BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan (9 page)

With a confident and charming smile upon his
face, Jamar rose from his bow and greeted, “Good morning to you, my
Sultaness. By chance, were you happy with your coronation and
public welcoming ceremony?”

“Everything was absolutely perfect, and yes I
am extremely happy, which is why I’m once again calling for your
services, Jamar,” Brishava replied in delighted tones.

“That is most excellent news to hear, your
Majesty,” Jamar said, only a second before he delivered yet another
grandiose bow.

After rising, he asked, “How may I be of
service to you today, my Sultaness?”

“Jamar, I am going to need one my father’s
old bedrooms completely remodeled, so that it can house my husband
and I. Specifically, I’d like you to create a curtain that will
completely block out all sunlight that can possibly come in from
the balcony and windows during the day…”

After taking a deep breath through her nose,
she added, “It is very important that not even one ounce of
sunlight ever enter our bedroom, not even by the most tumultuous of
winds, unless of course we manually open those curtains so that we
can step onto the balcony. As for everything else, I will leave
that up to your clever imagination. Do you understand, Jamar?”

Jamar replied without hesitation or doubt,
“Not only do I completely understand about the
sunlight-impenetrable curtains, my Sultaness, yet I even have a
perfect picture in mind for your new royal bedchambers.”

“Excellent,” Brishava answered, “I know Jamar
that you are the perfect man for the task…thank you very much! That
is all. ”

“Yes, my Sultaness,” Jamar said with a smile,
just before he delivered one final bow, and left the room.

While Brishava spent the next hour tending to
other political affairs, Jamar spent the next hour in the royal
bedchambers itself, creating the new designs and measurements for
the curtains and the room. Once the blueprints were drawn up, he
hired three different teams to work around the clock in order to
complete this project as soon as possible.

The first team consisted of a dozen master
seamstresses who would produce three very beautiful curtains made
from thick wool.

The second team consisted of a dozen master
blacksmiths who would forge a large number of massive shiny balls,
both ten and twenty-five pounds.

It was in Jamar’s blueprints that once the
curtains and the balls were complete, the ten-pound balls would
become interwoven into the tops of all three curtains, while the
twenty-five pound balls into the bottom—thus making the three
curtains one very thick and solid curtain.

The third and final team consisted of a dozen
master engineers who would remodel the entire room into an
octagonal shape. Once that project was complete, they were then to
create an ingrained slider within the ceiling that the ten-pound
balls could fit within, and thus, the guards could slide open and
shut the curtain, though it would take more than a dozen guards to
do so.

With all these protective measure, not even
the fiercest of the desert winds would make these curtains move a
single inch. Late that afternoon, he finally delivered the report
to the Sultaness that it would take approximately two-to-three
months to complete everything, and cost a little more than four
hundred thousand parsecs. Immediately after the report was
complete, Brishava agreed, and Jamar left to oversee the entire
process.

As for the Sultaness, she spent the rest of
her busy day diplomatically tending to an ambassador from the
Province of Pastra who had just arrived by ship. After the
afternoon-long meeting was over, just before sunset that evening,
she entered their temporary bedchambers in the old harem room, and
placed her head gently upon her husband’s breathing stomach.

When Baltor awoke, perhaps ten minutes later
when the sun had set, he was happy to see his wife lovingly and
tenderly gazing up into his eyes.

“Good evening my husband,” she greeted,
before giving him an ever-so-sweet smile.

“Good evening to you, my wife,” he greeted
back, returning a crooked smile.

She sat up in bed, before asking, “So are you
ready for dinner—I’m starving!”

“I’m not starving, but I am hungry. What’s
for dinner?”

“Filet mignons, the spiced potatoes you love
so much, and a nice garden salad,” Brishava answered with a sweet
smile. “Oh, and a nice bottle of wine that the Ambassador to Pastra
gave to us as a parting gift. He apologized for not staying longer,
but had to leave for Thorium right away on some urgent business for
their King, business not related to us.”

