1921, October 31st, Monday (Evening)
The air in Yıldız Palace crackled with an electric tension that evening. Damat Ferid Pasha's abrupt dismissal had sent shockwaves through the ancient corridors, a thunderclap announcing a political storm of potentially devastating magnitude. Hafız Bey, his face a mask of impeccable neutrality that nonetheless failed to conceal the heightened alertness in his eyes, had confirmed that the news was already spreading like wildfire through the ministries at the Sublime Porte and, undoubtedly, towards the Allied legations in Pera. Urgent, yet discreet, inquiries were already being made. The city held its breath.
Murad, alone in his private study, felt the weight of his decision settle upon him, a physical pressure in his chest. He had crossed a Rubicon. There was no turning back. Dismissing a Grand Vizier so favored by the occupying powers was a direct challenge, a declaration of intent. Now, he had to build something credible in the void he had created, and quickly.
Ahmed Tevfik Pasha arrived as the last slivers of dusky orange faded from the sky over the Bosphorus. The old statesman looked even more careworn than he had the previous day, the news of Damat Ferid's fall having clearly reached him. He entered the study not with the confident step of a man summoned to power, but with the cautious tread of one approaching a powder keg with a lit match.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Tevfik Pasha said, his bow perhaps a fraction more deliberate, his eyes searching Murad's young face for answers. "The palace is… alive with rumors. They say Damat Ferid Pasha has been relieved of his duties."
"They say true, Pasha," Murad affirmed, his voice calm and steady. He gestured towards the now-familiar armchair. "Please, be seated. There is much to discuss, and little time." Tevfik Pasha sat, his gaze unwavering. "A most momentous decision, Your Majesty. One that will have… significant repercussions, both domestically and with the Entente powers." "I am aware of the risks, Pasha," Murad said. "But to continue on the path Damat Ferid was leading us was not a risk; it was a certainty of ruin. His proposals this afternoon were an insult to the intelligence of a dying nation. He offered no vision, no courage, no meaningful change. Only more of the same decay, wrapped in the tired rhetoric of subservience."
He leaned forward. "Pasha, yesterday you told me that if leadership of extraordinary vision and courage were to emerge, patriots would answer the call. You said your only wish was to see the Empire and the Caliphate survive with honor, and that your experience would be mine to command if I genuinely sought that goal." Murad paused, letting his words sink in. "I seek it with every fibre of my being. And I cannot do it alone. Therefore, Ahmed Tevfik Pasha, I ask you to accept the Seals of the Grand Vizier and to form a new government, a government of national survival and revival."
The old statesman's eyes widened slightly. He had perhaps anticipated being consulted, perhaps even offered a significant role, but the Grand Vizierate itself, under such tumultuous circumstances, was a burden of almost unimaginable weight. He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the shuttered windows. "Your Majesty," he said at last, his voice raspy with emotion, "this is the highest honor, the heaviest charge. I am an old man. My health is not what it once was. The task you describe… it is a Herculean one. To navigate the fury of the Allies, to address the desperate needs of our people, to find a path towards reconciliation or at least a modus vivendi with Ankara, all while our treasury is empty and our army a shadow…" He shook his head slowly. "Many would say it is impossible."
"And many would have said it was impossible for a boy of eighteen to dismiss Damat Ferid Pasha," Murad countered gently. "The impossible is merely that which has not yet been attempted with sufficient will. I do not ask you to carry this burden alone, Pasha. I will share it. I will shield you from what pressures I can. I will work with you, day and night. But I need your wisdom, your experience, your integrity, and the respect your name commands to lend credibility to this new beginning."
Tevfik Pasha looked at the young Sultan, truly looked at him. He saw the youth, yes, but beneath it, he saw an iron resolve, a fierce intelligence, and something else… an almost unnerving depth of understanding that belied his years. This was no flighty prince on a power trip. This was someone who had, in a few short days, grasped the fatal trajectory of the Empire and had dared to wrench the tiller. "What would be the immediate priorities of such a government, Your Majesty?" Tevfik asked, his tone shifting from reluctance to cautious engagement. "What mandate would it carry?"
"Its first priority," Murad stated, "is survival with dignity. This means an immediate and honest reappraisal of our fiscal situation, not for the benefit of foreign creditors, but for the sustenance of our own people and state functions. It means the quiet, determined rebuilding of a core military force loyal to the Sultanate and the true interests of the Empire – a force capable of ensuring internal order and, eventually, defending our sovereignty. It means a new approach to Ankara: no more condemnations, no more talk of rebellion, but a serious, albeit initially discreet, exploration of common ground against foreign dismemberment. And it means presenting a united, dignified, and far more resolute face to the Allied powers – not one of seeking confrontation, but one that asserts our legitimate rights and refuses to be a mere puppet."
