Timur Peynirci may have been a Prince but for 104 weeks he was to be a private soldier. That at least was the plan, as it had been for every royal since anyone could remember. "We all serve among the people we rule over" his father, King Kubilay IV had told him as he had posed for the photos taken at Çamlıca Barracks. The media had been keen to get the photos of the 18 year old royal being dropped off by his parents and given his black beret symbolising he was now just a mere conscript within his fathers army. The first four weeks flew by as his days were filled with drill, exercise and lessons on everything from shooting to map reading and to first aid. The Prince was an athletic young man and actually found he was enjoying much of the action while maybe not equally enjoying the drill sergeants constant yelling and screaming. It was something he could do without and in his mind it showed very little respect. He knew that it was all about duty to complete these two years of training and show the general public that like the rest of the Peynirci dysnasty he was devoted to service of the country and the people who lived there. While the coastline may be made up of beautiful cities combining the very best in modern archetecture with stunning historic buildings that showcased the nations proud heritage there was also the tribes who lived in the snow topped hills that gave the nation of Renaku its name. It was those in the tribes who would have the higher expectations of the Prince to do his duty, despite the 21st Century having arrived two decades ago these hill tribes still saw themselves as warriors despite it being a long time since any real war had come to the shores in Renaku. They still demanded that their rulers were people who had been willing to fight and shed blood for the good of the community.
Things had been great for the first four weeks until the trainees had been granted a weekend pass and while the Prince could very easily have gone back to the luxury of his families palaces he had opted not to. Instead he had headed into Çamlıca with a group of his fellow recruits. That wasn't the issue, infact his father would encourage such a thing as it would further demonstrate to the people that he was a man of the people, that he stood shoulder to shoulder with the common folk. The problem though was the morning after. As Sergeant Major Aksoy had swung by each of rooms the soldiers called home he discovered the Prince was not alone, instead the Sergeant Major caught a glimpse of a raven haired woman diving under the covers. From that point the Prince's life took a radical turn and even his royal status wasn't going to help him. Aksoy grabbed him by the foot and dragged him out of bed. The Prince protested by trying to remind Aksoy that he was a Prince and therefore couldn't be treated this way but as he was thrown into the corridor naked the tall NCO continued to push, kick and otherwise cajole Timur the length of the blockhouse as his comrades sniggered watching him go. At the far end of the corridor the Prince found Captain Mataracı had appeared from his own room and without any hesitation of showing fear or favor the Military Police had been called. First the young beauty found in the Princes room was escorted from the base, a round of applause being given in comedical fashion by those watching her blushingly leave. Next the Prince, a pair of fatigues having been handed to him, was escorted from the block in cuffs.
Two days later the Prince found himself in front of a court martial who within just thirty minutes found him guilty of a variety of offences and sentenced him to four weeks in a military prison. There had been the hope for Timur that his father would intervene and indeed he had but instead of arranging for his sons sentence to be commuted or served in some kind of easy establishment he had found himself sent to the hard labour camp at Çınarcık. For four long weeks the Prince was forced to raise at 5am each morning, shower in rain water stored in an tank on the roof of the prison block which in truth was just a series of concrete cubes with beds bolted to the floor. Each cube had no window even the plaster on the roof was peeling badly but barely visible by the single bulb that looked like it was on its last legs. From there he would be taken into the large yard which housed a variety of tasks for the inmates. There was a series of rocks that would be broken down to provide shale for construction. There was a large metal tank that required filling with water each day to top up the water supply of the prison complex, buckets from a well providing the top up. The job Timur hated most however was the wheel. A large ancient pair of mill stones on which the wheat needed to make the flour for the prison kitchen was milled. A large wooden handle protruded from one of the stones that allowed it to be pushed round in a large circle grinding the wheat into a powder which would then be placed into sacks and carried away. It was back breaking work and boring as hell wlaking in an endless circle. It was during one of these long boring sessions that it was apparent today would be no normal day. As Timur began to feel his ankles ache from pushing the wheel he noticed the various guards talking and gathering in groups before walking off to speak with another guard. Every now and again he would spot a few glancing over his way. It wasn't until sunset and the relief of his freedom from the wheel that he learned the news, his father had died. As the heir though there was a problem, there had never been a Prince to inherit the throne without his military service, nor had there been a Prince who had been serving time for military crimes. Things began to happen quickly after that.
That evening there was a commotion outside the cell block, Timur could hear things getting louder and louder and then gun shots and explosions. Without the aid of a window he couldn't hear what was happening properly but it seemed like things were getting closer and closer. Unable to sleep he pushed his ear towards a wall and hoped to hear something more clearly but instead he could feel the wall rumble with explosions. Then the sound of gunfire just outside the door and yelling. He could just about recognise the voice of one of the guards yelling to "just let me do it" but then more bursts of gunfire. Timur began to feel sick as he feared what would happen next but there was silence for what seemed an age. There was then the metallic scrape of the key in the lock. Timur didn't know why but he grabbed his blanket from his bed and held it before him, almost as though it had somehow magically become bullet proof. The top lock was unlocked now and he could hear the bottom one turning. He began saying prayers to the Gods, to those of the rivers, those who guarded the mountains and most importantly to the God of Death asking him to not take him today. The door was now swinging open. "Friends Sir! Friends" the heavily accented voice came from the other side of the door as it slowly was pushed open. The man spoke Renakuian as though it was not native to him, that was not a surprise though in Renaku as many of the tribes maintained their own language and spoke Renaku only on official business which many tried to avoid as much as possible. "We take and help" the man said as he entered the room, an AK-47 held low by his side. "I name Ramazan Solak, Master of Solak Beylik." The Prince relaxed a little, the Beylik's were a series of provinces in the mountains, Çınarcık sat on the edge of the Solak one, and it appeared now that Ramazan was the leader of the region, but what was he doing here?
