NaNoWriMo 2009

The Knight of the Belgrade Forest

Prologue:

The blood poured down my face. The sweat was pooling under my chin, and the beaming sun just made it worse. Every single bone in my body ached with pain, but I knew that one thing was true. I just had to keep doing one thing; I had to keep on moving. I put one foot in front of another, thinking of nothing else but what I had to do. I knew what would happen if I stopped; I had seen what they did to the ones who had given in to the tiredness. And I knew that, for me, that moment was slowing itching ever closer.

I heard another shout of “Keep moving!” from one of the guards behind me, and heard somebody yell. Then I heard the clinging of their chains as they fell to the ground. And then, I heard the clash of metal upon metal. Shouts and screams of pain and agony erupted from somebody behind me. I knew I couldn’t look back, for if I did I would suffer the same agonizing fate.

As we marched and marched across the sandy landscape, I felt a quivering thirst begin to develop in my throat. I realized that I had not eaten or drank for almost two days. I was near breaking point, as were most of the people around me.

As we neared a small stream, I saw one of the men break for it in the hopes that he would be able to drink. Unfortunately for the poor fellow, one of the archers picked him off as he ran for the small stream of water. There was no hope for us; we could not escape. We just had to continue to do what our captors asked. And then, only then, could we survive.

As I came upon this realization, I felt a massive pain in my legs. I screamed, but continued on. I fought the incredible urge that came over me like a massive wave to fall down, for I knew that if I did, it was over.

But alas, I could no longer fight it. I fell to the ground in a great smash, and in an instant the guards were upon me. They slashed at me with their swords and beat me the butts of their bows.

I screamed in pain, knowing that my time had come. Blood began gushing out of the wounds they had inflicted, covering my body with red. A pool of this red began to develop around me, and my eyes were slowing closing.

I could feel that I was losing grip with the world as more and more wounds were thrusted upon me. They were savages; beating me and beating me with no end.

My vision became more and more blurry, and darkness soon enveloped part of my sight. My breathing began to slow, and I was slowing drifting away from consciousness. My vision became blacker and blacker, and the screams and toils of the others around me became muted. Blacker and blacker, until all I saw was black. And then, it all became silent.

Now I assume you, the reader, is quite perplexed as to the situation that has already unfolded in this interesting and (somewhat) exciting tale. After years and years of trying, I have finally been persuaded to write down my story in a manuscript. I would gladly share my stories over the dinner table with friends, family, and a hearty drink by my side, but putting it down in a manuscript of which any old man can pick up and see is a completely different matter.

But it matters not, for I have made my decision. Now, I decided to start at this location in my tale to convey to you the hopelessness I felt during this entire time period. But my story actually starts much, much earlier. In fact, we must travel back a few months to the city of Belgrade. In this wonderful city, I was a monk. Albeit, a very educated and worldly grounded monk, but a monk nonetheless.

I was raised by my parents at a very young age to read. I adored reading and writing (hence why I am writing this story for you this very moment) from an early age, and devoured every book I could get. So naturally, I became a monk and wrote.

But then, everything changed when we were attacked. The Ottomans, the fledging Muslim Empire from the South-East was knocking on Belgrade’s door, and we had not answered.

The Ottomans lay siege to the city, and, although our warriors fought bravely, we eventually ran out of food. With nothing left to do but to give in, our generals waved the white flag, and the Ottoman savages tore apart our city.

Worse, they slaughtered every Christian they could find. I was out on an errand when the Ottomans broke down the gates, so my entire monastery was slaughtered, save for me. That day, I vowed to get revenge on all who had caused this tragedy.

After the slaughters, the Ottomans promptly rounded up every single Christian that survived the slaughters and shipped us back to Constantinople, or Istanbul as the local Ottomans called, to be civil servants.

We were force marched across mountains, valleys, plains, and rivers for 74 days before we reached the borders of Constantinople. We were fed virtually no food, and very little water.

As we traveled, our situation became more and more hopeless. I felt the hope that I would survive being drained out of me by these Ottoman savages. It was over. As we neared the city, they became more aggressive, making sure we did not escape. And that is how it came to me blacking out. And now, my story can begin.

Chapter 1:

My eyes opened, and I was greeted by a smell of some exotic food. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, accounting for the fact that I had not had a hearty meal in days. A faint beam of light came into the small room I was in through a tiny window in the corner.

The sounds of a bustling street caressed my ears. I could hear commotion outside, and was curious as to where I was. I looked to my right, and a small stand was next to me, with a drink on it.

It was a small cup of water, but me, being extraordinarily thirsty, gulped up the water as if I was about to die if I didn’t consume it immediately.

I looked directly in front of me and noticed a large bookshelf, filled with tons of worn down books. I then realized that I was on a bed.

And then it struck me; I wasn’t dead. I was sure that I was going to die on that road outside of Constantinople with those Ottomans beating me. But somehow, by an act of God or otherwise, I was here and not up there.

As I pondered this, I heard movement outside the door to my room. A large, burly man entered. He seemed jolly enough, and had a large bald head and bright blue eyes.

“Ah, my mysterious guest awakes!” he shouted, clasping his hands together in delight. You pointed his finger at me and said, “You, my friend, have some questions to answer.”

I was confused and perplexed by his tone, by I played along all the same. I tried to talk, but nothing seemed to come out of my mouth.

The man, noticing this, said, “Don’t try to talk. You haven’t fully recovered from whatever happened to you yet, and it would be better if you just rested.”

He exited the room, and came back with a cup of a steaming liquid. He gave the cup to me. “Here, have this. It will help soothe your throat.”

