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This short nap turned into a good eleven hour sleep. Mehmed had been awake for about forty-five-minutes now. He got out of the shower thirty minutes ago and by now, was dressed in his everyday black robes, with his black Bork hat decorated with the gold. Mehmed had been walking around the rooms he could look around in, as the sun rose on the city. Mehmed, once finished, returned to his chair, where he preferred it the most. It was around nine in the morning now. Today was the day he was due to return home to Lanorth. Mehmed was deep in thought. Mostly about the previous few days - what had happened, what he had been doing, etc. He thought about Sabriye, whom, by this time, had been buried back in Lanorth. He thought about Halil Pasha, what he would do with him. And about Zaganos Pasha - how he may react to his plans. Mehmed then shook his head briefly, knowing that he should cross that bridge when he got to it. Mehmed glanced behind him as he heard footsteps behind him, clicking against the floor. Mehmed saw his servant, Emine. Mehmed stood up, facing her. "Emine, good morning." Said Mehmed, smiling. "Morning, Sultan." She replied, smiling back. "Are you ready for your breakfast, or would you like to wait a while longer?" She asked. "It depends what time we are scheduled to leave the country." Mehmed replied. Emine smiled briefly. "I believe we leave at three in the afternoon, so we would arrive back home around nine this evening." Mehmed nodded. "In which case, yes, I'll have my breakfast now, thank you." Mehmed replied. "I'll let the cooks know." Emine said. She bowed and Mehmed replied by nodding his head. Before you go, Emine." Said Mehmed. Emine turned, inclining her head slightly. "Yes?" She asked. "Give your honest opinion on my attire, Emine." Mehmed said. Emine's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. Mehmed took notice of this. "I'm serious, you know." He insisted. "I don't doubt-" Emine said, however she was interrupted by Mehmed, who performed a hand gesture, indicating he wanted her to spit it out. "I would prefer something a bit more modern than robes. I would like it if there wasn't policies governing on how people may dress in Lanorth and I am sure the whole populace would." She said. Mehmed shrugged. "Maybe." He said. "Thank you, Emine." She nodded and turned back around, walking off. Mehmed thought about what she had said. 'Maybe she's right.' He thought. 'Maybe Lanorth does need to advance into the future concerning fashion.' He then dwelled into this thought. 'We allowed our soldiers to do it. Why should the people be different?' He then thought about his father, the laws he had implemented concerning fashion, and how Mehmed had not even considered to lift this law. Mehmed sighed. Mehmed, when the man came to take his order, ordered a simple breakfast, a fried egg in a sandwich. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry and didn't want anything fancy, nor did he want to rush the cooks. He ate it quite quickly. Mehmed sighed, standing up, before pushing his chair in. He lifted his plate, taking it over to Emine, who was waiting for him. Mehmed smiled. "Thank you." As she walked away, Mehmed turned on the spot, facing the window he had spent the majority of the time. He walked over to the basket, as Emine returned. Mehmed took the cigarettes from within the basket and took one out, before pocketing the rest. Mehmed placed it between his lips, holding it firmly, before lighting it. Mehmed inhaled, allowing the smoke to once again, fill his lungs. Mehmed took his thumb and index finger, removing the cigarette from his lips, exhaling the smoke sharply. Mehmed admired the view out of the window, once more. He glanced down at his sword. He sighed, as he thought of all the people the blade had murdered, in vain or in cold blood. He thought of the man his father was, a tough man on the inside with a frail outside. He sighed, thinking once more. Mehmed placed his free hand on the handle of the sword and suddenly, it came to him. Mehmed knew, at that moment, he was everything his father wanted him to be. Mehmed smiled to himself, breathing out as he did. He raised the cigarette up to his mouth, once again. He stood there, admiring the view, for a good while. Mehmed was interrupted by the voice of Emine. "Excuse me, Sultan..." Said Emine. Mehmed shook his head slightly, before he turned to face Emine. Mehmed raised his head slightly. Emine bowed her head, once again. Mehmed's gaze remained on Emine. "Yes, Emine, what is it." Said Mehmed, sounding rather irritated. "Your convoy has arrived outside, Sultan." Emine said. "The departure has been rearranged, I attempted to tell you before, however you seemed to be deep