BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan (7 page)

While pointing his left index finger directly
at Rolsch, Baltor answered, “You and I need to speak in private
right now, without anyone else present, including your guards—as
you can clearly see, I am unarmed, but if you wish, you can have
your guards check me for weapons.”

“Not necessary, my Sultan,” Rolsch cried out,
just before he rose onto his feet, snapped his fingers, and
ordered, “Guards, leave us immediately!”

Every guard hurriedly shuffled their way out
the doors outside, and then the two guards stationed outside closed
those doors behind them.

Once the two were alone, Baltor began, “The
reason why I have come is because I know what is going on in your
little basement.”

“What on earth are you talking about, my
Sultan?” Rolsch asked with a whole lot of surprise. “I have no
basement.”

“Do not lie to me,” Baltor replied, “because
I know all about the thieves’ guild, and how rich you’ve become as
a result of harboring them. Perhaps you’re not aware, but I once
belonged to them myself until but a few years ago…”

“Yes, my Sultan, I am all too aware of these
trivialities,” Rolsch came back, unsure of where the young man was
going with this.

Baltor revealed only a moment later, “Most
likely you’re not aware of this fact, but the Guild has a bounty on
my head, dead or alive—last I heard it was fifty thousand parsecs.
It is solely because of this bounty that I cannot permit them to
continue existing as they are.”

With a shocked tone of voice, Rolsch answered
truthfully, “No, I was not aware of this, my Sultan. What do you
suggest?”

Baltor again pointed his index finger at
Rolsch as he said, “I command that when I am done saying what I got
to say, you locate and inform the Secret Chief, as well the High
Council, to disband the Guild permanently, or they will find huge
bounties for their own heads!”

After taking a deep breath through his nose,
he added, “From now on, I will secretly be using the training
grounds below to create an elite task force of soldiers. Those
former students, instructors and masters who wish to enlist within
the Sharia Empire’s ranks will be allowed to do so, and will even
be given honorable ranks and generous pay!”

“I see…” Rolsch responded with a bit of
hesitance.

“Additionally,” Baltor continued, “I want the
two halves to an ancient world map, which is in the Guild’s
possession but actually belongs to me…”

Perhaps five seconds later, Rolsch finally
replied, “I see…”

Baltor said, “My final command is that all of
this must be kept ‘top secret!’ For your efforts in accommodating
every one of my commands, I will reward you quite handsomely…should
you implicitly prove your loyalties, I may consider reestablishing
you your ambassadorial rank. Do you have anything to say,
Ambassador?”

The ambassador’s answer was to cast his gaze
down to the ground, and with his left hand, begin rubbing his beard
in a downwards stroke … he was thinking out his options. “I see…
Umm, first of all, when exactly would you like me to have all your
commands accomplished by, my Sultan?”

“Right now,” Baltor said without hesitation
or emotion.

While waving his left-index finger around in
the air, Rolsch stated in a slightly nervous tone, “My Sultan,
first of all, but I do not know who the Secret Chief is, nor do I
know any of their High Council members.”

Now waving two fingers in the air, he added,
“Second, neither my guards nor I know how to get down there into
the basement, whatsoever! After all, the Guild constructed and
decorated the fountain room centuries ago, shortly after the
engineers finished building this palace—all I cared about was that
their accountant delivered the rent on time yearly. Two million
parsecs!”

Baltor’s right eyebrow rose upon hearing that
expensive figure for rent, but for only a second, before neutrally
replying, “I see… Continue.”

After waving three fingers around in the air,
Rolsch concluded, “Third, my Sultan, none of us have a clue as to
where the Guild stores any of its treasures, except for what’s in
the fountain room. I’m sorry, my Sultan, to be the bearer of such
unhelpful news.”

“I see…” Baltor replied evenly, “Anything
else?”

After gulping, Rolsch asked, “Yes, your
Highness…one more question. Will you continue to pay what the Guild
paid in order to rent out my basement? I need the money, as I have
high expenses in order to maintain my home, especially now that I
no longer have a job!”

