Sins of the Sultan

[Greater Ale Permars]

Accompaniment: In Hell, I'll be in good company

Altın kapı*
Antalya, The Capital District
Gluttony

Osman grasped the glass with his right hand and lifted it to his already dark red, wine-stained lips. Taking a large sip, he put it back down on the small circular dining table and wiped his mouth with his hand. Turning to the roasted pheasant that sat at the center of the table.

His father stared at him, eyes full of disgust. "You repulse me."

"I do?" The young Sultan cut into the pheasant with his knife, picking up a sizeable piece and planting it into his mouth. "Can I ask why?"

The older man looked him up and down, "Look at yourself, boy, slobbering all over this decadent food, making a mess of yourself while your people suffer. It's disgusting and piggish how you behave."

Osman rolled his eyes, "Oh, and you were better? If I remember correctly, you were the one that caused the people to suffer so much; I only inherited the mess you left me. Your desperate need to hold onto power blinded you to the future, and the good progress holds."

"And you boy are desperate to be loved, loved by the people, your sisters, and me. But we both know none of them hold you in any regard other than disdain."

His father looked to the sky. "Allab granted me the right to rule, and with strength, I ruled. Because without strength, you are weak, and weakness is death. This is something you do not yet understand. Because when you give the people all they desire, you expose your weakness through your kindness. And once they see that... they'll take your head. Just like Anders, just like Tsar Alexei, and like Eli."

The Sultan hit the table. "Do not call me boy! I am the Sultan, not you!" His eyes welled with tears. "You are nothing but a dead man, a crippled old horse who should have been put down when he proved he couldn't make an heir!"

His father moved from across the table to his side, getting right up in his face.

"And you are nothing but an ill-bred half-sillien dog I should have shot the day he spawned from my wife's womb but look who is sitting right in front of me. Not a warrior king, not a theologian, just a small, insignificant, decadent child who thinks that money can waive all his problems away. And maybe, that is where my fault lies."

He got close enough for Osman to smell his stale breath. "It's my fault; I let you sit on the throne; I should have known that letting such a weak child rule would lead to a disaster."

Standing up from his chair, the young Sultan pushed his father back. "SHUT UP!" He screamed, attracting the attention of a servant who rushed to Osman's side, confused.

"Your Majesty, are you alright?" Asked the man.

"I'm... fine" Osman looked around, confounded by what had just happened. Then, finally, he turned to the servant. "Where did he go?"

"Where did who go, your Majesty?" The servant responded.

"My father, he was just here a second ago."

The servant looked around the garden; it was empty. "Your Majesty, your father passed away four years ago."

"No, I'm sure I saw him," Osman repeated. "I'm sure of it; I even spoke to him."

"Your Majesty, perhaps the heat is getting to you? How about a lie-down?" Asked the servant thinking he might just be hallucinating out in the sun.

"No, no." Osman waved him away. "I'm fine; it must just be the wine."

Sitting back down, he emptied his glass of wine into the grass and sat at the table for a moment, waiting for the servant to leave him. Rage slowly built inside of him. Thinking of everything his father said made him want to punch solid stone. His father, or whatever the hell that thing was, was wrong. His love for the people would prove fruitful no matter what he said. He would rule well, better than the old man ever had.

Looking around him at the table and all the food surrounding him, Osman was filled with a sudden burst of anger. He flipped the table and stood up from his chair, storming off to his quarters.

OOC:
Altın kapı- The Golden Gate, the name for the main Aydini imperial palace

 

[Greater Ale Permars]

Accompaniment: Go Up

The Kaşmir Club
Antalya, The Capital District
Lust

The flashing neon lights of the club almost always put Osman into a trance; their dance across the walls, combined with the heavy thumping of the music, created an aura of bliss for him. Allowing him to drift and take advantage of all the club had to offer. Whether it be drugs, alcohol, or sex. He always got something out of it, but tonight was different.

