Chapter Twelve—A Formal Joining

With narrowed eyes and a feeling of great superiority, Darius al Hassarani sat on his throne, awaiting the entry of king Szehsu.

He was already here in the palace, of course. But much of this stood on ceremony. The nobles had been summoned, the viziers of Darshuun in attendance. Even king Szehsu’s noble court had come. Now they stood, whispering like so many frightened sky sheep in the audience chamber.

The room was full, the cool air of the evening streaming in through the diaphanous curtains. Heads glanced about as the gold-embossed doors opened.

“King Szehsu of Darfuria!” the herald called and a gong was sounded.

Dressed sumptuously in silk robes, hanging gold chains and manicured to perfection with oiled hair, he strode into the chamber.

The walk was long at about ten paces between each set of pillars in the outer edges of the room, there being eight sets in all.

Darius watched him approach, flanked by his queen Sadika and his entourage. Of course, the king was not dressed finer than Darius himself.

In his black silks and a tunic with a low neckline, Darius wore thread of gold interwoven throughout, his leather sandals pressed with gold dust, the toggles on his shirt plated in gold with silver filigree.

For the ceremony, he even wore a circlet of gold incrusted with sapphires. A ring adorned each of his fingers, most of them holding heavy gems indicating various offices.

After approaching the throne, king Szehsu glanced to his wife, then back to Darius. “Sultan Darius,” he said, lifting his hands. “I proffer you this gift.” It was a small vase of little metal or mineral worth. “It is a priceless heirloom of Darfuria.

Darius put out his hands without getting up from the throne as Szehsu handed him the object.

“I hope that this gift may signify the goodwill between Darfuria and the Abassir Empire and our continued harmony and friendship through the years to come.”

Darius nodded and set the item aside.

These functions are so tiresome, he thought, and yet he enjoyed the superiority of stature that came with them.

“I accept your gift,” he said. “And I proclaim to all in my court, that you Szehsu Dasharu, that you will be my satrap within Darfuria. You may rule however you wish, so long as you pay your due tribute and to defend the Abassir Empire whenever I should call.”

Szehsu smiled with a nod.

It all looked vary mutual. In truth, Szehsu was a bitter enemy, holding out against Hassarani’s forces, making his armies fight for every step of land until they had achieved their goal of holding the mountain passes.

A part of Hassarani wanted to make an example of Szehsu, but fear had to be mingled with grace and compassion—at least within the eyes of the common chaff.

“I thank you, my sultan,” Szehsu said, and then got down onto his knees and kissed Darius’ feet.

Darius got up from his throne, glancing about his subjects within the chamber. The Darfurians were now, officially and formally his subjects—and the Abassir Empire expanded.

Now we will have more warriors to send to the south.

“Let the feast begin!” he called, and a gong sounded, followed by hidden trumpets.

Suddenly the throne chamber was invaded by a band of harpists, drummers and tambourine players. Everyone glanced about in shock and surprise.

Except for the usual palace goers, who had seen this with each capitulation.

Massive trestle tables were hauled in, chairs, settees, sofas and a second host of servants carrying hot dishes cooked to perfection and placed upon silver and gold platters.

Within moments the tables were brimming with succulent meats, sweet deserts, fruits and every wine known to the land.

Darius almost leaned his head to rest it upon his knuckles, but stopped himself.

Where are those Hajja sorcerers?

The Abassir Empire must be strong, and for that, it had to annex any territories that could be a threat, and any territories that could benefit the empire in the war.

For the empire to be strong, he thought. I—it’s ruler—must be strong.

I need Jessamine.

The thought rankled.

I must be strong… for when our true enemy surpasses the defenses of the southern empire they must be met with such renewed vigor that they have no choice to be turn tail and sail their ships back across the sea from whence they come.