BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan Page 3

  Nearly thirty minutes later, the girls were done with their tasks.

  Right away, Vaspan exited the room, and he and Thorn proceeded down the hallway until they entered the royal dining hall, where servants brought in breakfast, and they ate in silence.

  After breakfast was over, perhaps twenty minutes after it had begun, Vaspan first nodded to the commander of his forces, and then he commanded, “Let’s go, Ruling-General Thorn.”

  With a sharp salute, Thorn snapped, “Yes, my Sultan-Sedious!”

  After the two made their way out of the city’s labyrinth on horseback, forty minutes later, Vaspan began to look very, very, very pleased at see what lay before him, literally spanning across an entire horizon.

  For, armed and armored, hundreds of thousands of troops stood and waited in formation, ranging from infantry, to cavalry and artillery! Spread throughout the ranks, there were thousands of chariots, catapults, and of course, supply wagons carrying food and water. Most importantly to Vaspan, he saw standing proudly in front of their horses—his five sons!

  Thorn whispered in his lord's ear, “We have a grand total of one hundred forty-one thousand twenty-five soldiers in our ranks right now, my Sultan! Per your orders, twenty thousand of these men will remain behind to protect Mauritia while the rest of us deploy to Pavelus.”

  “Really,” Vaspan said, sounding quite pleased. After a curious look had grown upon his face, he then asked, “How long will it take for us to reach Pavelus with this size of an army?”

  “My Sultan, believe it or not, it will only take us between six and seven weeks.”

  “Excellent!” Vaspan then asked, “Are we ready to deploy now, or do we need more time to prepare?”

  “No, my Sultan…we are ready now!”

  Vaspan ordered, “Perfect job as always—bring the army to the position of attention, my Ruling-General!”

  Thorn boomed out at the top of his lungs, “Attention!”

  Even though ninety-nine percent of the troops hadn’t heard Thorn relay this order, as they had been quietly talking with one another, two of the trumpeters nearby did, and so they began to blow out a two-tone tune that was the call for the troops to assume the position of attention.

  In unison the soldiers did, by placing their feet into a forty-five degree position, slapping their weapon or shield into their chest at the same time, and shouting in unison, “Hooooooooooooaaaaaaaahh!”

  As for all the mercenary divisions, they stopped talking amongst one another and looked to the front of the ranks to see what was going on. Even though they had arrived by ships and would return to their vehicles following the formation so that they could sail to Pavelus at a slow speed, they would only dismount on the beaches inside the harbor when the order came through from Vaspan, and attack mercilessly—“amphibious mercenaries” was their trademark.

  After spending a few more minutes inspecting the dense crowd of troops under his command, Vaspan called out loudly, “Forces of the Vaspan Empire, and the mercenary divisions whom I have recently hired. I am…Sultan-Sedious Vaspan the First, and the time has finally come for me to claim what is rightfully mine—the Sharia Empire!”

  He took a deep breath through his nose, before he added, “Join me now, and once I have achieved what is rightfully mine, I will give to you what is rightfully yours—the everlasting plunders of Pavelus, and soon after, the entire world!”

  Like frenzied maniacs, the troops began to slam their weapons chaotically into their armor-plated chests, which caused booming sounds for miles around—the four mercenary divisions began following suit, and the chaotic noise became extremely loud and deafening for about ten minutes!

  Once silence reigned, except for the maniacal laughter of Vaspan that continued for a few moments longer, he commanded, “To war….we march!”

  Excluding those soldiers who had been selected to stay behind and protect the city, as well the mercenary-marine divisions who had already begun to head back to their ships, the bulk of the army immediately began the march northwest toward Pavelus…

  CHAPTER II

  Back in Pavelus—3 weeks later…

  The throngs of people that surrounded the palace had remained ominously silent, for nearly two minutes; that is, after Baltor had popped his question. This nerve-racking timeframe felt to him like “two eternities.”

