Alexandria

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.

Mehmed dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, before twisting his foot a few times, before walking back to the hotel. He entered and he saw his bodyguards bow. Mehmed nodded, as he took off his Bork hat. The paparazi had cleared out somewhat, however those inside were blocked from taking photographs by Mehmed's bodyguards or secret service members. Mehmed walked hastily in the lobby, trying to avoid too much attention. Mehmed reached the lift and typed in the numbers needed to get to his floor. Mehmed, once he got there, dismissed his bodyguards. Once alone, he stood in the middle of the room, overlooking the wall-sized window, overlooking the landscape. Mehmed's hand moved to the handle of his sword and slowly removed it from the sceathe. He examined it, moving the sword to different angles so he could see it. The sword belonged to his father Murad bin Mehemmed Han and when he died in 1417, the sword was given to Mehmed. The sword was made for Murad, who personalised it to his own taste, which Mehmed also happened to like. When Murad died, Mehmed took his sword as his own. Mehmed thought of the history of the unique blade, as he turned the sword around with his fingers, flipping it around, almost. He sceathed it, not wanting to damage anything. Mehmed called over his servant, Emine. She walked over, and bowed her head. "What may I help you with Sultan?" She asked. "I would like a meal, if I may." Mehmed replied. "Of course. I will tell the cooks." She said. Mehmed nodded and she bowed, before turning. She walked away. Mehmed turned, sitting back down in his chair. He rested his head back, as he overlooked the horizon outside. He thought about how he had not been around the whole building yet. So, Mehmed stood up. However, a man walked in, with a notepad and pen. Mehmed turned on the spot, having heard the door open. Mehmed looked at the man, his eyes squinted slightly. The man bowed, however seemee to be unaware of what he was to actually do. "Sultan." The man said. "May I take your order, for your meal?" Mehmed nodded. "Fish. If I can ask for a large fish, I don't really mind what type, a salad and whatever else you may choose." Mehmed said. "A drink?" The man asked. "Of course. Just get me some water." "Yes, Sultan." The man bowed, once more, before leaving Mehmed. Mehmed, however, instead sat down. He took out one of the Zoranian cigarettes and lit it. He began smoking it, holding the cigarette rather firmly between his thumb and index finger. Mehmed loved to sit around and watch the outside world go by. His meal arrived and Mehmed finished it up, before praying and having a short nap, as he was rather tired.

THE Sultan glanced at Ani'-Wah', as he said this. The Sultan's hand raised to the sword he carried, which was almost a tradition. He wasn't wearing a coat, however, more a robe. Yes, he did have armour on, again nearly tradition for Sultans like himself. He nodded, as his land lowered. He walked down the steps hastily, as he saw one of his bodyguards approaching him. The bodyguard stopped in-front of Mehmed before he bowed, then stepped forward. He began whispering quietly into Mehmed's ear. "We have news from Constantinople, Sultan. Halil Pasha is, according to Zaganos Pasha, planning to take action against those protesters we were talking about a few days before your departure." "Çandarlı Halil Pasha?" The Sultan said quietly. The bodyguard nodded. Mehmed looked up at the sky, wondering what the hell Çandarlı was doing. Mehmed knew he needed to be stopped, whether this rumour was true, or not. Mehmed dismissed the bodyguard, who jogged back to the limousine. As he went, he took out a mobile phone and began speaking, presumably to someone in Constantinople providing him with further information. Mehmed had his back to the President, a concerned, yet angry expression on his face. He shook his head briefly, before turning to the President, with a faint smile on his face. "Lets not waste anymore time, Mr President. We should be going." Mehmed didn't want to waste anymore time. He walked hastily back to the limousine. He had the door opened for him and he climbed inside. The door was shut and Mehmed broke into a slight fit of rage. "Deceitful dog!" Mehmed bellowed in Lanorthan. "I should have his head for this!" "Patience, Sultan!" Insisted his bodyguard. "A commodity of which I have precious little at this moment in time." Mehmed barked back. Mehmed turned to his bodyguard. "Pass me your phone before I take your head first." Mehmed demanded. "Of course, my Sultan." Said the bodyguard, as his hand raced to his pocket, took out his mobile phone and passed it to the Sultan. The Sultan opened it and dialled Zaganos Pasha's secretary. The phone picked up. "Hello, may I help you?" "Get Zaganos Pasha on the phone, now!" By this time, both limousines were driving to the site. Mehmed turned to the driver, as the phone was put through. "Stories of this conversation you are hearing do not leave this car, do you understand me?" Mehmed demanded. "Of course, Sultan..." Said