As Aslı and Wolfram stepped into the grand hall of the castle, the knights who were assembled inside fell silent, their gazes instantly drawn to Aslı. The moment seemed suspended in time, as if even the air held its breath in awe of the woman who had just entered.
The knights, who had seen their fair share of royalty and warriors, were visibly stunned. It wasn't just her striking beauty that held them captive—it was the raw, untamed energy that seemed to radiate from her. Aslı's appearance was unlike any they had ever seen before, a rare blend of regality and battle-hardened strength. Her piercing blue eyes, illuminated by the flickering torchlight, seemed to cut through the very souls of those who dared to look her way. They shone with an intensity that could only belong to someone who had witnessed countless battles yet remained unbroken.
Her skin, still glistening from the rain, was dotted with faint freckles that only enhanced her natural beauty. The delicate markings around her eyes, etched like ancient runes, gave her an air of mystery—otherworldly, yet grounded in the reality of war. Each subtle scar and mark on her face told a story, not of weakness, but of resilience. Her dark, rain-slicked hair fell in wet strands, framing her face in a way that made her look both dangerous and alluring.
The knights' eyes were drawn to the jewel resting on her forehead, glowing faintly in the dim light. It was a symbol of her status, but also a warning—this was not just a woman of beauty; this was a woman of power. The intricate designs of her armor, sharp and elegant, clung to her form like a second skin, highlighting both her strength and femininity. Every detail of her presence—her gaze, her armor, her posture—spoke of a warrior who could command respect as easily as she could cut down her enemies.
One of the knights, unable to contain his curiosity, whispered to his companion, "Who is she? How could someone so fierce and so beautiful walk these halls?"
The knights are left to wonder whether they are in the presence of a queen or a warlord, as Aslı's charisma fills the entire room. She exudes a silent power, her graceful yet threatening aura captivating everyone in her presence.
Wolfram and Aslı entered the grand hall, the heavy doors closing behind them with a resounding thud. The chamber was vast, lined with ornate banners and gilded tapestries, but their attention was drawn to the gathering of knights scattered around the room. As they stepped forward, a few knights exchanged glances, their eyes immediately drawn to Aslı. Her beauty was undeniable—the sharp contrast of her striking blue eyes, the pale skin adorned with runic tattoos under her gaze, and her regal bearing left an impression on all who looked her way. Her presence alone seemed to command the attention of the room, a mixture of allure and authority, and even the most seasoned warriors couldn't help but take notice.
Aslı gracefully took a seat, her posture confident and relaxed, while Wolfram remained standing, glancing around the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. His hands rested calmly at his sides, but the weight of their journey was evident in his stance.
Aslı looked up at him, her voice smooth but with a hint of playful impatience. "I hope we won't be waiting long here, Wolfram," she said with a raised brow. "After all, you're a prince. They can't keep you waiting forever, can they?"
Wolfram chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Ah, you'll have to get used to these procedures," he replied, his tone amused. "Things move a little slower here in the Empire. Formalities and all that."
Just as the conversation hung in the air, one of the guards nearby overheard Wolfram speaking in Türkic. His expression changed immediately, and he quickly motioned to one of the knights, whispering hurriedly. Within moments, the murmurs spread through the ranks until one of the guards called for the Kingsguard, the elite of Kaiser Anno's personal guards.
The seasoned knight who commanded the Kingsguard was none other than Sir Leopold von Eisenberg, a name that had been respected and feared throughout the Holy Roman Empire. Sir Leopold, a towering figure of authority, had seen his share of battles and politics, but today's news gave him pause. He could scarcely believe the report he had just received—someone at the gates had claimed to be Prince Wolfram, returned from many years abroad. And, alongside him, the enigmatic Duchess of Ephesus, bearing the symbol of the Golden Horde.
Leopold moved swiftly into the hall, his steel boots echoing across the stone floor. As his eyes landed on Wolfram, he froze, staring in disbelief. The young boy he had once known—the boy who had left the Empire so many years ago—was no more. In his place stood a tall, hardened warrior, weathered by battle and time.
