Wolfram rode beside Aslı, the looming walls of the Holy Roman Empire's stronghold drawing closer with each passing moment. The silence between them, once comfortable, had grown heavy with the tension of impending confrontation. As they neared the capital, Aslı broke the quiet, her voice gentle but probing.
"Do you… do you remember your home, Wolfram? When was the last time you were here?"
Wolfram's eyes remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable. He let out a small sigh before replying, "I was just a boy. Ten, maybe eleven years old. They took me to Constantinople by ship. I remember… Duke Osho was with me. He wore that mask of his, you know. As a child, I was terrified of him. I thought all Türk-il warriors wore masks like that. Foolish, really."
A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it faded just as quickly. "It's been so long since then. I wonder how many of those who knew me are even still alive. They've likely grown old… or perhaps they've forgotten me entirely. I don't know. But what else is left for me now? Kara is gone. The Western lands… they're no longer under threat of invasion. I'm just… returning home. But what awaits me there? Even I'm not sure."
Aslı, ever sharp and quick to respond, didn't let his self-doubt linger long. "Let me tell you something, Wolfram," she said, her voice steady and full of confidence. "No one's forgotten you. Quite the opposite. I'm certain they're all wondering what you've become. You trained as a Tarkan, lived our way of life. There are young men back in Türk-il who would give anything to be in your place, to be a Tarkan warrior. You don't realize how lucky you are."
She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Kutay told me something once… that Timurtaş gave you his personal insignia. The Wolf Sigil. Do you understand how rare that is? You see it on Uluç, on Kılıç, on Kara… but to see it on the son of Princess Martha of Denmark… that was monumental. My husband, Kutay, never had that honor, but you did. And yet… you're not even wearing it. Are you a fool?"
Wolfram's expression darkened at her words. He shifted slightly in the saddle, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "I lost it," he admitted quietly. "During the chaos at Timurtaş's 120th birthday in Constantinople. I… I couldn't keep track of it in all the madness."
Aslı clicked her tongue in frustration, shaking her head. "You idiot," she spat, though there was a playful edge to her scolding. "Do you have any idea how much pride you could have carried with that symbol? You lost the very emblem of the most powerful bloodline in the world, and you don't even seem to care. I can't believe you."
Her words stung, but Wolfram said nothing, his eyes instead locking on the growing silhouette of the castle and its walls. The towering gates loomed ahead, and Wolfram straightened in his saddle. "We're nearly there," he muttered, more to himself than to Aslı. "I need to get my father. They won't let me in without him. They probably won't even recognize me."
Wolfram dismounted, walking over to the wagon where his father lay. Hesso, weakened and feverish, barely moved, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Kneeling beside him, Wolfram placed a hand on his father's arm, speaking gently.
"Father, we've arrived. We're home. Can you stand?"
Hesso's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy from fever. His voice was barely a whisper. "Wolfram… is that you, my son?"
Wolfram's heart clenched at his father's fragile state. "Yes, father. We've made it. You need to stand. Just a little longer."
With great effort, and with Wolfram's support, Hesso rose to his feet, though his legs trembled beneath him. Together, they managed to get him onto a horse, and slowly, they made their way toward the gate. Wolfram's face was set in a grim expression, his mind racing as they approached the guards.
As they reached the massive doors, Wolfram felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He could only hope that showing his father would be enough to gain entry. Without Hesso, he feared he might be left outside, forgotten just as he had feared.
He glanced back at Aslı, her steady presence a comfort even amidst the uncertainty. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.
Wolfram guided his horse toward the soldiers stationed at the gates, his presence commanding attention before he even spoke a word. His strikingly blue eyes, sharp high cheekbones, and unmistakably Nordic features made it clear to anyone watching that he was no ordinary man. The soldiers immediately noticed the nobility in his face, and their postures stiffened in respect as he approached.