After a nod, Baltor answered, “I will pay two
and a quarter million parsecs annually, and like I said before,
once you implicitly prove your loyalty to me, I will reinstate you
back into the ambassadorial position you once held…”

Now bearing a relieved smile upon his face,
Rolsch declared with emphasis, “Then I will have my tenants vacate
the premises immediately, as soon as I see the first master thief I
run across…my Sultan! I promise you.”

Baltor suggested, “Actually, I’ve got a
better idea. As I know where the secret entrance to the basement
is, let me come with you as you personally relay the message to
them right now. You and I should go alone, and without any of your
guards’ assistance—trust me, I will protect you!”

With a great amount of fear, Rolsch began
waving his hands helplessly, while objecting, “My Sultan, your
request is suicidal—if just you and I go down there now, they will
kill us immediately! May I please suggest that we bring my guards
to come down with us, so that we can truly be safe?”

“Very well, Rolsch,” Baltor reluctantly
answered.

Rolsch hurried over to the entryway double
doors, and opened the one on the left. Looking outside at the
guards, he called out, “Captain Proviso, I want you to hurry and
get as many guards together on the double, as we are all going into
the secret basement—also allow no one to enter or exit the
premises. Your mission is to ensure the safety of your Sultan and
myself!”

“Yes, Ambassador Rolsch,” Proviso said. He
looked over to his underlings standing in loose formation, and
ordered, “Lieutenant Lou, inform the guards at the gate not to let
anyone enter or exit the premises. Sergeant Tenneco, have your men
quickly retrieve the patrolling guards outside and bring them here!
Finally, I want everyone back here in five minutes! Execute.”

The underlings all cried out, “Yes, sir!”
They then commenced to carry out their orders… Five minutes later,
eighty guards were present.

“Let us go, my Sultan,” Rolsch declared with
complete confidence.

With the two leaders in the lead, the party
of eighty-two marched their way to the room with the jeweled
fountain; and after Baltor had twisted the emerald that revealed
the trap door within the checkered-black-and-white tiled floor,
they climbed the ladder down.

After about five minutes of traveling through
the zigzagging tunnel with burning torches posted every thirty
feet, they finally entered the training cavern with dozens of
additional tunnels; many of them purposefully left pitch-black. Of
course there were still all the training areas, ranging from
obstacle courses to weapons’ training areas to the dozens of drill
instructors and students spread throughout … an all-too-familiar
sight it all was for Baltor.

Everyone—instructors and students—stopped in
their training to look over in both shock and fear, as soon as they
spotted the party of eighty-two entering their domain.

Despite the fact that none of the students
recognized Baltor or the other man in his pajamas, all of the
instructors recognized both men—their mouths dropped open in shock
that Baltor had returned! Just as surprising was the fact that
their landlord had brought along eighty of his guards.

Two of those hardcore drill instructors that
had been students during Baltor’s childhood years, and had been
quite mean and bullish to him and a few other people—both men
started hightailing their way toward the nearest tunnels!

Before a single one could escape, Baltor
called out, “Hear me, o’ Guild, and do not be afraid! I have not
come to kill a single one of you—even though I could kill every
last one of you if I wished, even single-handedly!”

The instructors that had been running stopped
in their tracks, as they believed Baltor was telling the truth,
except for the part about him winning against everyone in the room,
and so they turned around to listen.

Perhaps five seconds later, Baltor began, “By
my command as the Sultan of the Sharia Empire, this thieves’ guild
is to be terminated immediately! No longer will we have children
becoming thieves through these dangerous obstacles, but soldiers
who shall become a part of my top-secret elite task force!”

“Furthermore,” he added, “I will need
instructors and masters to assist me in this most noble and
honorable of tasks, and those of you who enlist within my ranks
shall be richly rewarded, especially by keeping every last one of
my commands ‘top secret…’”

Nearing the end of Baltor’s speech, nearly
sixty additional thieves ran into the cavern at top speed from the
tunnel where the special obstacle course existed, and whose
alarmed-looking cast included ten members that Baltor recognized
right away.