"These are bold aims, Your Majesty," Tevfik mused. "The Allies will see the dismissal of Damat Ferid as a hostile act. They will exert immense pressure. They may even seek to… intervene more directly." "Let them," Murad said, his eyes flashing. "They already intervene at will. Perhaps it is time they understood that their interventions will no longer be met with abject compliance. We must be clever, Pasha, use what little leverage we have. They are not a monolith; their interests diverge. We must exploit those divergences. And we must demonstrate to our own people, and to those in Anatolia, that Constantinople is no longer a seat of surrender, but of renewed Ottoman will."
He continued, "For the composition of the cabinet, I would value your suggestions immensely. We need men of talent, integrity, and courage, not sycophants or time-servers. For Minister of War, I believe Ferik Fevzi Pasha possesses the necessary skills and a burgeoning loyalty to this new direction. For Foreign Affairs, we need someone with diplomatic acumen but also a backbone of steel. For Finance, someone with almost magical abilities, or at least a ruthless pragmatism."
Tevfik Pasha listened intently, a lifetime of political calculation working behind his aged features. "Fevzi Pasha for War… a bold choice. He is a capable soldier, but his nationalist leanings are known. It would send a strong signal, both to Ankara and to the Allies." He stroked his beard. "For Foreign Affairs… perhaps Reşid Akif Pasha? He has experience, he knows the European mind, but he is also a patriot. For Finance… that is the true challenge. Perhaps Cavit Bey, if he could be persuaded? His expertise is undeniable, though his past associations with the Young Turks might be a complication." "Cavit Bey is indeed skilled," Murad conceded. "We must consider all options. The priority is competence and a willingness to serve the Empire's revival, not past political labels. And for Sheikh-ul-Islam? We need a man who can rally the faithful, who understands the spiritual crisis we face, and who will not be a mere mouthpiece for political expediency." "Perhaps Nuri Efendi," Tevfik suggested. "A respected scholar, known for his piety and his independence of thought."
They talked for another hour, discussing names, potential policies, the immediate challenges. Murad was impressed by Tevfik Pasha's astute grasp of the personalities involved, his deep understanding of the intricate machinery of the Ottoman state, even in its decayed form. The old statesman, once he had accepted the daunting premise, seemed to shed years, his mind becoming sharper, his contributions more incisive. He raised objections, pointed out difficulties, but always constructively, seeking solutions rather than dwelling on obstacles.
Finally, Tevfik Pasha leaned back, a deep sigh escaping him. "Your Majesty, you have presented a vision that is fraught with peril, yet… it is the first glimmer of true hope I have seen for this Empire in many years. To serve such a vision, even at my age, even with the risks involved… it would be an honor. I will accept the Seals of the Grand Vizier, if you are certain this is your will."
A wave of relief washed over Murad, though he kept his expression composed. "It is my will, Pasha. And I have every confidence in your ability to help guide us through the storms ahead." He rose. "We must act quickly. The formal announcement of your appointment and the dissolution of Damat Ferid's government should be made tomorrow morning. We will need to inform the Allied High Commissioners courteously but firmly. You will begin constituting your cabinet immediately. I wish to meet with your proposed ministers as soon as possible."
"I will begin at once, Your Majesty," Tevfik Pasha said, also rising, a new light of resolve in his eyes. He seemed to stand straighter. "We will face immense challenges. But with Allah's help, and Your Majesty's unwavering leadership, perhaps… perhaps we can yet save this ancient realm." "With Allah's help, and with the strength and unity of our people, we will do more than save it, Pasha," Murad said. "We will rebuild it. We will make it strong again."
After Tevfik Pasha departed, his mind already racing with the names of potential ministers and the wording of his first pronouncements, Murad felt a profound sense of accomplishment, quickly followed by the sobering realization of the monumental task truly beginning. He summoned Hafız Bey. "The Lord Chamberlain," Murad began, "Ahmed Tevfik Pasha has accepted the Grand Vizierate. You will ensure all necessary protocols are observed for the transition. And send an urgent message to Ferik Fevzi Pasha. Request his presence here at the palace at first light tomorrow. Inform him that his new Grand Vizier, and his Sultan, wish to discuss the immediate implementation of his plans for the Ministry of War."
Hafız Bey bowed deeply, a rare hint of fervent emotion in his usually controlled demeanor. "Your Imperial Majesty, a new standard has indeed been raised this night. May it fly victorious." "It will, Hafız Bey," Murad said, a grim smile touching his lips. "It must."
He stood alone once more as the palace settled into the late hours of the night. The city outside was unaware of the momentous changes taking place at its heart. The Allied generals and ambassadors would awaken to a very different political landscape. The men in Ankara, when word reached them, would perhaps pause and wonder. Murad knew this was only the first battle in a long war. But he had won it. He had a new Grand Vizier, a man of integrity and experience, and the beginnings of a team that might share his vision. The path ahead was still treacherous, shadowed by enemies both foreign and domestic. But tonight, for the first time since his arrival in this world, Murad felt he was no longer just reacting to a predetermined fate. He was beginning to forge his own.