As the figures of Isakios, Batun, and Togay disappeared into the night, the air in the tent grew thick with a quiet tension. Duke Osho, always composed and thoughtful, broke the silence. His voice was steady, but there was a deep reflection behind his words, a quiet understanding of the past that he had kept hidden for so long.
"Timurtaş," he began, his gaze fixed on Uluç, "was the life of everyone in this realm. He was not just a leader or a conqueror. He would visit us often, and his presence was felt by every child, every family. Many of us remember him from our childhood, watching the living legend compete in tournaments held in our cities. His very presence brought not just strength, but joy. He was a symbol of luxury, of abundance."
Duke Osho's eyes flickered with the memories, his mind drifting back to the times when Timurtaş, in all his grandeur, would arrive in the cities. "He would bring ice creams, baklava, bureks, iron—everything a city could dream of. You'd see the stalls with döner, the spinning meat on the skewers, filling the air with the scent of celebration. People loved that tradition. And Timurtaş did this for over 40 years. It wasn't just his conquests that kept him in the hearts of the people; it was these gestures, these moments of unity and joy."
Osho looked back at Uluç, who remained quiet, letting the words sink in. "After reclaiming Constantinople, when he was 60, you remember how he started feasting. It wasn't about the food, Uluç. It was about giving back. He was celebrating with the people. And as you know, he kept conquering the eastern lands, always pushing further. But I remember... I remember you used to judge him for it. You would say he was wasting time, playing politics and indulging in silly games."
Uluç stiffened slightly, but there was no anger in his eyes—just a growing sense of realization. Osho continued, his voice soft but firm. "But do you now see? Do you see it was his legacy that will keep this empire standing, even as we face the darkest of times? His legacy was more than just war—it was unity. It was the strength of relationships, of building a realm that people loved and believed in. That's why they followed him."
Uluç's brow furrowed as the words hit him harder than any blow. He had spent years in the shadow of his father, constantly feeling the weight of Timurtaş's decisions, often questioning them. But now, as the empire hung by a thread, the wisdom of his father's actions became clear. Timurtaş had been preparing them for this, even when it seemed like he was simply enjoying the spoils of war.
"Do you see it now, Uluç?" Duke Osho asked, his voice softening. "We may not survive this. The odds are against us. But your father's legacy is what will hold this empire together. His unity, his strength in relationships—it's what kept the realm intact for so long. Even when you were out there conquering, your father was holding everything together."
Uluç exhaled slowly, his thoughts racing. He had always admired his father's military might, his ability to wrestle and shoot an arrow with deadly precision, even in his old age. But he had never fully understood the other side of his father's rule—the political games, the feasts, the diplomacy. Until now.
Duke Osho pressed on, the words coming faster now, as if he needed to say them before it was too late. "Even when your father was old, Uluç, he never stopped battling for the good of his people. He only paused when Wolfram was taken as a hostage. For nine years, he stopped fasting, stopped celebrating. But even then, he trained Wolfram. He kept teaching, kept leading. And even then, he still competed in tournaments—he wrestled, he shot arrows, he fought like a man half his age. He never stopped."
Uluç's silence was heavy, but it wasn't the silence of rejection. It was the silence of a man who had finally understood. His father's strength hadn't just been in his muscles or his conquests. It had been in his ability to lead, to unite, to hold an empire together even as the world around them threatened to tear it apart.
For the first time in years, Uluç felt a deep sense of pride for the man he had judged so harshly in his youth. He had seen his father's physical strength, his dominance on the battlefield, but he had missed the larger picture. Timurtaş had been fighting a different kind of war—one that Uluç was only now beginning to understand.
The silence between them stretched on, but it was no longer awkward. It was filled with the weight of generations, with the realization that Timurtaş's legacy would live on in every decision Uluç made from this moment forward.
Finally, Uluç spoke, his voice low and filled with a new sense of purpose. "Yes," he said slowly, "I see it now. My father... he wasn't just a warrior. He was the glue that held this empire together. And now, it's my turn."
Duke Osho nodded, his eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. He had said what needed to be said. Now, it was Uluç's turn to lead.