Internal V.1: Child of Discord (Internal, third draft)

(29) Tides Turn

(Part 1)

Having sent his children off for the time being, the Amir sat back to ponder on what Azalea had so blatantly pointed out.

'Treat us like people, Dad!'

Indeed, that encounter had not been the first time that Urdin had received complaints on that strand. Earlier, each of his wives--the very women he had hoped to continue to aid him in realizing his lifelong vision of 'one peninsula, one banner'--had protested on just how protracted and increasingly-fruitless the campaigns to this end were becoming over the years.

Mira's rebuke had so far been the sharpest, going so far as to actually slap him in that dungeon-like chamber while reminding him that the peoples that he had brought under through his conquests--her people primarily, and now his too through marriage--did not imply inferiority...

"What exactly had I been fighting, then, all these years?" he could not help but wonder. "What am I; a wrencher of domains actively seeking more of the same... or a liberator? What did I liberate those people from, exactly, if, as Ves once said, what I ended up doing were merely to replace Tharion's well-established rule for mine... throw in another scheming, lifelong wench for company? In my desire for a new homeland, I've thrown so many others into dispossession, to think of it; and for what?"

Before too long, this kind of thought gave way to a learned overview of the present strategic situations.

For one, although outwardly successful, Nasria's defense had raised questions among the Amir's provincial walis concerning their leader's aspirations: the Amirate's legions were not as 'invincible' as once thought. Were it not for the backbreaking efforts of a technically- underaged prince (younger even than the youngest Amirate recruits, in fact), Nasria and who-knows-how-many other border forts might have been lost. And to have been aided by heathens in the process, moreover!

Such shame would not subside easily among the general populace, nor anytime soon.

Mustafa, being his father's son, must have had to endure more conflicts along the way than mere words could convey at such a young age from that kind of realization alone... and that lad now lie abed, writhing, said to have been mauled by Mira's onetime most trusted aide.

"Well, what do I know," the father sighed, rising again, "visiting him now could not be so bad, all things considered; not as just another young warrior in my service, but as a true son..."

Not long after Urdin came to this decision, one of the door-minders entered to remind him that his new vazir was seeking an audience. The Amir was nowhere too pleased with the interruption but decided to listen once again.

"Let him in."

The peon retreated out and the vazir trotted in, bowing about ten steps before the base of the throne.

"Your Grace."

"Before we get any further, Ebrahim, I'd like to ask you some things first."

"By all means, sire."

"I trust you have met Mustafa. What's your take on him?"

Ebrahim smiled. "I dislike using big words, sire... but despite his youth, that prince was exceptionally bright and quite mature. Someone I would like to continue working with in the future."

"Perhaps you will. You have learned about his dealings with the northerners too?"

"I touched on them, yes... but then the prince had become slightly agitated and spoke little else on such matters beyond promises of his eventual participation in the upcoming talks."