With his mention of pain, I realized that I couldn’t really feel my legs. And when I tried to move my arm to reach for the cup, a sharp pain spread throughout it. I cringed in pain, so the man just set the boiling medicine down on the stand next to the bed. I nodded a thanks, and he promptly left the room.

I was confused and still a bit dazed from what had happened god knows how many hours or days ago. My head felt heavy, and I rested it on the bed. I slowly closed my eyes, and drifted back to unconsciousness.

When I awoke again, I felt better rested. It was still light out, but I had no idea what day it was. I heard talking outside the door, and was curious to see who was there. Somehow I summoned the strength to walk out of bed and to the doorway.

I struggled to move each leg, forcing my body to obey my commands. One after another, I placed them on the floor. As I reached the start of the doorway, I saw the man whom I had met earlier and a shorter, skinnier man talking to one another. Out from behind them came a beautiful young women with striking brown hair and wonderful deep blue eyes. She was the first to spot me, and she giggled.

“Come on lad, go back in there and put some clothes on!” shouted the fat man, shaking his head.

I looked down, and realized that I was completely naked. My face turned a bright red, and I rushed back into the room, finding a dirty robe on the ground. I put it on, and felt the harsh fabric rub against my skin. At least it was clothing.

I slowly walked back to the doorway, and saw that the girl was still giggling. The fat man was shaking his head, and the skinny one looked terribly confused. The fat man gestured to me to come forward, and then said, “Come on, let’s go into the parlor. We’ll have a talk there.”

Me, in no position to decline his offer, proceeded to follow the three strangers into a room with a large sofa and two chairs, all situated around a small coffee table. The fat man and the girl took a seat in the sofa, while the skinny one sat in one of the chairs.

I assumed that I was supposed to sit down in the last remaining seat, so I proceeded to do so. The cushion of the seat curved to the shape of my body, and it felt incredibly good to finally be able to rest.

“So my friend, do you know why you are here?” pondered the fat man.

“No, not at all. In fact, I thought I was dead. Who do I have to thank for my rescue?” I asked.

“The name is Ahmet, and this is my daughter, Yonca.” He said, gesturing to the pretty girl next to him. “And you, my friend,” pointing to me, “have some enemies.”

“I was riding back from the docks when I found you, near death, lying on the ground next to the road. You were covered in sword marks, blood splattered across your body. You were as thin as a piece of paper, and you were as pale as a ghost. Other bodies were scattered around you, but they were all dead. So I picked you up, put you on the back of my horse, and rode as quickly as I could back to my home. I have nourished you back to health, and now I ask a simple question. Why?”

I didn’t really know where to begin, so I began at the very beginning. “I used to be a monk in the city of Belgrade, but when you,” I said, gesturing to Ahmet, “attacked my city, you rounded up the Christian population and sent us to here. I was malnourished and dehydrated, so I collapsed on a forced march to wherever you were planning to take us. I then I guess you found me.”

The skinny man, whose name had no yet been revealed to me, stood up and said, somewhat angrily, “How dare you insult my master like that! This wil-”

Ahmet waved his hand, gave a quick chuckle, and then replied “Enough, Temel. I will correct him. Calling me an Ottoman? I’m just as Ottoman as you are, my friend. I was born in Lithoma, a small island off of Greece. When the Ottomans took over my town, they shipped us back here as well. So don’t think you are one of a kind, my friend. There are more people than you think living amongst the Ottomans who aren’t Ottoman. So watch your mouth.”

I sunk into my chair, embarrassed beyond belief at what I had said. This was no way to treat my rescuer, so I tried to reconcile. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, perhaps we could start over? I thank you for being so generous to me, and for saving my life. I am truly grateful that you opened up your household to facilitate my recovery.”

Ahmet snorted. “The hell you are!”

I suddenly turned my head to the doorway, where I heard the distinct “knock, knock,” of a hand on wood. “Open up in there!”

Ahmet got up, and gestured for me to go back into my room. Not wanting to cause any trouble, I obeyed.

“Hey, open up in there!”

Ahmet got up and slowly traveled over to the door, and, somewhat reluctantly, opened it. As he did, four Ottoman Janissaries poured into the room like a tsunami with angered looks on their faces.

With large muskets in their hands, they posed a menacing site. Yonca cowered in her seat, and Temel became very worried. But Ahmet, on the other hand, was calm and collected as he asked, “What brings you here? What gives you the right to impede on my home?”

“We have orders from our komutan to search, house to house for a missing Christian.”

“Well I can assure you that there are no Christians in this household!”

“Nevertheless, we must search your house. This is a high priority case.”

I looked around, and noticed that Yonca had disappeared from the scene. Ahmet was still remaining calm, but the Janissaries were getting increasingly anxious. I could see that one of the Janissaries was tensing up around his musket, holding it very tightly. They obviously didn’t want to appear threatening, but they wanted to show that they could pack a punch if need be.

“I am sorry, but I forbid you to search this house. I am housing no fugitives, so leave us be!”

The lead Janissary pushed around Ahmet, and said, “We must search this household!”

Yonca appeared behind on of the Janissaries, grabbed his had, and pulled out a small pistol. She pointed the pistol at his head, and then threw another pistol she pulled out from here pocket to Ahmet before the Janissaries had time to react.

Ahmet caught the pistol, and pointed it at the lead Janissary. He nodded to Yonca, and then said, “You will leave this house immediately. You will tell your komutan that you searched this house and found nothing. And you will not mention this incident to anybody else. Is that understood?”

The Janissary being held by Yonca tried to say something, but was muffled by her hand. The other Janissary had a scared look on his face, but the leader just seemed angry.

“If we return to our komutan wi-”

“THIS IS NOT A NEGOTIATION! You will leave this household immediately!”

