

Book II of III: The Elysian Dynasty

### THE REIGN OF THE SULTAN

### J. Eric Booker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright J. Eric Booker, 2008.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

B.E. Books

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper.

BOOK II OF III: The Elysian Dynasty:

The Reign of the Sultan

Publisher's Note: 1) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or, are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 2) The numbered-translations to the foreign language used in this book can be found after the ending.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

Booker, J. Eric, The Reign of the Sultan

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DEDICATION

I would like to dedicate this book to my Grandma Inge Burns—

she has always been one of my greatest supporters and fans.

Love ya, Grams!

"Always bear in mind that your own

resolution to succeed is more

important than any other."

\- Abraham Lincoln

## EXCERPTED FROM BOOK I:

The Swords of the Sultan

"Good evening, my Sultan!"

"Humonus, when we are alone, please just call me Baltor."

"As you command, Baltor," Humonus replied at a normal volume.

Baltor cocked his head toward the balcony, and said, "I must confess that I'm a bit nervous, my friend."

Humonus declared, "We all get nervous, Baltor. Use those nerves and make them steel—that is what shall make you truly powerful! Show Pavelus you are her Emperor, and Pavelus will be yours! Show the world you are her Sultan, and the world will become your Empire!"

Baltor was surprised for but a moment as Brishava seemingly came out from nowhere and said, "Ruling-General Humonus is both correct and wise. So, my Husband and Sultan, are you ready to meet your subjects?"

He happily noticed Brishava had not changed her appearance one iota, since he last saw her. She still wore that beautiful green silky dress, filled of course with actual diamonds and emeralds that ran along dozens of vertical seams on her bodice and arms. Her hair was tightly pulled up into a bun, which then gently splashed and curled its way halfway down her back—can't forget to mention the tiny platinum crown, stuffed with diamonds and emeralds.

The one thing that really grabbed his attention was her unbelievably adorable face—light-green eye-shadow around her doe-brown eyes, and glossy-red lipstick on her thick, luscious lips. In Baltor's opinion, she looked like a beautiful porcelain doll.

After giving him the sweetest smile, Brishava asked her earlier question, "Are you ready to meet your subjects, my gorgeous Sultan?"

Baltor breathed out a chuckle, stood to his feet, cleared his throat, returned the smile, and then said, "Yes, I am, my Sultaness."

She turned to the guards stationed at the doors, commanding, "Allow Ruksha to enter, so that he can make the royal announcement."

Without word, each guard opened his respective door.

A man—who appeared to be in his late fifties and regally dressed—entered the room. He bowed upon hands and knees.

Brishava commanded, "Ruksha, you may rise and call me out."

Ruksha slowly rose to his feet, as his knees were bad, yet declared with enthusiasm to his voice, "Yes, my Sultaness!" As soon as he had stepped out onto the balcony, dozens of trumpeters began to play the royal anthem, quieting the crowds.

Once the tune had ended, Ruksha proclaimed with pride, "Citizens of Pavelus.... It is my privilege and honor to introduce to you the firstborn daughter and princess of Sultan Brishavus Helenus, who sadly passed away last night. Please welcome our new Sultaness of the Sharia Empire—her married name is Sultaness Brishava Elysian!"

The crowds instantly took to their Sultaness as she stepped out onto the balcony, for a myriad of cheering and applause erupted; she waved her hands out joyously to the people.

Once the crowd had settled down, several minutes later, she proclaimed, "First of all my beloved citizens, you should know that the time of my father's cruel and unjust reign is over!"

Yet again, the crowds broke out into cheering and applause.

Once settled, many minutes later, she proudly introduced, "And now, it is my honor to introduce my husband, the new Sultan of the Sharia Empire—his name is Baltor Elysian!"

This time, silence reigned in the city except for the chirping of crickets, for the citizens instantly became fearful that their "new sultan" might ultimately turn out to be a tyrant like all the other rulers for the last five centuries.

Baltor cocked his head over to look into the mirror one last time. Not only did he see his present and his past, yet he also saw his future—a future cast in the present. He now knew what he needed to be—his nerves became as steely as the swords on his back—his eyes darted forward—his feet walked onto the balcony.

As soon as he stood to Brishava's right, he stopped walking. In that same moment, his mind mysteriously tabulated to him that all of the nobles and citizens of Pavelus had attended, eighty-two thousand, six hundred and fifty-two, as did forty thousand, two hundred and fifty-six soldiers or sailors, even though only thirty thousand people could fit inside the palace walls. Most people stood outside the palace gates and all around the surrounding streets for about two miles every direction.

With a lightning-quick flick of Baltor's wrists, his swords crossed each other above his head and toward the heavens, as he proudly proclaimed, "I have been officially crowned your Sultan, though not too long ago, I was once a peasant."

