As the colors gradually returned to the world, the knock at the door brought Renier back from his thoughts, "Entrez," he said before he caught himself and amended, "Come in!" Gazi opened the door, "You're up, young master," he said, sounding surprised.

Once again, Renier ate alone. His host, he was told by Gazi, had left the estate before dawn and would not be back for several months. As Renier finished breakfast, Gazi said, "We can go to the city now, young master, and start your lessons in the afternoon."

The carriage bumped along the stone-paved road leading into Ancyra, wheels rattling noisily against the cobblestones. The city was already astir with the lively bustle of the morning activities. Sunlight poured over the walls, their formidable stone facades a testament to the protective might that had guarded Ancyra through the passage of years.

In the carriage, the occupants were jolted occasionally. Gazi maintained a stoic demeanor, his focus settling on the nearing the city gates. Renier curiously looked out the window, every scene a new experience that contrasted with his European experience.

Beyond the walls, the sounds of commerce and lively conversation resonated. The smells were starkly urban: a blend of livestock, cooking fires, and the dense concentration of humanity. Renier’s nose crinkled slightly, a subtle acknowledgment of the transition from the fresh air of the open road to the robust, less refined aromas of city life.

They crossed the Akköprü bridge that spanned the Ankara River, and Gazi nodded to the guards, which quickly came to attention as the carriage passed the city gates. The cacophony of Ancyra’s daily hustle became even more pronounced. Vendors stationed along Bendderesi Mesiresi loudly peddled their wares, their calls mingling with the chatter of negotiating customers and the intermittent bellows from livestock awaiting sale.

Stalls laden with goods—from textiles to foodstuffs—lined the busy street, and the merchants behind them engaged in the ceaseless activity of trade. A few chickens darted between the feet of pedestrians while children, seemingly unbothered by the animals underfoot, dashed about, engaged in some boisterous game.

"We will reach the Pasha's tailor in a moment, young master," advised Gazi as they turned right off the promenade.

The carriage rattled to a stop outside a modest yet well-kept establishment nestled in the middle of the street. The sign hanging above the door, elegantly scripted, announced their destination: the workshop of Iskender Bey. Gazi, his eyes always sharply vigilant, was the first to step down from the vehicle, and then he waited for young Renier to descend.

Upon entering the shop, a world of fine fabrics greeted them. Gazi's eyes met with Iskender’s, and a mutual, congenial nod was shared between the two men. Renier, in the meantime, was momentarily enchanted by the array of clothes and vibrant materials surrounding him.

Iskender, possessing a demeanor of humble confidence sculpted by years of mastery in his craft, approached with open arms, offering a warm, heartfelt greeting, "As-salaam alaikum, Gazi. And this bright-eyed young gentleman is?"

Renier, as instructed by Gazi during the ride, bowed slightly and replied, "Wa Alaikum s-salam, Iskender Bey."

Gazi, a sturdy figure bearing scars from both battlefields and years gone by, reciprocated the greeting, “Wa Alaikum s-salam, old friend. It is a pleasure to see you again, Iskender. This is young master Orhan. A guest of the Pasha. We've come today to ensure he is properly outfitted."

Guiding them towards a comfortable seating area with a kind gesture, Iskender addressed them, "Please, be at ease, and let us discuss your needs further."

While Renier curiously explored the various textiles, gently feeling the different textures beneath his fingers, Gazi and Iskender engaged in detailed, friendly conversation concerning Renier’s clothing needs: one set of formal attire, which would behold both grace and tradition for the most honorable of occasions, and several sets of daily clothes, sturdy and comfortable for the active life of a young boy. Of particular note were the latter - Gazi looking for everyday clothes that provided both durability and ease.

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Agreements were made, Renier's measurements were taken, and the transactions concluded. "Gazi, my friend," Iskender began, his voice steady yet imbued with heartfelt sincerity, "I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. The Pasha was fortunate indeed to have a commander of your caliber, and now you continue in his service." Gazi responded with a humble nod, the memories of days gone by quietly echoing in his eyes. "Iskender, your words honor me, as does your friendship. Fi Aman Allah."

Iskender turned his kindly gaze towards Renier, offering him a smile that blended professional warmth with genuine affection. "And Master Ohran, may you wear your new garments in good health and happiness. Fi Aman Allah."