Temel pulled out a pistol from underneath his seat and joined the fray by pointing the pistol at the third Janissary. He added to Ahmet’s order by saying, “No matter, you are in no position to negotiate anything. You will leave now, lest you want all your heads blown off.”

Yonca finally talked, and, still holding one of the Janissaries hostage, said, “I would do what they say. My father has a very short temper.”

At that moment, we all heard movement at the door. Ahmet turned his head to see what was going on. A knock hit the door. “Is everything alright in there?”

Ahmet gestured his pistol towards the lead Janissary, and mouthed “Go on.”

The lead Janissary said, nervously, “Yeah. We’re all fine. Just checking the house.”

Sensing I was still peeking outside my door, Yonca turned to me, and moved her head to the left. I nodded, and then moved to the left in the room to find a small box. I opened the box, and inside was another pistol.

I was still horribly confused as to why they had so many weapons scattered about, but I really wasn’t worried about it at the time. I checked it’s inside to make sure it was loaded. It was, so I went back to the doorway.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and two more Janissaries barged into the room. “What is going on here!” screamed the senior Janissary of the two new Janissaries. This senior Janissary wore a red cap, which must have signified some senior rank.

They pointed their two muskets at Ahmet and Temel, and the lead Janissary of the original three Janissaries aimed his musket at Yonca, who was still holding her Janissary tightly by the neck.

“You will let him go!” screamed the original lead Janissary, pointing his musket at Yonca.

Ahmet butted in, announcing, “If you shoot her, you’ll soon follow.”

“And if you shoot him, I’ll shoot you!” boomed the senior Janissary.

Tension filled the room for a few seconds, and then I burst out of my door, pointing the pistol at the red capped Janissary. “And if you shoot him, I’ll shoot you.”

“Ah, the Christian decides to show himself!” accused the 1st Janissary leader.

As I walked slowly over to the fray, pistol pointed at the lead Janissary, Ahmet showed a look of joy on his face. He smiled, and nodded to Temel.

“What are you doing! Stop this at once!” screamed the red Janissary, looking anxiously at Temel and then back to Ahmet.

Temel grinned, and then slowly backed up, pistol still pointed at one of the Janissaries. The Janissary whose pistol was pointed at Temel cautiously followed him. Temel stopped at a crate near one of the seats, and kicked it with his foot.

The kick activated some sort of wire which made the top of the floor open up, and with it came four large and heavy crates falling down. They fell on top of two of the Janissaries, pinning them to the floor.

As this was happening, Ahmet charged the lead Janissary of the original three while I shot the red capped leader before he had time to return the favor to Ahmet. The bullet ripped through the senior leader’s leg, and made him fall directly to the floor. In the process, his gun went off, shooting one of the man whose musket was pointed at Temel.

Yonca promptly hit the Janissary she was holding in the back of the head to knock him out, and the threat was eliminated.

“You did great, kid!” exclaimed Ahmet. “Alright, let’s pack up and move out of here.”

“Wait, we’re moving out?” I asked.

Temel answered, saying, “We do this quite frequently, don’t think that this is your fault. You were actually really quick on your feet.”

“Thanks? But wait? Why do you have all these weapons?”

“Long story,” replied Yonca. “Just get ready to move. This place is swarming with Ottomans. We’ll fill you in later.”

I nodded, and picked up my pistol. Ahmet did the same, and opened another crate. Inside was horns of gunpowder, bullets, and, most interestingly, five Kilijs, the Turkish version of a sword. He picked one up, and handed it to me. “Here, take this.”

I looked at him confusingly, and he replied, “Pistols run out of ammunition. You have to reload them after each shot. Swords… don’t.”

Still reluctant, I pocketed my pistol and picked up the kilij. I found some fabric on the floor, so I tied it around myself to make a holster for the sword. Once the fabric was around me, I slid my sword into it on my back. I then went up to Ahmet and asked, “I’ve never used a pistol before, so how do I reload it?”

Ahmet gave me a quick lesson while Temel and Yonca ran around the household, putting whatever valuables they had into bags. “They’re probably wondering what happened to those Janissaries by now, so we better move. Reinforcements will be coming any minute,” announced Ahmet.

Temel and Yonca came and picked up their kilijs, and, with bags on their backs, we opened the door.

“You think you’ll be fine, kid? You haven’t walked for 5 days,” asked Ahmet.

“Wait, I’ve been out for 5 days?”

“Never mind, lets go,” beckoned Yonca as we exited the house into the crisp sea air. When I took my first step outside, I was greeted by the sound of commotion and excitement. Ahmet apparently lived very close to the docks, as ships pulled in and out, unloading their cargo as they came.

People lifted the crates and put them in neat piles. Shops and stalls crowded the street in front of us, with people yelling and shouting at passer-byers to pick up an item or two from their shop.

“Just act calm,” mumbled Ahmet as we slowly walked up to the street. At this point, I had no idea where we were going; I was just following Ahmet.

Carrying your sword around must have been commonplace there, because nobody seemed to pay any attention to us.

I spotted two Janissaries patrolling, so I tapped Ahmet on the shoulder and just pointed to their position. They had set up a checkpoint, and were asking the people around them questions, obviously trying to locate me. Ahmet nodded, and then whispered something into Yonca’s ear, who then promptly disappeared into the crowded marketplace.

“Be prepared to run,” whispered Temel into my ear. I looked at him quizzically, but nodded anyway. As we approached the two Ottoman soldiers, we saw a large stall collapse on a few people on the street. Fruits of every size and colour spread across the ground of the small street, and the owner of the shop seemed very irate.

An orange rolled across to me, so I picked it up and began to eat it. Ahmet swatted it out of my hands, telling me, “Don’t eat things like that off the ground!”

