dad. Dracula was the  one who was sold to the Ottomans, his abuse at their hands was what  inspired his rather ironic and gruesome penchant for shoving things up  people's asses, hence the whole impaler thing. This was some kind of  tweaked history, or possibly history from my world, whatever that might  mean in the long run.

In the short term though I was going  to have to out think the father of one of the greatest military minds  in the history of eastern europe, a father with thousands of years to  hone his own inhuman talents in the arts of war. My only advantage was  in the extreme size disparity of our forces but even with the handicap  this was going to be rough. Once everyone was gone I tried searching the  hall, mostly there was nothing much, just lots of red cushions on the  floor for people to sit on. I stumbled between them for a while but  didn't see anything left behind.

Finally I got back to the  dais. My throne was huge and so ostentatious it couldn't help but suck  in your attention, but from the floor I could see a small door set  further back along the wall. I walked around the platform and the giant  uncomfortable chair and found a small room tucked behind the door. Well,  small by the stands of this colossal palace, it was more like ten by  ten, which was decent sized in my opinion. The walls were pasted with  maps and lined with bookshelves full of books which I could read when I  checked. And in the center of the space was a huge sand table for  military maneuvers.

I pulled out some of the books, a few  biographies, and a ton of tactical books and journals. There might not  be magic here but I wasn't completely on my own. I had what amounted to a  build your own conquest kit back here. It wouldn't put me on the same  level as Drakul but it was a place to start and I needed that. The good  news was Drakul should be in Wallachia and traveling during the...fuck I  didn't even know what century it was. The fifteenth century maybe?  Travel during the middle ages was slow and it would take him months to  get here.

I glanced over the sand  table, trying to make out what was going on. The distribution of my  forces was clearly mapped out, and there was a convenient...long stick,  for moving pieces around the table. Next to the table were about a dozen  missives from the field telling me the placement of my troops.  Apparently they hadn't reached Wallachia, but had been slowly conquering  parts of eastern europe on the way up for a while now. I felt like the  whole "We need to go to war" speech my advisor or whatever gave me was  more of a formality than a genuine plea for permission. Part of me  wondered if I should have that dude flogged or something to keep up  appearances, but that seemed petty.

I  picked up the pushing stick and looked down at the sand table, before  realizing I had no clue where things should go and putting it back down.  My next stop was the missives, which again I could read somehow,  probably the same way I spoke Persian or whatever I was currently  speaking, but I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. The missives  were all a bit confusing and vague, rather than using them to understand  the sand table I ended up having to compare the two to try to get a  basic idea of what was going on with my forces. It took me about two  hours of comparing and contrasting before I managed it but I finally got  a basic handle on the distribution of my military.

Of  course, I knew well and good that none of the tactics would make sense  to me yet, I had to go through the books here and try to make myself a  foundation. Despite the lack of godsteel or strength or magic of any  kind my brain was working the same as in real life, presumably because  this was a spiritual vision and my head was still mine. I still had my  insanely fast thought speed and perfect memory if nothing else, so  getting through and digesting all this material was manageable even if  it wouldn't be easy.

I  started pulling books down and sorting them best as I could. I split  them up into useful categories. Biographies I tossed to the side for  later if I needed them. Tactical manuals got pride of place in the  closest pile. Journals were sorted between military and political  leaders, with military being saved and politics going with the  biographies. There were literally dozens of books and I had to flip  through the damn things to learn what they were, apparently the Ottoman  empire did not make liberal use of the table of contents. I kind of  wanted to ask for a librarian or something but I got the feeling this  room was supposed to be private.

Finally  after an hour or so of sorting I had a bare bones structure for what I  wanted to read for the rest of the day. I noticed my stomach growling  though and cursed silently at my mortal body and it's frailty. I walked  outside to find a servant standing next to the door, staring blankly off  into the middle distance and clearly avoiding any kind of eye contact. I  cleared my throat and the man turned and bowed to me. "Yes, your  excellency? How may I be of aid?" He stayed bowed at the waist, his body  a forty five degree angle as he waited for instructions.