Baltor took a deep breath through his nose, before adding, "Please listen to my words of warning, or of wisdom, your choice. As I speak, there are more than 120,000 enemy soldiers making their way toward Pavelus—by land and by sea—led none other than by Emperor-Sedious Vaspan. They will plunder us of all our riches until bone dry, and they will make all our women and children their slaves—the men will be executed..."

He took another deep breath, before saying, "Unfortunately with my forces alone, we are outnumbered three to one—so the time's come for me to ask for volunteers. You will be paid just the same as my regular foot soldiers—you will be trained by the best of the best, I swear to that on my honor!

"Those who can't fight—we shall provide you with safe haven within Pavelus's strong defenses, or you may attempt an escape on your own, by land or by sea, if you so wish."

A few moments later, he sheathed his swords in one quick motion, thrust his open-palmed hands out to the crowds, and suggested with fervency, "But consider this option for a minute...declare me your Sultan and fight with me. And I will lead you all toward successes that are beyond imagination. Believe me, it is my intention to pave the entire streets of Pavelus with gold, even if it means that the walls of this palace be used to build them...

"So who amongst you shall hail me... _your Sultan_?!"

### The Reign of the Sultan

## CHAPTER I

1,167 miles to the southeast of Pavelus, where

stood the feuding Vaspan Empire's capital

_city of Mauritia—3 weeks and 1 night earlier_ ...

At the core of this inland metropolis, whose fortified city walls possessed the shape of a perfect circle—eight miles in diameter—there dwelt a magnificent, massive, and majestic palace.

Master-craftsmen from all over the world had started constructing this building only twenty years prior, which project took them ten years to complete with the help of six thousand laborers.

The exterior walls consisted of grey, blue, and black marble slabs that perfectly resembled giant puzzle pieces all seamed together by gold inlay. Furthermore, planted onto the top of the six-story tall roof were seven spiraling minarets that reached for the heavens. While the bases of these minarets happened to be bigger than a house—each the same size—the pointy tip of the center minaret stood twice as tall as the other minarets at twenty stories.

Located on the top floor inside the center minaret, ten floors up, there dwelt a just-as-magnificent bedroom with an incredible view of the outside world on the balcony. Besides the exquisite furniture that occupied this spacious room, there was even a decent-sized swimming pool in the middle. Lying in the emperor-sized bed in the corner slept a particular man, who had just begun to dream.

Only a few seconds after this very dream had begun, it obviously began to bother him, as he not only tossed and turned in bed, yet breathed, moaned, and sweated quite profusely. By the dream's climactic end—not even two minutes later—this man's physical body had jerked into an upright sitting position, involuntarily, seconds before his conscious mind returned.

Still sitting alone in the dark room, he began the process of breathing deeply, in order to regain a control over his ragged breath. Once he had finally regained that control, perhaps half a dozen breaths later, he flung off the silky sheets that were still clinging to his sweat-drenched body.

Without any further haste, he yelled aloud into the darkness, "Guard....bring me Ruling-General Thorn immediately!"

From on the other side of the closed doors leading into his bedroom, he heard a guard's muffled voice reply, "Sir, the Ruling-General should be here in about forty-five minutes or so, as it is nearly five o'clock—the time for your majesty to wake up anyway, Emperor-Sedious Vaspan."

"I know my own schedule," Vaspan continued to yell. "Go find him and bring him here—it is imperative I speak with him as soon as possible!"

"Yes, my Emperor. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine..."

The guard, not being convinced, opened one of the doors until the light from the well-lit hallway shed directly onto his ruler.

In turn, this light revealed that Vaspan possessed "a kingly look"—penetrating sea-blue eyes, prominent facial features (nose, cheeks and jawline), thick, black, bushy eyebrows, and a long, pointy, braided beard. As for the thick and braided hair on the top of his sweaty head, it all splashed halfway down his back in thick patches of black with silver intermixed.

His just-as-kingly sleeping attire consisted of a silky pair of vertical-striped white and gold pajamas that clearly revealed his very muscular physique, thanks to the fact it was also drenched with sweat.

Even though the guard saw that Vaspan was only now starting to look angry, he couldn't help but notice the troubled look and all the sweat, and so he asked with great concern, "Are you sure everything's all right, Sire?"

Vaspan howled like a banshee, "Yes I am okay, you blooming idiot! If I needed any other help besides retrieving your Ruling-General, I would have asked for it—dismissed!"

"Yes, my Emperor-Sedious," the guard gulped nervously, just before he closed the door and hurried off at top speed to carry out the order.

Once again sitting alone in the darkness, Vaspan pulled over several very thick and plush pillows, just before gently laying his back down upon them.

As soon as his body came to rest halfway between sitting and lying, he propped his hands behind the back of his head for support, sunk even deeper into the pillows, and sighed.

A few moments later, he began to meditate heavily over his fifty-two years of life. A life that consisted of several hard-won wars, quite a few successful land-expansion campaigns, and sixteen hardcore battles that he actually fought using his sword.