Baltor replied, “Good to know.”

Brishava rose to her feet, and said, “I’ll
meet you in the royal dining hall when you’re done in about a half
an hour, okay?”

“Okay,” Baltor said, just before he rose to
his feet.

After she had given him a quick kiss, she
departed the room.

Baltor first took a quick bath, dried himself
off with a towel, put on his drawers, walked over in front of the
large mirror, and said, “Assistants—you may enter.”

Two seconds later, his assistants entered
from the front doors the exterior guards had opened—two pushed a
closet-on-wheels.

Today they dressed him into his new chain
mail armor, combat boots and crowned helmet—twenty minutes later,
they bowed and departed.

After Baltor had exited the room, his guards
escorted him to the royal dining hall, where Chelsea and Brishava
were already sitting down at the table set for three—as soon as he
taken his seat, the servants began serving them all dinner.

Meanwhile, Chelsea relayed, “If you’re
wondering where my husband is, he’s taking a nap—he said before
closing his eyes that he was really exhausted from work today, but
that he would be up by ten o’clock for sure for tonight’s training
session.”

“Okay, thank you,” Baltor said with a smile,
just before he sprinkled his special seasoning all over his food,
sliced open his filet mignon with his knife, and took a bite into
his steak.
Delicious!

“You’re welcome, my Sultan!”

In between taking tiny bites of food,
Brishava began to relay all the very important accomplishments she
had done this day—on occasion, Baltor and/or Chelsea nodded their
heads and/or said something to the effect of “Great job!”

Following dinner, the three played an
exciting card game that lasted for the next few hours. Precisely at
ten, Humonus arrived, and Brishava and Chelsea retired to their
rooms and went to bed.

Baltor, Humonus, and a platoon-sized number
of palace guards departed the palace by horseback, making their way
for the training grounds that was set up just outside the city to
the northeast—of course Baltor rode on his prized black warhorse,
Grasha.

Despite all of Humonus’s highly detailed
briefings, Baltor still became rather surprised and pleased, upon
discovering of the expansive training grounds that spanned from
horizon to horizon.

Besides the troops that were utilizing the
eighty or so various obstacle courses and weapons-training grounds,
there were other large clusters of soldiers standing idly by,
sitting, or even lying on the ground, while only a few small groups
stretched, or did pushups or sit-ups.

In many ways did these training grounds
remind Baltor of the Guild’s training grounds, except for the fact
that all of these obstacles were above ground without bottomless
pits.

With a point of his finger, Humonus directed
Baltor toward a large, wooden platform in the very middle of the
training grounds that hovered twenty-five feet in the air upon
anchored wooden posts—this is where they rode.

A ladder reached to the top of this platform,
where rested lit cauldrons at each of the square corners on
top—standing to the left and the right side was a trumpeter with a
trumpet in one hand and a flag of the Sharia Empire in the
other.

Humonus was the first to dismount his horse
and climb up to the top. Once there, he faced the troops, and
snapped to the position of attention. After his Sultan stood by his
side, two seconds later, he stated in a commanding tone of voice,
“Form ranks!”

The two trumpeters blew out the three-toned
signal, while they raised the flag in their other hand high into
the air, just before waving that flag around in wide circles over
their head.

Despite the fact that Humonus had explained
to everyone the proper way to “form ranks” in their very first
formation earlier this day, only a third of them went to their
assigned spots and properly performed the position of attention.
The second third went to their assigned spots, but looked sloppy,
and the remainder couldn’t figure out where to go or what to
do.

While all this chaotic formation-assembling
was going on, Humonus looked over at Baltor and quietly asked, “So
did Mistress Tricia come to visit you earlier this evening?”

Baltor nodded his head, and just as quietly
he answered, “Yes. Shortly after dinner when Brishava and I were
sitting on our thrones, she arrived—she even delivered a
gift-wrapped box containing the world map. After she and I left to
talk in private, we had a nice and professional chat about the
future of Shadow Force…

“Just before she left, perhaps thirty minutes
after her arrival, she informed me that she was very optimistic
about all our plans, both short term and long term.”