the driver. Mehmed turned back to the phone. "My Sultan." Zaganos Pasha said. "Zaganos Pasha, I need you to have Çandarlı Halil Pasha under a close eye until I return. This is a serious matter, if what you say is true." "I speak no lie, Sultan." Zaganos replied. "I hope so. I trust you, Zaganos. You have been by my side since I was 10. I trust you completely, my lala*." "Goodbye, my Sultan." Said Zaganos. "Farewell." Mehmed replied, before hanging up and handing the phone back to his bodyguard. Mehmed looked out of the window, his hands clenched into fists. They all sat in silence until the limousines arrived at the site. Mehmed took off his armour, leaving only his black belt. With his armour off, it revealed parts of the robes which were crimson. Mehmed left his sword and dagger in the limousine, too. He also took off his Bork hat and had his bodyguard fetch Mehmed's white turban surmounted by a spray of diamonds and precious stones. Mehmed stepped out of the car after the door was opened for him. Mehmed's hand ran over his short beard briefly, before stepping forward to the President. "Sorry for leaving so... abruptly, President." Mehmed said. His eyes glanced to the young woman standing next to the Sultan. His eyes, after viewing her, seemed to be unimpressed or unfascinated. His eyes darted back to the President. Mehmed felt unsafe or unprotected without his armour. Mehmed gestured forward and walked with the President around the battle site, touring it, with the President, listening to his every word, however not replying. Mehmed visited the memorial and Mehmed didn't really pay his respects, as he had nothing to do with the war and whether Zoran lost it or not, it wouldn't have affected him or his path. Mehmed, after about an hour of touring, began to return to his limousine, having toured everything the President wished him to see. He got changed back into his clothes and carefully wrapped his turban up. His limousine returned to the hotel and Mehmed stepped out with his armour back on, sword and dagger, alongside his Bork hat. He waved the President goodbye. However, he didn't walk into the hotel. He walked to the gardens. He dismissed his bodyguards and stood there, with green spreading the whole width of the garden. Mehmed brought his most trusted bodyguard over, Suleiman and began to speak to him. "I like to sit here in the sunshine. Trees in the fields are green sublime. Suspended in time, but doesn't it make you feel small?" Mehmed asked. "Yes, my Sultan, I suppose it does." Came the reply. "You may leave. Get some rest." The Sultan said. "Thank you, my Sultan." Suleiman said, before he walked back to the hotel. Mehmed approached a seat in the garden and sat down. He lit a cigarette and began smoking. He embraced the lush garden, which seemed to be in an eternal explosion of life. Mehmed inhaled the fresh air. He sat back and like he did a night or so prior, let the day drift away, smoking his flavoured cigarettes. Mehmed glanced up at the blue sky, before thinking of Halil Pasha back in Constantinople and what he was doing. Mehmed then quickly dialled Zaganos and informed him of his plans to have him executed. After he hang up, he relaxed. He closed his eyes, however not to fall asleep, merely to think of the past few days, Sabriye's death, the protesters. The list went on. But he assured himself everything would be fine. * Lala is a Lanorthan word, which means adviser, mentor, tutor, councillor and protector of Sultan Mehmed.

The Sultan smiled, then looked to Atsik. Mehmed seemed... curious. Swiftly, his eyes examined her, like he did with the President, from head to toe. Mehmed was exceptional at reading body language and understanding facial expressions and postures. Mehmed's eyes drifted away, as he processed something in his mind. His eyes then drifted back to the President. Mehmed noticed his posture indicated he was getting weaker by the day, as he grew older. Mehmed knew he would not be around for much longer. Mehmed was told by the President that he would be touring the top section, which was heavily related to religion. Mehmed turned to his bodyguards briefly and spoke in Lanorthan. "Please leave us. I don't want you following me here." They reluctantly nodded and returned to their vehicle for the Sultan to return. Mehmed gestured and began walking towards the site he would be visiting. He walked slowly as to match the President's pace. Mehmed did not speak, he simply looked at the landscape. Mehmed wasn't a fan, as he disliked other religions. But he wanted to show respect, so went along with the tour. Mehmed adjusted his Bork hat briefly. They reached the site and climbed to the top. Mehmed was greeted with an altar, candles, statutes and other religious related objects. Mehmed walked around, leaving the President. He admired the statue, studying it carefully, before admiring the text engravings on the altar. Mehmed carefully studied everything in the room, before a good half hour later, he was ready to leave. Note: Sorry for the really short post, it is all I could squeeze in as I am ridiculously busy right now.

