Reincarnated as Selim III

As Selim made his way to the Janissary Grand Barracks, he adjusted the scabbard of his sword—a traditional Ottoman kilij with a slightly curved blade, far different from the straight, rigid swords of Europe. Its finely engraved hilt gleamed faintly in the sunlight, a symbol of his rank and heritage.

He approached the imposing wooden doors of the barracks, their iron hinges showing the wear of countless years. Pushing them open, Selim was greeted by the hum of activity within. Groups of Janissaries were scattered across the courtyard, each absorbed in their tasks. Some were meticulously polishing their weapons, others sparring with precision and ferocity, while a few sat in shaded corners, immersed in books or animated conversations.

Before Selim could fully take in the scene, a man in a distinctive blue leather coat over a black tunic approached with a confident stride. A curved Ottoman sword hung from his left side, its handle worn but well-maintained.

"Assalamualaikum, Şehzade Selim." The man's voice was steady and respectful as he bowed slightly. "Welcome to the Janissary Barracks. Forgive me for the lack of ceremony. I am Affendi Agha, the commander of the Istanbul Janissaries."

Selim returned the greeting with a small smile. "Waalaikumussalam, Affendi Agha. No need for formalities; I prefer simplicity. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Affendi Agha straightened and gestured toward the bustling courtyard. "Now, before we begin today's session, why don't I give you a tour? If I'm not mistaken, this is your first visit to the barracks."

Selim glanced around, taking in the activity with curiosity. "Now that you mention it, you're right. It is my first time. Lead the way, Affendi Agha."

Then, he accompanies me to several rooms. From barracks bunkers where most janissaries slept. The room was a long hall lined with rows of wooden bunks, each bed meticulously made with a woolen blanket and a simple pillow. Small personal chests sat at the foot of each bunk, where the soldiers kept their modest belongings. Above some bunks, talismans or Quranic verses were pinned to the wall, reflecting their faith and discipline. The air carried a faint mixture of leather, wood polish, and the musk of daily life.

We then moved on to the training yard, an open area filled with the cacophony of clashing metal and spirited shouts. It was a large, sand-covered courtyard surrounded by wooden fencing. Groups of Janissaries were practicing their formations, their movements synchronized like the ticking of a great clock. In one corner, a pair of soldiers sparred with kilijs, their blades moving in swift arcs. At another, a trainer shouted instructions to recruits as they lifted heavy shields and marched in formation. 

Also, I saw some of them were training their use of Ottoman muskets, where they reload the iron ball after putting the gunpowder into the chamber and proceed to fire in lines to the dummy target. As the shot was done, it was perfect. The sound of explosives from the gunpowder. Ahhh muskets. Well it's good but it will become irrelevant later, though it will be several decades later. But to make comebacks, we must be the first to unlock this technology. The bolt action rifles. And of course to have this knowledge, we must have several technologies ahead to utilize.

"Ohh, it seems you are fond of our prideful muskets, Şehzade. We have benefitted these weapons since the battle of Mohacs! Hah, I'm proud of it."

"Well of course Affendi Agha, muskets are the most prominent firepower. For now."

Affendi heard and he was like "For now?"

"Hah, you'll see commander." Selim quit his monologue.

Our next stop was the barracks armory, a treasure trove of weapons and armor. The walls were lined with racks of swords, spears, and bows, while larger weapons, like polearms and halberds, stood in organized rows. A separate section displayed muskets and powder flasks, alongside stacks of lead shot. In the center of the room, an intricately designed display case housed ceremonial weapons—gilded kilijs and yataghans with jeweled hilts that shimmered under the warm light of oil lamps.

Afterward, Affendi Agha brought me to the library, a place of quiet study and contemplation. The room smelled of aged parchment and ink. Shelves made of dark walnut stretched to the ceiling, crammed with manuscripts on military strategy, religious texts, and even poetry. A few Janissaries sat at tables, their heads bent over books as they scribbled notes or read aloud to one another in low voices. 

I saw one of the janissaries is reading a book. So I approached him.

"Salam 'Alaikum, what book that you read just now?"

He then looked at Selim, and he gasped and straight stand "Waalaikumussalam, Sehzade. oh I just read book titled 'Layla and Majnun.'"

Oh, Layla and Majnun, its a story about Majnun who fall in love with Layla but were forced to marry another man. Its a famous story, that until various version were created across the world.

"Alright, alright, its fine, keep reading."

~~

Finally, we visited the mess hall, a wide, bustling space. Long wooden tables filled the room, their surfaces scarred from years of use. Soldiers laughed and exchanged stories over steaming bowls of soup and freshly baked bread. At the far end, a large hearth blazed as cooks tended to iron pots, the aroma of spiced meat and roasted vegetables filling the air. The walls were adorned with banners displaying the insignias of various Janissary divisions, a testament to their proud history.

"Affendi, I must say that you took care of this barracks quite well" Selim complimented him.

"I thank you for the compliment, well it is my duty to make sure the morale of our men remains in the high spot" Affendi trying to be humble.

"Agreed on that, I think we can conclude on that, I want to start the training. Now!" Selim quickly changed the priority.

"Haha quite feisty prince huh" Affendi acknowledged and proceeded to the next part. Training.

The training yard bustled with activity as the Janissary instructor approached me, holding a kilij with an ornate hilt. "Shehzade Selim, we will begin with the basics of swordsmanship. The kilij is unique in its curve and weight distribution, requiring fluid motions and swift strikes. Follow my lead."

Despite my reincarnated soul's knowledge of combat stances and techniques, I followed the instructor's commands, mimicking the precise footwork and arcs of the blade. It was a practice I had already mastered in theory, yet executing it with a real weapon in my young hands required discipline.

As I adjusted my stance during the lesson, a thought struck me. Why not try a different style? Carefully, I shifted into a kendo stance I recalled from my knowledge—feet apart, knees slightly bent, the blade raised vertically in front of me, the tip pointed toward the instructor.

Affendi Agha, observing from a distance, raised an eyebrow and walked closer. "Shehzade Selim, what stance is this? It's unlike anything I've seen before."

"This?" I smiled faintly, holding the position. "It's a style from a faraway land—Japan, I think its Tokugawa Shogunate if I'm not mistaken. They call it kendo."

"Kendo?" he repeated, his expression a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. "I have never heard of such a place, let alone their methods of swordplay. But it seems… controlled and focused. Impressive, though unusual."

Before I could elaborate, a voice called out from the gathered Janissaries. "Hoja Affendi! If I may, I would like to spar with Shehzade Selim!"