I just nodded, but was disappointed that I wasn’t able to enjoy the healthy snack. Yonca reappeared next to Ahmet, and I noticed that the two Janissaries were busy helping getting the stall back up. Ahmet nodded to Yonca, who seemed pleased with her work.

“There! That’s her!” shouted a man, pointing at Yonca.

“Damn! Run for it!” screamed Ahmet, as the two Janissaries barreled towards us, muskets held high.

“Stop! Stop!” they yelled, but we ignored them and kept running, pushing crowds of people away. We lost the Janissaries in the crowd, and stopped to catch our breathe. After a few seconds of relaxation, we saw a group of five Janissaries blocking the street up ahead, letting nobody pass.

They were obviously trying to trap us inside, leaving us now escape path. Ahmet took out his pistol and said, “If they’re blocking our path, we’ll have to blast our way through! Pistols at the ready.”

I picked up mine, with Yonca and Temel doing the same. We slowly approached the wall of soldiers, and, with each pistol aimed at a different man, pulled the trigger. Four of the five Janissaries feel to the floor. The fifth was stunned as we ran passed him into the crowd. “We’re going to the east end of the city!” shouted Ahmet as we ran. “If we get split up, look for the large blue spire. That’s where we’ll meet.”

We all nodded, and continued to run. While still pushing people away, we heard soldiers shouting behind us. “There they are!”

A few large bangs erupted from behind us, and a few people screamed. These Janissaries weren’t kidding around.

“I think we have to split up!” shouted Yonca. Ahmet nodded, and he ran to the left with Yonca. That left me and Temel to run to the right, hopping that the Janissaries would get confused and call off the chase.

As we ran into a narrow street alley, the crowds began to thin out. A wall was at the end of the street, but on the other side of that wall was another street. Temel knew this, so he said, “Give me a boost. We’re going to climb over that wall!” while pointing to the wall. As we reached it, I heard the shouts of soldiers from around the corner.

“Hurry, I think their this way!” I heard on of them exclaim. I boosted Temel up and over the wall, and then he grabbed my arm to pull me up. Just as I reached the top, the soldiers rounded the corner.

“There! FIRE!” shouted a red capped Janissary, who was obviously the leader of the small squad. Temel gestured for us to jump, which I quickly did, knowing that bruised legs were better than a bullet. We jumped just as the soldiers fired their first shots. We heard scrambling on the other side as the Janissaries quickly tried to get over the wall.

“Quickly, in here!” motioned Temel, who was already inside an empty crate. I jumped into the one next to his, and remained motionless inside. There was a small crack in the crate, so I was able to look outside to see what was happening.

One by one, the Janissaries made it over the wall. None of them moved, fearing retribution from their commander, so they all waited from him to get over, costing them precious time. It mattered not, because Temel and I were already safely hidden inside our crates.

As the commander got over, he said, “Quickly men, we’ve lost them! Our komutan will kill us if we don’t find them. Move it!”

The other soldiers were visibly scared of their commander, so they moved up the street without question. They had neglected to check the crates that we were hiding in. Temel and I waited another minute or two to make sure no reinforcements were coming, and then we emerged unscathed out of our crates.

“Nice work, we lost them!” Temel happily announced. He seemed very pleased with himself. “Alright, let’s get moving. We have to meet up with Ahmet and Yonca near the blue-spired mosque. Just follow me, I’ll get us there. But before I do, I have a question to ask. We’ve already gone through some much, and so much has happened, but I still don’t know your name. Would you care to reveal it to me?”

I was actually startled that I had not introduced myself yet, but some much excitement had happened within the last few minutes that I had thought nothing of it. “Sure, my name is Marko.”

“Ah, Marko. That’s a European name, no?”

“Yes, as I said earlier I am originally from Belgrade.”

We walked slowly up the street. People bustling around us with baskets filled with fruit, men and women alike conversing about why a group of Janissaries had just ran up the street, people bargaining for deals were all around us.

I turned to Temel and asked, “What’s your relation to Ahmet?”

“Glad you asked. I was originally his servant, but he has adopted me as his son.”

I nodded, sensing that Temel didn’t want to talk about it any more.

“Is it always like this with Ahmet?”

“We are moving a lot. And things like this do happen, but… I’ll let Ahmet explain it to you. He’s much better at it. Come on, we best be getting a move on if we want to meet Ahmet and Yonca before sundown.”

We turned a street corner, and more shops and stalls lined the ground in front of us. It seemed that the city was an endless maze of shops and houses. The colors were wonderful, everything from azul to violent lined the streets, adding to the city’s flair. Multiple different languages were being spoken, showing the diversity of the city’s populace. I spotted a blue spire over the horizon, and pointed it out to Temel.

“Yes, that’s where we’re going,” he responded. “It’s not far, we should get there in a few minutes.”

The rest of our journey was carried out in silence. When we reached the base of the spire, the sun was beginning to set. It cast it’s orange glow across the city. It was all so beautiful, it brought a tear to my eye.

When we arrived at the blue spire, Yonca and Ahmet were nowhere to be seen.

“What do we do now?” I inquired.

“Now, we wait,” replied Temel.

So we did. We waited for the better part of an hour before Yonca and Ahmet showed up, panting and sweaty.

“What happened?” asked Temel.

“The Janissaries,” Ahmet said as he took a breath, “cut us off. They had,” another breathe, “brought reinforcements. Yonca and I diverted them, and then ran here.”

Yonca interjected, saying, “We led them down the wrong path. They won’t be bothering us anytime soon. So, what do we do now?”