MEHMED, by the time the President came into his suite, was showered and had clean robes on. Mehmed turned, a slight smile on his face, knowing who entered the room. He had his back turned from the President, as he was facing the window. "I was not put on this world for nothing, Mr President." Mehmed said, gesturing above him. "ʼĔlāhā gave me this life. This is merely his plan for me." Mehmed said, obviously gesturing to Sabriye. ʼĔlāhā, meaning 'Creator of The World' in Lanorthan, or just simply 'God', was the only God in Lanorth's national religion. Mehmed turned to the President. The faint smile still on his face. "It is a burden I must bear. And I will." He finished. Mehmed examined the President from where he was standing. His eyes briefly scanned him, with Mehmed's eyes drifting from the President's headm to his feet. Mehmed noticed how he seemed more pale. Mehmed quickly established in his mind that old age was getting the man, or the man was slowly succumbing. Mehmed set down the mug, which previously had the warm juice in it. He set it down on a tray with the pot and his empty plates which had his breakfast on it. His servant would clean it up when the two left. "One day, dear friend," Mehmed said, "you will wake up to see the end for what it really is. So, for the time you have left, if I were you, I would stop waiting on the future. I would move in and secure the deal. Because, as I have said, you will wake up and see the end for what it is. You will have regrets. That is why I do not dwell on the past. When opportunities arrive, I take them. You should too, for the time you have left. For Sabriye, she could have. But it was too late for her. So. Do it for me?" Mehmed said. He gestured to his servant, who walked over to his trays and began cleaning them up. She had stopped crying now and felt better. Mehmed approached the President, placing his right hand on the President's right shoulder. "Come on, friend. Lets not waste anymore time." Mehmed walked with the President to the lift, where they went to the ground floor. Mehmed and the President parted ways when they went to their limos. Mehmed sat down in his limo and sighed. He took off his Bork hat and set it down next to him. He took out his hand and placed it over his eyesbrows, looking down. He sighed, lowering his hand and looking back up. 'What is done has been done. You cannot change what has happened.' Mehmed thought to himself. He sighed. He looked out of the window and continued to do so. Mehmed, after a long, prolonged silence, was told they had arrived. He stepped out slowly, before taking inhaling and exhaling when outside. He found the cars hot and stuffy. He much preferred it outside. He chuckled, as he saw the sights. He turned to the President, who was now out of the car. Mehmed smiled at him.

IN the hospital, Sabriye was being prepared to move. She was currently asleep, with an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. Oxygen is not a cure for heart failure, though it could very well help. She was classified as needing 'intensive care' and was being flown back to Lanorth within the next few hours, where she would continue to get further treatment. In her hospital bed, she was wheeled out of the hospital and placed in the back of an ambulance. Ahead of her, a police convoy, to ensure she was transported to the nearest airport safely. Her heart was stabilising, though was going to become less stable, very quickly, alongside her breathing. The convoy began to move with their sirens and lights blaring, rushing to the airport. In the back of the ambulance, she was still undergoing treatment. Mehmed saw the convoy from the window of his suite. He watched, as the flashing lights, from his perspective, slowly moved across the area. With a glass of alcohol in his hand, he sipped as he saw them move across his line of sight before they were no longer visible. Mehmed sighed, knowing who was in the ambulance and why. They arrived at the airport soon after. She was wheeled out of the ambulance and transported into an aircraft, where she was allowed to rest, with a window view if she wanted to look out. Her paler skin seemed far too light for her. Many suspected that she would not make it to Lanorth. She continued to sleep when the plane took off and reached the planned altitude. Around thirty minutes passed, as the plane soared through the sky. At approximately forty-five minutes into the flight, however, she slipped into a coma, meaning her brain was not receiving enough oxygen. Cells in the brain can die out in five minutes without the necessary oxygen. As a result, brain hypoxia can rapidly lead to severe brain damage and death. On-board doctors and nurses rushed to attend to her, but it was likely too late, as they were delayed by turbulence. It was indeed too late. When they arrived, a lot of her cells had died off without enough oxygen. Hypoxia had now affected most, if not all of her organs. Due to this, her brain and organs suffered severe damage and at the age of 20, in a coma, she passed away. Mehmed was immediately alerted of her passing, with her cause of death being