Leopold approached slowly, his brow furrowing in disbelief as he took in Wolfram's appearance. The boy had grown into a man, standing nearly 1.85 meters tall, his frame built with the strength of a seasoned fighter. His skin was rough from the sun and wind, his hands scarred from countless fights, and his face, once youthful, was now lined with the marks of a life lived in battle. His armor, once a gleaming set crafted for him before he left for Constantinople, now bore the scratches and dents of war. The shine was long gone, replaced by the telltale signs of a warrior who had seen too many battlefields.
"Prince Wolfram..." Sir Leopold's voice broke the silence, filled with astonishment. "It's really you." He stepped closer, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, more out of habit than threat. "You've grown... I hardly recognize you."
Wolfram turned, his gaze softening as he recognized the man before him. "Leopold," he greeted, a rare smile touching his lips. "It's been a long time."
Leopold's eyes scanned Wolfram's form, taking in every detail. "Last time I saw you, you were but a boy, barely ten years old," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "Now look at you... taller than me, a warrior through and through. You've come a long way, Prince." His eyes lingered on Wolfram's old armor, now battle-worn and dulled from the trials it had endured. "I see you've been through much. Those scars on your face, the wear on your armor... you've seen more battle than most men twice your age."
Wolfram nodded, his expression calm but guarded. "The road has been long," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of his experiences. "I've fought in more battles than I can count. But I survived... and now I'm here."
Leopold's gaze shifted from Wolfram to the woman seated beside him—Aslı. Her beauty was striking, but what caught his attention most was the shield carried by her guard. The emblem of the Golden Horde, Uluç's banner, gleamed in the dim light of the chamber. The sight of it made Leopold's heart skip a beat, and he quickly turned his attention back to Wolfram.
"The woman," he said, his voice lowering as he nodded toward Aslı. "She's carrying Uluç's banner. Does that mean his army is nearby? Should we be... concerned?"
Wolfram shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, knowing smile. "No, Uluç's army is not here. There's no need for concern."
Leopold didn't seem entirely convinced, glancing once more at the shield. "But why then is she carrying his banner? What's her connection to him?"
Wolfram glanced at Aslı, who remained seated, her piercing gaze fixed on the knights in the room. "It's complicated," he began, his tone measured. "Aslı, the Duchess of Ephesus, is Kutay's wife, the wife of Timurtaş's heir." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "A while ago, Uluç took command of her army, but Aslı, being the woman she is, turned the situation to her advantage. Now, wherever she goes, she carries his banner. It's a symbol, a declaration that she's protected by one of the most powerful commanders in the world."
Leopold stared at Wolfram, processing the information before his eyes drifted back to Aslı. Her icy blue eyes and runic tattoos gave her an almost otherworldly presence, and the knights surrounding them couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty and the strength she exuded. There was no doubt—this woman was as dangerous as she was alluring.
"I see," Leopold finally said, his voice heavy with understanding. "So, we're not dealing with Uluç's army directly, but..."
Wolfram cut him off with a small wave of his hand. "But don't worry. Uluç's army is far from here. If they were close, we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'd be in the midst of battle."
Leopold nodded, a slight smile crossing his face. "Fair enough, Prince. But... I must admit, I'd like to hear more about your journey. When I last saw you, I was the one teaching you how to hold a sword. Now look at you—a seasoned warrior. I can see the road has not been kind, but you've come through stronger for it."
Wolfram nodded, glancing at the armor he wore, which bore the marks of his long travels. "Yes," he said quietly. "The road has been hard, but I've learned much."
Leopold's gaze softened, filled with respect for the man before him. "I look forward to hearing all the details, my Prince. But for now..." He glanced back toward the door leading to the throne room. "The Kaiser awaits."
Wolfram offered him a nod, a silent acknowledgment of their shared past, before turning his attention back to Aslı. As they waited for the Kaiser to summon them, Wolfram couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment, knowing that everything he had fought for had led him to this place, this moment.
And soon, the true test would begin.