He had been walking alongside the Nile, carrying a basket of grain against his hip and enjoying the feel of the warm sand against the soles of his feet. As usual, it was hot, but it had never bothered the desert nation. Gupta tilts his head back, feeling the rays of the sun (he remembered when it had been a powerful god, but that religion had faded when he was but a child) on his face, but when he looks ahead again he almost runs into a strange man. Gupta stops immediately, noticing the expensive fabrics covering the strangers body from head to foot, and a white mask covering his eyes. A black piece of fabric covers the rest of his face, disappearing into the rest of his clothes, and all Gupta can think is "How hot he must be...". However, this thought barely completes itself before the man grabs his wrist and pulls him forward. "You Gupta Hassan?" He asks in disjointed Arabic, his accent thick. "You Egypt?" Gupta furrows his brows, and yanks his hand back, deciding that this man should be thrown out of his country. He motions with his hand for the man to leave, and turns to go. But, he stops again when a knife is at his throat, and a strong arm winds around his waist from behind. "You come with me." The man says, and moves his hand to Gupta's arm, pulling him along and causing him to drop his basket. Gupta can only blink in surprise as he's taken to a foreign ship and forced aboard. He tries to pull away from the man, turning to strike him, but only succeeds in getting his other wrist grabbed. "Stop." the man says "Or I bind you." Gupta narrows his eyes, but stops struggling. The man seems smug, even though Gupta can't even see his eyes "Good." he says, that thick accent still there, and Gupta finds himself trying to place it. Not even the Persians had had accents like this, even though it seemed a little similar. Any other empire (Gupta was sure that this man was an empire, he was too full of himself) either spoke Latin or Greek, which didn't have this accent, either. And Gupta was sure that the representative of Greece was still a child, six at the most. He tilts his head, driven crazy by not being able to figure out who this was, and because of his reverie he is taken into the mans quarters without a struggle.
The man sits Gupta down on a plush cushion, then sits on another opposite him. "You run, I chase. Understand?" he asks almost gruffly, and Gupta nods once, as it seemed the stranger wanted a definite answer. "Good. ... You... No talk?" Gupta gets an slight, amused smirk at the bungled question, and shakes his head. He did speak, but it wasn't often and he only directed his words to people he trusted. And he didn't trust this man, who now seemed to be trying to make friends; another source of amusement. "My name Sadiq. Ottoman Empire." At this, Gupta raises his eyebrows, if only slightly. He had heard of the Turkish empire, the extraordinary man who had grown at an extremely fast rate and built his empire out of practically nothing.
Gupta studies Sadiq emotionlessly, then inclines his head in greeting. "... Are... They hungry?" Gupta stifles a snicker at this, finding the Turks lack of being able to grasp Arabic amusing. He mimics writing in the air, requesting something to write with. Sadiq understands, and hands him what he asked for along with a journal. Gupta writes down the proper way to ask 'Are you hungry?' on the paper, and shows it to Sadiq, tapping the sentence with his forefinger. The Turk leans forward slightly, then realizes his mistake "Oh... Are you hungry?" Gupta nods once, and Sadiq seems a little proud of his triumph over the language, however small it was. He picks up a plate of some kind of sweet, and offers it to Gupta. "Türk lokumu." (Turkish delight) he says in his own language, and Gupta cautiously takes one. He turns it over in his fingers, then takes a cautious bite. The wonderful, sweet taste of the Turkish delight makes him blink in surprise, and he finishes the treat. Sadiq seems to grin (Gupta can't exactly tell, the man was still wearing the black fabric over the lower half of his face, after all), and speaks again. "You like?"
Gupta nods slightly, and takes another. Sadiq pulls down the fabric covering his face, and takes a piece of the Turkish delight for himself. Gupta immediately begins studying the revealed features, noticing the thin, dark beard that ran along the line of his jaw, the tanned cheeks, and what seemed to be a strong nose under the mask. Sadiq notices this, and tilts his head. "Why stare?" In answer, Gupta reaches over and takes Sadiq's hand, then pulls off the other mans glove and lays his own hand next to the Turks. "Hnn...? Yeah, same color... Close?" Gupta nods, then retracts his hand and folds them in his lap, using that "revelation" as his excuse for staring. Sadiq seems to accept this, and falls silent.
حب
Soon, the boat docks, presumably in Turkey, and Gupta becomes certain of it when they leave and Sadiq seems much more cheerful, looking at the heart of his empire; Constantinople. They get into a carriage, and Gupta looks through the window as they set off, musing at how it seemed that not so long ago, Constantinople belonged to the Byzantine empire; before that, it was the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire, and before that it was simply the small village of Byzantium, insignificant compared to the rest of the empire. Now, it belonged to the Ottomans. Gupta wondered if it would change hands again, perhaps to one of the growing nations in the north. "What thoughts about?" Sadiq asks clumsily, and Gupta looks back at him. He pulls back the drape covering the window, and gestures outside to the buildings, to which Sadiq grins. "You enjoy?" Gupta nods slightly, then draws the symbol for "B" on the wall of the carriage. "Uh... B?" Sadiq asks, and Gupta nods again. Sadiq seems to think it over (Gupta can almost see his brain working; Sadiq seemed less than average on the mental scale), then gets it. "You mean... Byzantine?" Gupta nods again, and Sadiq crosses his arms. "Dead long time ago" Gupta resists the urge to roll his eyes; he already knew that Byzantine was dead, and points out of the window again. "Constantinople... Byzantine... Used to be. Mine now" the Turk says almost childishly, and Gupta gets the feeling that this man could be very stubborn if he wanted to be. He drops the subject, folding his hands in his lap again and leaning back against the seat of the carriage.
They soon arrive at a large palace, and Sadiq takes Gupta inside, keeping a hand on his arm. As soon as he's able, Gupta shrugs Sadiq's hand off, and crosses his arms. "No being bad. You part of Ottoman Empire now." Sadiq says, and Gupta rolls his eyes. He got that he was no longer free, but that didn't necessarily mean that he would let this man drag him everywhere. He mimes writing in the air again, and is once again given paper and pen. He writes "Just because you now own me and my land does not mean that you are allowed to touch me", and hands it to Sadiq. The Turk looks at the characters, then calls for an ambassador in his own language. The man reads the note, then translates it into Turkish. Sadiq frowns slightly, then replies. The ambassador turns to Gupta. "Mr. Adnan says that he now owns your body as well." Gupta furrows his brows, and draws a dagger from inside his sleeve. He tilts his head, expression and eyes saying "You think so?". Sadiq takes a step back, and Gupta returns the dagger back to his sleeve. He takes the paper, and writes "Will I have a room?" and the ambassador translates it. Sadiq mumbles something, and motions towards a hallway. Gupta follows him down it, and is shown a medium sized room. Gupta goes inside, and closes the door. He lies down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he would be staying here, he shouldn't have shown hostility so early on. He sighed silently, and closed his eyes.
حب