BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan (5 page)

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.

Once there, each sat down in their assigned
seats—Baltor to the left and Brishava to the right. As soon as they
were seated, the trumpeters finished their tune.

As Brishava had earlier instructed Baltor,
thirty seconds of silence passed before he issued the command, “You
may all rise.”

Once everyone had risen, Ruksha then
announced, “And now, it is my sovereign duty and privilege to
introduce to you all….Ruling-General Humonus, and his lovely wife,
Lady Chelsea.”

The two trumpeters began to blow out a
different tune—every single officer in attendance snapped to the
position of attention, each snapping his sharpest salute! The
nobles simply watched.

All the while Humonus and Chelsea continued
to walk to the spot that Brishava had earlier instructed them to
go, which was near the head table.

Once they had arrived, Humonus returned the
salute to the officers, and then he and his wife stood by their
seats, both silently and patiently, as had also been instructed to
them.

A few moments later, a servant came out from
the side area bearing a golden tray that beheld two golden goblets
and a jug of wine. Before the opportunity came for Baltor or
Brishava to take the goblets, however, still another man came out,
and visibly took a sip from the jug.

Thirty seconds later, when that man appeared
fine, he then bowed and left.

The servant began to fill both goblets. Once
filled, he extended out the golden tray, to which Baltor took his
goblet. The servant then walked over to Brishava, and she took
hers.

Once that servant had departed after a low
bow, Baltor raised his goblet of wine high into the air with his
left hand, and declared with a smile, “As your new Sultan, my first
order is that we immediately commence to celebrating! We’ll deal
with any and all business tomorrow.”

Baltor took a deep drink of wine from his
goblet.

“Hooray!” most of the nobles and officers
cheered, raising their beverage-filled glasses into the air, and
then drinking heartily.

The orchestra recommenced to playing the
celebratory music. Meanwhile, the nobles began to head back to
their original positions, as the dancers simultaneously headed back
to the dance floor.

Once the floor was clear of the last noble a
few minutes later, the dancers began to dance in perfect
synchronization to the music. The rest of the celebratory night was
spectacular, filled with wonderful food, ales, wines, songs, poems
and dance!

Like always, Baltor used his personal season
shaker, spreading it over any food or drink that he consumed. This
seasoning consisted entirely of the dried red berries from the
cah-su-cahn bush, which was one of the two only ways his special
vampiric hungers could be quenched. The only other way was by
drinking human blood. Of course, no one in the world knew that he
was an immortal vampire, other than the one who had made him into
this undead creature in the first place.

Around two in the morning, or so, Baltor and
Brishava departed for their bedroom, but they did not go to sleep
right away. Instead, they played a nice game of voo-span—Brishava
won.

An hour or so before sunrise, the palace
guards kindly but firmly escorted the last of the drunken guests
out of the throne room, so that the servants could clean up the
mess before their Sultaness had awoken.

At sunrise, booths were set up outside the
outer palace walls, and throngs of citizens had surprisingly come
up to volunteer. Shortly after sunset, the last of the recruited
volunteers had left, and so the recruiters began the process of
tallying up their numbers.

Once the grand total of new enlistees was
tallied, nearly fifteen minutes later, the lead-recruiter
personally delivered this number to Humonus, who had been
overseeing the entire process, along with his two top
generals—Hawkins and Han. Once these three men knew the number,
they forthwith entered the palace.

Inside the courtyard, Humonus saw that the
general-in-charge of the palace and grounds was patiently waiting
for their return.

After salutes had been exchanged, Humonus
asked, “Where are the Sultan and Sultaness, General Gray?”

Gray reported, “Sir, the Sultan has recently
woken up, and is currently in the former Sultan’s bedchambers
getting dressed for the night. As for the Sultaness, she is still
listening to the nobles’ inquiries, concerns, and complaints in the
throne room. From what I understand, she’s been very busy almost
all day long.”

Once Humonus had returned the salute, as did
his top generals, he replied, “Thank you, general—carry on.”

“Yes, sir,” Gray said while snapping yet
another sharp salute.

Humonus and his two top generals returned
that salute, just before making their way to Baltor’s location on
the top floor—as for Gray, he was already gone, continuing his
mission to oversee palace affairs.

Once the three commanding officers had
arrived at the room with the balcony a few minutes later, the two
exterior guards stationed outside the double doors snapped a
salute—once those salutes had been returned, the guards
simultaneously opened his individual door.

Humonus was the only one to enter the
room—Hawkins and Han waited outside. A moment later, the interior
guards had already closed the doors from the inside.

After entering the chambers and looking
around, Humonus observed that Baltor was standing in front of a
large ovular mirror that hung from the wall, and was just getting
finished being dressed and groomed by his assistants.

Baltor, who had observed Humonus enter the
room through the mirror, asked, “So…how many enlistees do we now
possess?”

Humonus reported, “My Sultan, you have
thirty-eight thousand, one hundred twenty-eight new soldiers under
your command, which makes your new grand total to seventy-nine
thousand and three.

“By your command, we accepted only those
whose ages ranged from thirteen to fifty and looked capable to
fight—not surprisingly, nearly twenty thousand candidates didn’t
fit your prerequisites.”

