He mounted his elephant again and followed us to the Castle Dragon Nest. He was quiet and wary. His cunning eyes were steadily examining the surroundings. His scabbard hanging down from his belt was bent as the swords of Danishmenthan. As the wooden bridge slowly degraded down, the gates opened. The guards and royals inside the hall were startled. He dismounted the elephant, "I spouse there is no fetch for an elephant here," he said. As I gave the lead of Goliath to a servant, I responded, "There are fetches to trap any kind of beast in Tigrisia." He smirked again as if to take what I said as a joke. We walked through the entrance accompanied by Castaver, some dukes and kingguards. We took the stairs up to the throne room. I realized his legs were shuddering, and he implicitly supported his right leg with his hand. "Such an enormous castle you have there; it is mundane to walk a great distance to reach a room," he said, jesting. "Patience Khan, we are nearly there." 

The throne room was ahead, and he turned to me, "King Jaromir, our conversation must be private." Castaver looked at me cautiously. "Of course." I said steadily, "After you," and welcomed him to the room. Before following him inside, I leaned to Castaver. "The army must not lose its position, be ready for anything," I whispered. He nodded stone cold.  

The doors were closed after us. I didn't sit on the throne but led him to a small room beneath it. It was a map room with a small window and two couches. We sat down. "I hear you now, Temur Khan." He folded his hands on the table, and his left hand covered the missing fingers. He sighed and started.

"I heard your reputation, the tales of the world's best knight alive, the weapon of the Danishmenthan. I am impressed; you are a man of talent. As I comprehend, unlike me, you lack knowledge of the man you are facing. I am a tool of Tengri, who believes all the Turks must be under the same flag. I am a missioner; I want to prevent the brother from killing the brother. No Turks should fight with each other anymore. The hostility was born because I am not coming from a house that Tengri chose. I earned my place in this world by myself. Call me a vigilante if you want. I gave hope to my people and will shed blood until I am sure no one will ever shed anymore."

I knew that he was sincere; his eyes were wide open as he saw the peace he swore to provide. "The years I spent in Danishenthan taught me that the Turks are keen on whom they will choose as leader. Surprisingly, your followers ignore that your Tengri does not choose you." A painful smile rimmed his face. "I was not alone at the beginning." A wave of curiosity laid on me. "I was the only son of a farmer who migrated with a small tribe that remained left from the Hun Empire. We fought with the Mongolians, my father was killed, and the burials of my ancestors were burned to the ground. The Mongolian King collected the young men as materials of warriors. I was agile, cunning and a genius of strategy. It didn't take long for me to be noticed. I was brought to the King's presence; he sympathized with me and made me a kingguard. I met the Mongolian prince Kovu there. He was a man of pride, so skilful and brave. We quickly became close friends after facing the enemy and watching out for each other several times. After the King died, he made me the army commander, but I was merely a commander. We were ruling the kingdom together. We valued similar qualities, saw the same beauties in the world, and fought for the same purpose, or at least I thought we did. We became inseparable. We were sharing the rule. People love to talk, so they whispered in the shadows that Kovu could not take over the kingdom by himself. They said he sold Mongolia to a Turk. These rumours were nothing but lias but were enough to change him. He had not said it directly but wanted me to avoid the reign. As I took my hands off, new hands reached for the crown. Everyone was a traitor; everyone was a betrayer. He became delusional day by day. The army sensed it. The public sensed it. They were engaged to my words more than him. Then, one twilight, I heard strange steps walking towards my tent. I ambushed the man; he was holding an axe. He was a hangman that was sent to kill me in my sleep. I threatened him to death, but he kept his silence. Then I cut his throat; now he had nothing to lose or afraid of, so in his last breath, he revealed his master's name. "King Kovu," he said.

The army knew that Kovu betrayed me, so they shut their mouths when I sneaked into Kovu's tent and suffocated him. I am the only ruler of Mongolia since then, but today, I am much more." 

His story was strangely familiar; I thought he was destined to be Bayezid's rival. He took a deep breath and continued. "I have no hard feelings against Danishmenthan. I am happy with Bayezid's rule for now. He is a brave man, not a coward like the rest. The head of the Qara Sheep Turkics deceived me and allied with the Franks to win over me; I forgave the people but not the leader. Qara Yusuf has to pay for what he did. He took shelter in Jalayiren, so Chief Jalayir is a betrayer, too, and he is one to pay for it. Now, these two traitors left their people and cowardly ran to Danishmenthan. I want them to be delivered to me. If Bayezid delivers the men to me, I will continue my quest on Franks." 

I looked at him in disbelief. "You attacked Sivas; you rode to Edre just to tease him. Even if your cause is a right claim, he will stand against you. You must know that." He smirked. His wet black curls were hanging to his forehead. "Then he is going to lose," he said. I leaned on my back. "What are you doing in the Balkans?" I asked rigidly. He laughed slightly and leaned on his back, too. "Bayezid has so much power on these lands; I am just warning these poor countries to choose the right side if it comes to war." I folded my hands and leaned forward to the table. "I shall recompose my question: what are you doing in Tigrisia? If you know me that much, you should know I would never fight against Bayezid." He leaned towards me, with a soft and quiet voice, "I don't want you to stand against him; I just require you not to stand with him. You are not his weapon anymore; you have your people. Don't get into his shit. If you do that, I will never step foot in Tigrisia; I have nothing to do with the Balkans. The other countries found this offer very amusing. However, if you help and fight with him, I assure you Tigrisia will be my enemy, and my enemies do not breathe long. I haven't offered such a deal to anyone before; I don't want your force, your army, yourself. I respect you. You be translucent; I am not a threat. You show your colour; I kill all of them." I tightened my fists. "You cannot threaten the King of Tigrisia in his map room. If it comes to war, I'll be by Bayezid's side, and then you will be destroyed; you must fear me, Temur Khan, not respect me." His eyes got squeezed, but there was excitement in his face.