After purposefully clucking his tongue
against the roof his mouth one time, he added, “In the meantime, as
you can see, we have a little over a two hundred thieves of all
ranks in our ranks, not including thirty-five Drill Instructors and
twelve Senior Drill Instructors. They will help us with the martial
arts training for our troops, and they will fight with us when
Emperor Vaspan and his army arrives.”

Humonus replied with a rather surprised tone
of voice, “Outstanding work, my Sultan.”

Baltor replied with a wink, “Thanks, my
friend.”

By this time, everyone had filed into ranks,
some thanks to the assistance of others. Meanwhile, the members
from the former thieves’ guild had all spread amongst the rest of
the ranks, so they could assist.

By the handle, Humonus picked up a three-foot
long, cone-shaped, steel object off the platform, put the smaller
end near his mouth with the larger end facing the soldiers, and his
voice was magnified three times like a megaphone as he said,
“Troops of the Sharia Empire—introductions are all over now, so I
don’t need to reintroduce myself…

“What I do need to restate is the fact that
in less than five weeks from now, we all shall be facing an army
that is vastly superior to us in numbers, training and
experience.”

After taking a deep breath, he added, “It is
therefore my intention to ensure that before this time comes, we
will not only be combat ready, but ready to claim our first victory
together—no matter the odds stacked against us!”

Cheering and whooping erupted from amongst
the ranks!

Once silence reigned again, about twenty
seconds later, Humonus continued, “Additionally, our Sultan has
graciously volunteered his time and services to assist with your
training—as you all will soon come to know, he is a master in the
combative sense, like I am.

“Once I give the command, I want each of you
to find a random partner near your location. After the Sultan and I
have finished demonstrating a technique, I want all of you to
practice this technique upon your partner, and he or she upon
you…

“Even though you may not master a single
technique for quite some time—that is okay. We will continue on, as
we have hundreds of battle techniques for you to learn, practice
and master… some techniques will be very difficult and other will
be very easy.

“Know and remember that each and every
technique that we use begins in the basic ready stance—your feet
must be at a ninety-degree angle at all times. Your hands need to
hang loosely by your sides. Your knees slightly bent. Your body
weight evenly distributed between your feet. Now, go find your
partner.”

While the troops sought out a partner,
Humonus pulled the megaphone away from his mouth and set it on the
ground before he suggested, “My Sultan, please allow me to remove
the sheaths strapped on your back, so that your swords do not
become damaged. Furthermore, let me also strongly suggest you never
do somersaults with your swords in their sheaths—for the same
reason.”

“Good point, my Ruling General, yes,” Baltor
replied, before performing a left-face so that his back was facing
Humonus.

Right away Humonus unlatched the sheaths,
before setting them near the corner of the platform and then
returning to his original position.

After everyone had found a partner in under a
minute, and silence once again reigned within the ranks, Humonus
performed a left-face. He called out in a very loud tone of voice,
“My Sultan, throw your best punch at my face with your right
hand!”

Even though Baltor instantly threw a
fast-and-furious punch with his right hand, Humonus still managed
to catch Bator’s wrist in both of his hands. Right away he twisted
both of his own wrists until Baltor’s body literally flew over his
head and slammed hard into the ground!

Humonus didn’t stop there, and while
continuing to grip firmly Baltor’s twisted-up fist, he twisted even
more, which caused massive spasms of pain to instantly cross
Baltor’s face as his body twisted up into a pretzel—Baltor tapped
the ground hard with his right fist several times.

Humonus let go only a second later, and
Baltor stood back to his feet and faced the troops. Humonus had
followed suit, after he had picked up the megaphone and put it near
his mouth.

Meanwhile, just about all of the troops, even
the experienced ones, except for the thieves, gasped in shock at
seeing this amazing spectacle—not so much because their
Ruling-General had just body-slammed their Sultan, but because they
had never seen anyone do martial arts … ever!