“Now, we find a place to stay for the night,” replied Ahmet. “I know a lady this side of the city, she’ll have a spot open for us in her hotel.”

“I’m sorry for not intro-,” I said, but was cut off by Ahmet, who said, “We’ll do full introductions tomorrow. Now, I just need a place to sleep.”

I agreed, so I nodded my head in approval. Ahmet led us to a dirty and smelly lodge, where he was able to talk the inn-lady into giving us a free night, considering we had no money to pay her with.

We said goodnight to one another, and then all retired to separate rooms. I got undressed from the dirty robe I had on for the day, and lay down on the bed, confused about what had happened. As I lay there pondering the days events, my eyes started to close, and I drifted off happily into sleep.

Chapter 2

I awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside the horribly smelling lodge I was sleeping in. As I emerged from my bed, I realized that the events of yesterday were not a dream, and did in fact happen.

I donned the robe I had next to my bed, and ventured down the stairs, hoping to meet Yonca and Ahmet and Temel, who I assumed would be up by now. When I go there, nobody was up. Not a sound came from anywhere, so I went outside the lodge to get a good look at Constantinople.

I walked over to a large mosque, and climbed up the spire to look across the city. The sun was still rising, and it set it’s orange glow across the entire horizon of the city. As I looked down, I saw the beautifully carved spires of the mosques spread across the city. I gazed upon the iconic blue mosque I had heard so much about since I was a child when my grandma visited the city decades earlier.

Barley a person was moving in the city, so I presumed it must have been very earlier. The narrow and crowded streets seemed deserted and empty. No sounds echoed from those narrow streets, so the city seemed dead and lifeless.

The sun rose more in the sky, and suddenly a chant erupted from one of the spires of the city. Soon all of the spires across Constantinople were singing this chant, and it filled the place with life. I heard rustling, and realized that this must be some sort of wake up call.

But for a few minutes, nobody came out of their buildings. They were probably doing some sort of ritual, I thought to myself. After a small period of time, people did begin to pour out of the buildings.

Thousands of people filled the streets, and stalls once again began selling their various products for the day.

Ahmet and company were probably waking up around this time, so I decided it was time to walk back down. On the way down, I took time to look at the intricate carvings inside the spire.

They seemed to depict a large battle between the warriors of the Rome and some barbarians, at least from what I could make out with my limited knowledge of the Turkish language.

It said that the leader of the army received a vision of a cross, and then was blessed by Jesus, on the claims that he would win the battle. According to the carving, he massacred the enemy, and achieved a great victory for all of the civilized world.

“Where have you been?” inquired Yonca.

“I was just out for a walk!” I replied.

“You could have got lost. You shouldn’t just disappear like that! You had us worried.”

“Ah, let him off Yonca,” ordered Ahmet. “Our friend here has had quite a shock. By the way, I still don’t know your name!”

“It’s Marko, and I still haven’t thanked you for saving my life!”

“Really, no need to thank me. All you did was come into my life, force me to move out of my home, and then make us nomads wandering the streets of Istanbul.”

“But, wait, sorr-” I said, fumbling my words, too embarrassed to speak.

“You really are a gullible lad! I was just messing with you, this happens quite frequently,” Ahmet replied.

I turned to Yonca and Temel, confused, but they just nodded in agreance with Ahemt. “I was getting tired of that place, anyway,” replied Temel.

“So you’re telling me that you move around quite frequently?” I asked.

Ahmet nodded and said, “Yes, every few months or so.”

I thought to myself in the hopes that I would figure out what this small band of people did for work. They moved quite frequently, and obviously knew loads of people scattered across all corners of the city. They had an enormous cache of weapons, and a knowledge of how to use them.

The lines came together in my head, and I shouted, “Thieves! You’re thieves!”

Yonca shook his head and said, “No, you arrogant fool. We’re not thieves. We’re not criminals. What we do? Let’s just say that we… we are the doers. We get things done.”

I sat there hopelessly confused. They did “things,” yet they weren’t criminals? Luckily, Temel explained, “We are the equivalent of mercenaries for hire. We find criminals, protect important leaders, steal back stolen items. You name it, as long as there’s a price involved.”

“So your telling me that you put yourselves out for hire, ready to do anybody’s bidding as long as you get paid for your services?” I inquired.

“Well, everything within reason. We’ll not just kill a man because another man gave us money to. We have morals too, you know,” replied Temel.

“Is this… this business common here?”

“Yes, it’s quite popular. We have competition, and lots of it.”

I looked at Ahmet, and quickly thought of a way to change the topic. “So how did you end up in Istanbul?” I asked.

I saw Yonca roll her eyes, and Temel put his palm on his face. Confused, I asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes. You asked Ahmet to tell his story. We’ll be here all day!” replied Temel.

This was turning out quite nicely!

“Hold on, he asked, so I’m going to answer!” retorted Ahemt.

“It was a long time ago. I was living in Lithoma, along with my mother, father, and two brothers. Lithoma was a beautiful little island, with it’s long streching beaches and it’s bustling town center. At the middle of this town center lay a large square, where the townspeople would hold feasts and things of that nature from time to time. Lithoma was a happy place, a beautiful place.

My father was a fisherman, so he would disappear along with his fishing mates for long stretches of time. While away, my mother would take up the duties of the man in the house. My mother was my biggest influence; she taught me how to read and write. I loved to read. Whenever I had the chance, I would pick up a book and read all that I could. My mother used to joke that I read so much that my eyes would fall out of my sockets.

All that reading had given me illusions of grandeur in my head, and I imagined myself riding off to be a knight and save people from evil. My friends and I would frequently play a game we called “the Knight and the Dragon.” One person was a knight, and one was the dragon, and they faced off in a duel for the ages. Of course, the Knight always won; he had to. It was the rules. The Knight could never lose.

