Wolfram emerged from the tent, the weight of his father's condition still heavy on his shoulders. His face, though stoic, betrayed the faintest hint of sadness. As he walked towards Tanrıverdi, his closest ally and confidant, the air between them was thick with unspoken words.
"I've found my father," Wolfram began, his voice steady but laced with fatigue. "He's not dead... but he's not in his best condition either." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I want to thank you all for everything you've done for me. But now, we're close to my lands. It's not safe for you here anymore. I want you to return to your families. I can handle things from here."
Tanrıverdi, always loyal and unwavering, took a step closer, his voice a low whisper. "No way. We will help you get home safely. And..." He hesitated, his eyes shifting toward Aslı, who was still near the camp. "We don't want to leave you alone with her."
Wolfram smirked, glancing over at Aslı before turning back to Tanrıverdi. "I don't think she's any worse than the things we've already faced. But this is an order, Tanrıverdi." His tone grew more authoritative. "I command you to bring me my belongings from the camp, then set out east. Find your families, and send my regards to Isaakios, will you?"
Tanrıverdi's face tightened with unease. He didn't like the idea of leaving Wolfram behind, especially with Aslı in the picture. But deep down, he knew the battle was over. Their journey together had reached its end. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" he asked, his voice tinged with the hope that Wolfram might change his mind.
Wolfram shook his head, his gaze turning westward, toward the horizon. "You're going to your home," he said, his voice softer now. "But my home... my house is over there." He pointed toward the lands of the Holy Roman Empire, his birthplace, his true legacy. "I shall visit you whenever I can."
Tanrıverdi's heart felt heavy, but he knew there was no changing Wolfram's mind. With a solemn nod, he turned back to the riders, who were preparing for their final departure. The camp was filled with quiet farewells as Wolfram shared a few last words with the men who had fought beside him for so long. It was bittersweet, but they all knew that their paths were parting, perhaps for the last time.
As the Hunnic riders rode eastward, disappearing into the dusk, Wolfram turned his horse and made his way back to Aslı's camp. The ride was silent, the weight of what was to come settling in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what awaited him with Aslı, but he knew one thing—his journey wasn't over yet.
When Wolfram finally arrived at Aslı's camp, the air was filled with the scent of a prepared feast, and the fires crackled warmly, casting shadows against the canvas of the tents.