"Whats happening?" Timur asked nervously.
Ramazan pointed at the Prince, "Father he die but now cousin Ziya claim throne. We not allow him to execute." The way Ramazan pointed at the Prince while saying "execute" was a concern.
"So my cousin is trying to take the throne?" Timur asked nervously. He though found an almost immediate reassurance by the way Ramazan laughed and smiled.
"The Beylik Divan agree he not allowed" The Beylik Divan was the council made up of the leaders of each of the various hill tribes and while it was not the most powerful body in the Kingdom, that was reserved for the Kings Council, it had a massive amount of influence. Its members were not afraid to get their hands dirty and if they supported you then it meant you had access to essentially the nations "Muscle" and seemingly Ramazan was a rescue mission. The man took the Prince to a little village nearby where for the first time in weeks Timur was able to have a warm shower and was served a beautifully cooked lamb stew. He thanked the wife of Ramazan who had presented it to him and she seemed very pleased with his praise. The next morning a procession of pick ups arrived during the day, some carrying machine guns mounted on the back and others just packed with men carrying a variety of rifles. "We have army if need to make you King." Ramazan explained as the group moved to a large barn. With men sat on bales and the various Masters of the different Beylik's stood in a huddle it seemed it would be in this tiny village the fate of the Kingdom would be determined. Timur struggled to understand the language being spoken, he knew a few bits and pieces of the "Hill Languages" of which there were about ten, many of them related, but the speed at which the men spoke it meant he was often clueless about what was being discussed. Finally with a loud chorus of laughter and several warm hugs among the Masters Ramazan returned to the Prince. "We will take you to the city, there we make King." he said as though simply by saying it the deed was done.
"But I am not able to be King yet" The Prince said, the law was clear and Timur suspected many wouldn't accept it.
"Cousin is a bad man, he already trying to sell land here in mountains. Gods made you Prince so Gods want you on throne. It is the will" The room echoed the sentiment and so that evening Timur found himself dressed in warm tirbesman clothing as the convoy of pick ups made their way down towards the lowlands where villages gave way to towns and cities and there at the coast, some 36 hours later they meet the Army about 50km outside Çördük. Four tanks and a group of soldiers blocked the roadway. Timur shifted uneasily in the passenger seat of the truck that Ramazan drove. The man seemed confident and despite the language barrier Timur was growing to like him. As they neared the Prince had expected either bullets to rip through the windshield or to screech to a halt prompting a stand off but instead the tanks rolled aside and simply allowed the convoy with flags flying through. as Timur glanced backwards he could see soldiers piling onto the tanks and following in their wake. He could just about make out one soldier unfurl a flag of a tribe as the tanks joined the journey south. "They are brothers" Timur breathed a sigh of relief as his new guardian chuckled. There were more members of the military joining at each town they passed, seemingly members of the hill tribes who had joined up themselves, probably looking for a better life away from the snowy mountains and now showing their loyalty to the tribes decisions. By the time they got Çördük they had a large convoy. This time a group of the Army did block their path and their was a stand off for around thirty minutes before an officer carrying a white flag approached walking step in step with Ramazan.
"I am General Poyraz Küçük" the man said with a bow, "First allow me to extend my condolences for the death of your father." Timur thanked him. "I speak on behalf of the army, your cousin is not of the blood, he is not pure and therefore when we have a pureblooded Prince avaliable to us he can not sit on the throne. You though can not either at present. I am proposing to you a route that will see you take the throne with military approval."
"I'm listening" Timur said happy that it seemed things were working themselves out.
"You will take the crown and the power of King. You will remain in the military for the remainder of your time and we shall assign you the rank of Lt-Col in the Royal Structural Engineers Corps, the assignment you will be given will be the maintenance of the Royal Palaces. This should be simple enough for us to say you have a commitment to the honour of the military. In addition I want two seats of the Kings Council, one for me and one for my brother. Do we have an agreement?"
Timur extended his hand, "General I look forward to my new posting as a Lt-Col" the Prince smiled. As the two shook hands the tribesman and the Generals men errupted in cheers and side by side the two convoys entered the capital where the only resistance was at the royal Palace. Seeing the ragged tribesman and the General side by side it was clear any last stand was doomed to fail and only the most full hardy gave any resistance. Within an hour Timur was in the throne room, his cousin lying dead on the throne room floor. Two tribesman had strangled him to death with a lamps extension cord. Timur hadn't expected it to end this way but Ramazan and the General had taken the decision out of his hands saying it would be "cleaner" if the cousin was gone. Now he sat on the throne, the weight of the future hit him. He would be King and now he owed a few favours but that was often the nature of life in Renaku.
