FSE

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** INTRODUCTION: PLEASE READ**

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If you haven't read the Prologue, do so now.

The foxes are Arab-inspired (because the old Arab word for a fox is fanak, which is the root of the name of the fennec fox) and the wolves are Turk-inspired, because the wolf is a sacred animal to the Turkish people.

Some words to consider: diib/diyaab - its Arabic for wolf/wolves(respectively), but carries a negative connotation since all wolves and dogs are considered dirty.

sheik - the closest equivalent would be like a European count or earl; essentially a local feudal lord

corsairs - just another word for a pirate

divan - a common furniture piece in the Near East

Emir - another common arabic noble title, equivalent to a duke

Amir - arabic for commander or prince

Hadith - Islamic holy texts

harem - the domestic part of an Islamic palace, where the wives/concubines and children live with the Sultan

kafes - a luxurious cage where the heir apparent/claimants to an Islamic throne are kept

kafesi - people in a the forementioned place

beylik - its a turkish tribe so to speak

-oglu - turkish suffix which means "son of", so Davut Begoglu means David son of the Beg beg/bey - its a turkish chieftain

pasha - in this context, a war chieftain or marshal for the bey.

dede - litterally "grandfather", but a sort of shaman

Future plans: If I keep going at this, and if people are wanting of it, I will create a map to better visualize the places I name. I like visual aids.

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Chapter 1

Did you like my story, so far, friend? Ah, mashallah, you are a most gracious guest. Here, have some more cookies, more boreks, more tea, perhaps? Or would you like I make some coffee? Anything for you, friend. Like I said, you are the first to visit this old fur. Haha, indeed this wolf tail needs to get up and play a bit, you know?

Anyways, my friend, sit, sit! I shall continue my story.

Where shall I begin? What? What do you mean you have never heard of the Sultanate of Al'fanak? Well, it was a very old kingdom you see, a desert down south from this island, Isaye. Yes, this is Isaye, as you know. An old beylik; a mere island paradise compared to the glorious empire of Al'fanak. We Turks were all wolves back then; even after we were no longer migrants in competition with the Mongol horses. Now, as you know, Turks are of all sorts of shape, size and fur. Ah but, back in those days, Turks were wolves and Arabs were foxes, and we had a bitter hatred for each other. The Arabs wished to subjugate us, this poor little island, my friend. Jealous of the food, right? Hah! We used to have this idiom, you know, "Foxes brandish big swords to season themselves for wolves." This story is a bit about that.

You see, as the pups I mentioned last time- Davut, Ismail and Luka- were aspiring warriors of this beylik. Davut, the son of the Beg; Ismail, the son of the Pasha; and Luka, the son of the Dede, had stole away one night to fight off a band of Fox corsairs attacking this beautiful island of Isaye. What's a beg? A dede? My friend, you truly are a strange-fur to these lands. But that's okay, I shall explain. A beg is a chieftain of us Turks; he was the alpha of alphas, so to speak, and his pack lorded over the entire tribe - the beylik. A pasha was his right hand man and was in charge of leading our war campagins. A dede is... a shaman of sorts. He was our spiritual leader back before we converted. And these were all important leaders in our beylik.

Has your mind been satiated of answers, for now, my friend? Good. Do not hesitate to ask, again!

You see, our friend, Davut Begoglu, son of the wolfish Beg, was in a sticky situation. Captured by corsairs and sold to the Sheik Ali-Sa'aad, Davut and his two best friends were surely reevaluating their relationship with the All-father. Although the sheik spoke of what treasure lay before him, Davut felt as though it was the end. Surely, he thought, the Sultan would have the son of the Beg executed.

Davut's father, Ahmet Bey, waged a losing war against Al'fanak in a sorry attempt to protect his island. Al'fanak and Isaye had been at war for generations, back before Al'fanak was under the Terrimid dynasty. By the time of the birth of Davut, however, Al'fanak had been safely secured under the Malikid dynasty. Turks and Arabs hated each other deeply, but Arabs had the upperhand. Foxes, bred for espionage and untraditional warfare, outmaneuvered the insular wolves at every turn. It would be mere decades, if even that long, before the lifeblood of the beylik would have been dried up. But now, oh the Sultan would surely expedite this process.

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"Presenting His Royal Majesty Sultan Malik ibn Muhammed,

Sovereign of the House of Malik,

Custodian of the Two Noble Sanctuaries,

Lord of Al'fanak, of Cairum and of Les'tera,

Master of Farak, of Al'kayihah, of Fadina, of Al'karam, of Al'kunir, of Al'Yasan, of Al'Rum, and all lands contained within,

True Monarch of the Arab Foxes,

Friend to the Egyptian Cats,

And True Dominator of the Turkish Diyaab."