Really, it was because of Vaspan and all his valiant efforts, that his own empire was now one-half the size of the Kingdom of Thorium and one-quarter the size of the Sharia Empire. Not surprising to anyone, both neighboring nations were bitter enemies with the Vaspan Empire, because he had taken quite a bit of their lands.

The two empires, once upon a time, were originally "one big happy family!" After all, Vaspan's original birth-name and title was Prince Vaspan Helenus, and he was the younger of two brothers with no sisters, and for ninety-nine percent of his life, with no mother. His older brother, by twelve years, was Prince Brishavus Helenus.

Their father was the previous Sultan of the Sharia Empire—Brishavo Helenus the Eleventh. He was forty years old when Vaspan was born.

Of course, Vaspan did have a mother named Vaspa, but the Sultaness had tragically died the very night of his birth from complications during childbirth—sadly she had only reached the young age of thirty-two...and rare were the times that her name, persona, or history spoken of by Brishavo or Brishavus.

Things grew worse for Vaspan because he never knew his mother. Further, both his father and-or brother would grow angry and storm off whenever he would ask any questions at all about her, especially during his youth. Their bottled-up rage caused him to believe over the years that they secretly blamed, resented, and even hated him because of Vaspa's death.

A few years after her death, Brishavo began building a harem on the top floor of the palace, and selected the most beautiful women throughout the world to be his harem girls. Inevitably, he and his concubines produced dozens of children, in which the kids alone were "B-grade royalty." Perhaps it was because of this harem that he never again married, or perhaps there just was not any other woman who could replace his first bride—only he knew for sure.

During Brishavo's early years as the reigning Sultan, forty years in total, he had created "from scratch" a second seaport city called Lasparus, utilizing tens of thousands of skilled laborers. During his later years, he easily conquered the small, inland village of Mauritia and transformed it into a thriving trade city.

Combined with his beloved Capitol of Pavelus, these three cities not controlled the entire western borders of the Sharia Desert, yet also spanned across thousands of miles along the Sea of Albusina. Due to their centralized locations with more than a dozen major seaports, this made the entire Sharia Empire incredibly wealthy, successful, and powerful.

For most of Brishavo's life, he looked remarkably young, handsome, and strong, as his aging process was more like a fine wine. He had always been healthy and physically powerful, but, not surprisingly, semi-tyrannical to his citizens in his high taxes, and of course the severe penalties for evading those taxes, or for trying to start rebellions.

However, only a month after his sixtieth birthday, the physicians diagnosed him with cancer. Slowly yet steadily—over the course of the next eight years—he rotted away, which they could not repair even with the best of medicines, nor could the clerics chant or pray away. He spent his final three years of life completely trapped in his "deathbed," too weak to move.

Still, during this bedridden timeframe, the Sultan had wit enough to order the construction of the first layer of stonewall-fortifications to surround most of the seaport of Lasparus. Unfortunately, his crazed tyranny grew far worse as he began killing every single cleric in the Sharia Empire (which there were originally a little more than a thousand priests from about a dozen different religions), destroyed all their temples, tomes, and artifacts within all three cities, and permanently abolished all religions.

All the while, the two brothers were forced to watch their father transform from a muscular warrior into a skeleton with sunken eyeballs, slightly resembling an unwrapped mummy. In this man's final week of life, he had gone completely insane, babbling incoherently to himself the entire time he was conscious, and dying only two weeks and three days before Vaspan's twenty-second birthday.

Three days after their father's death and funeral, Brishavus became officially inaugurated and crowned as Sultan Brishavus Helenus the Twelfth. After all, he was the next in line to rule.

Exactly two weeks later, upon the day of his birthday, Vaspan finally mustered enough courage to ask Brishavus if they could both rule the Sharia Empire equally; after all, it would probably be many decades before old age and death would finally take his thirty-four-year-old brother.

Without hesitation, Brishavus snarled out something to the effect of, "Only after my own natural death will you be given the opportunity to rule the Sharia Empire, my little brother...but if I die by any other means, I promise you will never get that chance!"

Even though Vaspan grew quite frustrated and angry at this response, he ever-so-barely managed to keep his poker face, as he had long ago figured, and ever-so-secretly planned, that this would be his older brother's answer.

So, for an additional two months, Vaspan waited with patience—after all, it was no secret that Brishavus would be sailing for Lasparus with half of his naval fleet for a month, consisting of seven hundred ships from sleuths, to transport ships, to frigates and galleons. Twenty thousand sailors would be navigating these ships, and forty thousand soldiers would be coming along for the ride.

The brand-new Sultan's first agenda was to inspect the second layer of stonewall-fortifications that six thousand stonemasons had just finished installing in Lasparus. At the same time he would take what he called his well-deserved vacation.

Once that month was over, his next agenda was to leave a quarter of the fleet and half of the soldiers behind in Lasparus, take half of the stonemasons and sail back to Pavelus for just a week, in order to ensure that his younger brother hadn't botched things up.

