From Orlondo
I was never at peace, breathing heavily. That bastard Mirza, backed by Kutay and Çakır, kept giving the impression that he was more powerful than me. I had learned that he was strong enough to defeat me even on his own, but he was intimidating me.
I could somewhat understand what he was trying to do. He wanted to discourage me and make me surrender, but with Turkish blood running through my veins, I was not someone who would ever back down. My mother always advised me never to give up. For her, I would either win this war or die.
“Cüneyt!” I shouted. Everything was already ruined because of him. I wished so much that he had died that day, but he had landed on his feet again. He was like a cat. I gritted my teeth.
When he entered the room, I wanted to punch him right in the