Sultan Malik entered the court without much pomp in his step. Though the walls of his court were marble white and gilded, though at least four dozen eunuchs stood around his divan with ostrich fans, though all those congregated knelt before him, this small, achy fox entered without much ceremony; indeed, he contrasted himself against his predecessors who had never been caught using their feet to walk - having been carried in thrones and divans held up by eunuchs- and instead proudly strode in. Davut, forced to kneel against a scimitar of a most impressively built fox, saw only a purple feather, standing tall, glide against the sea of courtiers. As the crowd cleared up for Sultan to ascend to his royal divan, it was revealed to Davut that the flower was the decoration of the Sultan's silken turban.

The Sultan was physically a lot smaller than even most adult foxes, and Davut noted his fennec-like features, a matrilineal inheritance, with ears that extended far, tucked under his rich turban and a small nuzzle that awaited a cup of milk presented by a courtier. Sultan Malik had been born to his father, the Sultan Muhammed, and mother, Sultana Fatimah of the fennec Sultanate of Cairum; Malik, the foxy mix, was therefore a contract between the two sultanates, and inherited both of them.

The Sultan, sitting upon his divan, awaited the rich gifts of his eunuchs, various grape leaves and dark teas. His nose flexed to capture the scent of his captives before him, though he intentionally rejected to regard them further. He, instead, waited on the Sheik to present the three filthy wolves before him.

"My Lord, Sultan of Sultans, Rightful Lord of the Four Corners! I seek Your Majesty's most awesome audience!" The Sheik lacked no theatricals in his begging, even to go so far as to kneel as if in prayer.

"We grant you Our audience, though We caution that We are not amused at the bringing of diyaab into Our home." The Sultan answered with disgust jolting from his mouth. You see, in the Arab culture, all wolves and dogs were considered filthy, and usually not allowed in domesticities. Foxes were said to be the cats of the canid family, and as such were always clean and prudent.

The Sheik lifted himself from his knees, bowed ever so graciously and exact - or rather, as exact as he could be with a full belly in front of him- and rising, proclaimed, "In Your Majesty's great thanks, in honest praise of Your Majesty's just rule, I present to Your Majesty these three Turk diyaab for service of your discretion! To the courts eyes," he paused, giving a fair gaze across the hall to everyfur around him, "they may appear as just ordinary barbarians from the Turkish island." He laughed and cast his hand out to emphasize the importance of the gifts, and shouted, "BARBARIANS INDEED! BUT BEHOLD!" He laughed more, a sparkle in his eyes, tongue lapping against his snout, "I present to Your Majesty: Ismail, the nymph-son of the Turk high-shaman!" With the calling of his name, Ismail was forced to his feet by a guard, and then quickly returned to a position of submission. The name called for a minor applause. "Luka, the son of the Turk war chief!" The same for Luka, though the applause and name-recognition moderately higher.

"Ah but my Sultan, I have a gift for you that must have been prophesized in a Hadith!" The Sultan had remained rather unmoved the entirety of the Sheik's show, enjoying the endless supply of grape leaves. The Sheik, though aware of his failure to impress the host, was confident in this next present. He circled around Davut for a good 2 minutes, monologuing on the intricacies of the war, and the sorrows his sheikdom has faced for the good of the Sultan. So verbose had this monologue become that the Sultan slowly began to lift his pinky, a silent sign to his guards for execution. The sheik stopped him, in fact, by startling the entire court with a loud shout: "AND SO I PRESENT:" to which the court had just been glad he had finally cut to the chase.

"My Sultan, DAVUT BEGOGLU! son of the Wolfish beg, who is alpha of alphas and oppressive occupier of Isaye; DAVUT BEGOGLU, born of both Turk and Greek stock, heir apparent of insidious claims on Isaye and Rum!" Davut was raised as his brothers had been, only to the ferocious and exhausting acclaim from the court. The entire crowd had gone into uproarious applause, and the Sheik lavished himself in it for a good five minutes. Even the Sultan raised himself from his divan and smiled in utter disbelief.

Soon, however, the court was hushed, awaiting the response from the Sultan, who simply asked, "And if We should accept them, what would the Sheik suggest We do with them?"

