October 1768
Topkapı Palace, Istanbul
Tension between the Ottoman Empire and Russia hung like a storm cloud on the horizon. While no major battles had erupted, the occasional skirmish served as a reminder that conflict was inevitable.
In the quiet sanctity of my chambers, I meticulously reviewed the document I had been preparing—a proposal for a Naval Academy. The Osmanlı Donanması (Ottoman Navy) was formidable but lacked a specialized institution to train its officers. Admirals and naval leaders were typically products of the Enderun School, which educated both military and civil administrators. Yet, as the demands of warfare evolved, I envisioned an academy dedicated solely to naval tactics and strategy, one that could elevate our navy to rival those of Britain or France.
The odalık's voice interrupted my thoughts. "My Shehzade, Aydın has arrived at your chambers," she announced, her tone respectful.
I set the document aside and nodded. "Let him in."
Aydın entered, holding a folder of documents close to his chest. "My Shehzade, here's the document listing the ships currently in the empire's navy."
I took it from him and studied the numbers. As suspected, the Osmanlı Donanması included 11 third-rate ships of the line, 65 frigates, and 200 smaller vessels, including brigs and sloops. A respectable fleet in sheer numbers, but outdated in design and strategy—one of the reasons we lost the Russo-Ottoman War.
After scanning the details, I turned to Aydın. "Aydın, what do you think about establishing a dedicated naval academy?"
Aydın arched a brow, folding his arms. "My Shehzade, isn't that redundant? The Enderun School already educates officers, including naval ones. Why reinvent the wheel?"
I leaned forward, a confident smile tugging at my lips. "Because the wheel needs improving, Aydın. Look beyond tradition. A specialized naval academy wouldn't just train officers; it would cultivate minds capable of reshaping the seas. Strategy, engineering, advanced seamanship—our future depends on producing not just sailors, but visionaries."
Aydın chuckled softly, a trace of skepticism in his eyes. "Spoken like someone decades older than you. Wait—curriculum? What do you mean by that?"
I reached over to hand him the document, a meticulously prepared outline of subjects that had consumed weeks of planning. "Take a look," I said, watching as his eyes began to scan the pages.
The document detailed courses covering:
a) Naval Tactics: Strategies for battle formations, blockades, and amphibious operations.
b) Shipbuilding and Naval Engineering: Understanding hull design, sail mechanics, and emerging technology.
c) Geography and Navigation: Mastery of star charts, currents, and enemy territory mapping.
d) Modern Artillery: Theoretical and practical training in the latest cannons and explosives.
e) Naval History: Analyzing successful campaigns from figures like Hayreddin Barbarossa to British innovators.
f) Leadership and Logistics: Managing crews, supplies, and multi-ship fleets.
Aydın's expression shifted from casual interest to awe as he read. Finally, he looked up. "My Shehzade, this is... ambitious. With these standards, we wouldn't just produce competent officers but men who could rival Hayreddin Barbarossa or even any westerners admirals"
I nodded, leaning back with a sense of satisfaction. "Then you see my vision. Our navy can't just defend our shores; it must dominate the waters. We must create a legacy that rivals, no—surpasses—our past glories."
Aydın raised an eyebrow. "So, do you intend to pursue world domination, my Shehzade?"
Selim paused, his expression thoughtful. "World domination... It's an enticing idea, but it's far from practical. Governing an empire as vast as ours already presents challenges, let alone the world. The logistics, the cultural differences, and the endless resistance—it would crumble under its own weight."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone measured. "However, shaping a world where our influence is undeniable? That is achievable. It requires strategic alliances, technological advancement, and economic strength—not brute conquest."
Aydın tilted his head, intrigued. "Setting that matter aside, where do you plan to build this academy? And we'll need your father's approval, no doubt."
Leaning back, I stroked my chin thoughtfully. "The most logical location is Istanbul—being the heart of the empire and close to the naval headquarters. Alternatively, Izmir could work, given its strategic coastal position and growing prominence in trade. Wherever we choose, it must be in a bustling or administrative hub to attract talent and ensure resources. Plus, we'll need considerable space to house all the facilities."
"Facilities?" Aydın repeated, his confusion apparent.
"Ah, the term I used was 'faculty.' It refers to the specialized buildings and departments within the academy. What I'm envisioning is more than just a school—it's a precursor to what I'd call a university."
Aydın's eyebrows lifted in recognition. "University? Like Oxford? I've heard tales of its reputation."
"Exactly," I said with a nod. "Think of it as our version—an institution where future naval officers are not only trained but also educated in science, strategy, and innovation. Something that reflects the greatness of our empire."
"Also, regarding the university part, we'll leave that for another agenda," I said, dismissing the topic for now to avoid spreading our focus too thin.
"Understood, my Shehzade," Aydın replied with a respectful bow, his demeanor showing he grasped the weight of the discussion.
I rose from my seat and glanced at the map on my desk, tracing the outlines of Istanbul's waterways. "For now, our immediate concern is drafting a formal proposal for the academy. Once it's clear and polished, we'll present it to my father."
Aydın nodded. "Shall I assist in preparing the outline? I could also gather any additional records on naval operations that might support the proposal."
"That would be excellent, Aydın. Make sure we highlight the strategic need for this academy. Frame it as essential to maintaining our dominance in the Mediterranean." I paused, then added with a small smile, "And don't forget to include the part about training the next generation of Barbarossas."
Aydın chuckled softly. "Of course, my Shehzade. I'll ensure the proposal speaks to both tradition and progress."
As Aydın departed, I turned toward the window, watching the bustling courtyard below. The naval academy might not seem like the most urgent reform, but it is a foundation we cannot delay. War is on the horizon—if not within the year, then soon after. If hostilities can be postponed, it might grant us the precious time to train capable officers, ensuring they can execute their duties effectively when the moment arrives.
I sighed, tracing the frame of the window absentmindedly. The task ahead was daunting. Modernizing an empire while navigating the delicate politics within the court would be no small feat. The academy was only one piece of a far larger puzzle, but every journey begins with a single step. If this step strengthens our navy, then it is a step well taken.