1921, November 5th, Saturday.
The fragile new dawn of Sultan Murad VII's assertive reign continued, but each day brought fresh evidence of the immense pressures arrayed against his government. November fifth broke with an overcast sky, the city of Constantinople shrouded in a damp, grey mist that seemed to mirror the uncertainties facing its leadership. The initial shock of Damat Ferid Pasha's dismissal and the formation of Tevfik Pasha's new cabinet was giving way to the hard grind of governance in a state of near-collapse, under the ever-watchful eyes of its occupiers.
Murad began his day, as was becoming his custom, with an early meeting with his Grand Vizier. Tevfik Pasha, though visibly burdened by the weight of his office, possessed a quiet resilience that Murad found increasingly admirable. "Your Imperial Majesty," Tevfik reported, his voice steady despite the lack of sleep evident in his eyes, "the initial Allied response to our note has been… predictably cool. Reşid Akif Pasha is handling their individual demands for 'clarification' with skill, but they are clearly coordinating their efforts to pressure us on every front. General Harington, in particular, remains a source of significant unease." "He will continue to be so, Pasha," Murad replied. "He sees his influence waning. We must simply continue our work with diligence and give him no legitimate pretext for more overt interference. What of the ministries?"
It was Cavit Bey, the sharp-minded Minister of Finance, who brought the day's first major challenge to the Sultan's study later that morning. He arrived with Tevfik Pasha, his arms laden with ledgers and charts, his expression a mixture of grim satisfaction and apprehension. "Your Majesty, Your Highness," Cavit began, spreading his documents across Murad's desk, "I have completed my initial in-depth review of the Constantinople Port Authority and its associated customs revenues, currently administered by a 'Joint Allied-Ottoman Commission' which, in practice, is entirely Allied-dominated." His finger stabbed at a series of figures. "For the past two years, the official revenues declared and remitted to the Imperial Treasury have been a mere fraction of what our historical records, even from the war years, indicate they should be. The lion's share is being diverted to 'administrative costs,' 'Allied logistical support,' and other opaque categories, effectively starving our treasury while lining the pockets of foreign contractors and, I suspect, certain individuals within the commission itself. This is not just mismanagement, Your Majesty; it is systematic plunder." "A harsh but likely accurate assessment, Cavit Bey," Murad said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the figures. "What do you propose?" "A direct challenge, Your Majesty," Cavit stated boldly. "I propose that the Ottoman government, by Imperial Decree, reclaim full administrative control of the Port Authority. We will assert that the 'Joint Commission' was an emergency wartime measure that has outlived its purpose under a new, stable Ottoman government. We will install our own trusted officials, implement transparent accounting, and ensure all legitimate revenues flow directly to the Imperial Treasury. We will, of course, guarantee continued efficient port operations for all legitimate international trade, and even offer to discuss a fair, fixed fee for Allied military logistical usage, properly accounted for."
Tevfik Pasha looked alarmed. "Cavit Bey, this is… exceedingly bold. The Port is one of the Allies' primary instruments of control and revenue extraction here. To challenge them so directly…" "And to allow them to continue bleeding us dry is a slower, but equally certain, death, Your Highness," Cavit retorted, his eyes flashing. "If we are to have any hope of fiscal survival, we must regain control of our key assets. This will be the first test of whether this government is truly sovereign, or merely a different set of puppets." Murad listened to both men, weighing the immense risk against the desperate need. Cavit Bey was right; without control of its own economy, the Empire was doomed. But Tevfik Pasha's caution was also valid; a premature confrontation could be disastrous. "Your proposal has merit, Cavit Bey, and immense courage," Murad said finally. "But a direct, unannounced seizure will indeed provoke an immediate and overwhelming Allied response, one we are not yet prepared to weather. However, the current situation is intolerable." He paused, thinking. "We will not seize it. Not yet. Instead, Reşid Akif Pasha, our Foreign Minister, will deliver a formal diplomatic note to the Allied High Commissions. This note will detail the… discrepancies and administrative inefficiencies your audit has uncovered. It will propose the formation of a new joint commission, with genuine Ottoman parity and a revised, transparent mandate focused on efficient port administration and fair revenue sharing. It will be phrased as a desire for improved efficiency and equitable partnership, not a direct challenge to their presence, but it will make our dissatisfaction, and our intent to regain control, abundantly clear. Let us see how they respond to a reasoned proposal backed by irrefutable evidence of mismanagement. It will test their claims of wishing for a 'stable and well-governed' Ottoman state." Cavit Bey looked momentarily disappointed at the less confrontational approach, but then nodded slowly as he saw the strategic subtlety. "A clever gambit, Your Majesty. It forces them to either negotiate and concede some ground, or to openly admit their exploitative intentions. Either way, we gain leverage or clarity." "Precisely," Murad agreed. "Prepare the dossier for Reşid Akif Pasha. Ensure it is impeccable."