Osman danced on the main dance floor, drink in hand, getting up and close to the other dancing clubbers. It wasn't exactly safe, but when was anything he did safe, he told himself. But in the haze, he spotted someone. A woman, someone he'd seen before. The lights flashed fast before his eyes, and the music drummed hard against his head as he tried to identify the familiar face.

Curious, he began to slowly make his way toward the mysterious woman, but as he approached, she began to move away. Effortlessly backing away through the crowd of dancing people, the woman melted into the masses. In an attempt not to lose her, Osman increased his speed, desperately trying to keep his eyes on her as she made turn after turn through the mob. The alcohol had clearly begun to take a toll on the young sultan, his legs feeling weak and eyelids heavy with only the lights and thrum of the beat keeping him awake.

Getting slightly closer than before allowed him to see her only somewhat more; the woman was tall clearly. Her hair was a dark brown, her skin tanned, and her lips a dark shade of purple. She was draped in a bright scarlet red dress that perfectly fit with the flashing of the red club lights. But what really intrigued Osman were her two beautiful red eyes. They encaptivated him, ensnaring him in their ruby shimmer and pulling him closer to her elusive figure as he crossed the dance floor and approached the bathrooms.

Summoning all of the strength left within his weary body, Osman pushed onward, trying desperately to reach her, only to no avail. Then, finally, shoving his way through and into the dim bathroom hall. And as he got closer, the woman began to slow down, her back against the wall, a slight smirk still lining her unblemished face.

The music's bass shook the building putting Osman off balance; he stumbled toward the woman. And after a few more steps, the young sultan reached her and stared into her deep ruby eyes, entranced and captivated by them. He reached out to kiss her, closing his eyes and moving close to her.

But when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by nothing, nothing but the sight of the club's grey brick walls. Startled, Osman turned around and faced the hallway entrance. And watched as two clubgoers stared at him, confused as they entered one of the bathrooms.

Osman held his hand to his forehead; it was slick with sweat and scorching hot. Then, wiping the sweat off his head, the confused sultan walked to one of the club's side exits and exited out into the cold night air. Fanning himself and trying to cool down, he began to feel sick, bending over and expelling the contents of his stomach all over the pavement. His throat burnt like fire as the alcohol in his system suddenly flooded back out, splattering its color a disgusting reddish-purple on the ground.

Wiping his mouth Osman looked around the alleyway, clutching his stomach and turning back into the club. His head throbbed, and his belly ached; the disheveled sultan found his way to his bodyguards. Who were seemingly also looking for him after he vanished from their sight. And to the surprise of the bodyguards, he indicated his wish to return to the palace.

The ride back was surreal as he stared out the window at the dimly lit city streets. Then, lying against the SUV's window, he saw someone, the woman staring at him from the sidewalk as his motorcade drove slowly by. But in seconds, he blinked, and she was gone. Disappearing into thin air.

Leaning away from the window and back into the comfort of the car's leather seats, Osman shook his head and drifted slowly into a seemingly dreamless sleep.

 

[Greater Ale Permars]

Musical Accompaniement: Charlotte Adigéry - Paténipat

Hakan Camii*
Antalya, The Capital District
Sloth

The sun shone into the grand mosque; its rays glittered across the gold inlays that lined the stone walls. Osman stood beside the temple's ancient mihrab* admiring the golden finishes. The calligraphy and geometric patterns that decorated its marble facade fascinated him. It reminded him of his childhood when he and his mother were allowed to leave the gilded marble walls of the Harem and go to the mosque. They would both pray for hours, and once they finished. Osman would sit and examine the decorated walls with his mother. Going over every piece of calligraphy, every pattern, and their meanings.

But that was years ago, and the memories sat distorted and fractured within his weary drug-addled mind. His mother's lessons faded in and out, and his visits to the mosque ceased almost entirely. He no longer felt whole, his mother's passing taking whatever care he had left from him and burning it to ash. It was too much for him to handle.

"Turn around, boy." A booming voice said, enveloping him in its power.