At this point, the assistants had just
finished their last task, which was placing the crown on their
Sultan’s head, and so they silently bowed for a moment, just before
they exited the room while pushing the portable closet on
wheels.

Still gazing at himself in the mirror, Baltor
really liked the horizontal-striped black and silver robes, which
snugly fit around his muscular body, barely missing the floor by a
half an inch only because of the inch-high padded sandals he wore.
Meanwhile, his ears continued to listen attentively to Humonus’s
report.

Perhaps three seconds after he had stopped
speaking, Humonus continued, “Instead of just letting them go,
however, what we did was to recruit their services in whatever
talents and skills they possess that can best serve the Sharia
Empire.”

“Excellent work,” Baltor congratulated. He
turned around, clapped both hands together, and then said with
pride in his voice, “I know that you are the best in finding the
best in people, my best friend!”

Humonus couldn’t help but release a chuckle
as he glanced toward the ground. Looking back up with a smile still
upon his face, he then said, “Thank you, my Sultan! I have more
information that should please you even greater still…”

Nearly five seconds later, Humonus’s
expression turned quite serious as he added, “I have taken the
liberty to inform the newly-enlisted soldiers, both men and women,
as well our regular army and navy, that we shall begin training
precisely at ten thirty tomorrow night.

“Following, each and every night, our
training times will constantly vary in length—sometimes during the
day and sometimes during the night—it is my intention to ensure
that we are prepared for war… no matter the time!”

“Most excellent,” Baltor replied. “Did I
forget to mention that I will be assisting you with the training
whenever possible?”

Humonus answered, “Yes, you did forget to
mention this to me, but I already assumed that you would want to be
there whenever possible, so that you can learn and understand the
forces that are yours to command, my Sultan!”

“Absolutely,” Baltor replied
enthusiastically.

After darting a quick glance back toward the
exit, Humonus asked, “If you will excuse me, I still have some
important technical issues to go over with all my generals, my
Sultan.”

Thirty seconds of silence passed without an
answer from Baltor. On the thirty-first second, he answered, “My
Ruling-General, before you go, I will need five more minutes of
your precious time.”

Humonus’s right eyebrow angled a bit farther
upon hearing Baltor address him solely by his rank for the very
first time. Despite his curiosities, he remained silent and
unmoving.

Baltor found he had to clear his throat a
couple times, before he could say, “Ruling-General, I have a
personal problem that requires an immediate solution. I first
became aware of this problem last night, but have been deeply
brewing about it non-stop ever since. Only tonight has my solution
revealed itself in my thoughts—something that I’m about to go and
resolve in about ten minutes or so.”

After taking a deep breath through his nose,
he added, “Have no doubt that this top-secret mission shall be for
the honor, glory, and the future of this empire—my Ruling General!
Once accomplished, this will prove to quite a few particular
people, who shall remain nameless at this time, that I am not just
a common peasant or thug, yet the Sultan of the Sharia Empire.”

During the first half of Baltor’s answer,
Humonus’s keen mind had begun to suspect that his ears were about
to hear “something” that he wouldn’t like hearing. By the end,
regardless of his personal opinion in the matter, he couldn’t
refute the reign of the Sultan.

Upon drawing this conclusion, perhaps
twenty-two seconds after Baltor had stopped talking, Humonus could
only reply with his right eyebrow raised, “Yes, my Sultan?”

Baltor first looked down to the ground, and a
few moments later, he added, “Actually, to be honest with you….I
wasn’t even going to tell anyone at all about this until my mission
was complete, too include you and the Sultaness.”

After taking a deep gulp of air, he added,
“However, solely because I have known you most of my life and we
have been best friends for most of that, I’m going to tell
you.”

Humonus’s left eyebrow joined the right
eyebrow, as he asked yet again, “Yes, my Sultan?”

As Baltor looked back up until he was staring
at his friend eye-to-eye, he began, “I cannot allow the Thieves
Guild of Pavelus to exist the way it is anymore, and for a quite a
few important reasons! The greatest reason, as you once told me
long ago, there is a fifty thousand parsec bounty on my head, which
I’m pretty sure has multiplied by now.”

Humonus not only nodded his head in
understanding, yet his right forearm came to rest upon his stomach
while his left elbow rested upon his right hand. Right away, he
began to gently stroke his whiskerless chin. Still, he spoke not a
single word, as he knew there was more to come, of which he was
about to hear.

Baltor, after a few seconds of pause,
continued, “Another reason why the Guild can no longer exist is
because there are children going through these obstacle courses, in
order to become thieves instead of what they should really become—a
Special Forces Guild working for the Sharia Empire.”

After taking a deep breath through his nose,
he added, “Yet this ‘top secret guild’ will be known to only a very
select few—you, the Sultaness, Chelsea, and I for sure… and of
course, the students, instructors and the masters who join up!
Thus, I am going to call this Guild’s forces, ‘Shadow Force.’”

With an ever-growing smile on Humonus’s
pleased face, which smile even caused the thin scar on his left
cheek to slightly twist out of alignment, he extended the palms of
both hands into the air and exclaimed, “That is an absolutely
wonderful idea, Baltor, my Sultan!”

Still bearing a very serious expression on
his face, Baltor extended his left hand and index finger into the
air in front of him…