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 lands, 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 middle-aged man donning 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 outside 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-Sedious Vaspan!"

Vaspan nodded one time, while also being keenly aware that this was the very first time Thorn had ever called him "Sultan-Sedious." He 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.

Nearly thirty minutes later, the girls were done with their tasks.

Right away, Vaspan exited the room, and he and Thorn proceeded down the hallway until they entered the royal dining hall, where servants brought in breakfast, and they ate in silence.

After breakfast was over, perhaps twenty minutes after it had begun, Vaspan first nodded to the commander of his forces, and then he commanded, "Let's go, Ruling-General Thorn."

With a sharp salute, Thorn snapped, "Yes, my Sultan-Sedious!"

After the two made their way out of the city's labyrinth on horseback, forty minutes later, Vaspan began to look very, very, very pleased at see what lay before him, literally spanning across an entire horizon.

For, armed and armored, hundreds of thousands of troops stood and waited in formation, ranging from infantry, to cavalry and artillery. Spread throughout the ranks, there were thousands of chariots, catapults, and of course, supply wagons carrying food and water. Most importantly to Vaspan, he saw standing proudly in front of their horses—his five sons.

Thorn whispered in his lord's ear, "We have a grand total of one hundred forty-one thousand twenty-five soldiers in our ranks right now, my Sultan! Per your orders, twenty thousand of these men will remain behind to protect Mauritia while the rest of us deploy to Pavelus."

"Really," Vaspan said, sounding quite pleased. After a curious look had grown upon his face, he then asked, "How long will it take for us to reach Pavelus with this size of an army?"

"My Sultan, believe it or not, it will only take us between six and seven weeks."

"Excellent!" Vaspan exclaimed. "Are we ready to deploy now, or do we need more time to prepare?"

"No, my Sultan...we are ready now!"

Vaspan ordered, "Perfect job as always—bring the army to the position of attention, my Ruling-General!"

Thorn boomed out at the top of his lungs, "Attention!"

Even though ninety-nine percent of the troops hadn't heard Thorn relay this order, as they had been quietly talking with one another, two of the trumpeters nearby did, and so they began to blow out a two-tone tune that was the call for the troops to assume the position of attention.

In unison the soldiers did, by placing their feet into a forty-five degree position, slapping their weapon or shield into their chest at the same time, and shouting in unison, " _Hooooooooooooaaaaaaaahh_!"

As for all the mercenary divisions, they stopped talking amongst one another and looked to the front of the ranks to see what was going on. Even though they had arrived by ships and would return to their vehicles following the formation so that they could sail to Pavelus at a slow speed, they would only dismount on the beaches inside the harbor when the order came through from Vaspan, and attack mercilessly—"amphibious mercenaries" was their trademark.

After spending a few more minutes inspecting the dense crowd of troops under his command, Vaspan called out loudly, "Forces of the Vaspan Empire, and the mercenary divisions whom I have recently hired. I am...Sultan-Sedious Vaspan the First, and the time has finally come for me to claim what is rightfully mine—the Sharia Empire!"

He took a deep breath through his nose, before he added, "Join me now, and once I have achieved what is rightfully mine, I will give to you what is rightfully yours—the everlasting plunders of Pavelus, and soon after, the entire world!"

Like frenzied maniacs, the troops began to slam their weapons chaotically into their armor-plated chests, which caused booming sounds for miles around—the four mercenary divisions began following suit, and the chaotic noise became extremely loud and deafening for about ten minutes.

Once silence reigned, except for the maniacal laughter of Vaspan that continued for a few moments longer, he commanded, "To war...we march!"

Excluding those soldiers who had been selected to stay behind and protect the city, as well the mercenary-marine divisions who had already begun to head back to their ships, the bulk of the army immediately began the march northwest toward Pavelus...

## CHAPTER II

Back in Pavelus—3 weeks later...

The throngs of people that surrounded the palace had remained ominously silent, for nearly two minutes; that is, after Baltor had popped his question. This nerve-racking timeframe felt to him like "two eternities."

Until suddenly, an anonymous woman's voice cried out, "Hail to the Sultan!"

Then another man's voice joined in, "Hail to the Sultan!"

In less than ten seconds, the majority of the crowd had also joined in, and soon enough, even the eighty-foot tall palace's exterior walls began to reverberate from the deafening volume.

Somehow, Baltor's voice managed to become even louder than all the other voices as he drew out both swords from their sheaths, crossed the swords high over his head, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Hail to the Sharia Empire!"

The crowds immediately followed suit by chanting, "Hail to the Sharia Empire!" For a whole minute, the majority of this crowd fervently chanted out these words.

Finally, with one swift movement, he slid both swords back into their respective sheaths. He next raised his arms back up into the skies, while simultaneously extending his open-palmed hands up and out toward the crowds.

