Once that week was over, his final agenda was to sail south to Mauritia—along with his sailors, soldiers, and stonemasons—in order to begin building this city her own set of stone fortifications. He figured it would take a year to build city walls that were fifty feet tall and seventy feet thick.
Only three days after the Sultan had left for Lasparus, Vaspan stole one-third of the entire forces still stationed in Pavelus—troops that had been secretly loyal to him for many years.
He had—since his father had first become sick—recruited the officers, who in turn recruited the underlings, by his very persuasive words with promises of fortune and glory, which until this moment in time he kept “top-secret.”
The very few that said “no” to Vaspan’s plan were killed under mysterious circumstances, yet one who surprisingly said “yes” was the Sultan’s number two general, Commanding-General Flak.
After all, most people—including this senior officer who had honorably served the empire for twenty-five years—did not like the brand-new Sultan, as he had been a slave-driving bully since boyhood to just about everyone, except his own father. So it wasn’t all that surprising when Brishavus delivered the order that all of the troops (enlisted and officers) would indeed be assisting the stonemasons in Mauritia, so they could build the fortifications even faster.
“Absolutely absurd” was Flak’s angry thought upon hearing that news, but his superior officer, Ruling-General Trey, verbally praised out his opinion to the Sultan, declaring, “Yes, my Sultan….that will make our soldiers even more stronger, physically!”
Thanks to that final nail in the coffin, Flak carefully arranged it so that all of Vaspan’s mutineers remained behind in Pavelus, and were the only ones on guard duty the night they would secretly depart the city. Now the one and only reason why they did not immediately take over Pavelus itself was the fact that few of his troops (especially Flak) had thoroughly been tested for their loyalty to him.
So, after Vaspan and his army quietly left Pavelus in the middle of the night, they began the march down the coastline toward Mauritia.
Once the first formation had been called on the beach, about a half-dozen miles south, where two hundred large merchant ships awaited to take them all to their new city, Vaspan immediately declared to his men, “I am no longer Prince Vaspan Helenus. My new name and title is simply, ‘Emperor-Sedious Vaspan the Magnificent!’ Now the first thing I need to know, Ruling-General Flak, is how many soldiers we have….”
Out of the sixty thousand soldiers stationed in Pavelus, it became tabulated that twenty-one thousand, one hundred and twenty-two troops had come along on horseback and supply wagons stuffed with money and valuable treasures. Only a few had changed their minds at the last minute, but were immediately killed before they could retreat back to Pavelus.
Several weeks later, Vaspan and his army arrived via the ships near Mauritia’s borders, conquering it without so much as a drop of blood spilt (as all thirty thousand troops stationed in this inland city were already loyal to Vaspan)!
After all, he had visited Mauritia quite often these last eight years. While there, he richly blessed them all with money and gifts, and whispered promises that he would make a far better ruler. Once convinced, the Mauritians secretly began to build hundreds of thousands of defensive traps, expertly designed by Vaspan, whom had loved to build animal traps since he was a little boy. These traps were a necessity because this city had no solid walls or fortifications of any kind.
Upon their arrival, everyone—Vaspan, his fifty-one thousand, one hundred and twenty-two troops, and even his thirty thousand citizens—worked around the clock to set up all the defensive traps for miles around the entire city, especially around the river itself that passed perhaps a dozen miles from the city’s borders. They all knew that Brishavus would retaliate as soon as he heard the news.
Two days later, the very second the Sultan had heard the report of the treason committed by his younger brother, as well the desertion of one-third of his troops including his second highest ranking general, he became furious! Immediately he, along with seventy thousand sailors and soldiers—including five thousand soldiers that had initially been stationed in Lasparus—set sail for Pavelus.
En route back, the Sultan was relayed the information that his younger brother had just stolen Mauritia, which sent him into an unadulterated rage!