labelled to Mehmed as 'Hypoxia-related complications due to a lack of oxygen to the body'. Mehmed then contacted the President's staff, alerting them of her passing, telling them she died of the cause of death he was told. Mehmed was later photographed by the press in the hotel lobby, talking with the secret service director for Lanorthan agents in Zoran. His eyes seemed to be a bit watery, but maybe this was just for effect. Mehmed was sad she had died, maybe, but death did not make him cry. He hardly ever cried. He had ordered the death of people beforehand. To him, this was just another dead person in the world. He denied the request of a state funeral for her back home. Mehmed alerted Sabriye's father, who broke down into tears hearing the news. Mehmed said 'her heart conditions returned and sadly, whe deteriorated in the hospital and plane. Due to this, she did not make it.' When the plane touched down in Lanorth, her coffin was transported out of the plane and into a hearse, where she would be transported to a morgue to determine an official cause of death. Mehmed had ordered this. Mehmed also alerted the staff of the President that he would continue the state visit despite recent events. Mostly due to the fact he knew the President had a matter of days left, judging by the look of him. So, Mehmed, in the President's final days, or what he presumed were his final days, wanted to keep his spirits up. Mehmed sat down in his chair that night, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He downed the glass and set it down on the table. It made a loud noise as he did so. Mehmed then walked over to his bed. He took off his robes, ceremonial armour he wore daily, etc. He put on some crimson robes he used for nightwear and lay down. He turned onto his left side, looking out of the window. He closed his eyes and fell asleep a few minutes later. Mehmed awoke the next morning, his servant standing in-front of him, holding a tray with his favourite morning drink on it, a warm fruit juice. Mehmed took the tray from her and sat it down on the table next to him. "Thank you, my dear." Mehmed said, nodding. She bowed. "Anytime, my Sultan." She said, before walking away. Mehmed took his hand and rubbed it down his face. He took the pot and poured the juice into the mug provided. He held the mug by the handle, raising it to his lips. He took a sip and placed it back down on the tray. Mehmed watched as she walked out of sight, presumably downstairs to get Mehmed breakfast. Mehmed knew she was unaware of the passing of Sabriye. Soon, the news would break out. It already had in Lanorth, with the article 'LADY SABRIYE DEAD' or something similar buzzing around. When she did indeed come back with Mehmed's breakfast, a full breakfast, Mehmed said; "Thank you." As she bowed and turned, Mehmed cleared his throat. She turned, looking at him. "Yes, my Sultan?" She asked. "You are aware that Lady Sabriye passed away last night on her flight back to Lanorth?" Mehmed said. She looked shocked. The servant's eyes flooded with tears. She shook her head vigorously, covering her mouth with her hand. "Sorry." Mehmed said, sighing. "Use my bathroom, take a minute, yes?" She did not reply. She seemed to jog to the bathroom. She shut the door. Mehmed heard her sobbing. Now feeling bad, he sat up again and took the tray with his breakfast on it. He sat it down on his lap and began to eat.

THE Sultan stayed behind after the President. When the President left, he seemed to stare at her, a stressed, yet somehow seemingly angry expression on his face, with his hands cupped behind his back by his waist. He glanced back at the President, who was walking out. Mehmed crouched next to her bed. "This condition has, taken you away." Mehmed muttered in Lanorthan. "I hope you feel you feel better soon." He seemed to put a heavy emphasis on those last three words. Mehmed stood up and approached the two secret service members standing behind him. He gestured with his head, then his hand, straightening out his fingers before raising them just in-front of his ear. After this, he moved his hand in a forward motion, signalling for them to 'move'. The Sultan walked and they followed on behind him. Mehmed got into the limousine outside, which took him back to the hotel. Once in the limo, he put his hand into his pocket and took out the music box, studying it carefully. He treated it as a fragile object. Carefully, he placed his hand over the lid and slowly and cautiously lifted it up. It began to play a tune as the royal couple popped up and began to seem to dance, rotating and rotating. Mehmed smiled to himself, studying it carefully. Mehmed closed it up and put it back in his pocket. He watched out of the window, as the Zoranian people went on with their everyday life. Mehmed, placed his hand over his pocket and felt the music box once more. His mind then drifted back to the President, how he seemed pale and, like the music box, Mehmed thought it could be quite fragile. Mehmed wondered how much time he had left before he succumbed to natural causes, but his mind drifted away from these thoughts. He thought