Later, Ferik Fevzi Pasha brought his own set of challenges. "Your Majesty," the War Minister reported, his face like granite, "my efforts to assess and reorganize the officer corps have met a significant, if localized, obstruction. Liva Pasha Kenan, commander of the Selimiye Barracks garrison – a man known for his close ties to certain French military intelligence officers and his past profiteering from army contracts – has flatly refused access to his unit's rosters and armory for my designated inspectors, claiming 'prior standing orders' from the former Grand Vizier. He is clearly testing your new government's authority." Murad's eyes hardened. Selimiye Barracks was a key installation. "This Kenan Pasha. What is his reputation among his own men?" "Poor, Your Majesty. He is seen as corrupt and self-serving. His NCOs and junior officers, many of whom are good men, despise him but fear his connections." "Then we shall remove those fears, and him," Murad said coldly. "Fevzi Pasha, you have my direct Imperial Irade. Relieve Kenan Pasha of his command immediately. Place him under house arrest pending a full investigation into his conduct and finances by Cavit Bey's new Audit Office. Appoint a temporary commander you trust, and ensure your inspectors have full and immediate access. Let the message be clear: insubordination to this government, especially when tainted by corruption and foreign subservience, will not be tolerated, regardless of past rank or connections." Fevzi Pasha's lips curved into a rare, grim smile. "With pleasure, Your Imperial Majesty. This action will resonate throughout the entire garrison."
The diplomatic front also saw continued activity. Reşid Akif Pasha reported that the Allied High Commissioners, while still expressing 'concern,' were now also beginning to probe for areas of potential 'cooperation,' clearly trying to gauge the new government's pliability on different fronts. "They are like wolves circling a new bull in the pasture, Your Majesty," the Foreign Minister said. "Testing its strength, its reactions, looking for weaknesses." "Then we must show them no weakness, only reasoned strength and a clear vision of our own interests," Murad replied. "Continue to engage, continue to be correct, but be vigilant for any attempt to divide us or trap us into new concessions."
Amidst these high-stakes maneuvers, the quieter, more insidious threads of intrigue continued to weave through the city. Hafız Bey brought Murad a disturbing report from his internal palace security. "Your Majesty, there has been a marked increase in… discreet inquiries from known Allied informants amongst lower-level palace staff – cooks, grooms, gardeners. They are offering substantial sums for any information regarding your moods, your visitors, your private conversations. We have apprehended one such individual, a minor footman, who confessed." Murad's jaw tightened. "And?" "He also implicated a more senior official within the palace administration, a man known to have been a close confidante of Damat Ferid Pasha, as the one coordinating these internal leaks." "Arrest the senior official as well, Hafız Bey," Murad commanded. "Quietly. No public fuss. I want him interrogated thoroughly. I need to know the extent of this network. Damat Ferid may be gone from the Grand Vizierate, but his shadow, and the shadows of his foreign patrons, linger. We need our own eyes and ears, a loyal intelligence service focused on internal security and counter-espionage, directly responsible to me." He made a mental note to discuss this urgently with Tevfik and Fevzi. The "watchers" were becoming more aggressive.
Sheikh-ul-Islam Nuri Efendi, meanwhile, was making progress on the spiritual front. He had convened a meeting of influential Ulema and Imams from across Constantinople, urging them to use their Friday khutbahs to preach unity, patience, and support for the Sultan-Caliph's efforts to bring justice and stability. He was preparing a formal pronouncement, a Fetva, on the religious duty of all Muslims to support legitimate Islamic governance that strives for the welfare of the Ummah and resists foreign domination, a clear counter to any lingering pro-Damat Ferid or excessively defeatist religious sentiment.
As the day drew to a close, Murad felt the immense weight of the intersecting crises. Each step forward his government took was met with new challenges, new pressures, new intrigues. The message to Ankara was still a silent hope, days away from even reaching its destination, let alone eliciting a response. The Allies were probing, testing, threatening. Internal enemies, remnants of the old regime, were still active. He sat late in his study, reviewing the day's reports, his mind a whirlwind of strategy and contingency planning. He had backed Cavit Bey's fiscal courage, authorized Fevzi Pasha's decisive military action, and guided Reşid Akif Pasha's diplomatic tightrope walk. He had taken steps to address internal espionage. The threads of intrigue were everywhere, some spun by his enemies, some by his own hand as he sought to weave a new tapestry of Ottoman survival. The price of reform was constant vigilance and an unyielding will. He possessed both in abundance, but he knew, with a certainty that chilled him despite his resolve, that the days ahead would only grow more perilous.