The sheik responded, settling into a pose of humility though still speaking clearly, "My Lord, I believe that we can use them as a bargaining chip to end the war. I can help facilitate that with the corsairs. But I must urge you to not to make them eunuchs, or a peaceful resolution to the liberation of Isaye shall be impossible. Instead, keep them from the harems and install them in the kafes, where your sons and brothers reside."

You see, in Arab high society, the women and children of the Sultan lived in the harem, the domestic area of the palace where the Sultan spent most of his days. ONLY women and eunuchs could be in this palace, however, for they could not rape or otherwise mistreat the properties of the Sultan. The "kafes", the "Golden Cage", was the secluded section of the palace where the various claimants to the throne were kept. The kafes was usually the living place of brothers or cousins of the Sultan, but also included sons and nephews that had reached the age of 16.

The sultan pondered this option for a short while. Diplomatically, the wolves would be well kept, but also indefinitely imprisoned. He stroked the under part of his muzzle and finally proclaimed, "Very well! We shall accept this most gracious gift from Our most loyal subject, and follow his suggestions! And with this token of victory, We shall see to it the swift end of this war!" Out of both obligation and sincerity, the entire court applauded the Sultan, though less than when they had for Davut's presentation.

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Upon the conclusion of the Sultan's audience, the court was emptied, the Sheik had left - now with the title of Emir- and the Sultan waited for his lunch. The courtroom was now only occupied by the ebb and flow of eunuchs, maidens, guards, the captive wolves and of course the Sultan. He had whispered to his advisor to bring forth a list of the occupants of the kafes; most notably, the Sultan's brothers, Yohanna, Ahmad and Beshir, and of course, the Sultan's son, Naim.

As the wolves waited for their "sentence," the Sultan dined on some local delicacies, none of which the wolves particularly recognized. Davut and his friends were the first wolves in several generations to make it this far into the mainland, much less the shores. Despite seeing the majestic city of Al'fanak behind chains and scimitars that blistered even Davut's tough skin, the three wolves were very impressed, indeed.

Al'fanak was a very old city, of the breed of Damascus, originally inhabited by Semitic sheep. Back in those days, it was a small shepherding community named Saharbas; the Arab foxes conquered Saharbas and settled down, and ever since, the city had been a marbled capital of sophistication.

"There are 43 furs in my kafes," the Sultan spoke to them between bites, dropping the formalities of his office. "My brothers, cousins, uncles, nephews, etc. All men who have a claim on my throne; men who could easily pluck the ostrich plume from my turban and wipe their asses with it. But they are all royal or noble to some extent and thus I am obligated to provide for them." He took a pause to enjoy his piping hot tea. "You see, it is very difficult to find servants not only worthy and capable of royalty, but also finding ones whose loyalty is either so adamantly with mine or so adamantly with no ones that I can trust them not to help the kafesi in a 'political' nature. Essentially, without dancing around it, men who can be trusted not to assist any usurpers." He rose from his divan, forcefully removing a vixen before him attempting to serve more tea to him.

"I can trust Turks to be servants like that. To you, I assume, that a fox is a fox, and you have no concerns for the affairs of high society." His eyes focused and sharpened, and he took on a more youthful appearance. "I entrust the war chief's spawn to the oversight of my kafes. What is your name, again?"

The guards knew to let Ismail stand and speak:

He replied tactfully, "I am Luka."

The guard lightly kicked his shin, causing him to yelp. He added, "...my Lord!" However, with Luka's submission, Davut roared in anger, startling the green-clad guards once holding him down and shouting, "No Turk submits to a fox, Sultan or otherwise!" Though his outburst contained momentum to break his captivity for a short moment, his captors quickly regained control of him and pinned him down completely.

"Ah yes," the Sultan said, unphased, "the son of the bey. Fabled to be the most beautiful diib to ever have been born. I am honestly more than impressed; you surpass even the rumors. It is a shame you are robed." The Sultan laughed, inviting his guards to share in his chuckle.

"As I was saying, the middle diib, Luka, shall be my new kafes overseer. Essentially a general servant to all the kafesi. There are a few eunuchs in the kafes, and he shall lord over them, my vizier shall make him well trained," a man behind the divan had been recording all that had been transpiring, and the Sultan was dictating to him as much as he was affirming his plan.

"The smallest diib shall be the particular servant for my brothers, and he will take care of all their needs." Davut attempted to look over at his little friend, face still forced against the marble. Ismail had a face of shock, but not scared.

The Sultan waited to speak further, descending from his perched divan. He motioned for the guards to let the large behemoth go. He stood about the same height as Davut's waist, and yet he commanded a largeness about him. "You, my little chiefling, shall be my son's servant."