It was silence. All I could think about for a long time was this silence's deepness. The deepness that I had never hesitated to dive into, but today, I was hesitant. Today, it was essential to climb upwards from the well. To have someone who could pull me out. That someone was gone, that someone wrote me a mouthful of lies—someone I should never replace by my blood. He justified all of them. Otherwise, Brancovics never fought on our side. He tried to trick, mock, play with, and scorn my mind. It's as if Brancovic and Dragarevic ever be on the same page. This was all Temur; he poisoned my son with his itchy words. Kartal was right from the beginning.

The Jaromir I knew was long ago. I couldn't stop laughing for a while after I read his letter. He wrote about how much he missed my company, how he rules his country, and how thankful he is to me. He added that he would fight beside me till his last breath. Bullshit. Goran Brancovic avoided breathing the same air as me. I thought Temur Lenk killed the boy I raised, and this whole occasion became a vendetta. After all, I was destined to be the king of the century. I was destined with perfectness: the one true king who deserved and became it.

I deserved to be the king of Danishmenthan. My name was written on the walls of Ocmah. I had known it since I read those archives of Ancient Greece since I saw lightning as a tool of that God Zeus. I was a tool of Tengri, and there was no room for infidels and their holy spirits. A Turk's only friend is a Turk, clearly not a Tigrisian. Whereas, if I could save Jaromir from that monster. If I could keep him with me, everything would be different. Nothing would be other. He was a foreigner, a liar, a traitor, a son betraying his father. He was sure some king's son but not mine. My sons were incapable. He was not. He was just like me but not mine.

Suddenly, his betrayal was about the war itself. He showed disloyalty to the art of fighting. A man of honor never lies about his stance. This was the sole lesson that he had learned even before I taught it. He was fifteen, eager to fight. I had walked him through battlegrounds yet never let him fight in one till then. Germiyan was the first house that resisted my right to the throne. They were too blind to doubt my blood. I never had Slav blood. My dear mother was a device of Tengri to bring me to earth. I used to think about Queen Miriam the same. I talked with him continuously till the close encounter with the enemy. Every soul I took away in war after the death of my wife was for her. I had believed his father's death would establish the same motivation for Jaromir.

Nevertheless, it was the living that he fed on. He didn't leave me during the battle, not because he was afraid to die, but because he wanted to protect me. I saw him getting between swinging swords to help the warriors he had never known. He fought for a living, not at the cost of his life. He respected whom he ended. He let them grab their swords at their last breath. Never tormented, never tortured. It was his soul, not something that I injected into him.

On the other hand, it was all new, different, and painful: his first battle. A father understands what's on his son's mind just by a glimpse of a glance. He was terrorized to see how good he was at killing. He hated it. He hated to see what he was capable of - he was a wolf. How could he do this to me? He was family. He was dead. Temur killed that boy I loved. It changed nothing now whether he breathed or not. But back then, at the end of his first battle experience, he stood in the mud with smokey eyes and dirty trotters, wondering whether it was worth all the pain. He trembled but leaned to the man lying before him, eyes wide open and red. He reached his eyes and closed them. He was gazing at the ones who fell onto each other with eyes without faces, with postures that were strange to themselves. They were friends.

There were enemies, but also a sense of unity. It didn't matter then which side they had fought for. Death equalized them. He stopped trembling and straightened above them. He looked down at them. He cleansed his sword by rubbing it on the leather belt on his arm. He walked past the dead bodies, all neutral and calm. I was startled to see a fifteen-year-old so firm, so still. At that moment, I was sure the child was mine. The same kind of darkness was trapped inside his heart. A monster that we released only when it was needed. A beast that tore our hearts to pieces that we felt nothing. That made us inhuman. I had never thought that his monster could perish his love for me.

I wandered around the gardens and went to the village in disguise to taste the cheap, bitter wine that could make an average horse higher than clouds. It couldn't make me drunk. So I walked back to the castle in despair. I climbed the stairs to get Jaromir's letter from my room. While walking around the pine trees, I read it out loud several times in different voices. Abruptly, I realized that I started to forget his way of talking. There were tens of butterflies flying among the reeds. I read once to the butterflies. At least I could believe their purity.

- Husband, what are you doing here all alone?

I turned back to find Oksana staring at me, incredulous enough to shudder me.

- Is that Jaromir's seal on the letter?

I turned the head of the paper and saw the red dragon symbol was pressed on the page neatly.

- What did he write about?