Approximately fifteen seconds later, as he slowly lowered them to the ground, the crowds became silent just as slowly.

Once silence reigned again, Baltor then proclaimed, "So be it...as your new Sultan, I would now like to make an introduction of my own. Standing to my right is the commander of all my forces, both army and navy. His name is Ruling-General Humonus. Listen carefully to what this man has to say."

Humonus spoke with a loud and commanding tone as he declared, "Citizens of Pavelus! Tomorrow morning, booths will be set up just outside the palace gates for those who wish to enlist—as our Sultan has decreed, excellent training and pay will be provided for all volunteers."

Humonus turned his head to the left, so he could look at his ruler. Once he saw that Baltor was looking back, Humonus's gaze fell once more toward the crowds.

After gesturing with his open-palmed left hand toward his Sultan, Humonus added, "I have only one thing left to say—it truly is an honor to serve under you, my King, my Emperor."

He paused in his speech to perform a left face so that he faced Baltor. He next went down onto both knees, bowed his head and closed his eyes. With pride to his voice, he concluded, "My Sultan!"

Every single citizen, soldier, and guard bowed similarly in the next moment.

Shortly thereafter, although Humonus's eyes continued to remain closed, he felt his friend's hand gently cup his left shoulder.

Upon opening his eyes, he saw the front of Baltor's shirt.

As he continued to look up, he noted that his Sultan's cheeks were now a bit flushed, which signified that the young ruler might be feeling a bit overwhelmed at all the attention he was receiving.

After all, he knew all too well that Baltor had become an orphan at twelve years old; soon after became a thief and warrior under his direct tutelage; later an adventurer; later a prince of a tribal village located on the other side of the continent. As of today, Baltor became the ruler of a vast and powerful empire with approximately one hundred twenty thousand people now paying him both respect and homage.

However, upon looking deep into his Sultan's eyes that equally reflected honor, pride, and excitement, Humonus's mind only then realized that the man was, in all actuality, reveling in "the moment!"

A confirming smile crossed Baltor's face as he replied, "Thank you...my friend and my Ruling General."

After delivering a single nod of his head, Humonus replied, "You are most welcome, my Sultan. It is my honor to serve you."

Once Baltor had removed his hand and placed it back at his side, Humonus rose back to his feet, snapped a right face back toward the crowds still looking at the ground, and silently waited in the position of attention.

Baltor turned his whole body to face the crowds as well. After extending his hands back out into the air, he concluded, "Citizens of Pavelus and the Sharia Empire—rise!"

The crowds obediently rose to their feet, some slower than others.

Once everyone stood on their feet, he concluded, "Tonight, we celebrate here at the palace with food, drink, and merriment, to which all are welcome. Thank you for coming. Now please, enjoy the party!"

"Hip-hip-hooray," they cheered quite enthusiastically.

Without any further delay, Baltor clapped his hands twice into the air—and the front doors to the golden palace opened. The first to proceed out those doors were dozens of bards already playing melodious musical instruments that ranged from lyres, to lutes, to drums—all of course in perfect synchronization with one another.

Following them were nearly a thousand servants who pushed large wheeled carts fully stocked with still-steaming breads, ripe-and-ready-to-rip-off-the-bone meats, and of course, delicious wines and ales.

Upon seeing all of this food and drink, most of the crowd jubilantly cried out even louder, "Hooray!"

There were still hundreds of people, however, that did not bear such pleased expressions at all upon their faces—expressions that ranged from doubtful, to scared, to unhappy—a few faces even looked angry.

Out of the entire bunch of angry faces, Baltor recognized only three. They belonged to the thieves' guild that he had once belonged to until but a few years back—their names were Laseva, Jensa, and Qels. Master Qels had been his "disarm booby traps teacher," and had acted very mean toward Baltor.

All the while, the crowds gave a wide berth to the servants pushing the carts. Once the servants had fully stopped, the crowd began to hover around in order to get their food and drink on, while the celebratory music continuously played.

For several minutes longer, Baltor, Brishava, and Humonus watched in silence, though with pleased smiles upon their faces, as most of the citizens happily celebrated below.

Brishava was the first to turn around and head back into the bedroom, followed of course by the two men. Once inside, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

As she turned back, yet another excited smile formed on her face, before she chimed, "Excellent job, guys—you guys acted as if you've been diplomats all your lives!"

At the same exact time, both men replied with smiles of relief on their faces, "Thanks!"

The three not only began to laugh merrily, yet without hesitation, they formed a tight group hug.

Joining the hug a second later was an attractive-redhead with blue eyes, wearing a shimmering-green evening dress. She had been watching and listening to the entire ceremony from inside the room.

During the course of the hug, the redhead stopped laughing so that she could affirm, "Yes—I agree with Bri—I mean, my Sultaness' words of 'excellent job.' I must say I'm very impressed!"

It was then that Brishava stopped laughing, pulled back from the hug so she could look over, and said, "Me too, Chelsea."