Everything was well in the town of Lithoma until the Ottomans began to invade. I first heard my father talking about them to my mother one night over the dinner table. He said that they were a ruthless people, and had already overrun the cities to the south of Greece. They would come for us in due time.

Of course I was scared, and so was everybody else, but I knew that everything would be fine. The Greek knights would come to save us. And the Knights never lost. Never.

As the Ottomans took more and more of Greece, the situation in Lithoma became more and more dire. Families began to move out, fearing that the Ottomans would kill them when they finally reached the small island. My father was worried, but wasn’t just about to move from where seven generations had lived. He was a stronger man than most.

The day finally came where I could see the sails of the Ottoman fleet over the horizon. They were coming, and there was no stopping them. What seemed like a thousand ships filled the harbor, and then the Ottomans descended upon the village like a plague. They murdered everybody; man, women, and child. Hundreds upon thousands of bodies lay on the ground, murdered in cold blood. And I hated them. I was only eight at the time, and both my parents were killed.

In a strange act of kindness, one of the commanders of the Ottoman force took me, one of the only survivors, in as his own child. I was taken back to Istanbul, here, and he raised me as one of his own. I was taught how to speak in Turkish, read in Turkish, and was given all the books I desired. I went to school, and was given even more chances to read.

I dreamed of becoming a scholar when I grew up, writing books to be read throughout the ages. But that dream fell into oblivion when the Sultan demoted my father from his military rank because his regiment performed badly in a battle. Our family was disgraced, and I was kicked out of school forever. My father soon died of shame soon after, and I was left alone to raise myself.

So I got into the criminal business. Stealing a thing here and there, nothing much, just enough to keep me going. I roamed from place to place, never finding anywhere where I could get a solid income to keep me alive. So I stole. And stole. And stole.

Eventually, I realized that I could steal for money, and got into the business of mercenary for hire, very much like I am now. But then, then I met Mrs. Wife (also know as Subject W). She was wonderful. She was beautiful and thoughtful and smart and lovable. So I married here. I had Yonca. And then, one day one of my clients got mad. He got real mad. Like, so mad he marched up to my house, and screamed my name.

Of course, I wasn’t there, so he grabs his sword, waltzes into the house, and attacks Subject W in a fit of rage. He sliced her down, and he killed her. I got home and cried. And I cried. And then, I killed that client. I hunted him down for days. But when I finally killed him, it felt good. It felt real good. It felt like I had completed something that I needed to complete in my life.

But anyway, after he was killed, there was a massive manhunt for me. I evaded them all, and hid out in the mountains for 2 years before I came back, making sure that they had completely forgotten about me before I returned.

I set up the business, put out the word that I was back, and waited for my clients to start coming again. The problem? They didn’t. They too had forgotten all about me. So I had to start over. Completely from scratch. Build my whole business up from nothing. For the second time.

But with time, it came, it eventually came. Business was booming, and then I met Temel over here. He came into our “crew,” and eventually Yonca, Temel and I made a name for ourselves on the streets of Istanbul. When people would say our names, they would smile. Kids would want to be us, the saviors of Istanbul. This is making no sense right now, but please just keep listening, the story gets better. Yes I am aware that this is just incessant rambling, but I am doing it to better your understanding of me, so suck it up.

So anyway, we made a name for ourselves and were respected throughout the whole city. It was great. And now we’re here. So you’ve heard my story.”

“Thats… that’s quite a long and interesting story,” I replied, kind of confused as to why he had delved into that much length. I had only asked a simple question. I guess I was warned.

“I told you not to ask, but you did anyway!” replied Temel.

“Ah, come on. It wasn’t that bad!” Ahmet said. “Was it?”

“Yes, every-time you tell that story it’s bad!”

“Not every time! I’ve told it great in the past, and mind you I think that’s one of the best version’s I’ve told!”

“Sure, think what you will, but nobody, and let me repeat, NOBODY, enjoys hearing your story. It’s the same every time,” Temel ranted. He admiatly hated Ahemt’s speeches. Yonca just sat there with a disappointed look on her face. They obviously went through this a lot.

“Alright, enough of this. I’m going to the market to get us some food for today. I’ll see you all in a bit,” announced Ahemt, much to the delight of Temel.

“As long as we don’t have to hear any more stories…” muttered Temel under his breathe. Ahmet either didn’t hear it or just didn’t care enough to do anything about it and kept on walking. He soon disappeared into the crowd of people that were forming up inside the narrow streets.

Luckily, the area we were sitting in, which happened to be outside the inn we slept in for the night, was in a large square. Inside this square was a small field of green grass, a surprisingly rare site in Istanbul, at least from what I had seen so far.

I stared out onto the green in a daze, and watched as some birds flew by here and there. This little square seemed so quite in comparison to the bustle and speed o the rest of the city. I hadn’t gotten a real feel for the place yet; hell, I’d only been there a day, and the most I had seen of Istanbul was while running away from some pretty angry Ottomans.

I looked around the table, and it seemed that both Temel and Yonca were in their own little words, relishing Ahmet’s absence. I got the sense that Ahmet was not the quietest of people, and probably got on their nerves often. It didn’t matter to me, for he was the one who picked me up, plopped me down on his horse, and nurtured me back to health. It wasn’t Temel or Yonca, it was Ahmet.

Yonca. She was somebody I couldn’t figure out. Beautiful, yes. But strange and cryptic? Also a yes. Sometimes she would seem angry, and the next second she would be cool as the sea breeze. She was somebody who I still hadn’t figured out.