  Until suddenly, an anonymous woman’s voice cried out, “Hail to the Sultan!”

  Then another man’s voice joined in, “Hail to the Sultan!”

  In less than ten seconds, the majority of the crowd had also joined in, and soon enough, even the eighty-foot tall palace’s exterior walls began to reverberate from the deafening volume!

  Somehow, Baltor’s voice managed to become even louder than all the other voices as he drew out both swords from their sheaths, crossed the swords high over his head, and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hail to the Sharia Empire!”

  The crowds immediately followed suit by chanting, “Hail to the Sharia Empire!” For a whole minute, the majority of this crowd fervently chanted out these words.

  Finally, with one swift movement, he slid both swords back into their respective sheaths. He next raised his arms back up into the skies, while simultaneously extending his open-palmed hands up and out toward the crowds.

  Approximately fifteen seconds later, as he slowly lowered them to the ground, the crowds became silent just as slowly.

  Once silence reigned again, Baltor then proclaimed, “So be it…as your new Sultan, I would now like to make an introduction of my own. Standing to my right is the commander of all my forces, both army and navy. His name is Ruling-General Humonus. Listen carefully to what this man has to say.”

  Humonus spoke with a loud and commanding tone as he declared, “Citizens of Pavelus! Tomorrow morning, booths will be set up just outside the palace gates for those who wish to enlist—as our Sultan has decreed, excellent training and pay will be provided for all volunteers.”

  Humonus turned his head to the left, so he could look at his ruler. Once he saw that Baltor was looking back, Humonus’s gaze fell once more toward the crowds.

  After gesturing with his open-palmed left hand toward his Sultan, Humonus added, “I have only one thing left to say—it truly is an honor to serve under you, my King, my Emperor.”

  He paused in his speech to perform a left face so that he faced Baltor. He next went down onto both knees, bowed his head and closed his eyes. With pride to his voice, he concluded, “My Sultan!”

  In the very next moment, every single citizen, soldier, and guard bowed similarly.

  Shortly thereafter, although Humonus’s eyes continued to remain closed, he felt his friend’s hand gently cup his left shoulder.

  Upon opening his eyes, he saw the front of Baltor’s shirt.

  As he continued to look up, he noted that his Sultan’s cheeks were now a bit flushed, which signified that the young ruler might be feeling a bit overwhelmed at all the attention he was receiving.

  After all, he knew all too well that Baltor had become an orphan at twelve years old; soon after became a thief and warrior under his direct tutelage; later an adventurer; later a prince of a tribal village located on the other side of the continent. As of today, Baltor became the ruler of a vast and powerful empire with approximately one hundred twenty thousand people now paying him both respect and homage.

  However, upon looking deep into his Sultan’s eyes that equally reflected honor, pride, and excitement, Humonus’s mind only then realized that the man was, in all actuality, reveling in “the moment!”

  A confirming smile crossed Baltor’s face as he replied, “Thank you…my friend and my Ruling General.”

  After delivering a single nod of his head, Humonus replied, “You are most welcome, my Sultan. It is my honor to serve you.”

  Once Baltor had removed his hand and placed it back at his side, Humonus rose back to his feet, snapped a right face back toward the crowds still looking at the ground, and silently wa
ited in the position of attention.

  Baltor turned his whole body to face the crowds as well. After extending his hands back out into the air, he concluded, “Citizens of Pavelus and the Sharia Empire—rise!”

  The crowds obediently rose to their feet, some slower than others.

  Once everyone stood on their feet, he concluded, “Tonight, we celebrate here at the palace with food, drink, and merriment, to which all are welcome! Thank you for coming. Now please, enjoy the party!”

  “Hip-hip-hooray,” they cheered quite enthusiastically.

  Without any further delay, Baltor clapped his hands twice into the air—and the front doors to the golden palace opened. The first to proceed out those doors were dozens of bards already playing melodious musical instruments that ranged from lyres, to lutes, to drums—all of course in perfect synchronization with one another.

