Bayezid rushed out of the tent, and Yakub followed him. The air suddenly got heavier; breathing became more arduous. The future was suddenly uncharted. A war that dispelled two kings... Oksana sat down. "What is happening, mother?" Mother gathered us. "I believe King Murad is killed on the battlefield." Vukasin had an evil smirk. "What will happen to us?" I asked. Mother patted my cheek, "Nothing will happen to us, alright? We have already agreed with Yakub. He is the king now, as Oksana will be the queen." Vukasin placed his hand under his chin. "I wonder who killed him." Mother grabbed his hand. She silenced him with blazing eyes. I saw a man, who was carried on a timber with flowers and gold on it, from the space between the two wings of the tent. He was placed on a marble stare. Two women were crying in the distance. Both wore golden brocades and long chic dresses. "Who are they?" Oksana asked. "They are the wives of King Murad, dear." Oksana was disgusted. Mother continued. "The one with the green dress is Alkız, the princess of the Turkic tribe Artuncha. Artuncha is allied with the Danishmenthan by that marriage. Prince Yakub is his son. The other woman with the blue dress is Olivera, the princess of Kashmir, east Balkan lordship. She is the mother of Bayezid." After a short while, people gathered around the marble. Bayezid appeared. He approached King Murad's body. His eyes were red and sharp. Tears had dried out on his reddish cheeks. He was looking with passion, anger and regret. He took his father's cold hands. He leaned forward and put his forehead on King Murad's. Then Yakub came in a hurry. He was shouting to the soldiers. Weren't you there... How could you leave your king alone... You are all going to be executed... Suddenly, Bayezid grabbed Yakub's collar. He hissed with pain.

We weren't there, Yakub...

Hours I had passed. We were still sitting in the centre tent. My legs got cramped. I stood up and stretched. Mother was calming Oksana, who was crying silently. I heard whispers from the back of the tent. I carefully propped my ear to the fabric and tried to manage the spoken words. They were talking in Turkish. With small steps, I approached my mother. "Sorry to interrupt, but Mother, could you translate what they are saying?" Mother stood up. She was confused. "Where did you hear?" I dragged her near the back of the tent.

+ The nephew of passed king Dragar backstabbed the king. It is said that he played to be dead and speared Murad when he was passing by.

- It will be a massive loss for the nation if Yakub takes the throne rather than Bayezid. Bayezid is a better warrior, a better commander and a scholar. He has the heart of the army and people.  

+ If Bayezid takes the throne, following Artuncha, most Turkic tribes will revolt. Yakub is the first son. It is his birthright to become the king. 

- Balkan will support Bayezid. It is much better to have a true king who fights for his approval than to have a roughcast that will cause wars which will be lost. 

+ In that case, we must do what needs to be done.

We looked at each other, bewildered. Mother said, "These are gossip, nothing to do with the crown." I nodded, but both of us were incredulous. At that moment, Prince Yakub entered the tent. "Queen Miriam, Oksana, young princes there is a tent prepared for you next to mine. Tomorrow, I will be crowned, and in a few days, we will go back to the capital, Edre, and the wedding will be planned. Then we will discuss the future of our countries." Mother made a reverence, he did the same, and then we moved out in the company of Prince Yakub. Suddenly, I heard the familiar voice of a man talking behind the centre tent. He was the hand of Murad. We walked soberly to the tent, which I believe was Bayezid's, as the snow-white horse was fetched next to it. Years later, Bayezid was going to tell me what they discussed. 

He asked for allowance and then entered his tent. Bayezid was sitting on a mattress covered in bear fur. He had undressed his armour and left his sword. He smiled when he saw this old man whose white beard reached his belly. Akhal had served his father for years and became a family. In his childhood, most of the royals and members of the public teased and discriminated against him just because his mother was not Turkish. Akhal taught him science, literature, mathematics, art, and more. He taught him that he can earn the respect not shown to him rightfully, by raising himself to be the strongest. "My prince..." he said and then kneeled. Bayezid stood up and took his teacher up.

"Akhal, it is such a relief to see you here." They sat on the mattress next to each other. "I feel sorrow for your loss, my child. Our king was a world leader." Bayezid approved with his eyes. "Therefore, it gives me Nothing but gloom to tell you this damned conspiracy. Your brother, Yakub, told a group of infantry to choke you in your tent tonight so that you won't become a threat to his throne." Bayezid's face was faded. His blue eyes were opened, startled. He rested his hand on his forehead and squinted his eyes. "This cannot be real. It must be a theory of conspiracy or a bragging of enemies within." He was pacing back and forth despairingly. Akhal stood up. "Think about it, Bayezid. If I weren't sure about it, would I tell this to you?" Bayezid took his sword from the table. He placed it on his waist.

"He is my brother. We stand back to back for years. I deny to accept it; I deny to believe it." Akhal took Bayezid's sword out of its sheath. He gripped it between his fingertips. "Bayezid, you are not the only threat. After he kills you, it will be your children's turn." Bayezid sighed. He let himself fall onto the mattress. He covered his face with his hands. Akhal crouched to him. "The wise thing to do is order his death before he conducts his plan. The frontal warriors are loyal only to you. Order them to choke Yakub before the sun goes down. You must understand that Yakub won't kill you for any lack of love but for the sake of his dynasty. You must do the same. You are not two princes anymore. One will be the king of Danishmenthan while the other will vanish from history." 

Bayezid looked directly into his eyes. Akhal whispered. "Kök Tengri will forgive you." 

Bayezid responded, "I won't."