BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan

Book II of III: The Elysian Dynasty

Smashwords Edition

Copyright J. Eric Booker, 2008.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
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Booker Enterprises Publishing Co.

Printed in the United States of America on
acid-free paper.

BOOK II OF III: The Elysian Dynasty:

The Reign of the Sultan

Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of
the author's imagination or, are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales
is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication
Data is available upon request.

Booker, J. Eric, The Reign of the Sultan!

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Contact: [email protected]

Edited by Shanna Caldwell—English major from
Washburn University

Copyedited by Em Petrova—Romance Author

www.empetrova.com

Cover Art piece designed by Vuk Kostic

DEDICATION

I would like to dedicate this book to my
Grandma Inge Burns—

she has always been one of my greatest
supporters and fans.

Love ya, Grams!

“Always bear in mind that your own

resolution to succeed is more

important than any other.”

- Abraham Lincoln

The Swords of the Sultan!

“Good evening, my Sultan.”

“Humonus, when we are alone, please just call
me Baltor.”

“As you command, Baltor,” Humonus replied at
a normal volume.

Baltor cocked his head toward the balcony and
said, “I must confess that I’m a bit nervous, my friend.”

Humonus declared, “We all get nervous,
Baltor. Use those nerves and make them steel—that is what shall
make you truly powerful! Show Pavelus you are her Emperor, and
Pavelus will be yours! Show the world you are her Sultan, and the
world will become your Empire!”

Baltor was surprised for but a moment as
Brishava seemingly came out from nowhere and said, “Ruling-General
Humonus is both correct and wise. So, my Husband and Sultan, ready
to meet your subjects?”

It was then that Baltor happily noticed
Brishava had not changed her appearance one iota.

She still wore that beautiful green silky
dress, filled of course with actual diamonds and emeralds that ran
along dozens of vertical seams on her bodice and arms. Her hair was
tightly pulled up into a bun, which then gently splashed and curled
its way halfway down her back—can’t forget to mention the tiny
platinum crown, stuffed with diamonds and emeralds.

The one thing that really grabbed his
attention was her absolutely adorable face—light-green-and-white
eyeliner around her doe-brown eyes, and glossy red lipstick on her
thick, luscious lips. In Baltor’s opinion, she looked like a
beautiful porcelain doll.

After giving the sweetest smile, Brishava
asked her earlier question, “Are you ready to meet your subjects,
my Sultan?”

Baltor stood to his feet, cleared his throat,
returned the smile, and then said, “Yes, I am, my Wife and
Sultaness.”

She turned to the guards stationed at the
doors, commanding, “Allow Ruksha to enter, so that he can make the
royal announcement.”

Without word, the guards opened his
respective door.

A man, who appeared to be in his late fifties
and regally dressed, entered the room. He bowed upon hands and
knees.

Brishava commanded, “Ruksha, you may rise and
call me out.”

Ruksha rose to his feet and declared with
enthusiasm in his voice, “Yes, my Sultaness!”

As soon as he had stepped out onto the
balcony, dozens of trumpeters began to play the royal anthem, which
quieted the crowds.

Once the tune was over, Ruksha proclaimed
with pride, “Citizens of Pavelus… It is my privilege and honor to
introduce to you the firstborn daughter and princess of the sultan,
who sadly passed away last night. Please welcome the new Sultaness
of the Sharia Empire—her married name is Sultaness Brishava
Elysian!”

The crowds immediately took to their
“Sultaness” as she stepped out onto the balcony, for a myriad of
cheering and applause erupted; she waved her hands out joyously to
the people.

Once the crowd had settled down, several
minutes later, she then proclaimed, “First of all my beloved
citizens, you should know that the time of my father’s cruel and
unjust reign is over!”

Yet again, the crowds broke out into cheering
and applause.

Once settled, many minutes later, the
Sultaness proudly introduced, “And now, it is my honor to introduce
my husband, the new Sultan of the Sharia Empire—his name is Baltor
Elysian!”

This time, silence immediately reigned in the
city, for the citizens became afraid that their “new sultan” might
ultimately turn out to be a tyrant like all the other rulers for
the last five centuries.

Baltor cocked his head over to look into the
mirror one last time. Not only did he see his present and his past,
yet he also saw his future—a future cast in the present! He now
knew what he needed to be—his nerves became as steely as the swords
on his back—his eyes darted forward—his feet walked onto the
balcony.

As soon as he stood to Brishava’s right, he
stopped in his tracks—in that very moment, Baltor’s mind
mysteriously tabulated to him that all of his citizens, nearly
eighty-two thousand, as well forty thousand, two hundred and
fifty-six soldiers of Pavelus had attended, even though only thirty
thousand people could fit inside the palace walls. Most were
outside the palace gates and in the surrounding streets for about
two miles every direction.