So, the day after having arrived at his capital city, he squeezed ten thousand additional soldiers onto his ships, which gave him a grand total of ninety thousand men. This made the ride extremely uncomfortable for everyone but the Sultan and his top generals.
Without delay or the proper planning, the fleet sailed south around the continent for Mauritia. Not surprisingly, because of the extremely low food and water supplies, as well the very cramped and uncomfortable conditions, the morale of the troops quickly began to get low…
Two weeks and one day later, the fleet arrived at the base of the river. There, the troops dismounted, for they would have to march the rest of the way to Mauritia—of course, the Sultan was in the rear of the formation. Almost right away, they began to run into Vaspan’s impressive array of traps!
Two days later, and without so much as a day of actually battle, he had lost more than eleven thousand men, thanks to the deadly traps installed by what Brishavus classified, “My little brother’s $%#@ treasonous band of %@#$ mutinous riff-raffs!” Every single night, Vaspan’s citizens secretly set up even more traps all across the battlefield.
On the third day, a fierce battle erupted like a volcano between the two enemy forces—by day’s end, more than twenty-two thousand men had been slaughtered, and fifty thousand wounded. More than two-thirds of those casualties came from the Sultan’s side, whose death tolls tabulated to nearly fifteen thousand.
At the end of the fourth day of combat, the report was delivered to the Sultan that he had lost more than twenty-five thousand additional men—ten thousand alone had died from booby traps.
Brishavus now began to fear losing the battle for the very first time. Due to this fear, he delivered the order to his number one general to retreat with the remaining forces back to their ships, and sail back to Pavelus, so that they could fight again on another day…
So, for the next thirty years to come, there always remained a stalemate between the two feuding brothers, even though they shared three more vicious battles against each other.
And during these years, Vaspan, who was far more ambitious than his elder brother, had successfully tripled the size of his lands—though most of this acquired land had been stolen from the Kingdom of Thorium, which lay to the southeast of Mauritia.
An equally great accomplishment for Vaspan was the fact that he now had two fully operational and fortified trade cities under his command.
His capital city currently bore a population of a little over a one hundred thousand, consisting of people of all classes—peasants, middle-class, rich, merchants, nobles, guards, slaves, etc., etc. Most of the people were middle class and up. His other city called Driven, which he had built from scratch, now bore a population of fifty thousand people of all classes, again, mostly middle class and up.
Neither city used conventional stone fortifications, yet instead a vast labyrinth that consisted of thirty-foot-cubed blocks of stone on wheels stacked together into a hugely elaborate maze that surrounded and protected the cities.
Vaspan had personally designed this type of defense—the labyrinth—for two reasons.
One, the always-ready-to-be-sprung traps contained within, as well as the tons of posted guards who directly guided only those travelers and merchants who displayed the proper paperwork, allowed but one safe route that changed each and every day. This proved to be “exceptionally deadly”, especially against large and organized armies.
And reason number two—the inner and outer borders could easily be expanded outwards to suit the needs of the ever-growing city.
Throughout all the surrounding land
s, both ally and enemy, most of the people considered Vaspan to not only be the greatest leader, yet the greatest weapons’ master to have ever lived! Only a few called him “terrible,” but he didn’t care.
Vaspan confidently believed nowadays, thanks to his martial arts skills, that he could easily take out his brother, and even his long-deceased father—even when they had both been in their prime.
Now that Vaspan’s elder brother was finally dead (per the dream he trusted for a particular reason that shall soon be explained), he believed without doubt that he was the next-in-line to inherit the throne, and certainly not his much younger and inexperienced niece, Brishava, of whom he had met only once in his life. She too had been in his dream.
She was fifteen years old at the time when they met. That is, after she had secretly changed into peasant’s attire, escaped out the secret route of the palace, hid in the back of a wagon departing for the docks, hid in the bowels of a neutral ship that sailed for Mauritia, and stole food and water along the way late at night. It wasn’t until the ship reached the first checkpoint in the river that led up to Mauritia that she first became discovered by one of Mauritia’s border-patrol ships.