Seeing that Temel and Yonca weren’t going to be doing anything anytime soon, I decided to get up and walk into the green. I looked up at the warm and beaming sun, feeling it’s warmth radiate throughout my entire body. It felt good to be alive. At that moment, I was glad that Ahmet had saved me. Other times throughout this tale, believe you me, I would have loved nothing more than if Ahmet just left me to die on the side of the road. But we’ll get there, we’ll get there.

At this crossroads in this story, you’ve probably become quite familiar with the characters. Well, at least the characters that have been introduced so far. I wasn’t so familiar with them around this time, but I did feel that I had some sort of connection to them. You’ve probably got it in your head that I’m going to get involved with some sort of work they do, and then something bad will happen. I mean, if nothing bad happened, then why would I be spewing this tale to you? To tell you the joys of living? Of course not! Something bad has to happen, or else this would be a very boring story indeed. But, unfortunately for you, you excitable little reader you, the thing you expect to happen, I assure you, will not happen. Because here is why my tale takes a strange and totally unexpected turn.

I came back from my extraordinarily short walk around the small green, and sat down in my chair. Temel and Yonca still showed no signs of life, so I slumped and began to drift off into a nap.

Suddenly, a loud booming laugh erupted from the crowd. It was a laugh I had heard before. A laugh that was all too familiar to me. A laugh that I hadn’t heard for years, but a laugh that I could recognize in between a million other laughs.

Ahmet came walking through the crowd of people with none other than my best friend from when I was a child, Vlad. Vlad and I were the best of friends. We did everything together; we ate together, we played games together, we went to school together, we read the same books together. We did everything together. Well, that was until one day when his family had to move to some town in Turkey because his extended family was hit with some especially hard financial troubles, and his dad was called upon to help the family out. His father was a financial genius, but sometimes I wish it wasn’t so with Vlad’s smart father. It was a strange move, but one that hurt me deeply.

I was never expecting to see Vlad again, but somehow, by the grace of God or otherwise, he showed up. As Ahmet and Vlad laughed with each other, I reasoned that they must know each other somehow. Perhaps Vlad was one of Ahmet’s clients. But what would Vlad need Ahmet for? Why would Vlad need to do anything criminal? Thoughts ran through my head, but I was just excited to see Vlad after being apart for so many years.

I wondered if he would recognize me, and thought that he probably wouldn’t. I had changed so much, and he had changed so much, but that laugh was unmistakable. It could only be Vlad’s laugh.

Ahmet and Vlad came laughing up to our table, and they both sat down. Temel and Yonca both gave Vlad casual waves. They gave it so casually that it gave the impression that Vlad was not a new occurrence to them. They had obviously met Vlad before, and possibly even conversed with him. I was still trying to wrap my head around why Vlad would need a person like Ahmet. What would he need him for? Was Vlad involved in some sort of weapons smuggling? Did he steal from the rich and give to the poor? Did he steal from the poor and give to the rich so they stayed rich? Did he steal from everybody to make himself rich? Was he trying to come up with criminal ways to pay for his gambling addiction? Was he a hopeless drunk who got illusions of grandeur every time he stole something? Or was he just a criminal who was addicted to the adrenaline rush that it gave him while committing a crime?

As I thought of more scenarios for why Vlad had familiar contact with Ahmet, he turned to me and asked Ahmet, “Who’s this?” He looked at me, and then stated, “You look familiar… have we met?”

Ahmet, obviously not knowing that we were once best friends, replied, “This is...,” he turned to me and whispered, “Marko, right?” I nodded. “This is Marko. I picked him up only yesterday. Found him left for dead on the side of the road. He was part of the shipment of people they brought back with them. After the conquest of Belgrade.”

A sudden epiphany shone across Vlad’s face, and he said, “Wait, you can’t possibly be Marko, Marko from Belgrade who I knew all those years ago?”

I wanted to give him the impression that I did not know who was yet, to gauge his reaction, so I replied, “Well, I am called Marko, and I am from Belgrade. But I do not know your name, so I cannot possibly hope to know if I knew you or not.”

Vlad quickly replied with, “Vlad, my name is Vlad!”

“No, no. It can’t are Vlad, aren’t you! I remember! Vlad!” I shouted with excitement.

A ray of happiness shone across Vlad’s face, and we embraced each other with out arms open wide. I looked around and saw the faces of Ahmet, Temel, and Yonca all emanating the same confused look.

“I thought you were dead!” Vlad said.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” I replied.

“How wonderful to see you again!”

“You too! So what have you done for all these years?” I asked.

Ahmet decided that he needed to jump into the conversation, just to see what was actually happening. “Hold on a second here. You’re telling me that you two know each other from somewhere, and then you got lost from one another, and now you’re reunited?”

We both nodded, and then Vlad explained. “Marko and I were the best of childhood friends. But one day, my family had to relocate to Turkey to help my extended family, who were going through a crisis. I told Marko that I would hopefully be back before he knew it, but we never saw each other again. Well, that is until this very moment in time.”

Temel shook his head and announced, “What a strange day it has been already, and it’s still morning. What will the rest of the day have in store?”

“That’s a good question!” I replied. “But however it’s turned out so far, I like it!”

Vlad looked at me and said, somewhat sarcastically, somewhat non sarcastically, “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do!” He rummaged around in his pockets a bit, and pulled out a few coins. “Hm…” Vlad said, inspecting each coin. “This should be enough. Alright, Marko, you’re coming with me.”

“Where are you both going?” inquired Temel.

“We’re going to a taven so we could catch up! We haven’t seen each other for almost two decades!”

I looked a Vlad and said, “We are?”

He nodded and said, “Yes Marko, we are. Now follow me, I’ve been in this city long enough to know where the best bars are.”