I understood that even the probability of a battle excited this man. Abruptly, the door was opened, and Astrid saw our bewildered faces. She was holding two grails and a jug of wine. "I apologize, my King; I assume you haven't heard the nocks on the door." Temur turned to the girl. He had a somehow innocent smile on his lips. "She must be your wine lady, such a delicate creature. We have tones of redheads in Middle Asia." He stood up, took Astrid's white hand and kissed it slowly. "Apology accepted, my lady; what is your name?" he said vaguely. "Astrid," she replied. Temur turned back to me, and I assumed he saw my face get all sharp and red with anger. "I guarantee you, King Jaromir, if I have to come to Tigrisia again for some reason, I won't forget Astrid." He then again returned to Astrid. "My lady," he reverenced, "I bid you a beautiful day. You two don't trouble yourself," he pointed to the grails. "Drink wine and think of our talk; I can find the exit alone." 

I stepped beneath the gates with Castaver and watched him mount his beast and ride to his army waiting beyond the borders. 

I was in a great dilemma. I realized I loved peace so much that fighting and killing became so distinct from my will. I wanted to sustain peace; I had seen enough war and bloodshed. Temur was offering me peace in exchange for my honour. Why, my goodness, I was a king of my own now. Bayezid could have won this battle without me. Maybe I didn't need to risk or sacrifice my people. But what if he wouldn't win over Temur? I couldn't live with myself. Bayezid was my friend, mentor, and father that I never had, yet I was not one of his sons; I had my mother, kin, and responsibilities. I thought I had fooled myself; if I entered the war with Bayezid, Temur would have no chance of winning.

Then, all my inner conflicts would be gone. I remembered how I felt when Temur took Astrid's hand. It was like a thunder shivering down my spine. A feeling that I cannot touch or name. Bayezid would do the same for me, fight for me, and say screw the world when it comes to the one he loves. Astrid was a beauty, but why did I feel like my heart tore apart from my chest when he threatened me with her while feeling rigid and stone cold when he threatened me with my country? I couldn't be that selfish, or was it because of selfishness or something I had never felt against a woman before? Temur was strong, I got it; he had elephants, I got it either, but he hadn't called me. That's why he came here to abstract me from the war. He feared. He said he would remember Astrid; how did he understand? Understand what? Understand that I... 

I heard a bunch of nocks on my door. "Come in." Astrid glided into the room with a blue satin dress. Her eyes were at a sheen, and her lips were luminous. "Are you alright, my king?" she whispered. I looked at the empty bottles of rum and wine on the easel. I sat facing the fireplace that had a weak spark of flame inside. "What makes you feel I am not?" I said, still looking at the fireplace. I turned my head to her, "Have you talked with your brother?" She denied. I believed her. "The context of the meeting is better kept away from people." She attempted to sit next to me. "Shall I," she said vaguely. "Sure." 

She finally found the courage to ask. "What is it that preys on your mind?" her voice was timid and volumeless. I looked at her and smiled, heartbroken. Her hair was braided, as to the upward, the hair got loosened. Her face was sorrowfully beautiful and naive. Her cheeks were pearls, and her lips majestic. She was art; she had a natural melancholy that made everything she ever did look like a dream scene. She introduced me to the wonders of the world. She was looking at me, eager to listen. I gasped, and the words leapt out of my mouth out of consciousness.

"I am in a bottomless dilemma." I felt like I was suffocating by the wealth of the confession. "This kingdom depends on me; I immerse under this truth as if torn into two. My past and future are tangled, and the world demands me to make a choice. I didn't know who I was, embracing peace while the best thing I could do was fight. I don't know which path to choose and who to become." She reached for my hand and took it firmly. I felt a shimmer on my face. "I advise you to listen to your heart," she whispered. Her large pupils were shivering; her eyes got more prominent by the shadow of the fireplace. Suddenly, I felt the pumping of my heart; it was racing. I felt each beat with every inch of myself as if it echoed inside my veins. I reached for her hand fearfully because I didn't know what to do if she took it off. It was softer than the touch of a snowflake landing on a tongue. Her skin was thin, and when I put that hand into my palm, I felt a purge that somehow all the kills these hands conducted were forgiven. She was holding her breath and looking directly into my eyes as if she was seeing something more of me.

My other hand glided onto her cheeks. She immediately laid her head on my hand. I inspected her face: beautiful small chin and a small mole above her upper lips. I felt like my heart was pumping to her, and now we were breathing together. She was decisive in contrary to my courageousness. I was the one who was standing out of breath now. I approached her lips, which I intended to drink love from. She leapt on my lap, her hands embracing my shoulders. The kiss was addictive; I knew that I was hypnotized. She could be the devil or angel. It didn't matter then. I took her as she was, and she did the same. She was lighter than a feather. Her braid was ruined, and the hair strands were stuck on her soaking forehead. She started to grant soft kisses down from my neck to my chest. Her shoulders filled my hands; they felt so fragile. She laughed while messing with my hair. I laid her on the bed; she was all yielded. We were yearning for each other's warmth. I knotted my fingers across her belly; she was flawless. She was smiling all so naked to me; nothing bothered her mind more than the pleasure of the present. I was on her, looking down at her impeccable face, dispersed red hair on the white sheets. She giggled again, "You look so beautiful to me," she said, gasping, then continued, "I love you." I couldn't hide my excitement, the childish smile that showed all my teeth. I wanted to tell her I knew I had always loved her, even when we were strangers and not born yet. But I didn't. The opportunity was going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Instead, I took her hands that were lying on the sheet. We smiled at each other's eyes till the end of the night.