Upon the leader of the guards questioning her, of whom all had their swords drawn and ready to kill, the dust-covered girl revealed her “true identity” and that she desperately needed to see her “Uncle Vaspan.”
Though the lieutenant-in-charge immediately made the call for the guards to sheath their weapons, as she wasn’t a threat, he still didn’t believe a word of her story that she was the Princess Brishava Helenus.
Whether a princess or not, the lieutenant realized that Vaspan would be most-pleased upon seeing this “extremely beautiful prize,” and so he personally escorted the young woman to his ruler, after of course, they had gone through all the rest of the checkpoints.
Immediately upon their arrival in the palace’s throne room, Vaspan was in both shock and joy to see his niece, of whom he instantly recognized because of the perfect similarities from the portraits he had seen of his mother.
Through the night they talked, especially about the reason she had run away in the first place, yet by morning, they mutually agreed that it would be best if she returned back to Pavelus, so that her father—the Sultan—wouldn’t accuse Vaspan of kidnapping his princess.
The very next day, after breakfast and the farewells, she was on one of his fastest frigates, escorted by a company-sized element of his elite guards.
Of course, Brishavus didn’t even give so much as a “thank you” in response upon delivery of his daughter, but a written letter that said:
‘So, my rebellious little brother, you’re willing to give me back my daughter—are you also willing to give me back all you have stolen from me? If you do, we can have peace once again, and you will rule next upon my natural death. Sultan Brishavus Helenus of the Sharia Empire.’
Even though Vaspan flew into “a rage beyond rages” upon reading the message, not only throwing the letter into the burning fireplace, yet throwing expensive objects around and breaking them, he delivered back no response.
This is why—in the present—it both surprised and annoyed him that his dream last night had not only revealed his brother’s death and murderer, yet that his very niece had taken the mantles of the Sharia Empire without first consulting him!
After pondering her current welfare, Vaspan said aloud to himself, “Soon enough...once the name, wealth, and the lands of the Sharia Empire become acquired, one way or the other, everything will fall under the banners of the Vaspan Empire…
“If things get acquired in a positive and peaceful way, I will allow Brishava to rule next, instead my firstborn son. However, if she forces us to take the other route, I will be forced to use my secondary plan in acquiring the Sharia Empire—war!”
Nearly five seconds after he had finished with his vocal statements, the guards unexpectedly opened the double doors, which once again shown light onto his face.
A moment later, a middle-aged man who donned a green ruling-general’s uniform entered the room. He had a shaved head, thin black eyebrows, a clean-shaven face, and of course, he was built like a tank.
Five feet from his liege’s bed, he stopped in his tracks, snapped a sharp salute and asked, “Yes Emperor-Sedious Vaspan, how may I serve you?”
Even though the light from the hallway continued to remain shining on Vaspan, he lightly returned the salute for a second before saying, “Ruling-General Thorn, it seems that my brother has died, which should make me the next Sultan, but—”
“But, Sire,” Thorn interrupted incredulously, “how can you know this? Our spies have reported no such word!”
Though Vaspan cast a very sharp look at the recently-promoted commanding officer of both his army and navy (because Flak had retired of old age about a year earlier), he answered, “I know it from the dream I just had! Actually this is the second time I’ve had the same dream…”
Thorn looked thoroughly confused.
Vaspan explained a few moments later, “The first time I had it, I was a very young boy, but as I didn’t recognize any of the people in it back then, I soon forgot about the dream altogether… That is, until tonight’s dream—now I do recognize a few of those characters, including my brother who was murdered, which confirms to me that the time has come to inherit my throne!”
With ever-growing excitement, Thorn added, “Then the Sharia Empire is already yours to command, my Emperor!”
“Yes…and no,” Vaspan countered neutrally.
Thorn asked in total confusion, “What do you mean?”