Chelsea smiled warmly at Brishava for a few moments before turning to face Humonus so that she could plant a kiss on her husband's cheek. Once she had done just that, she cooed, "I love you, my general of generals—you were great!"

Even though Baltor and Brishava continued to smile, Humonus began to chuckle as he said, "I love you too, my beautiful wife—thanks!"

For quite a few moments, the group shared in the warmth of their friendships.

After delivering another sigh, Brishava was the first to ask, "So...are we ready to get serious and head to the throne room, so that we can celebrate with the nobles?"

"Of course," Baltor and Humonus answered at the exact same time again. They looked at each other with amused glances and smiles, but did not laugh—after all they were all now in "serious mode."

The four began to walk toward the exit of the bedroom. Upon their approach, the soldiers stationed there snapped a salute, and each opened his respective door.

With twenty-six of the fifty-two guards on the other side of the door taking lead, and the remaining guards following behind, the group of fifty-six proceeded down the long hallway to the right.

After turning left down the next hallway, the group eventually reached the golden spiral staircase with purple carpeting that led downstairs.

They next descended the stairs, before walking down a very wide and long hallway that had six different sets of double doors made of mahogany on the left side of the hallway—there wasn't a single door on the right side.

Meanwhile, everyone could clearly hear beautifully orchestrated music that emanated from somewhere ahead.

Finally, at the end of this particular hallway, the group approached the final set of double doors. Besides the two guards that protected the royal entrance into the throne room, Ruksha also waited patiently for the group to draw closer.

Once they had finally neared the door, perhaps twenty seconds later, the two guards posted there snapped their sharpest salutes. At the same time, Ruksha bowed before his Sultan and Sultaness.

The guards dropped their salutes, opened the golden doors, and stood just to the inside of their respective door.

On cue, the eight leading guards marched up behind the first two, and stopped behind them. In unison, the ten soldiers turned to face inwards; and only a second later, their swords were all simultaneously drawn, raised, and crossed against the sword with the soldier on the opposite side.

Brishava ordered, "You may now rise, Ruksha, and introduce us to the nobles, please."

Ruksha slowly rose to his feet. Without any further adieu, he entered the throne room.

All the while, Baltor and Brishava gazed at each other lovingly, despite the seriousness of the upcoming moment.

As soon as the hundreds of people in the room had become aware of the announcer's presence, thanks to the two trumpeters who had begun to blow out the national anthem, the orchestra stopped playing on the same note.

Meanwhile, the sheik female belly dancers stopped dancing as they moved their way off the dance floor.

At the same time, the nobles of Pavelus casually began to fill the dance floor, so that they could observe, and listen to, the upcoming announcement.

Through the open doorway, Baltor noted that the noblemen and women neither seemed pleased nor upset, as every last one of them bore "a political face."

However, not a single noble could hide his or her feelings about the situation, thanks to their eyes that revealed everything—about a dozen of the nearly one hundred nobles seemed genuinely pleased. The vast majority revealed uncertainty and/or fear. About eight or so revealed looks of contempt, haughtiness, indignation, or even outrage.

Once the last of the nobles had arrived at his or her particular destination and stopped, which was at the end of the playing of the anthem, they began to look at Ruksha.

Ruksha, once he saw he had everyone's complete and undivided attention, proclaimed, "Ladies and lords, it is my sovereign duty and privilege to introduce to you all—the new Sultan and the Sultaness of the Sharia Empire!"

Two trumpeters immediately began to blow out a royal introductory tune. With Brishava's hand still lightly clasping Baltor's forearm, the two walked into the throne room and toward their thrones.

It wasn't until they had taken ten steps inside the room that the very first noble bowed his head in homage and respect. Only a second before that noble had begun to bow, Baltor observed two major things about him in a glance.

First, it was the man's very, very expensive outfit, consisting of a wide-brimmed black hat, pants, and buttoned-up jacket, in which all three items were made of velvet and had dozens and dozens of tiny, prismatic diamonds glued everywhere in a non-orderly fashion, making him look like "a starry night." The jacket, of course, had diamonds for the buttons. The white buttoned-up shirt underneath had fluffy, black furls around both the neck and the wrists, and his low-quartered black boots had a diamond on the top of the foot.

The second thing Baltor observed in that glance was this man's very handsome and clean-shaven face with angular-shaped black eyebrows, which eyebrows were shaped just like his wife's—his jet-black hair was also thick like hers.

Even though Baltor had never seen this man before in his life, Brishava had, and she knew him all-too-well—after all, this twenty-eight-year-old man's title and name was Imperious-Lord Rasta.

Rasta was the most powerful and influential nobleman of all, and not just because of all his noble accomplishments for the Sharia Empire. He was also Brishava's only elder sibling—her half-brother. His concubine harem mother Mana had conceived him out of wedlock.