I unquestionably followed Vlad, but still was a bit suprised at the rashness of his actions. We left the table and began navigating the narrow streets of the city in hopes of finding the specific bar Vlad was looking for. He told me to not talk until we got there; he said there was much to discuss.

Not in any position to disagree, I just went along with it. After what seemed to be a few minutes, we arrived at the front of a disgusting looking tavern. It’s wood was falling off and the building itself looked moldy, I was convinced that it was going to collapse on us any second. But nevertheless, we ventured inside the strange smelling tavern, and were seated in a dark corner among a plethora of different people, who all smelled a different peculiar (and horrible) smell.

We say down, and I asked, “Why here? Why take me here to this disgusting little place?”

“Keep your voice down. We don’t want to attract any attention to ourselves,” he replied in a low whisper. “They have agents everywhere, so I went here because this is the place they would least likely place an informant.”

“Wait, who? Who have agents? And why are they spying on us? And wait… what is happening?” I was utterly confused at the situation.

“Alright, look. This may seem strange, but you know Ahmet and his gang? Well, they’re working for the Sultan.”

“Wait, you mean for the Ottoman’s government?”

“No, the Sultan himself.”

“Why in the world would they be working for the Sultan? What are they trying to do?”

“Well… I know it may be hard for you to accept this, considering you have built some bond with them, but… there job is to find escaped prisoners of war, i.e. you, and bring them to trial. To make them examples. Chances are, they were probably going to do that to you too.”

I was stunned, taken aback at what he had said. Vlad had just suggested that my savior, Ahmet, was really just saving me so he could put me on trial. I was still too stunned to get sentences out straight, so I just uttered, “So he saved me to arrest me?”

“Unfortunately, yes. That’s probably the only reason you were saved.”

“But we were chased by Janissaries. Surely if they were agents of the Sultan, a Janissary wouldn’t dare touch them!” I said hopefully.

“According to my source inside the palace, they are deep undercover. Very few people know about them. Not even the Janissaries.”

My world crumbled beneath my feet. Everything seemed to be going well up until that point. I was scared, I was worried, but most of all, I was confused. “Then why, why do you still do business with them?”

Vlad replied, rather embarrassed by my question, with, “Ahmet is a fine maker of weapons. I use him for all my weapons.”

Weapons? Why would Vlad need weapons? This was turning out to be quite a confusing day. “Why in the world would you need weapons? Weapons for what?”

Vlad looked down at the table and said, with a very dark inflection in his voice, “Follow me. I have something to show you.”

“Shouldn’t we tell Ahmet where we’re going? Won’t they get suspicious?”

“I guess you’re right. You’re not as clueless as I thought!”

We navigated the narrow streets back to the square I was sitting at not two hours before, and told Ahmet that Vlad was going to meet up with some old friends with Marko, and that he’d be back in a few hours to pick up his next shipment.

We turned back into the crowded streets of the city. As I passed stalls, the aromas of fresh food caressed my nose, and I longed for a good meal. But we obviously weren’t about to stop, so I reasoned that I would find some sort of food when we got to our destination, where ever that may be.

Vlad and I walked for what seemed to be in upwards of an hour, until we reached the outskirts of Istanbul. The stalls thinned out, as did the people. It was like we had crossed the imaginary border that separates the countryside from the city, even though Istanbul was just a few meters away.

The road we traveled on was long and wide, and filled with brown sand. I asked Vlad if he knew where he was going, and replied that he did. I guess I would just have to trust him for the time being. As we traveled further and further down the open road, more and more trees began to build up. Soon, we could barely see outside the road because the trees and brush was so thick.

“Where are we?” I inquired. I had never been outside the city (accounting for the fact that I’d only been there two days at this point), let alone this far. We must have spend over two hours traveling down the road before I decided to ask this question; I was getting fed up of traveling without knowing my final destination.

“You’re really getting anxious, aren’t you?” Vlad laughed his booming laugh again. “We are almost there, just you hang in there a little bit longer.”

I shook my head and said, “You’ve said that for the past few hours. I want to know where we really are going!”

“Look, it just over that hill,” Vlad replied, pointing with his finger to the hill right in front of us.

We continued to walk, finally satisfied with the answer I had received from Vlad. As we reached the hill, I gazed over it, and saw what was quite possible one of the saddest scenes I had ever seen.

Chapter 3:

At the top of the hill, I gazed down into a valley filled with thousands of people, all bustling about. It seemed just like the city a few miles down the road, but much, much worse. The buildings of this were not really buildings, just pieces of wood stacked up against each other. The people were living in filthy pieces of rags and, in some cases, nothing at all. Nobody had socks on, let alone shoes. Their faces were muddy, dirty, but most saddening was that they were completely devoid of hope.

As Vlad and I traveled down the hill, I was too stunned to talk. As we reached this complex closer, I couldn’t spot a single smile on these people’s faces. Why were they here? Why didn’t they just leave to find a better life inside Istanbul? Were they being forced here? And who were they, this mysterious people living just outside of Istanbul in total desperation.

“Who… who are these people?” I questioned Vlad, still with a dazed look on my face. Vlad did seem horrified, but not as horrified as me. It seemed like he was a frequent visitor to this pit of sorrow.

“These Marko, are Christians from Belgrade. This is where you would be right now if Ahmet didn’t save you on the side of the road. You would be here, living in these conditions.”

“Wow…,” I was absolutely speechless. As we continued father into the pot of sadness, I saw people scrounging over a dead mouse, people eating grass that was just growing the ground. People’s faces covered in dirt, trying to find some sort of food stuck in the ground. These horrible conditions had reduced these humans into savages, using primordial instincts to survive. It was painful to watch.