Quickly Osman turned his attention to the prayer hall behind him. Looking to face whoever was speaking to him.

Osman gazed out onto the prayer floor; it was empty, utterly devoid of life.

The voice spoke again.
"Look up."

Following its command, Osman turned his gaze upward.
His eyes met the figure that loomed above him.
He was a massive and imposing figure. His skin was tanned, and his eyes were blacker than night. Chainmail and steel armor encased his body. At his side, hooked to his belt, was a familiar sword; it was sheathed in a golden scabbard decorated brilliantly with jewels and carved geometric patterns.

"Kneel." The figure ordered.

Osman complied.
"Who are you?" He asked, falling to his knees.

"You know who I am." The figure bellowed. "I am the first of our line. I am the Inexorable."

Osman's heart began to pound as he finally understood what he saw before him.

"Why are you here, Kulu 'ab*?" He said, staring into the man's blackened eyes.

The man remained expressionless, speaking without opening his mouth.
"I have come to remind you of your duties tifl*—the ones which you have so neglected these past years. You have failed your post as Sultan; you have ignored and spit on your post as Calib. And worse, you have neglected your position as 'ab*. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Osman could feel the judgment radiated from the figure's cold and unfeeling eyes as it spoke. They stared deep into his soul.
"I tried my best..." The figure cut him off; the voice boomed in his eardrums.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME, BOY!"
The figure suddenly pulled the sword from its sheathe, its blade setting ablaze, lighting up the whole room in its holy light.
.
"I have been watching you, and I know what you have done. You have allowed the death of your mother to consume you. You have fallen into the depths of despair and let yourself become a hollow shell. Taken by the grip of decadence and apathy."

The figure pointed the firey blade at Osman.

"Do you know what I did to my father after I beat the army of Odoacer?"

Osman nodded.

"Know this... if you do not overcome your despair, apathy, and decadent nature. Then, I will do to you as I did my father over a millennia ago and remove your head from your shoulders and burn your body in holy fire!"

Tears streamed from Osman's face as he began to sob.

"DO NOT CRY, BOY!" The figure cried, his sword issuing forth flames that surrounded Osman. The heat was almost unbearable as he tried to stand.

"YES! STAND AND WALK THROUGH THE FIRE OF LIFE."

Getting to his feet, Osman looked at the blazing fire around him. Then, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. For a moment, he could feel the air rush around him and sense the spirits of the men who once ruled the land gather around him.

Eyes still closed, he stepped into the flames.

OOC:
*Hakan Camii- The Mosque of Hakan
*Mihrab- Mihrab is a niche in the wall of a mosque that indicates the qibla, the direction of the Kahbat in Rafhazan.
*Kulu 'ab- All Father, in Rafhazani
*Tifl- Child, in Rafhazani

 

[Greater Ale Permars]

Musical Accompaniment: Lost in the void

???
Vanity

The room was colder than ice.

Its walls of black stone encased Osman in chilling darkness, blinding him as he looked at his surroundings, his hot breath turning to mist in front of him. Osman shivered, directing his attention to the wall in front of him. Squinting, he made out what looked to be something reflective, his eyes catching a glimmer of movement as he stepped closer to the wall.

Hanging perfectly in the center of the wall was a long shadowy mirror. And as Osman approached, he stared into the mirror, searching for his reflection. But instead of his own, he saw something else staring at him from beyond the veil. The figure was at eye level with him, its face decayed and rotten. The eyes were torn from its head, leaving only vacant eye sockets, its jaw was broken, and in its hollow chest was a pulsating heart encased in thorns.

Osman gazed at the foreign entity in stunned horror as the figure unhinged its dismantled jaw to reveal a serpent from inside its mouth. The Serpent was long and pale, while its tongue and mouth were a stark black. It hissed at Osman, flickering its tongue out towards him.

"What are you?" Osman quietly whispered.