With a polite, appreciative incline of his head, Renier echoed, "Fi Aman Allah, Iskender Bey." becoming more comfortable with the language and the customs. As they climbed on the carriage, Gazi instructed the driver on their next destination.

The cobbled streets gradually absorbed the rhythmic sounds of the carriage’s wheels as Gazi and Renier approached Hakan's armory, an establishment known throughout the city for its exquisite craftsmanship and durable creations. The musky aroma of worked leather enveloped them as they entered, and Gazi's eyes found Hakan, his shoulders broad, hands stained from work, yet his posture welcoming.

"As-salam alaikum, Hakan," Gazi greeted warmly, stepping forward with Renier close by his side.

Hakan, glancing up from his work, greeted them in kind. "Wa alaikumu s-salam, old friend. And to the young master as well."

"It's been too long, Hakan," Gazi noted, exchanging a firm, meaningful handshake with the armorer. He gestured gently to Renier, who stood observing the neatly arranged weapons and armor. "We've come for the young master’s protection today."

Hakan nodded understandingly, his gaze flickering between Gazi and Renier, sensing the unspoken urgency beneath the calm demeanor. “Protection that doesn’t stifle the liveliness of youth, I assume?”

“Precisely,” Gazi affirmed. "Light, yet dependable. He needs the freedom to move and grow."

They moved deeper into the shop, Hakan leading them to various examples of his work. Renier’s curious eyes lingered on a piece of intricately designed leather armor, hands respectfully behind his back.

As Hakan began discussing different types of materials and designs suitable for Renier’s age and stature, Gazi listened attentively, occasionally glancing toward the boy, ensuring the discussion remained relevant to their needs. His inputs were succinct and to the point, reflecting years of practical experience.

“Do you remember, Gazi, the armor designed for the Pasha’s younger brother?” Hakan pondered aloud. “Flexible, but tough. Designed for mobility but didn’t compromise on safety.”

Gazi asked, "How long will it take to create?"

Hakan, turning his attention to the young boy, replied, "It is a meticulous process. Approximately two weeks to ensure every stitch and every fold serves perfectly."

“Ensure that it does, Hakan,” Gazi interjected, “The young master needs to be trained without delay.”

With the agreement sealed, the trio exchanged farewells, giving Renier the chance to practice once again.

Renier noticed that their route would take them out of the city. His eyes reflecting curiosity, he turned towards Gazi, hesitating for a brief moment before embarking upon his quest for communication.

"Sword?" Renier carefully enunciated, his fingers making a hesitant motion, attempting to depict the object of his desire.

Gazi gently shook his head, carefully choosing his words in response. "Hayır, Ohran," Gazi began, the 'no' clear and firm. "Practice first. Tahta kılıç only for now."

Renier, his forehead crinkling slightly in frustration yet determination alight in his eyes, repeated, attempting to mimic the sound and tone of Gazi's words. "Tahta kılıç?"

"Evet, young master. Tahta kılıç," Gazi affirmed, utilizing the Turkish word for 'wooden sword'. His eyes softened, bearing a blend of admiration and protectiveness. "You will learn with the tahta kılıç until you are ready for more."

'No weapons. I think he said for now. So there's a chance. I just need to gain their trust,' thought Renier. He had hoped to get a sword as he was sure he would need it during his escape.

Minutes later, they reached the gates of the city, and once again, the guards quickly snapped to attention, eyes widening slightly as they recognized the man before them. "Akkaya Bey," greeted one of the guards, his voice holding a timbre of respect.

An acknowledging nod from Gazi was all that was needed to ensure passage, the gates parting smoothly before them, revealing the path beyond the city’s protective embrace. This time, the gesture made Renier glance up at his companion, a question flickering behind his eyes. They rode through, the mighty gates closing behind them with a resonating thud.

Once beyond earshot, the younger guard turned to his elder, a curious intensity in his gaze. "That was Çavuş Gazi Akkaya, wasn’t it? The hero of the Battle of Dervent Pass?"

The elder guard nodded, his eyes gazing into the distance where the carriage had disappeared. "Indeed. They say he was offered the title of Beylerbeyi by the Pasha himself after that victory. Yet, Akkaya Bey chose instead to remain steadfastly by the Pasha’s side."

"A dedicated servant, to refuse power and retain service," the younger mused, both of them silently contemplating the strength of allegiance that bound Gazi to his path.

Oblivious to his companion's fame, Renier rode in the carriage next to Gazi, nodding as the rhythmic movement put him to sleep.