I lurched. Her face got nervous. She walked directly toward me and took the letter gently but quickly. She read it with her wide brown eyes and eyebrows that were somehow always wet. After reading, she raised her head slowly to match my eyes. She had disbelief nested in her tight cheeks. "You must be kidding me?" she whispered first. I gazed at her, wondering about what she meant. She continued vigorously, "I know you, Bayezid, I know you damn well. You're mistaken. You are in denial. There must be a logical explanation for why Dragarevic made peace with Brancovic. You are a fool wandering on the earth if you consider that Jaromir could betray you." I was bewildered and terrified by being understood explicitly. She was gasping. "Jaromir loves you. God forgives; he is the only one ever to love you." It felt different to hear words I repeatedly told myself from someone else. "Love and death can coexist," I murmured. The words were heard weak. Oksana started to laugh like an insane witch. "He is not like you! He is not a paranoiac." I knew I would regret it even before thinking about it, raising my hand, hitting her flawless white cheeks, and seeing those cheeks turn red and light purple. She held her hand on her cheek, looking into my eyes as if it were the first time we were acquainted. "I will never let you hurt him. You are going to burn in our lord's hell for eternity. I will tell Jaromir, tell him about the beast you are. Then he will kill you and take me far away from your castle as he had promised all those years ago." I hated her at that moment. "This won't happen, Oksana. He didn't make such a promise to you. I would have known. Secondly, it is I who is going to get revenge. You, poor Oksana, will watch the consequences of your brother's betrayal from a locked room." As I raised my hand, two guardians approached. "Take the queen into her room and lock her inside. She needs to rest," I demanded. She was struggling and fluttering. "I WILL CURSE YOUR NAME! OUR LORD WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER! ANGELS WILL FIND JAROMIR AND TELL HIM. YOU WILL SEE!" As she screamed, a vision from the past came to my knowledge. Jaromir once mentioned to me all those years ago that his father had always wanted to make peace with Brancovic but couldn't dare because of the civil riots that would occur. He told me that the new leader of the Brancovic Dynasty had no hostility towards Dragarevic. After all, Oksana could be right. Temur might not be the one who gets them together, but Jaromir himself.

The guardians finally dragged her on the grass. I was still watching how feral she seemed. Her mighty hands hit on the guardians' chests. At that moment, I remembered that I had been hosting another Dragarevic in Edre. Vukasin had to be kept away from the castle, especially his sister. I felt a terrible urge to believe in Oksana. At least contemplate what she said. I thought the possibility that the dark curtains of separation drew me into this denial just like they had done years ago when I was battling the Rumelia.

It was the year of the horse. There was this terrible storm ravaging the whole Kingdom. I could barely pass the mount Malpitz on the way back to Edre. Those days, my soldiers were bonded to me. There were no vile frames, tricks, or acquisitions. I didn't need to watch my back. I had already ordered to perish the army which belonged to Yakub. The remaining men were on my side. The battle had taken three months, just a year later than Kasvoltran. Along the ride, I bought gifts for my sons. A machete with diamond engravings for Mehli, a red silk cape with golden tulip miniatures for Suleiman, a crystal dagger for Isa, and finally, an ancient green copper armor that had belonged to the ancestor of Turk, the greatest warrior of all Prince Kul Tigin. Musa had always been interested in history. Kul Tigin was a hero for him and all of us. He and his brother, King Bilge, gave the Turks their independence four hundred years ago. Upon his death and the fall of the first Turkic Nation, The Khaganate, his armor was kept by the Rumelian. Thereby, I brought what belongs to the Turk to the land of Turk again.

As I entered Edre and waited for a warm welcome from my sons, Mehli ran towards me, weeping with sour eyes. "Father! Musa! He fell into the stream! We were playing father!" I remounted Shimshek out of the blue and rode to the stream exceptionally. I saw infantry running towards the stream armed. I grabbed one of them's collar, "Where is my son?" He was gasping. "The Dragarevic Boy jumped into the water after our prince; he will choke him!" I ran along the flow direction. Jaromir was swimming towards Musa, who had already gone adrift. I dived into the water hurriedly, as if life and death were racing to catch him. A fallen trunk of the tree blocked my way. "Musa!" Jaromir reached him before I did. "I swore I kill you, Dragarevic!" Jaromir grabbed Musa beneath his shoulder and dragged him before they were caught to the waterfall. The storm kept pushing, and I couldn't say if it were rain or the stream that soaked me.

Jaromir carried Musa above the rocks. Then our eyes met. His assured eyes immediately watched the surroundings to find a long, thick tree branch. He then hung the limb below the stones. "King Bayezid!" he shouted with his spoilt Turkish. I could barely catch the stem and raised myself above. I remember that I coughed continuously for a while. Jaromir, with his skinny twelve-year-old body, slumped down to the ground. I straightened up and carried Musa on my shoulder. "Thunder might strike the trees. We must get away from the forest."

I whistled, and Shimshek ran towards us. Musa sat in front of me, and Jaromir in the back. We entered the walls of the castle. The servants crowded around us with blankets and hot water. Oksana appeared at the end of the hall. She hurried to Jaromir. This was the only time I saw her running. "You will never do such a thing again, to sacrifice yourself for one of his seeds. Are you out of your mind?!" She kept her habit of assuming that I didn't understand Tigrisian. Jaromir cunningly consoled her. Then he faced me, not to expect anything but to declare his side. I slightly nodded, and he nodded back. Musa walked towards Jaromir, "You saved my life, Prince Jaromir, thank you." After a few days, it occurred to me that Mehli was the one who pushed Musa to the stream in the first place for a joke. He apologized a million times after the fact was spoiled.