The snake responded.
"You look upon yourself." The snake moved closer to him, almost crossing through the mirror.
"Witness the price of your pride. For this is your fate."

Osman shook his head. "That's not possible; you can't be real. You're a figment of my imagination."

Osman moved a shaking hand in front of the mirror, only to watch as a withered and decrepit hand moved in sync with his. Then, reaching out, Osman placed his hand on the glass only to be met by the warm feeling of flesh touching his hand as he felt his reflection take hold of his hand and pull him through the veil and into the abyss.

---

To be inside the inky blackness of the void was to be out of all time and all space. The infinite feeling of falling, waiting to hit the ground, and a sense of constant and unfaltering stillness was the only sense. There was no wind, air, or screams as Osman fell helplessly through the immaterial plain. Instead, Osman spiraled, engulfed in deep regret and pain that withered his soul.

There was no sound, his screams of anguish never making it through the eternal silence. Not even the sobbing apologies as he descended through the absence of space.

Gradually it became more challenging to breathe as his heart started to pound faster and faster, and his lungs began to inhale faster and faster. Osman felt as if his heart was going to burst in his chest as he could hardly breathe. So he screamed for forgiveness.

The void answered, as below him appeared a shining white crack in the abyss, and he could see what looked to be the end of reality. Then, taking a deep breath, Osman steadied himself and closed his eyes as he plunged into the all-consuming tear in existence.

Osman watched as the tear propelled him through time and space. Through his own life and the lives of countless others. He beheld the immense inconsequentiality of himself in comparison to the grand majesty of creation as he floated through what seemed like endless lifetimes and realities. An overwhelming warmth replaced the cold of the abyss, and the sound of everything overcame the silence of nothing as Osman reentered reality.

 

[Greater Ale Permars]

Warning: For those with a fear of deep water and drowning, I advise caution.

Altın kapı
Antalya, The Capital District

"Your Majesty, the cost of the materials alone would be upwards of a hundred million notlar*."
Rifaat leaned on the ornate desk in front of him; his voice was exasperated.
"The people are already unhappy with the current state of affairs. All this will escalate the issue; you've seen the marches and riots we've had to contend with over the last two months. There will be mass uproar!"

Osman leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if deep in thought.

"Well, I'll first remind you who is in charge here." Osman looked at Rifaat and smiled.
"Secondly, I have decided to pay for it out of pocket."

Rifaat stifled a chuckle.
"Your Majesty, you must be joking. A purchase of this expense is mad; you're talking about billions of dollars. It doesn't grow on trees.'

Osman cracked a smile.
"We'll pull it from the gold reserves, and I'll gift it to the state as a donation."

Rifaat raised an eyebrow, confused.
"What do you mean by donation?"

Osman uncrossed his arms and put them behind his head.
"We'll use it as a diplomatic vessel for state visits and the like!" Osman quickly jumped to his feet.
"We could do a tour of Craviter by sea, have it act as a goodwill mission."

Rifaat rubbed his forehead.
"That seems like a stretch, your Majesty. I really must caution against this-"

Osman cut him off.
"Too late! I've already decided, and I like my idea better."

Rifaat shook his head.
"Are you sure about this? Your Majesty."

"One hundred percent."

---

Accompaniment: Who wants to live forever?

???
Greed

The ship rocked back and forth as it sat dead in the water. Osman lounged on the ship's deck, sitting quietly under the moon as the boat drifted in the dark open waters.

Looking up into the sky, Osman watched as the skies slowly filled with clouds. Then, undisturbed, the Sultan stood and entered the ship's cabin.
Walking through the luxurious interior of the ship, Osman made his way to the top section of the boat, walking up the wood topped stairs into the control room. And as he passed the first sets of unattended controls, he came upon the vacant captain's chair. Osman shouted.

"Captain! Where are you!"

No response was given as a feeling of panic began to set into Osman's chest. Then, running to the control panels in front of the captain's chair, Osman quickly grabbed the ship's radio, shouting into it.