Overall, their shared father—Brishavus—had fathered nineteen children. Eighteen had stemmed from the harem girls, which is what made them also "Grade B" royalty, just like all her half-uncles and half-aunts—the nobles amongst nobles of the Sharia Empire.

Brishava was the only "Grade A" of the entire bunch, as her mother had been the only woman her father had ever married throughout all his years, named Sultaness Lexis.

According to her father, the two had had been happily married for two wonderful years before Brishava had been conceived. Only six years after her birth, the Sultaness had accidentally fallen down a marble staircase, snapping her neck and killing her instantly.

Only a second after Rasta had finished bowing, the rest of the nobles began to follow suit, some moving much more slowly than others.

By the time the last noble had bowed, both Baltor and Brishava had arrived at their golden thrones, which faced out toward the crowd of nobles and highest-ranking officers.

Once there, each sat down in their assigned seats—Baltor to the left and Brishava to the right. As soon as they were seated, the trumpeters finished their tune.

As Brishava had earlier instructed Baltor, thirty seconds of silence passed before he issued the command, "You may all rise."

Once everyone had risen, Ruksha then announced, "And now, it is my sovereign duty and privilege to introduce to you all....Ruling-General Humonus, and his lovely wife, Lady Chelsea."

The two trumpeters began to blow out a different tune—every single officer in attendance snapped to the position of attention, each snapping his sharpest salute. The nobles simply watched.

All the while Humonus and Chelsea continued to walk to the spot that Brishava had earlier instructed them to go, which was near the head table.

Once they had arrived, Humonus returned the salute to the officers, and then he and his wife stood by their seats, both silently and patiently, as had also been instructed to them.

A few moments later, a servant came out from the side area bearing a golden tray that beheld two golden goblets and a jug of wine. Before the opportunity came for Baltor or Brishava to take the goblets, however, still another man came out, and visibly took a sip from the jug.

Thirty seconds later, when that man appeared fine, he then bowed and left.

The servant began to fill both goblets. Once filled, he extended out the golden tray, to which Baltor took his goblet. The servant then walked over to Brishava, and she took hers.

Once that servant had departed after a low bow, Baltor raised his goblet of wine high into the air with his left hand, and declared with a smile, "As your new Sultan, my first order is that we immediately commence to celebrating! We'll deal with any and all business tomorrow."

Baltor took a deep drink of wine from his goblet.

"Hooray!" most of the nobles and officers cheered, raising their beverage-filled glasses into the air, and then drinking heartily.

The orchestra recommenced to playing the celebratory music. Meanwhile, the nobles began to head back to their original positions, as the dancers simultaneously headed back to the dance floor.

Once the floor was clear of the last noble a few minutes later, the dancers began to dance in perfect synchronization to the music. The rest of the celebratory night was spectacular, filled with wonderful food, ales, wines, songs, poems and dance.

Like always, Baltor used his personal season shaker, spreading it over any food or drink that he consumed. This seasoning consisted entirely of the dried red berries from the cah-su-cahn bush, which was one of the two only ways his special vampiric hungers could be quenched. The only other way was by drinking human blood. Of course, no one in the world knew that he was an immortal vampire, other than the one who had made him into this undead creature in the first place.

Around two in the morning, or so, Baltor and Brishava departed for their bedroom, but they did not go to sleep right away. Instead, they played a nice game of voo-span—Brishava won.

An hour or so before sunrise, the palace guards kindly but firmly escorted the last of the drunken guests out of the throne room, so that the servants could clean up the mess before their Sultaness had awoken.

At sunrise, booths were set up outside the outer palace walls, and throngs of citizens had surprisingly come up to volunteer. Shortly after sunset, the last of the recruited volunteers had left, and so the recruiters began the process of tallying up their numbers.

Once the grand total of new enlistees was tallied, nearly fifteen minutes later, the lead-recruiter personally delivered this number to Humonus, who had been overseeing the entire process, along with his two top generals—Hawkins and Han. Once these three men knew the number, they forthwith entered the palace.

Inside the courtyard, Humonus saw that the general-in-charge of the palace and grounds was patiently waiting for their return.

After salutes had been exchanged, Humonus asked, "Where are the Sultan and Sultaness, General Gray?"

Gray reported, "Sir, the Sultan has recently woken up, and is currently in the former Sultan's bedchambers getting dressed for the night. As for the Sultaness, she is still listening to the nobles' inquiries, concerns, and complaints in the throne room. From what I understand, she's been very busy almost all day long."

Once Humonus had returned the salute, as did his top generals, he replied, "Thank you, general—carry on."

"Yes, sir," Gray said while snapping yet another sharp salute.

Humonus and his two top generals returned that salute, just before making their way to Baltor's location on the top floor—as for Gray, he was already gone, continuing his mission to oversee palace affairs.

Once the three commanding officers had arrived at the room with the balcony a few minutes later, the two exterior guards stationed outside the double doors snapped a salute—once those salutes had been returned, the guards simultaneously opened his individual door.