"I am Prince Wolfram," he announced, his voice steady and firm. "My time in Türk-il, both in training and captivity, has come to an end. I have returned to my homeland. But my father, Prince Hesso, is gravely ill. He requires a physician at once." His words carried urgency, his eyes flicking to his father slumped behind him on the horse. "He is burning with fever. Fetch someone, quickly."
The soldiers exchanged startled glances, murmuring among themselves. "Prince Wolfram? Is it truly you, sir?" one of them asked, his disbelief evident.
Wolfram gestured impatiently toward his father, who sat weakly on the horse behind him, barely able to hold his head up. "Yes, it's me. Now, stop gawking and open the gate. My father needs care immediately."
At the sight of Prince Hesso, the soldiers' doubts vanished. The resemblance between Wolfram and his father was undeniable. With haste, they threw open the massive gates, allowing Wolfram and Aslı to pass through into the heart of the city.
Behind them, Aslı's army had set up camp just outside the city walls, waiting for further orders. They would remain there for now, standing by as Aslı and Wolfram entered the stronghold.
As they rode swiftly toward Kaiser Anno's castle, Wolfram couldn't help but glance back at his father, his face etched with concern. "Everything will be fine, Father," he said softly. "We're almost there. You'll be taken care of soon." Hesso, too weak to respond, merely nodded, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion.
Upon reaching the castle, the guards quickly ushered Hesso inside, leading him to a chamber where physicians were already being summoned. They laid him gently on a bed, and Wolfram lingered for a moment, watching as they tended to his father. He clenched his jaw, the tension of the moment weighing on him, but he turned away when he could no longer bear to see Hesso's frail state.
As Wolfram stepped out of the room, he found himself face to face with a group of knights—Kaiser Anno's elite guards. Their armor gleamed under the torchlight, and their expressions were serious, though they recognized the prince immediately.
"Prince Wolfram," one of them spoke, his voice formal and commanding. "We are to escort you to the king's hall. Kaiser Anno awaits your presence."
Wolfram took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He cast one last glance toward the room where his father lay, then nodded to the knights. "Lead the way," he said, his voice steady though his heart pounded with anticipation. He knew this would be no ordinary meeting. His return to the empire, after all these years, was bound to have consequences—both for him and for those around him.
With the knights flanking him, Wolfram followed them down the grand corridors of the castle, the weight of his past and his uncertain future pressing down on him with every step.
As Wolfram strode ahead, flanked by the armored knights, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Where are you going ? Infact where are you going without me?"
It was Aslı, her tone playful but insistent as she hurried to catch up. Wolfram stopped in his tracks and turned, a smile spreading across his face.
"How could I ever forget troublesome companion like you?" he teased, a light chuckle escaping his lips.
Aslı returned his smile, and for a moment, the tension of their surroundings seemed to lift as they shared a knowing look. The knights escorting them exchanged glances, surprised to hear a woman speaking in Shaz Turkish, a language unfamiliar to most in the Holy Roman Empire. But what startled them even more was Wolfram's response. He too spoke in Shaz Turkish, his words flowing with ease, as if he had lived his entire life among the Tarkan warriors.
The soldiers, though curious, remained silent, their discipline keeping them from asking questions. Yet their eyes betrayed their fascination. It was not every day that a prince, raised in the empire, revealed such fluency in a foreign tongue—especially one as mysterious and revered as Shaz Turkic.
As they approached the grand chamber, the flickering torches cast long shadows on the walls, and the air grew heavier. The knights, though still respectful, could not hide their intrigue. Who was this woman with the sharp gaze and the foreign tongue, and why did she follow their prince with such boldness? And Wolfram—he had left as a boy, but here he stood, not only a warrior but a man deeply connected to a world they scarcely understood.
Together, Wolfram and Aslı continued down the stone corridor, their steps echoing off the walls as they neared the door to Kaiser Anno's chamber. Whatever awaited them on the other side, they would face it together—an unlikely pair, bound by loyalty, battles, and something unspoken that lingered between them.