"This is Sultan Osmanek, my.. my ship is lost at sea, and my captain is missing! Please send help immediately!"

The panic inside of him turned to dread as the radio stayed silent.

BOOM

Thunder sounded as lightning flashed in front of the ship's cockpit windows. Startling Osman.

"Holy shit!"
Osman cried, watching rain droplets falling on the now heavily swaying ship as the waves grew larger and larger, smashing against the sides of his boat.

Quickly rushing down the stairs and almost falling head-first onto the now-soaked deck of the ship. Osman hastily searched for a life-vest, rummaging through a starboard side container. Finding the vest, Osman tried to put it on only to find a hole right in the front of it. Throwing the vest onto the floor, Osman stumbled as the ship threw him around, waves crashing on both sides of the vessel as thunder roared and the storm's dark clouds obscured the moon.

Suddenly Osman felt something hit him, sweeping him off of his feet.
He landed with a thud on the stern wooden deck, his hair soaked with seawater. Lying on his back, unable to stand, the young Sultan could only watch as a wave came crashing down on him dragging him off the ship and plunging him into the dark waters,

There was no chance for him to try and float above the water as Osman began to sink quickly. The freezing water was the only thing he could feel as he dropped deeper and deeper. Desperately trying to hold onto his breath Osman tried his best to keep his mouth closed, but it quickly became harder and harder to hold his breath in. He could only watch as the dark outline of his ship slowly faded as the darkness of the sea consumed him.

Eventually, his breath broke, and he sucked in the bitter seawater. His nostrils filled with water, and he could feel the cruel demise flowing into his lungs, choking and suffocating him. He used what was left of his strength to kick and scream, but it was a waste, as whatever air was still in his lungs was replaced with the bitter chill of death.

OOC:

Notlar*- Aydini Currency

 

[Greater Ale Permars]

Warning: Themes of Depression, Suicide, and Addiction. Viewer Discretion advised

Accompaniment: It's about to get sad.

Part 1
Anıt Alanı
Antalya, The Capital District
Envy

Emiri's shoes ground into the gravel as she made her way up the quiet pathway. The sun dimming on the horizon chilled the air, and the wind blew gently, chilling her ever so slightly as she walked the grounds of the cemetery. The path on both sides was surrounded by headstones, lined neatly across the green field. Her mind wandered as she looked around the grounds.

"Where is he?" She wondered to herself as she scanned the desolate scene. "He must be here somewhere. If I find him, I swear to Al-Aziz..."

She looked down and continued to follow the path, the sun setting in the distance.
She walked for what felt like an hour, but she eventually reached the center of the cemetery. This place stood out, unlike the other neat, uniform graves. Instead of rows upon rows of headstones sat a large and splendid Mazar*. It was a familiar place, as she had with her siblings, visited countless times over the years, each time more painful than the last.

Walking around the building, she sees her brother's red Salmson SDN2020 parked in front of the mausoleum's entrance, and just above it carved into the stone of the entryway, was an inscription.

"Zehra Kaya*, may Al-Aziz's blessing be upon her"

Emiri bowed her head as she approached, saying a small prayer before passing through the Mazar's threshold.
The inside was dark, only lit by a few scattered candles. It was covered top to bottom with painted tiles in patterns which she could not help but awe at every time. But in the center kneeled an obscured figure, who she knew only too well to be her brother. He sat there unmoving beside the stone sarcophagus inlaid with the shahada in the middle of the Mazar.

He was sobbing, his hands balled into fists planted firmly on the ground. Emiri moved closer, looking to see what he was holding, only to see a small bottle of pills and wine firmly in his grasp.

"Osman?" She spoke in her usual quiet tone.

He continued to sob, "What?! What do you want?" His words slurred with inebriation.

"You scared me, Os. Bahri* said you left without telling anyone and that they've been searching for hours."

"I don't want to be in that fucking viper's nest anymore! I want out!" He turned to face his sister. "They're all a bunch of scheming bastards! Trying to play me for a fool like I'm some kind of fucking moron!"