about the Grand Vizier, Çandarlı Halil Pasha back in Lanorth. How was he doing? Mehmed doubted he was getting along well with Mehmed's younger and more modern council head, Zaganos Pasha. He thought about how, when the state visit was over, how Çandarlı Halil Pasha would look better without his head. Mehmed looked out of the window once more, moving his hand gently away from his pocket. He saw that they wete back at the hotel. Mehmed had the door opened for him. He stepped out, sighing. He brushed down his robes. Then, with his secret service agents behind him, he walked to the hotel, entering it. Inside, there were press there, but Mehmed either pushed them aside or his secret service agents did. He approached the lift and typed in the code the President had told him earlier; three-two-five-six. It took him up to his suite, where he walked in. It was empty. His boots clicked against the floor as he walked. He took off his Bork hat and set it down on a table. He walked over to the table and took a clean wine glass, before he poured himself some wine. He lifted the glass and sat down in his favourite chair. Setting the wine glass down on the table beside him, he took out the Zoranian cigarettes. He was saving the cigars for later. He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it. He sat there. He took the cigarette from his lips and took a sip of wine. He set the wine glass down and raised the cigarette to his lips. Back in the hospital, Sabriye complained of a feeling of breathlessness and said she was feeling 'anxious constantly'. When asked to walk a small distance, she returned to her hospital bed, with a shortness of breath worse than before. She also complained of feeling constantly tired. She was suffering from heart failure due to her condition, Anaemia. As Mehmed exhaled the smoke he had inhaled seconds previously, Sabriye was going through one of the most difficult times of her life, one that she likely would not get through. Not that Mehmed cared. He had political issues to be worrying about and he considered that to be more important than a relationship he had no interest in continuing.

When the lift doors opened and the doors opened to the suite, Mehmed was already awake, having heard the commotion downstairs. Mehmed turned to the President who walked in. Mehmed smiled. Mehmed's smile turned more to an expressionless stare once he was made aware of the incident that occurred with Sabriye. Upon hearing it, he walked over and grabbed his Bork hat, putting it on and approached the lift with the President. The President pushed the buttons to go to the ground floor where the scene was in it's prime. Mehmed remained silent in the lift. Once on the ground floor Mehmed stormed out of the lift and approached the member of the secret service that the President had asked a few minutes prior. "I was told you did not want to wake me." Mehmed said, a stern expression on his face. The young secret service member's eyes drifted to the President and back to Mehmed. "I'm sorry, I-" he was cut off by Mehmed, walking past him to the director of the secret service operators in the country. "Have this man taken back to Lanorth." He whispered in Lanorthan. "Too afraid to wake me, potentially putting my partner's life at stake. It is up to you what you do with him." He said. The man nodded, walking over to the young lad, grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away. Mehmed then turned, facing the President. "Where is she now?" Mehmed inquired. Upon receiving an answer, Mehmed nodded. "Is she in a stable condition? What the hell is wrong with her?" Mehmed asked. He stopped speaking. "Goddamn." He murmured. Really, Mehmed did not care. Sabriye had been annoying him and had been seeming off. If anything, Mehmed thought that this was karma. But karma was not something he believed in. He thought maybe, that Sabriye had a medical condition he was unaware of. In hospital, Sabriye was undergoing a complete blood test. Sabriye suffered from Anaemia. Anaemia condition in which there is a deficiency of red cells or of haemoglobin in the blood. It can cause fainting, as it can prevent enough oxygen from being delivered to the brain. In severe cases, it may cause heart failure. Her case was balanced on a razor blade, almost. It was close to severe. And now, after the faint, her condition worsened. She felt dizzy and looked pale. Her breathing was irregular, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, this was the same for her heart rate. Eventually, she told doctors about her condition and demanded she was sent home to Lanorth for treatment. Mehmed, however could not care less. He wanted to get on with the state visit. However, Mehmed realised that the President seemed pretty pale. Mehmed's mind often drifted to the possibility he had a disease, or an illness of some description. Maybe it was just old age. Whenever Mehmed's mind drifted to these thoughts, he attempted to snap himself out of it, often trying to find something to distract himself from it. Mehmed was exceptional at remaining calm in the most tense or pressuring situations. He learned