With a lightning-quick flick of Baltor’s
wrists, his swords crossed each other above his head and toward the
heavens, as he proudly proclaimed: “I have been officially crowned
your Sultan, though not too long ago, I was once a peasant…

“Please listen to my words of warning, or of
wisdom, your choice. As I speak, there are more than 120,000 enemy
soldiers making their way toward Pavelus—by land and by sea—led
none other than by Emperor-Sedious Vaspan. They will try to rape
and plunder us of all our riches until bone dry. And they will try
to make all our women and children their slaves or worse—the men
will all be executed…

“Unfortunately with my forces alone, we are
outnumbered three to one—so the time’s come for me to ask for
volunteers. You will be paid just the same as my regular foot
soldiers—you will be trained by the best of the best, I swear to
that on my honor!

“Those who can’t fight or will refuse to
fight—we shall provide you with safe haven within Pavelus’s strong
defenses, or you may attempt an escape on your own, by land or by
sea, if you so wish….”

Nearly ten seconds later, he sheathed his
swords in one quick motion, thrust his open-palmed hands out to the
crowds, and suggested with fervency, “But consider this option for
a moment… Declare me your Sultan and fight for me, and I will lead
you all toward successes that are beyond imagination. Believe me,
it is my intention to pave the entire streets of Pavelus from gold,
even if it means that the walls of this palace be used to build
them!

“So who amongst you shall hail me…
your
Sultan?!
”

1,167 miles to the southeast of Pavelus,
where

stood the feuding Vaspan Empire’s capital

city of Mauritia—3 weeks and 1 night
earlier
…

At the core of this inland metropolis, whose
fortified city walls possessed the shape of a perfect circle that
was eight miles in diameter, there dwelt a magnificent royal
palace.

This palace’s outside walls had been
primarily constructed of grey, blue, and black marble slabs that
looked like giant puzzle pieces seamed together by gold inlay—and
this building was nearly double in size as the royal palace in
Pavelus.

Dwelling inside the top floor of the center
minaret, of which there were seven minarets spiraling for the
heavens, there was a just-as-magnificent bedroom. Lying in the
emperor-sized bed in the very middle of this room was a particular
man, who had just begun to dream.

Perhaps a minute after it had begun, this
dream began greatly bothering the man, as he not only tossed and
turned in bed, yet breathed, moaned, and sweated quite profusely.
By the dream’s climactic end—not even two minutes after it had
begun—his physical body had jerked involuntarily into an upright
sitting position, seconds before his conscious mind returned.

Still sitting alone in the dark room, he
first began the process of breathing deeply, in order to regain a
control over his ragged breath. Once he had finally regained that
control, perhaps half a dozen breaths later, he flung off the silky
sheets that were still clinging to his sweat-drenched body.

Without any further haste, he yelled aloud
into the darkness, “Guard….bring me Ruling-General Thorn
immediately!”

Not even a second later, he heard a guard’s
muffled voice reply from on the other side of the doors leading
into his bedroom, “Sir, the Ruling-General should be here in about
fifteen minutes or so, as it is nearly five o’clock—almost time for
your majesty to wake up anyway, Emperor-Sedious Vaspan.”

“Oh!” Vaspan continued to yell. “Well, go
find him right now and have him come to my chambers—it is
imperative I speak with him immediately!”

“Yes, my Emperor. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine…”

The guard, not being convinced, opened one of
the doors until the light from the well-lit hallway shed directly
onto his ruler.

In turn, this light revealed that Vaspan
possessed “a kingly look”—penetrating sea-blue eyes, prominent
facial features (nose, cheeks and jawline), thick-black eyebrows,
and a long and pointy braided beard. As for the thick and braided
hair on the top of his sweaty head, it all splashed halfway down
his back in thick patches of black with silver intermixed.

His just-as-kingly sleeping attire consisted
of a silky pair of vertical-striped white and gold pajamas that
clearly revealed his very muscular physique, thanks to the fact it
was also drenched with sweat.

Even though the guard saw that Vaspan was
only now starting to look angry, he couldn’t help but notice the
troubled look and all the sweat, and so he asked with great
concern, “Are you sure everything’s all right, Sire?”

Vaspan howled like a banshee, “Yes I am okay,
you blooming idiot! If I needed any other help besides retrieving
your Ruling-General, I would have asked for it—dismissed!”

“Yes, my Emperor-Sedious,” the guard gulped
nervously, just before he closed the door and hurried off at top
speed to carry out the order.

Once again sitting alone in the darkness,
Vaspan pulled over several very thick and plush pillows, just
before slowly laying his back down upon them.