Chapter Twenty-Five—Grand Assembly of the Scorpion Blades

Darius al Hassarani’s general bellowed an order for his Scorpion Blades—the highest order of his body guards—to assemble.

With over eight hundred soldiers in attendance, it would take some time for them to align in the proper order—an order that had been trained and drilled into them for weeks in preparation for this very moment.

Despite their practiced speed, such an assembly was no easy feat, to be sure. But Darius did not trouble himself with that. There were many plans, both functional and aesthetic that had to be executed perfectly.

The sultan left that up to his trusted confidants—and should they fail in their duties, Darius would surely punish them. Even the threat of punishment, a knowing consequence for failure, prevented many mistakes, both in the palace and in his empire as a whole.

The formation was to be a double file interspersed with a two pace gap in between. Darius would stride along at the center. The files of his Scorpion Blades extended by two-hundred heads, creating an impenetrable corridor by which he could travel.

However, the corridor was not for his protection, but rather a show of his protection, and also the file was to be maintained for his theatrical entry into the throne chamber. At the front were his standard bearers, and behind them, drummers. Next came his magic wielders, most of them of lesser strength, due to most having been sent to the south.

But no one knew that. It was a closely guarded secret. Some his magic wielders were in fact not magic wielders at all, but wore the emblazoned patch of fire on their chests, signifying that they did.

It was a farce.

After his magic wielders came some of his performers—women in scantily clad scarlet garments who would stride into the chamber, performing tricks of fire and magic, whereupon, like a blood red poison blossom, they would bloom forth to reveal Darius in his black silks and golden stripes.

As Darius readied himself, dozens of performers at the end of the file of Scorpion Guards also prepared themselves to rush up and aggrandize the sultan for the most of showy entry possible for his gusts.

It’s going to be perfect, he thought. The theater of his entry would both serve to emblazon him, but also to quicken the blood of his viewers just before he revealed Jessamine for all to see.

Glancing up into the vaulted ceilings and across the porticos outside, he realized—no he sensed—the aura of another was nearby.

He smiled.

With the lamp firmly in his possession, Shiro, no matter the help he may have brought to the palace, would not be able to affect any sort of outcome desirable to himself.

But…

I have yet to decide what to do with him once this is over.

Entrapping Shiro was not the zenith of his plans during these festivities. It was more of an appetizer dish, designed to accompany the main course—and a sumptuous meal it would be.

“Khanassi?”

“My sultan?” the white-skinned battle mage asked as he approached. He wore a sleeveless tunic with a large black turban and a black cape. In his left hand was a short scepter incrusted with green jewels that matched the rings upon his left hand.

“Where are the Hajja sorcerers?”

“They are locked in their rooms, my lord. They have refused to be a part of your event.”

“Do they know what awaits them should they refuse?”

The battle mage nodded.

Gritting his teeth, Darius felt the hot blood rush to his face. Normally when he needed to kill something, he settled for a slave or perhaps one of his concubines during the throes of their passions.

I will deal with them soon enough.

“They insult me.”

“Yes, my sultan.”

“Hahkari!”

“Yes?” the grand vizier asked. Hahakari strode forward, dressed in sumptuous robes and wearing fine jewels across his neck and wrists. “What is your wish, my lord?”

“I am almost ready,” Darius said as he peered forward while Kalina’s most trusted servants fussed with his jacket and pantaloons.

Everything had to be perfect.

“Very good, my lord. I will get Kalina to bring up your most prized treasures for the display.”

“Good.”

His vizier strode away to attend to his task.

It was a shame that some of his most cherished concubines would have to be disposed of after tonight. After the nights to follow. They would be sullied and not fit for him. And being the treasures of the sultan, were not given out as possessions like cheap trinkets. No, only for the most grand gestures did he ever part with his slave women.

Kalina seemed particularly crestfallen concerning his treasures—she always did.

She had even begged him not to have them executed.

But Darius did not like the idea of his prized possessions in the hands of another for longer than a single night. Their appearance and the pleasures they would offer were a gift, one that was to be partaken of only once.

And only within the palace.

And besides, the lives they lived here in the palace, with the finest silks and jewels—it was a life the envy of the world. No woman could ever ask for more. To die for the sultan was a grand honor.

Glancing back up toward the vaulted ceiling of this chamber, the sultan realized that the one he sensed was indeed neither Shiro, nor the powerful Mar’a Thulian he had fought in the void.

Grinning in self-satisfaction, he realized that this man Jessamine had intended to whore herself to was indeed a resourceful one.

Even if you are weak!