  Following them were nearly a thousand servants who pushed large wheeled carts fully stocked with still-steaming breads, ripe-and-ready-to-rip-off-the-bone meats, and of course, delicious wines and ales.

  Upon seeing all of this food and drink, most of the crowd jubilantly cried out even louder, “Hooray!”

  There were still hundreds of people, however, that did not bear such pleased expressions at all upon their faces—expressions that ranged from doubtful, to scared, to unhappy—a few faces even looked angry.

  Out of the entire bunch of angry faces, Baltor recognized only three. They belonged to the thieves’ guild that he had once belonged to until but a few years back—their names were Laseva, Jensa, and Qels. Master Qels had been his “disarm booby traps teacher,” and had acted very mean toward Baltor.

  All the while, the crowds gave a wide berth to the servants pushing the carts. Once the servants had fully stopped, the crowd began to hover around in order to get their food and drink on, while the celebratory music continuously played.

  For several minutes longer, Baltor, Brishava, and Humonus watched in silence, though with pleased smiles upon their faces, as most of the citizens happily celebrated below.

  Brishava was the first to turn around and head back into the bedroom, followed of course by the two men. Once inside, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  As she turned back, yet another excited smile formed on her face, before she chimed, “Excellent job, guys—you guys acted as if you’ve been diplomats all your lives!”

  At the same exact time, both men replied with smiles of relief on their faces, “Thanks!”

  The three not only began to laugh merrily, yet without hesitation, they formed a tight group hug.

  Joining the hug a second later was an attractive-redhead with blue eyes, wearing a shimmering-green evening dress. She had been watching and listening to the entire ceremony from inside the room.

  During the course of the hug, the redhead stopped laughing so that she could affirm, “Yes—I agree with Bri—I mean, my Sultaness’ words of ‘excellent job.’ I must say I’m very impressed!”

  It was then that Brishava stopped laughing, pulled back from the hug so she could look over, and said, “Me too, Chelsea.”

  Chelsea smiled warmly at Brishava for a few moments before turning to face Humonus so that she could plant a kiss on her husband’s cheek. Once she had done just that, she cooed, “I love you, my general of generals—you were great!”

  Even though Baltor and Brishava continued to smile, Humonus began to chuckle as he said, “I love you too, my beautiful wife—thanks!”

  For quite a few moments, the group shared in the warmth of their friendships.

  After delivering another sigh, Brishava was the first to ask, “So…are we ready to get serious and head to the throne room, so that we can celebrate with the nobles?”

  “Of course,” Baltor and Humonus answered at the exact same time again. They looked at each other with amused glances and smiles, but did not laugh—after all they were all now in “serious mode.”

  The four began to walk toward the exit of the bedroom. Upon their approach, the soldiers stationed there snapped a salute, and each opened his respective door.

  With twenty-six of the fifty-two guards on the other side of the door taking lead, and the remaining guards following behind, the group of fifty-six proceeded down the long hallway to the right.

  After turning left down the next hallway, the group eventually reached the golden spiral staircase with purple carpeting that led downstairs.

  They next descended the stairs, before walking down a very wide and long hallway that had six different sets of double doors made of mahogany on the left side of the hallway—there wasn’t a single door on the right side.

  Meanwhile, everyone could clearly hear beautifully orchestrated music that emanated from somewhere ahead.

  Finally, at the end of this particular hallway, the group approached the final set of double doors. Besides the two guards that protected the royal entrance into the throne room, Ruksha also waited patiently for the group to draw closer.

  Once they had finally neared the door, perhaps twenty seconds later, the two guards posted there snapped their sharpest salutes. At the same time, Ruksha bowed before his Sultan and Sultaness.

  The guards dropped their salutes, opened the golden doors, and stood just to the inside of their respective door.