"You're Sultan, Os. You don't need to play by their rules."

Osman laughed at her. "And end up dead? Yeah, we'll see how far not playing along gets me. Because I know as soon as I do, I'll get a bullet right here." He tapped his forehead. "Might as well put one there myself." Osman laid on his back, still looking at his sister.

Emiri paused a moment.

"What happened to you?" She asked, her face burning hot with anger.

Osman looked at her and rolled his eyes. "What do you mean what happened to me?"

"I mean, I remember who you used to be. You used to be my older brother. You used to protect Em and me from Baba* when Mama wasn't there. You stood strong against anyone and anything. You were our hero, invincible... but look at you now." She pointed at the bottle. "You're a drunk addict who can barely find his own feet. And the man who I once admired is nothing but a distant memory."
Tears began to fall from her eyes as she stared him down.

Osman bowed his head in shame, dropping the bottles. "I wish I could be the man you used to see, but when I look in the mirror, all I see is a man who should have been dead long ago." He, too, began to cry. "When mama passed, all I could do was think one thing... one singular thing." He stood slowly, kicking the bottles out of his way.
"I SHOULD HAVE DIED, NOT HER!" He pointed at his mother's sarcophagus. "I wished EVERY SINGLE DAY! That Al-Aziz would let me switch places with her... but nothing. All I ever got was more beatings and screaming. And all I wanted to do was just die. I craved death to escape the pain of watching as my mother bled out in front of me and the agony of not being able to do anything about it. Baba was nothing but a monster to me every day after. Even if the man could barely stand, he still found ways to hurt and break me. I was treated like a dog and then thrown into a nest of vipers I never wanted to be in, in the first place."
In anguish, he screamed at her. "So I'm sorry if I'm not the brother you admired. I'm only too human!"

OOC:
Anıt Alanı- Memorial Ground in Aydini
Mazar- Mehrabist Mauseleum
Baba- Father
Em- Emel, Osman's Sister currently in Essalanea
Al-Aziz- The god of the Mehrabist faith
Zehra Kaya- Mother of Osman, Emel and Emiri

 

[Greater Ale Permars]

Warning: Themes of Depression, Suicide, and Addiction. Viewer Discretion advised

Accompaniment: I am internally hurt by this

Part 2
Anıt Alanı
Antalya, The Capital District
Wrath

Emiri stared him down; her eyes were fiery with anger.

"You don't think I suffered too? My entire life has been in service of someone else's wants, never my own. Born to be sold off for the good of the family like some cow, hell, you already sold off one of us!"

Osman rose from the floor, wobbly.
"I had no choice! We needed the allies in Essalanea."

"No choice... No choice! You are a LIAR. Sending her off to the steppe to be married like we're still in the days of Hakkan. I mean, you sold off our sister like a horse, for fuck's sake!" Emiri began to raise her voice, continuing to berate him as he stood quietly, shaking his head.

Osman, anger and rage brewing deep within him, began to bubble and boil over inside him as he remained silent.

"You've used us and left us behind. Even as we tried to help you as much as we could, you continued to slight us. And you have the gall to blame the death of our Mama on your treatment of us? It's disgusting, Osman; we loved her too, just as much as you! She was our mother too! But you use her death as some cheap excuse? Disgraceful."

With her last insult loosed upon him, something inside Osman snapped. Quickly responding to her with a slap across the face.

The slap hit her hard, knocking to her the floor with a searing pain emanating from where his hand had struck her. And for just a moment, there was a perfect stunned silence. Osman stepped back, staring at his hand, horrified by what he had just done.

Emiri looked up at him from the ground, tears in her eyes and a red handprint solidly planted across her face. All she could do was bow her head in shame.

Still in shock, Osman walked past his sister and out of the Mazar to his car. Opening the door, he sat in the driver's seat, his eyes flooded with tears. Pressing the ignition, Emel, hearing the car's engine roar, quickly stood from her prone position and rushed outside. Watching as Osman sped away out of the Mazar's front courtyard. The sun had finally set, and night had finally come.