to do this when he was getting abused by his teacher, Çandarlı Halil Pasha. When he whipped Mehmed, he remained calm, hiding his anger and pain deep within himself. He would let it out when he was alone. Mehmed was a complicated and sometimes, a secretive character. He has secrets that he will take to the grave. Sabriye was the same, she had secrets she would take to the grave. Unfortunately, Sabriye would be meeting that grave a lot sooner than Mehmed. Mehmed went back to his suite in complete silence. Once there, he walked over to the basket and lifted it. He took it to his chair, where on a table beside him, lay a wine glass and a small bowl for stubbing out cigarettes. He clapped his hands and his servent approached. Mehmed gestured to the wine. "Please." He said calmly. "Of course." The servant said. She opened the bottle of fine Zoranian wine and poured a considerable amount into Mehmed's glass, approximately making it three-quarters-full. Mehmed nodded. "Thank you." He said. The servant bowed and walked away, returning to her position behind Mehmed. Mehmed sighed. "You can leave." He said. Mehmed heard footsteps leading out of his suite and heard the door open, then close. He took out the Zoranian cigarettes from the basket and opened them. He took his lighter after putting the cigarette between his lips and he lit it. Cigarette in his mouth and wine glass in his hand, he inhaled the smoke and with his left hand, removed the cigarette from his mouth. He exhaled, before raising the wine glass to his lips. He began to mutter to himself. "I wonder what horizons will shape the plans of tomorrow. Maybe it is the turning of the seasons, or the cycle of the days. To me, it seems as if, every sip is another reason to let tomorrow, just" he moved his glass, raising it in a forward motion "sail away." He finished. He took another sip of his wine, looking out of the view from his window. He looked up, staring at the blue sky. He raised the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling and then exhaling. "For now, I shall let today, sail away." He continued to watch the view from the window. He did indeed, let the day, just, sail away. Not thinking about anything to stress him out. He just watched.

AS Mehmed admired the hotel, he lowered his head to see the swarm of reporters in the building. Mehmed chuckled as he noticed this. He noticed his secret service stand behind him in their black uniforms. The Sultan fixed his Bork hat before he turned to his secret service. Mehmed had never liked the press. He found them annoying and moronic. He watched the secret service of both countries hold them back as he walked with the President. Amongst the shouting of reporters asking questions, Mehmed kept his head down as he walked and Sabriye walked at a bit of a brisk pace, as to get away from either the reporters, or to get away from Mehmed. As Mehmed walked with the President, he watched the lift doors open as Sabriye and Mehmed stepped inside. The President told them the code and that he would be unable to accompany them. Mehmed smiled. "Don't worry about not accompanying us. I am sure we should be fine, Mr President. Thank you for the code. Again, I am sure I will remember that. He watched as a reporter managed to squeeze past some of the secret police. He watched as he rushed forward, only to be tackled by a member of the Lanorthan secret service. He watched the scene as the lift doors closed. He felt the lift begin to rise, floor after floor. Mehmed and Sabriye remained quiet. Mehmed grew more and more agitated by her silence. Eventually, he would snap. But not now. Sabriye, when the lift stopped, simply walked out and entered the bathroom and like a normal person, shut the door behind her and locked it. Mehmed took a second to take it all in. 'It was beautiful', he thought. He found it amazing. He walked over to one of the baskets and took it over to the neatly made bed, where he carefully placed it down, to get a better look at it. He sat down on the bed. He took out and opened the packet of cigarettes and put one between his lips. He raised a lighter and lit it. He inhaled, letting smoke fill his lungs. He looked up, exhaling sharply. "They are some fine cigarettes." He murmured to himself. He held the cigarette between his lips as he continued to rumage through the basket. He took out cigars and lay them neatly on the bed, before he found some Zoranian chocolate and wine. He put everything back in the basket, the cigarettes and cigars on top so he knew where to find them. He placed them back, appreciating the amount of effort Zoran had gone to as to make it perfect for him. Mehmed looked up, realising she was not out of the bathroom yet. It had been several minutes. "Get out of there!" Mehmed said. "I'm feeling unwell, leave me be." Said Sabriye. "Course you are." Mehmed said. He then murmured something under his breath. "Just leave me be, Mehmed!" She shouted from the bathroom. "Oh, shut up." Said Mehmed, walking away. He walked over to the basket and took out the chocolate. He opened the chocolate and took a small piece of chcoolate out. He wrapped