Dark Hillsides

Six Years Ago

Six Years Ago...

My father was the sole owner in the unconsolidated empire of the fertile lands fed by the rivers that flowed behind the steep-sided mountains. Ignoring the magnificent, majestic view of Palangir, his most trusted fortress, he built his capital in the most insecure place, the Eronat fortress, which stood in the farthest west. No sultan should have tried it until my father. His high courage was enough in my eyes to be the hero of his son, rather than the folk hero, the sultan of our country.

"Sleep thinking that one day you will be sultan." Said my father, pulling the quilt up to my neck.

He put his right hand between his lips as usual to put out the burning candle fire and kept it wet so that the fire wouldn't hurt his hand. He was just about to put out the fire; I succumbed to the questions growing inside me and blocked him.

"Dad..." I said and paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I was going to say Sultan."

My embarrassment and the expression of affection I had uttered out of love for my father made this old man smile. Don't mind me saying old! It was as if my father had defied the years, constantly fighting with his passing years, and winning. Against the stress of a whole country, he had not even allowed a small white strand in his hair.

"Yes, Alp. I'm listening to you." He replied, smiling.

"There are somethings I'm curious about."

"Tell me what they are."

"How should a sultan be, father?" I said and tried to hold my mouth again with regret.

I took a deep breath to apologize but my father did not allow it and began to speak in response to my question.

"The sultan must be the people." He said, as if trying to show me the meanings coming out of his eyes while smiling.

"How so, my sultan?"

This time I was right. For a twelve-year-old boy, not being able to address his father as "dad" was challenging for me.

"For example, do you know the name of the greengrocer right at the entrance of the palace?"

"No, my sultan. I don't know."

From this point, I was very curious about where the sentence would be connected. As always, despite the possibility of becoming a sultan in the future - although I knew that the probability was very low even as a child - I would listen to my father very carefully and try to understand what he was doing.

"I don't know either. This shows that I am not a people. If I were the people, I would know the name of the merchant who planted the breadbasket at the head of the palace. Because the people know this very well."

But... But my father was a very good sultan. Think of a state, like a body... Each of its limbs betrayed the other and spread its disease. Despite all this, my father was achieving unexpected success in the heart of that body, that empire.

"If I were a very good sultan, I would not have left more than ten pieces but would have made our empire whole."

My father had baffled me, as always, with his thoughts. Even though the unanswered questions in my mind were questions that had very easy answers for my father, it showed that these questions were difficult as they created confusion in my mind. Maybe my age should have matured my mind over time.

"Sir! Tariq, Sultan of Sargin, has stood on the walls of Palangir!" Said Bilgin, who entered the door without knocking.

Bilgin was Lala that is a statesman who was assigned as the tutor of the young prince.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to hear this when I'm with my family!" shouted my father.

His voice was very loud. I've never seen such intense anger before. Maybe he was worried about Palangir. After Bilgin apologized and closed the doors behind him, my father softened his angry expression and looked me in the eyes.

"Son, tomorrow you will go to Moon Hill to continue your princely period. Bilgin will be with you on this journey. Never forget that you will be a sultan one day. You will be a better sultan than me..." He paused for a while.

I wanted to speak, but he cut my words with his fingertips by extinguishing the candlelight and took my head in his hands, came closer and kissed my forehead.

"Now sleep, as you heard I have some important business to do."

When my father closed the doors behind him, his words still echoed in my mind. How could I learn to rule while being away from my father? Was it possible to be a real sultan without being at the bedside of the great sultan? My father had gone through these roads, too, then I could have gone too. Maybe it would make me understand the moves my father is making now, this situation. Maybe they were swimming with their deep fathoms among the stars of the night... Maybe they were actually lighting up my night...