  On cue, the eight leading guards marched up behind the first two, and stopped behind them. In unison, the ten soldiers turned to face inwards; and only a second later, their swords were all simultaneously drawn, raised, and crossed against the sword with the soldier on the opposite side.

  Brishava ordered, “You may now rise, Ruksha, and introduce us to the nobles, please.”

  Ruksha slowly got back onto his feet. Without any further adieu, he entered the throne room.

  All the while, Baltor and Brishava gazed at each other lovingly, despite the seriousness of the upcoming moment.

  As soon as the hundreds of people in the room had become aware of the announcer’s presence, thanks to the two trumpeters who had begun to blow out the national anthem, the orchestra stopped playing on the same note.

  Meanwhile, the sheik female belly dancers stopped dancing as they moved their way off the dance floor.

  At the same time, the nobles of Pavelus casually began to fill the dance floor, so that they could observe, and listen to, the upcoming announcement.

  Through the open doorway, Baltor noted that the noblemen and women neither seemed pleased nor upset, as every last one of them bore “a political face.”

  However, not a single noble could hide his or her feelings about the situation, thanks to their eyes that revealed everything—about a dozen of the nearly one hundred nobles seemed genuinely pleased. The vast majority revealed uncertainty and/or fear. About eight or so revealed looks of contempt, haughtiness, indignation, or even outrage.

  Once the last of the nobles had arrived at his or her particular destination and stopped, which was at the end of the playing of the anthem, they began to look at Ruksha.

  Ruksha, once he saw he had everyone’s complete and undivided attention, proclaimed, “Ladies and lords, it is my sovereign duty and privilege to introduce to you all—the new Sultan and the Sultaness of the Sharia Empire!”

  Two trumpeters immediately began to blow out a royal introductory tune. With Brishava’s hand still lightly clasping Baltor’s forearm, the two walked into the throne room and toward their thrones.

  It wasn’t until they had taken ten steps inside the room that the very first noble bowed his head in homage and respect. Only a second before that noble had begun to bow, Baltor observed two major things about him in a glance.

  First, it was the man’s very, very expensive outfit, consisting of a wide-brimmed black hat, pants, and buttoned-up jacket, in which all three items were made of velvet and had dozens and dozens of tiny, prismatic diamonds glued everywhere in a non-orderly fashion, making him look like “a starry night.” The jacket, of course, had diamonds for the buttons. The white buttoned-up shirt underneath had
fluffy, black furls around both the neck and the wrists, and his low-quartered black boots had a diamond on the top of the foot.

  The second thing Baltor observed in that glance was this man’s very handsome and clean-shaven face with angular-shaped black eyebrows, which eyebrows were shaped just like his wife’s—his jet-black hair was also thick like hers.

  Even though Baltor had never seen this man before in his life, Brishava had, and she knew him all-too-well—after all, this twenty-eight-year-old man’s title and name was Imperious-Lord Rasta.

  Rasta was the most powerful and influential nobleman of all, and not just because of all his noble accomplishments for the Sharia Empire! He was also Brishava’s only elder sibling—her half-brother. His concubine harem mother Mana had conceived him out of wedlock.

  Overall, their shared father—Brishavus—had fathered nineteen children. Eighteen had stemmed from the harem girls, which is what made them also “Grade B” royalty, just like all her half-uncles and half-aunts—the nobles amongst nobles of the Sharia Empire.

  Brishava was the only “Grade A” of the entire bunch, as her mother had been the only woman her father had ever married throughout all his years, named Sultaness Lexis.

  According to her father, the two had had been happily married for two wonderful years before Brishava had been conceived. Only six years after her birth, the Sultaness had accidentally fallen down a marble staircase, snapping her neck and killing her instantly.

  Only a second after Rasta had finished bowing, the rest of the nobles began to follow suit, some moving much more slowly than others.

  By the time the last noble had bowed, both Baltor and Brishava had arrived at their golden thrones, which faced out toward the crowd of nobles and highest-ranking officers.