That  was...a bit unnerving, but far down the list of shit that made me  uncomfortable. "I'd like food brought to me. Meat would be best." I had  no idea what kind of food the Ottomans ate, but I didn't want to let  everyone see me choking on hummus or something if it was too different  from my normal fare. Meat was pretty safe, regardless of what you put on  it meat is meat so it wouldn't be too different. I decided to take a  bit of a risk though "Some bread too." I didn't even know if they had  access to yeast here but at the very least it shouldn't seem too strange  to ask.

The  servant backed away, still bent in half. "Of course your excellency. As  you wish." When he finished speaking he turned while still bowed and  then stood up, bolting from the room with his back to me like his ass  was on fire. I wasn't sure what he expected me to do but I frowned a bit  at that. If I was going to seem weird or off if I wasn't a sadistic  asshole this was going to be tough. I had no clue what the rules here  were but it seemed likely that if everyone decided I was nuts and killed  me I would lose this trial and therefore my soul.

Luckily  (or I guess unfortunately if you weren't me) the ruler I was,,,based  on? Occupying? Was I even really here? Anyway whoever I was right now  was a dictatorial asshole not that that would be uncommon for an emperor  in the middle ages. As long as I was stern and imposing people wouldn't  question a bit of eccentricity, I doubt many people knew me well enough  to tell. The need to pretend to be an emperor after I'd just had that  thought about my bearing really made me wonder if this trial was helping  me somehow. Teaching me. I had zero idea how this place worked but it  got more and more unnerving by the second.

The  servant came back with about a dozen others. They brought food in  covered trays and on expensive platters, and even carried their own  table with them to set down so I could have a small feast right here.  The servants with the table placed it down in front of my throne (super  convenient) and backed away, leaving room for the others to approach and  start laying out my meal. Tray after tray was put down, and I honestly  wasn't sure I could have eaten all of it in my own body, never mind the  mortal form I was in now.

Still,  I wasn't one to turn down some free food, and I was curious how things  tasted here. It should all just be kinds of meat and bread so there was  no need to worry about seeming too unusual when I tried things. As long  as I avoided making a yucky face when I found something I hated I'd be  fine. The platters they laid out were impressive. Labm with what looked  like spiced plums, some kind of bread i didn't recognize,kebabs and  dozens of other delicious looking dishes were arrayed in front of me.

The  food was all heavily spiced, but oddly sweet. Lots of fruit and  cinnamon and butter. I dipped the bread which smelled of star anise and  tasted soft and delicious, into the juices from the meat and fruit. I'd  never had any of this stuff before but it tasted amazing. I wondered if  there was a place where I could get this kind of thing back home. Maybe  order in Morroccan or something, I'd have to look around. I savored  every bite and ended up eating way more than I should have, stuffing  myself much more than I had intended.

I  tried to talk to some of the servants, but they mostly just responded  with brief answers and fawning acknowledgement. They stood with their  backs to me unless addressed and after a while I just kind of gave up  and fifteen minutes or so and focused on eating, finally finishing a  good half of my food and having to stop. I desperately wanted to eat  some more this stuff, but sadly though the mind was willing the flesh  was weak. I'd have to have them bring me the same spread a again next  time I was hungry.

And  so began a few weeks of non stop reading and research. I read and ate  and worked out because eating and reading all the time was making me  feel a bit stiff. I did my klurkor practice daily, though it seemed to  be missing some of its majest in this simulation or whatever, it was  still a great workout routine. I spent easily nine hours a day on  tactical manuals and journals however and over time I managed to develop  some legitimate skills I think. My modern mindset and some of the  random things I'd heard and read seemed to give me a fresh viewpoint.

Even  so I was worried. There was no way I'd spent weeks in The Deeps. This  place had to be messing with time, but in that case how long would I be  here. How much time would I spend int this strange dream before I was  able to get free and get back to my own world. I trained and read  constantly and updated my sand table as I learned, getting constant  feedback as to the positions of my enemies, Drakul was coming, I could  feel it. But if he was he never let any of my scouts escape. All of that  changed though at the end of the first month. Trumpets blew from  outside the city. The Wallachians were here.