"It is done, my Lord," a voice whispered from the shadows. It was Rustem, his most trusted advisor.
The marble corridors of the palace were cold, even with the midday sun beating down on the domed roofs of the capital. Sultan Selim stood by the arched window of his private chambers, his gaze fixed on the Bosphorus. In the file of his mind—much like the data in —the events of the past few months were organized into sharp, painful clarity. SultanP01E0320221080pmkv
"Only to say your name, Sultan. He carried your childhood wooden sword to the end." "It is done, my Lord," a voice whispered from the shadows