Their names and titles were Mistress Bayema,
Mistress Tricia, Master Jensa, Master Fargot, Instructor Qels,
Instructor Haves, Instructor Jeramone, Instructor Oasaim,
Instructor Laseva, and Instructor Welch.

All sixty of these thieves instantly
recognized Baltor—more-than-half recognized him for the good, while
the rest saw him as a traitor!

Most also recognized their landlord and his
guards, which is why the second half did not initially attack,
though they did draw out their weapons.

Quite a few more thieves began to draw their
own weapon/s upon hearing their thief-associates’ weapons being
unsheathed, yet Bayema was the first to order, “Sheath your
weapons, immediately….that is a direct order from a ruling member
of the High Council.”

They complied, though grudgingly … after all,
Baltor’s head was worth a whole hell of a lot of parsecs, and these
guards would be a piece of cake to take out, or so they
believed.

Though there was a bit of shock to her voice,
Bayema said, “We heard the alarm there were intruders. What are you
all doing here?”

Without fear, Baltor repeated his last
speech, word for word.

“I see…” Jensa was the first to reply in his
nasal tone of voice. “What’s to stop us all from plunging our
weapons into you all at the same exact moment, and killing every
last one of you before the very next second passes?”

Even though this master thief was technically
a human being, in many striking ways did Jensa bear the
characteristics of a weasel!

After all, not only were his beady eyes and
goateed face similar to a weasel’s face, yet he wore expensive,
glossy and fluffy clothes with lots of shimmering jewelry—a
long-sleeved red tunic, blue pants, knee-high black boots, jeweled
rings on every finger and four variously-styled jeweled necklaces.
Despite the man’s gaudy attire, it still wasn’t hard to figure out
that he had a real thin and lanky body, or that he was unusually
taller than most, being six feet and six inches tall.

“Me,” Baltor calmly answered.

Jensa countered, “Baltor, you are certainly
skilled and powerful, but not more than me. It’d be a piece of cake
for me to take you out in a duel and kill you—if it were just me
and you! Man versus man.”

“Go ahead and try it…”

“Are you serious?” Jensa asked with a really
evil grin.

After a laugh, Baltor confidently answered,
“Absolutely…”

“No, don’t fight,” Bayema interjected, while
raising both unarmed hands into the air. She pleaded, “The Sharia
Empire cannot take that chance of losing this new Sultan before
battle with the Mauritians—a war that will affect us all! It will
only be a matter of time before Emperor-Sedious Vaspan and his army
of more than one hundred and twenty thousand—if the report of that
astronomical number rings true—finds the Guild!”

After taking a deep breath through her nose,
she added, “We will not only lose our homes and our wealth if they
should succeed, yet perhaps our very lives!

“I like what Sultan Baltor Elysian has to
offer, and from everything I’ve heard and known about him since he
was a boy of twelve, he is both generous, honorable, and most
especially, noble.”

One female cried out, “I like my way of life
as a thief—I’m not changing it for anyone!”

About another dozen thieves, too include a
couple of the masters and mistresses, cried out, “Me, too!”

Baltor extended his hands and arms out into
the air over his head, and challenged, “Listen to me…I have a
proposal for all you objectors. Challenge me to a duel, right here
and now!

“At the beginning of this duel, of which I
will initially be unarmed, I will disarm all contenders, yet when
any of you becomes disarmed of your final weapon, you must
immediately leave the arena, as your part in the contest is
over…violators are to be promptly killed by the spectators.

“By the end of the battle, I will become the
victor with not a single death amongst you that occurs by my hand.
And when I win in the end, which I will win, there should not be a
single objector left…any and all remaining objectors will promptly
die by my hand!”

“And what if you die during the duel?” a
female objector barked.

“Then you win whatever prize money my head’s
worth—fifty thousand parsecs is it?”

“No, five hundred thousand parsecs!” she said
with a crooked smile, just before revealing a rather wicked-looking
dagger that she had been hiding behind her back—while the black
leather handle was six inches long, the razor-sharp/dual-edged
blade was twelve inches and slightly curved back and forth from the
base to the pointy tip.