the packet up and placed it back in the basket. He put the small piece in his mouth and smiled to himself, as he loved the taste. Mehmed does his best to keep himself physically and mentally fit, so he attempts to avoid most unhealthy foods, apart from special occasions. Mehmed walked over to one of the chairs and sat down on it, sighing. He looked at the window, admiring the view. He couldn't help but think how his Grand Vizier was doing back home, in Lanorth. When the Sultan was absent, the Grand Vizier would assume powee unril he returned. His Grand Vizier was born in Lanorth in 1364, although was asked to move to Kurabis in 1406 to become one of three religious teachers Mehmed had there. Although, Mehmed hated him. His name was Çandarlı Halil Pasha, unrelated to the diplomat. He frequently whipped Mehmed for disrespect, or if he got a question wrong. After every whipping, Mehmed said 'I will remember this.' He never forgot. In-fact, Mehmed was plotting his revenge. He drifted his mind to Sabriye, who was still in the bathroom. Mehmed stood up and walked over. He knocked on the door. "What the bloody hell are you doing in there?" He demanded. There was no reply. He hammered on the door. He heard what sounded to be someone waking up. Mehmed frowned. "What the hell are you doung in there, answer me!" Mehmed said, shouting. He hammered on the door three times with his fist. "Nothing... I..." She said, stuttering. "I'm not feeling well." "Then get out and consult a doctor downstairs. I am sure you will find someone who can attend to you." Mehmed replied. He heard the door unlock and saw it open. He saw Sabriye walk past and exit the room. He heard the lift ping. He walked back over to the chair and sat down. After five minutes, his eyes started to feel heavy. He sat back and fell asleep. Sabriye emerged from the lift downstairs. She wandered up to one of the hotel staff, feeling light-headed. "Hello." She said, her voice a bit flat. "May I see a doctor? I feel a bit..." she stood still, as she seemed to be thinking of the word. "Ill, a bit light-headed." She staggered on the spot, before attempting to stand upright. She approached the hotel desk, leaning up against it. A member of the Lanorthan secret service approached her. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked. "Yes, yes..." she murmured. "...Fine." She leaned to one side, almost trembling and fainted. The secret service member caught her and gently lay her on the floor. He pointed at the hotel staff member. "Get her a Goddamn doctor, now!" He bellowed. He placed his ear up to her mouth, checking for breathing. She was breathing. He took off her necklace, which was rather tight around her neck and loosened anything other clothing or things she was wearing that may be tight. He raised her legs above her heart level, around twelve inches up. He waited for the doctor to arrive.

THE Sultan walked down the steps, smiling at the President. He stepped onto the red carpet with Sabriye, who let go of his hand as Mehmed approached the President calmly. "Mr President." Said Mehmed, stretching out his hand to shake the hand of the President. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I trust Çandarlı Pasha was an acceptable diplomat to sign our pact?" Asked the Sultan in a calm and collected tone. After receiving an answer, he turned to Sabriye, who stepped forward. "This is my..." he paused. "Partner, Sabriye." He said. She stepped forward and curtseyed, before shaking his hand. Mehmed turned, admiring the sky above him. He inhaled the fresh air. "It's wonderful here." He turned to the President. "Say, Mr President. You should visit Constantinople one day." He said, pointing gently in the direction of Lanorth. "We would love it Mehmed sighed. "My God, I'm tired." He glanced at his watch. "We best be off - we were up quite early this morning." Said Mehmed. "Didn't sleep on the plane." He shook his hand once more, before he walked over to the limousine. After the door was opened for him, Mehmed took Sabriye's hand and helped her into the limousine. After she was inside, Mehmed entered and sat down. The door was shut and Mehmed heard the engine start. He sat back, putting his arm around Sabriye. She smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "First impressions?" Mehmed asked, as the limo began to move. "Nice man." She said. "I trust we will be seeing him again soon?" "Yes, we will but I was referring to Zoran as a whole." Mehmed said. "Ah." She said. "Well, it seems nice. Beautiful landscape, I think. Not as good as the scenes back home, though." Mehmed chuckled. "Trust me, you are going to love this." He said. "This is a new adventure for you. It will not last forever. Make every second count." "Alright." She replied. They sat in silence for the remainder of the journey to the hotel, as Sabriye fell asleep. They arrived soon after. When the door was opened, Mehmed stepped out and helped Sabriye out. He then turned and stared up at the hotel in utter admiration, at jow beautiful it was. "Wow..." Mehmed murmured. He turned to Sabriye. "Ready?" He asked. Sabriye nodded. "Lets go."

