As the land finally settled after the battle, and the air grew quieter with the threat of invasion no longer looming over them, Wolfram gathered the Hunnic riders around him. The men stood in a loose circle, some still cleaning their weapons, others nursing wounds, all exhausted but alive. The sense of relief was palpable, though it was tinged with the grief of losing their leader, Kara.
Wolfram stood tall in front of them, his face a mixture of resolve and uncertainty. He had fought many battles alongside these men, but this was the first time he stood before them as their leader. Clearing his throat, he began, "I think this is farewell, my friends. Many have fallen in this glorious battle, but despite our numbers, we overcame the odds. If it wasn't for Kara, we wouldn't be standing here today."
The men shifted, their faces somber. They respected Wolfram's words, but one of the riders, an older warrior with graying hair and a scar across his cheek, spoke up. "You, Gengiz," he said, using the name that had been bestowed upon Wolfram, "you led us after Kara, as if you were his shadow. We are your brothers-in-arms from now on. If you need our help, we will fight for you till the end."
Wolfram was taken aback by the loyalty in the rider's voice. He hadn't expected this. For years, he had fought beside these men, but he had always been the outsider—the foreigner. Now, they were calling him their leader. The weight of it pressed on him, heavier than any armor. He was aware of how much his character had changed. The man who had once been a foreign noble was now a seasoned warrior, standing among the riders as one of them. He hadn't been fully prepared for this shift in his life, but now that the battle was over, the realization of what he had become hit him like a wave.
Wolfram nodded, accepting the rider's words. "Thank you," he said simply, unsure of what else to say. As he spoke, a young scout approached, breathless and wide-eyed. He skidded to a stop in front of Wolfram, clearly anxious but trying to maintain his composure. "Başbuğ," the young rider said, addressing Wolfram by the title Kara had once held.
Wolfram raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Başbuğ? Do you really think a foreigner like me deserves such title?"
The young scout looked at Wolfram with unwavering certainty. "You were here, fighting with us, while no one else cared to help. You led us when we needed it most. Of course, you are our Başbuğ."
Wolfram smiled, a mixture of pride and disbelief washing over him. "Alright then," he said, "what news do you bring?"
The scout straightened up, eager to report. "I saw a small army marching toward us, led by a woman. She spoke Shaz Turkish. We couldn't get too close, but we saw enough. She seemed important, and we thought it best to retreat and inform you."
Wolfram's eyes narrowed. "A woman, you say?" His mind raced. He had heard stories, and from the description, it could only be one person: Aslı. She was cunning, ruthless, and not someone to be underestimated. Her presence here could mean trouble.
Wolfram turned to Tanrıverdi, who stood nearby, listening intently. "Prepare the men," Wolfram ordered. "We don't know her intentions, but we need to be ready for anything."
Tanrıverdi gave a curt nod. "Understood, Başbuğ."
Wolfram still couldn't quite get used to being called that. It was a title that belonged to Kara, not him. But Kara was gone now, and the riders needed someone to lead them. As much as Wolfram had resisted the idea of becoming a leader, the role had been thrust upon him. He couldn't walk away from it now.
As the riders began to prepare for the potential confrontation, Wolfram's mind was focused on Aslı. Why was she here? And what could she possibly want from him? The last thing he needed was another battle, especially after the toll the last one had taken. But Wolfram knew better than to underestimate Aslı. She was dangerous, and if she had come all this way, there was a reason.
Wolfram mounted his horse and glanced at the horizon. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the land. Somewhere out there, Aslı and her small army were making their way toward him. Whether this would end in bloodshed or an uneasy alliance remained to be seen. One thing was certain: Wolfram had to be ready for whatever came next.
Wolfram, Tanrıverdi, and a few of his loyal riders approached Aslı's small army with a steady pace. The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting a golden hue over the land, though the tension in the air was far from serene. As they drew closer, Wolfram could see Aslı, standing tall, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. Her army, though small, was well-armed, and there was an air of danger surrounding her presence.
"Oh, look at you," Aslı's voice rang out, dripping with mockery. "The battle-hardened warrior of the steppes! All hail the Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire!" She smirked as she said it, clearly trying to provoke him.