I finally could give the Copper Armour to Musa, who was mesmerized by the fact that it had belonged to Kul Tigin. However, after seconds of cheering, he looked into my eyes with a sense of responsibility. "I cannot accept it. There is another in this castle that relates to Kul Tigin than I am," I was bewildered by Musa having the self-abnegation to refuse the gift, but he was right. The same evening, I called Jaromir to come to my presence. He looked modest with only the scheme of his sword by his side. His long blonde hair had left its place for spiky short hair that didn't even reach to his ears. He reverenced with a stillness on his face. "Why did you cut your hair?" He regained his dutiful face, "The head of the quarry said that all the Christian Vassals had to shave their hair to prevent lice." I found the order meaningless. Jaromir smirked briefly, "I believe he was afraid that Christian Hair lacks what makes the Turk hair clean." I cleaned my throat to address him. "Prince Dragarevic, first of all, thank you for saving my son's life. You have shown your sincere intentions, and I appreciate it. I was confirmed when I told you that I can make you the man of the century, a hero, but you don't need to. I understand now that all I can do is to be there for the honest man you already are. This armor would be a gift for Musa. It belongs to Kul Tigin, the..." "The legendary Turk commander," he completed. "Correct, I obtained it from the Rumelian. I thought I brought the armor to Turks again, but I was wrong. It is your claim." He touched the armor as if in a holy spirit's presence. He was sensitive and careful. He drew his finger on the slight notches of the copper. "Are these crosses?" I retook a look at the armor. "Yes, they certainly are." We looked at each other, speechless for a while. Then, I could make up a story to answer. "It is the vile Rumelian who had drawn crosses over his armor to shame him and prevent him from entering Ocmah." He looked at the steel and then again to my face. "Is this the reason you are giving this to me?" I was unprepared. "Of course not!" I was stretching my nose, "Honestly, I have just realized the crosses. I do not have any idea about them. Maybe it was meant to be yours!" He put on the armor. His slim chest was buried inside, and his neck disappeared. "You can use it when you fit it, and when you fit it, you can fight with it." His eyes blazed as he heard the word "fight." I searched for a hint of confusion on his face. Why would a Danishmenthan encourage a Tigrisian to fight while he is very aware of whom he would fight besides being given the chance? He wasn't confused, wasn't hesitating, wasn't contemplating. He grabbed the armor firmly and proudly. Reverenced and returned thanks. He left without saying a second word. I never let the head of the quarry cut off his hair.

Jaromir was a man of duty. He had always privileged his crowd before himself. Now, he was doing the same, bringing his nation forward. Whereas I was the one suffocated, I couldn't forecast if he was coming to choke or rescue me. The only reason why Brancovic had stood beside Temur was to be against Dragarevic. If they compromised, then there was no reason for Brancovic to fight with Temur. This is probable, then a prince sacrificing his life to save his enemy's son. I knew I needed to talk with Jaromir. Oksana was right from the start. Allying with Brancovic is nothing. It had always been the Siren Stone who intentionally and intensely tied to Mongolians like a coward dog's pinched tail. Jaromir had never shown intimacy towards them. It was the thunder that struck my mind. I immediately ran after the guardians dragging Oksana. I caught them just by the end of the hall. I ordered the guardians to stand aside. Oksana's eyes were red. Her lashes were lumped and curled. I wiped her tears. She looked at me, half surprised and hopeful, with gigantic soaked eyes and red ivy veins. "You are right. He is family. I will talk to him first." She exhaled. "I didn't mean what I said earlier," she whispered. "Yes, you did."

It was the early evening. I dressed up for dinner, and Oksana painted watercolor on dry leather. After tying my boots, I reached for my coat. Oksana had already been standing beneath me, holding the coat. She made me wear it. I wondered if she ever did the same to her lover of a knight. If she ever could. Tuanna never did such a thing. She used to say go and get your coat on your own. She hated serving of any kind. She was one of the free spirits in this world. She felt like a melody that nobody else could play. One that I wanted to share all. I believe she eventually became the queen of Danishmenthan as the king's love, as even in death, she still held my heart. Oksana wrapped my collars. She returned to the table where she left her paintings.

The door was knocked, and two guardians opened the door from the outside as a dispatcher walked in. He reverenced. "My king, I have news from the South and an invitation from the king of Tigrisia, Jaromir Dragarevic." I sat on the couch, quite pleased, and wanted to save the good news for last. "Begin with South." 

- Temur Lenk attacked four Southern cities simultaneously:  Mersin, Adana, Bodruz, and Hattai. I couldn't believe my ears. "What did you say?" The dispatcher remained silent. I stood up, laid the leather map on the table, and pinned the attacked cities. There appeared a giant "T" when the pins were matched. He was sealing my land. It was more transparent than ever. I was going to face him soon. The dispatcher was startled by my anger. "Your grace, if you wish, I can announce the invitation now." I looked at him, relieved. At least, soon, I will reunite with Jaromir, I thought. 

"King Jaromir invites you, the King of Danishmenthan, to his wedding to the lady of Siren Stone Helena Gattisio."