Pressing hard on the acceleration, Osman quickly reached high speeds. Racing down the pathways of the memorial, disregarding his own safety. His car drifted from left to right on the pathway as Osman's inebriation slowly revealed itself as his adrenaline died down. His tears and sobbing quickly turned to rage as he screamed. The tears clouded his eyes, obscuring the finer details of the darkness that covered his surroundings.

Distracted by his overwhelming rage and despair, his eyes blurred by his dejected sobs and the dark consuming his surroundings. It was no surprise when a large animal appeared before his car. He was caught off guard. He tried to avoid hitting the creature by slamming the brakes and turning the wheel. But instead, the car moving too fast to stop completely flipped, spinning in the air for just a moment as Osman screamed in abject terror. Time appeared to move in slow motion as Osman glimpsed the animal, a large golden wolf...

The moment was quickly broken by the sound of glass shattering as the car landed on its roof. Osman felt a force like nothing else he had ever experienced before slamming him against the roof of his car. The start shards of glass cut into him; he continued to scream as the car slid across the ground, dragging and scraping against the gravel of the memorial grounds. The adrenaline rushed through his veins, but as it dissipated, all he could feel was pain. His back felt like someone was cutting him from the inside out. While he could feel the warmth of his blood flow from a cut on his forehead and others across his body.

Emiri, hearing a loud crash, sprinted as fast as she could, her feet sore as she tried to reach her brother. Arriving exhausted, his sister saw the crime scene. She quickly pulled out her phone and called for help, rushing to her brother's side of the car. Crouching down to try and help him, Emiri tried to pull Osman out of the car, getting him out halfway, Osman looked at her tears still in her eyes and began to mumble.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." Over and over again.

Emel, seeing the pain on his face and the tears still lingering in his eyes, cradled him in her arms, holding him tight as if he were a baby.

"It's ok, Os, everything will be ok... Everything will be ok." She cried.

"I love you, big brother; just hold on a little longer." Osman closed his eyes.

 

[North Timistania]

Recrimination

Accompaniment: Depeche Mode "Never Let Me Down Again" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snILjFUkk_A



Antalya

Capital of the Sultanate of Aydin

The car ride from the airport was a journey undertaken in a tense silence that was only occasionally broken by harsh words. Helbrandt was in a foul mood, this sudden diversion to Aydin had left him tired and irritable and for what? Because his drunken fool of a “brother” had finally gone too far. Helbrandt did not appreciate being dragged from the steppe to deal with the poor decisions of a spoilt boy king.

“Yes, I understand, thank you,” Emel said her voice both tired and anxious as she concluded her call

“Does the fool still live?” Helbrandt asked sullenly

“He hasn’t regained consciousness yet; the doctors are keeping him in a medical coma” Emel replied still staring at her phone uncomfortably

“No risk of him drinking himself into another accident at least” Helbrandt muttered in a mean-spirited tone

“ENOUGH! He might be a decadent fool, but he is my brother and I love him! Have you never loved someone who disappointed you before?” Emel snapped angrily

That caught Helbrandt off guard, the next cruel words he was about to muster died stillborn in his mouth. He sighed as a flood of painful memories washed over his mind's eye, sharp and as raw as the day they had occurred. He saw the face of his cousin and he knew at that moment that his wife was correct, he had loved a fool of his own.

“Once...my cousin Ulli, he was proud and stupid, started a war he couldn’t win and nearly destroyed my clan in the process and... Ziu help me but I adored him all the same,” Helbrandt admitted, anger melting away

Emel’s expression softened, sympathy filling her pale features, she didn’t press her point, content to have made it. Silence again, this time more thoughtful if no less tense, the white marble streets of Antalya flowing past their windows as the car made its journey down narrow streets. The police had already cleared the crowds, and the normally bustling approach to the hospital now better resembled a ghost town.