Vaspan explained, “Let me tell you the whole of my dream…in it, my niece had returned to Pavelus with a man whom I believe to be her boyfriend or husband because of the way they kept fondly looking at each other.
“For some unknown reason, she not only assassinated my brother, yet managed to keep his assassination secret. Somehow she and this man have managed to dupe not only the guards, yet the citizens of Pavelus into believing that they are the next rulers, and not I!”
After taking a deep breath, he added, “The only thing that remains uncertain is whether they have managed to sway the nobles to assist against our impeding attack, as was obvious by all the nobles’ very-uncertain faces…”
For a reason known only to him, Vaspan immediately cast his gaze down to the black, red, and gold-checkered floor tiles, which colors represented the Vaspan Empire.
About thirty seconds later, even though he continued to look at the floor, Vaspan concluded, “No matter whether my niece accepts this trivial fact or not, I am the next-in-line to rule! We shall sweep out and annihilate all who oppose my absolute rule as the Sultan over both Empires…”
“Of course, your Majesty,” Thorn replied. “My Liege, may I be allowed to ask two questions?”
Without looking away from the floor, Vaspan nodded his head.
Thorn asked, “First question—in your dream, or should I say dreams, did you happen to hear the name of Brishava’s husband? It seems obvious, your Highness, that you must not know who he is, or you would have already identified him by name to me...”
Vaspan looked directly into his general’s eyes, before answering, “The only thing that I know about this man is that there is something about him I really hate! But no, I don’t know his name or who he is—why?”
“So that I could send out spies to accumulate more information about this man, specifically his strengths and weaknesses,” Thorn answered.
A few moments later, Vaspan answered, “Actually, in both dreams, I saw only fleeting images, yet heard not a single sound throughout.”
“I see,” Thorn said thoughtfully. “Second question, Sire. Do you think it possible that the princess is only a love-sick pawn in this man’s game to become a Sultan, and that perhaps she may become murdered when he considers her usefulness complete?”
Both a shocked and horrified look crossed Vaspan’s face, only moments before he glanced outs
ide his balcony, which now revealed the early morning sky that was only moments away from sunrise. Finally, he growled, “Quite possible…”
Thorn asked, “Based off your answers to my two questions, a third question springs forth, if I may, your Highness?”
After Vaspan’s curious gaze fell to Thorn, he nodded his head affirmatively one time.
Thorn asked, “Would it then not be best to deploy immediately to Pavelus, and show them through our strength of numbers who really should rule both Empires? After all, the final two mercenary divisions arrived but last night.”
Vaspan cocked his head to the side just before he said, “Perhaps—by the way, how many numbers have we accumulated to date?”
“My Emperor, it is good that you should ask this question. In one hour, I feel it would be better to answer your question; that is, after you have inspected the troops currently waiting outside the labyrinth. After, of course, you have been properly bathed, groomed, eaten, armored, and finally armed for war, my Sultan Vaspan!”
Vaspan nodded one time, while also being keenly aware that this was the very first time Thorn had ever called him “Sultan.”
In the very next second, Vaspan decided that he really liked the sound of that title, as well all his other lordly titles, just before he shifted over to the side of the bed, and rose to his feet.
Meanwhile, Thorn snapped his fingers—two scantily-clad-and-very-beautiful female servants, each carrying a torch, entered the room through the still-open doors. It was then that he headed for the room’s exit, so that he could wait out in the hallway.
Once the girls had finished lighting all of the bronze cauldrons inside the bedroom, perhaps a minute later, Vaspan allowed them to lead him by the hand into the large pool in the room’s center.
And once inside the pool, the girls undressed and bathed him. After this task was complete, they escorted him out of the pool, towel-dried and groomed him. They next began to dress him in his undergarments and then it was his black, red and gold-colored plate mail armor. Once done with that, they finally armed him with his sheathed two-handed sword, by strapping the white sheath onto his back.
BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan Page 2