FOLLOWING the signing of a defensive pact between Lanorth and Zoran, in order to improve relations, Mehmed proposed he visited Zoran in a state visit. Zoran accepted, so Mehmed and his girlfriend, Sabriye, who had hardly ever travelled abroad due to the travel restrictions of the military dictatorship, had left Constantinople for the Adanvdo International Airport in Zoradia. The plane, a red and white decorated with the Lanorthan flag and the words "The Sultanate of Lanorth" on each side, had left several hours ago now. It was closer to Zoran now than it was to Lanorth. It was travelling at around five-hundred miles-per-hour. Mehmed, inside was wearing his usual black uniform with his black Bork hat. Though, his hat was on the table in-front of him, as he sat down in a chair with a window view. In-front of him, was Sabriye, dressed in a pretty, blue dress with a tiarra in her neat hair. Mehmed sat on a sofa and so did Sabriye, however, they were small versions of sofas and were facing each-other. "I presume we are nearly there, Sabriye." Said Mehmed, looking at his watch. "I hope so." She said. "Never have liked the idea of an aircraft. A metal box flying in the air." "It's perfectly safe here. You are fine." Said Mehmed, smiling at her. Mehmed placed his hand over her own. Mehmed became slightly agitated, as she was not looking at him. "Look at me, Sabriye." Mehmed said. Sabriye turned her head. "You'll be fine." Said Mehmed reassuringly. "God, I hope so." Said Sabriye. "So." Said Mehmed, sitting back. "Looking forward to this?" He asked. "Yeah." Said Sabriye, looking at Mehmed as he took out a cigarette. Mehmed lit it with his lighter, inhaling and then exhaling. "Well, I know for sure that I am." Said Mehmed. He then turned his head, gesturing for his servant. His servant approached him and bowed. "Yes, my Sultan?" Mehmed handed him his personalised cigarette case. "I would like some more cigarettes in there, please." Said Mehmed. "Of course, my Sultan." Said the servant. He bowed, once again before walking off with them, going to find Mehmed's other cigarettes. Mehmed looked out of the window on his left. He realised the clouds were getting nearer and nearer. As his servant came back with his case and handed it to him, Mehmed inquired about the plane. "Are we coming into land?" Mehmed asked, gesturing to the window. "I believe so, Sultan. I would say, five to ten minutes, maybe and we should be there." "Fantastic." Said Mehmed. "Thank you." He gestured to the servant, who bowed once more, before walking away. Sabriye remained unusually quiet, looking out of the window. "What are you staring at?" Asked Mehmed. "Look out of the window." Said Sabriye. Mehmed turned his head and looked out of the window. "Oh my God." Said Mehmed, in admiration. He had a clear view over the platypus island and the city upon it, as well as parts of the ocean surrounding it. It was beautiful. "That is what I was staring at, Mehmed." Said Sabriye. "Don't blame you." Said Mehmed, clearing his throat, before standing up. Sabriye did the same. Sabriye walked around the table and stood in-front of Mehmed, before hugging him, resting her head on his chest. "We have to be ready." Said Mehmed, hugging her for a few seconds, before stepping back, lifting his hat from the table, before placing it on his head. Mehmed took one last puff from his cigarette, before stubbing it out. He then turned, as he felt the aircraft touch down in the airport. As the aircraft came to a perfect stop, Mehmed gestured to Sabriye, who stepped forward. Mehmed put out his hand and Sabriye took it. They waited. The aircraft doors opened and a series of steps extended out. A man in military uniform stepped out to complete some final touches to the steps, before he gestured to six men in ceremonial military uniform. They stepped out, walking in synchronisation. Mehmed watched as they filed out of the aircraft doors and walked formally down the steps, standing on either side of the red carpet in threes. A few men in black formal clothing, members of the secret service, filed out, before Mehmed and Sabriye stepped forward. They stopped as they reached a small landing which led to the steps. Mehmed waved as they paused. Mehmed smiled, taking in the view. Mehmed looked down at the steps as he and Sabriye moved towards them.

I, Lanorth, swear that I have, to the best of my knowledge, been completely truthful in applying for citizenship in The West Pacific and that I have no other NationStates identity that has not been made known in this application. I swear my allegiance to The West Pacific and its citizens, and I swear not to engage in hostilities against The West Pacific or to violate The Manners of Governance, or any laws made pursuant to it.

The Cyrillic Alphabet is that of which is used in Lanorth. Latin is also a language spoken in Lanorth, though is considered by the Government to be a minority language in the country and therefore, not important. The language of Lanorth is basically Russian, but with a few, modified tweaks. The same goes for the Latin speakers, it is modified slightly to fit our culture.