“I don’t care if you hate him, but please be civil, if not for him then for me,” Emel said in a voice that was half command, and the other plea

Helbrandt had never liked Osman, he despised his decadent lifestyle, endless indulgence an opposite to the hardscrabble utility of steppe life. Worse than that was the fact that the boy sultan had willingly sent his own sister to be a chattel in a foreign land, to Helbrandt’s Essalanean sensibilities such an act was unthinkable. Though the marriage had turned out to be a blessing, Helbrandt had never forgiven Osman for treating his own sister like a prized mare for sale.

“I do not hate your brother Em, I pity him,” Helbrandt said in a weary voice

He saw Osman the way he saw most unhorsed, undisciplined souls that had been made lesser by lack of hardships. Essalaneans clung to their brutal existence with religious devotion, they were the strong and the pure, their suffering like a whetstone removing all save the iron beneath. He knew that those views were doomed to soften in the growing face of modernity, but he still clung to them.

He wondered how Osman would have fared had he been tempered by life on the steppe, perhaps he would have turned out better. As it was, the boy seemed determined to destroy himself either through strong wine or some other reckless antic. It seemed almost vindication to Helbrandt, these unhorsed who had so much seemed more miserable than any Essalanean.

“He’s been through a lot,” Em said defensively

“He’s a spoilt princeling Em!” Helbrandt said in an exasperated voice

“You were not there to see how my father treated him, that vile mix of abuse and obligation, he made sure that even in death he would cast a hateful shadow over Osman, a constant reminder of how inadequate the boy was to succeed the father,” Em said her face deadly serious and her tone Icey

“That man died a long time ago; he doesn’t have to follow in those footsteps” Helbrandt replied

“This is not the steppe, the court is not a place where one can simply abandon tradition, if you don’t like something in Essalanea you can simply ride off into the sunset, here tradition is as much a prison as a liberator,” Emel said ominously, her own experience almost certainly informing her words

Helbrandt found unhorsed traditions to be nonsensical and unwieldy things, Gaiseric had always been more able to interpret such ideas, so much restrictive pageantry reserved for the unworthy. Essalanea was a land where a man could only govern if he had his people's support, these Aydini seemed so reluctant to do away with men who offered them nothing except privation and disappointment.

“I don’t understand your ways, but I will support you in this Endeavor” Helbrandt offered, hard exterior finally beginning to crack

He had not expected to love her as much as he did, they were an unlikely pairing, a brutish steppe warlord and his delicate princess, but it worked. They seemed to complement each other's differences, she, enjoying greater freedoms in Essalanea than she could ever hope for in Aydin and he finding she had softened his harder edges. It was a bond that he still didn’t fully understand but even, so he had to admit it was to his liking.

“That is all I ask,” she said in a relieved voice

The Kaya memorial hastanesi loomed ahead, an elegant mix of pristine glass and bone-white marble, it was a monstrous thing that towered over the city around it. Like much of Aydini society this was a place entangled in the same stratification that defined so much of life in the Sultanate. The care here was world-renowned with modern equipment and bleeding-edge technology and only a tiny privileged few would ever benefit from such expense.

They exited their vehicle, Helbrandt’s bodyguards surrounding them in a protective circle as they entered the hospital grounds. Security was high and comings and goings were tightly monitored, soldiers and armed police surrounded the hospital and its inner sanctum. Helbrandt could not help but wonder if the immense security was in place as a standard precaution, or because the powers that be feared what the commoners might do if they knew the extent of their sovereigns' injuries.

He reached out to hold his wife's hand, her delicate pale fingers seeming tiny compared with his own calloused grip. Together they entered the hospital, the scent of disinfectant and the sounds of pinging machines immediately greeting them. Helbrandt did not know what lay ahead, perhaps if the boy survived, he would take him to the steppe to hunt wolves and chip away at his weak exterior, perhaps. However, for now, he would have to support his wife, uncertainty hung thick in the air.​