Late September, Cappadocia.
Romanus rode the Arabian horse named Chestnut at the head of the party, followed by thirty civil officials, five hundred cavalrymen, and more than two hundred grooms.
The sky was gray-blue, and sparse, low-growing wild grass lined both sides of the road. Shepherds drove their flocks across the hillsides like drifting banks of gray cloud.
Following their guide, they left the main road and headed south along a country dirt track until a low wooden fence appeared ahead.
At regular intervals, a distinctive cast-iron emblem was nailed to a fence post, marking the property as the former estate of an Ottoman noble.
Beyond the fence stretched an endless pasture, its grass rising above a man's knees. After the long, dry summer, its color had faded to yellow-green, like a sea of wheat no one had harvested.
The party followed the fence around to the ranch entrance, where twelve wooden buildings stood. Four guards carrying crossbows leaned against the fence, basking in the sun.
Dozens of hide-drying racks stood in a clearing nearby, draped with wolf pelts taken during hunts.
"Are there many wolves?"
Romanus questioned a ranch guard, who recognized the crown prince and replied respectfully, "The wolves usually attack the sheep in pastures and
villages. Sometimes, when the locals band together to hunt them, they blunder into the ranch and cause a great deal of trouble."
A moment later, an official behind Romanus presented a document to the guard. "We've come to purchase horses under the supply agreement. Where is the ranch manager?"
"Follow me." The guard mounted a black packhorse and led the visitors deeper into the ranch.
The ground rose gently ahead, and as the party reached the crest of the slope, the view opened up before them.
Below lay a broad valley cradled