in thought." Mehmed chuckled. "How long has it been?" Mehmed asked. "About an hour." Emine said. Mehmed thought to himself; 'I really need to stop doing that sort of thing.' Mehmed nodded. "Okay." He said. "Are all of my belongings packed?" He asked. Emine nodded. "Yes." She said reassuringly. "Very good. Lets go." He said. Emine nodded. Mehmed stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the rubbish bin. He straightened his robes out slightly, brushing them down, before he used his right hand to grip the handle of the sword, before walking out of the floor. He approached the lift, pressing the button to take him to the bottom floor. Emine stood beside him, her hands resting behind her back. Mehmed was significantly shorter than Mehmed, standing at 5'5, however Mehmed was 6'0. Mehmed adjusted his bork hat swiftly, straightening it out, before the lift came to a stop. Mehmed's hand lowered to his side, as the lift door opened. Mehmed was greeted by rows of photographers. Mehmed raised his free hand, indicating for the secret police to step aside, however to stop anyone from getting past them, allowing the press to take photographs of him. One news reporter stepped forward, a microphone in his hand, beyond the secret police. "Sultan, what are-" He was cut off, as a secret police member tackled him, slamming him into the reception desk, as another came to back him up, slamming him to the ground, using zipties to tie his wrists behind his back. Mehmed heard this, looking behind him. He rolled his eyes as he saw the commotion. Mehmed began walking at a faster pace, as the reporter was picked up by the two secret police members and dragged away, to be handed to Zoranian authorities, where they could deal with him, stating 'he likely just wanted to get a closer word with Mehmed, let him go.' The door was opened to the limousine, where Mehmed had the door opened for him by his secret service. He got inside, taking off his bork hat. He put on his seat belt. He looked oout of the window, seeing the flashes of cameras as photos were taken of the Sultan. Mehmed heard a secret service member tap on the roof of the car. The car took off, reaching the speed of about 50 miles per hour, closely tailed by the secret service. Before he knew it, they arrived at the nearby airport. President Ani'-Wah's limo was waiting for him. Mehmed's limousine came to a stop and a secret service member rushed out of the car behind him, jogging up to the door to open it for him. Mehmed stepped out. He inhaled the fresh air, before walking over to the ageing President. Mehmed smiled as they conversed. Ani'-Wah' presented the Sultan with the gift. Mehmed took it, examining it carefully. He raised it to his eyes, looking from the handle's perspective, down to the end of the blade. He took his finger and pressed it against the tip of the blade. He smiled, as he handed the gift to Emine, who handled it carefully, walking up the stairs to Mehmed's jet, placing it carefully on Mehmed's table, where he sat. Emine then returned, to find the two men conversing. Mehmed smiled. "You, sir, are a fine man and I am sure this won't be our last goodbye. And if it is, then I wish you the best of luck." Mehmed smiled, raising his right arm to rest on the shoulder of the old man. Mehmed smiled, without showing his teeth. He left his hand fall to his side, stepping a few steps back, still facing the President. He nodded goodbye, before he turned, as Emine waited for him at the top of the stairs. Mehmed, once he reached the top, allowed Emine to enter, before he glanced back, once more. He raised his hand and performed a small waving gesture, before he entered the plane, turning to the right, walking down the aisle. The stairs were retracted and soon, the plane was in the air. Mehmed and Emine sat down, as Mehmed had several long conversations about numerous different topics. A few hours into flying, a man walked up to Mehmed. "My Sultan." He said, bowing. Mehmed stood up, looking at the man. "Yes?" The Sultan asked. "We have word from Zoran that Ani'-Wah' is dead."* He said, without much concern in his voice. Mehmed paused slightly, before nodding understandingly. "I see." Mehmed replied. "Old age?" The Sultan asked. The man nodded. The man was a member of his secret service, one of the higher ranks. Mehmed sighed. "We return to Lanorth, I am sure I can attend his funeral in the coming days." Mehmed sat back down, as the man bowed and walked off. The plane touched down a few hours later in Lanorth. Mehmed returned to his palace. which seemed rather empty. Mehmed stood on the balcony, as the sun set over the city. He went to bed, thinking about the now dead President. * I have permission from Zoran to announce the death of the President. THE END.