Wolfram's men stiffened at the insult, but he remained composed. As they finally came face to face with Aslı's army, the mocking grin on her face faltered for a brief moment. She had known Wolfram in his younger days, when he was still green and full of youthful arrogance. But the man standing before her now was different. The battles, the losses, and the responsibilities had etched themselves into his features. His eyes were sharper, his posture more commanding. Even his silence was intimidating.
Aslı quickly hid her surprise, though her tone carried a slight edge as she continued, "This land is not good for your skin, darling."
Wolfram, without a hint of emotion, interrupted her, "What is it you want, Duchess?" His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of steel in it. Tanrıverdi and the other riders exchanged knowing smirks, amused at how easily Wolfram dismissed Aslı's provocations.
For the first time, Aslı's initial thoughts about Wolfram—how much he had changed—became undeniable. He was no longer the man she once toyed with. He was something much more dangerous now. She forced a smile, but there was a trace of tension in her movements as she said, "Is that how you treat a lady who just saved your father and brought him all this way?"
Wolfram's composure faltered for a second. His eyes widened with shock. "Where is he?" he pressed, his voice urgent.
Aslı raised her head, enjoying the moment of control she had regained. "Ah, ah, first, let's settle down and gather around for breakfast. Uluç style, eh?" She was still attempting to play her games, but the cold look on Wolfram's face showed he was no longer susceptible to her charm.
"Enough!" Wolfram snapped, his voice cutting through the morning air like a blade. "Let's get it over with. Show me my father. Now."
The riders behind him exchanged uneasy glances. It was rare to see Wolfram this tense, but the mention of his father had brought out a side of him that was raw and unguarded. Aslı's playful demeanor cracked, and she scowled.
"Ugh, you've become like one of them," she spat, irritation creeping into her voice. "Follow me, nomad."
As they walked toward the tent, Wolfram's heart pounded in his chest. He hadn't seen his father in so long. The man who had once been his guiding force, the pillar of his upbringing. When Aslı finally led him into the tent, Wolfram's breath caught in his throat.
There, lying on a simple bed of furs and blankets, was his father. The once mighty commander looked frail, his face pale and sunken. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, barely noticeable. Wolfram felt his world tilt. His father, the invincible figure who had loomed large in his life, was now reduced to this—sick, weak, and unresponsive.
Wolfram's voice cracked as he turned to Aslı, his eyes burning with fury. "What did you do to him?"
Aslı raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the accusation. "Me?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with indignation. "What do you take me for? This is not my doing. It's yours—and that giant of a man's. What did you think would happen, throwing yourselves into endless wars? And where is he? Kara? Isn't he going to show up himself anymore?"
At the mention of Kara, Wolfram's expression shifted from rage to sorrow. The weight of Kara's loss settled heavily on his shoulders. He spoke quietly, almost as if the words themselves pained him. "Kara did his duty for the realm. One last time."
Aslı's mocking facade melted away. For the first time, she looked genuinely shocked. "What happened?" she demanded, her voice urgent and devoid of its usual playfulness. "Tell me!"
Wolfram turned his gaze back to his father, his face hardening once again. "He gave his life for his people," he said, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. "Unlike you. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You and your manipulations. Do you have any idea of the chaos your games cause in the realm? You and people like you, who play with lives as if they're pieces on a board."
Aslı was silent, the weight of his words settling over her. She opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. She had known Wolfram to be emotional before, but this was different. The anger, the sorrow, the depth of his words—they cut through her usual armor of sarcasm and wit.
Wolfram knelt beside his father, as he reached out to touch Hesso's shoulder. He didn't stir. His breathing remained shallow, his face pale as death. "I failed him," Wolfram whispered, the pain evident in his voice. "how could know he was there. I could have saved him!"
Aslı watched him, for once at a loss for words. The man she had known was gone, replaced by someone far more dangerous, far more determined. And though she wouldn't admit it, she felt a pang of guilt deep within her.
The tent was silent except for the faint sound of Hesso's labored breathing. Outside, the riders remained vigilant, unaware of the deeply personal battle happening within.