Humonus was the only one to enter the room—Hawkins and Han waited outside. A moment later, the interior guards had already closed the doors from the inside.

After entering the chambers and looking around, Humonus observed that Baltor was standing in front of a large ovular mirror that hung from the wall, and was just getting finished being dressed and groomed by his assistants.

Baltor, who had observed Humonus enter the room through the mirror, asked, "So...how many enlistees do we now possess?"

Humonus reported, "My Sultan, you have thirty-eight thousand, one hundred twenty-eight new soldiers under your command, which makes your new grand total to seventy-nine thousand and three.

"By your command, we accepted only those whose ages ranged from thirteen to fifty and looked capable to fight—not surprisingly, nearly twenty thousand candidates didn't fit your prerequisites."

At this point, the assistants had just finished their last task, which was placing the crown on their Sultan's head, and so they silently bowed for a moment, just before they exited the room while pushing the portable closet on wheels.

Still gazing at himself in the mirror, Baltor really liked the horizontal-striped black and silver robes, which snugly fit around his muscular body, barely missing the floor by a half an inch only because of the inch-high padded sandals he wore. Meanwhile, his ears continued to listen attentively to Humonus's report.

Perhaps three seconds after he had stopped speaking, Humonus continued, "Instead of just letting them go, however, what we did was to recruit their services in whatever talents and skills they possess that can best serve the Sharia Empire."

"Excellent work," Baltor congratulated. He turned around, clapped both hands together, and then said with pride in his voice, "I know that you are the best in finding the best in people, my best friend!"

Humonus couldn't help but release a chuckle as he glanced toward the ground. Looking back up with a smile still upon his face, he then said, "Thank you, my Sultan! I have more information that should please you even greater still..."

Nearly five seconds later, Humonus's expression turned quite serious as he added, "I have taken the liberty to inform the newly-enlisted soldiers, both men and women, as well our regular army and navy, that we shall begin training precisely at ten thirty tomorrow night.

"Following, each and every night, our training times will constantly vary in length—sometimes during the day and sometimes during the night—it is my intention to ensure that we are prepared for war...no matter the time!"

"Most excellent," Baltor replied. "Did I forget to mention that I will be assisting you with the training whenever possible?"

Humonus answered, "Yes, you did forget to mention this to me, but I already assumed that you would want to be there whenever possible, so that you can learn and understand the forces that are yours to command, my Sultan!"

"Absolutely," Baltor replied enthusiastically.

After darting a quick glance back toward the exit, Humonus asked, "If you will excuse me, I still have some important technical issues to go over with all my generals, my Sultan."

Thirty seconds of silence passed without an answer from Baltor. On the thirty-first second, he answered, "My Ruling-General, before you go, I will need five more minutes of your precious time."

Humonus's right eyebrow angled a bit farther upon hearing Baltor address him solely by his rank for the very first time. Despite his curiosities, he remained silent and unmoving.

Baltor found he had to clear his throat a couple times, before he could say, "Ruling-General, I have a personal problem that requires an immediate solution. I first became aware of this problem last night, but have been deeply brewing about it non-stop ever since. Only tonight has my solution revealed itself in my thoughts—something that I'm about to go and resolve in about ten minutes or so."

After taking a deep breath through his nose, he added, "Have no doubt that this top-secret mission shall be for the honor, glory, and the future of this empire—my Ruling General! Once accomplished, this will prove to quite a few particular people, who shall remain nameless at this time, that I am not just a common peasant or thug, yet the Sultan of the Sharia Empire."

During the first half of Baltor's answer, Humonus's keen mind had begun to suspect that his ears were about to hear "something" that he wouldn't like hearing. By the end, regardless of his personal opinion in the matter, he couldn't refute the reign of the Sultan.

Upon drawing this conclusion, perhaps twenty-two seconds after Baltor had stopped talking, Humonus could only reply with his right eyebrow raised, "Yes, my Sultan?"

Baltor first looked down to the ground, and a few moments later, he added, "Actually, to be honest with you....I wasn't even going to tell anyone at all about this until my mission was complete, too include you and the Sultaness."

After taking a deep gulp of air, he added, "However, solely because I have known you most of my life and we have been best friends for most of that, I'm going to tell you."

Humonus's left eyebrow joined the right eyebrow, as he asked yet again, "Yes, my Sultan?"

As Baltor looked back up until he was staring at his friend eye-to-eye, he began, "I cannot allow the Thieves Guild of Pavelus to exist the way it is anymore, and for a quite a few important reasons! The greatest reason, as you once told me long ago, there is a fifty thousand parsec bounty on my head, which I'm pretty sure has multiplied by now."

Humonus not only nodded his head in understanding, yet his right forearm came to rest upon his stomach while his left elbow rested upon his right hand. Right away, he began to gently stroke his whiskerless chin. Still, he spoke not a single word, as he knew there was more to come, of which he was about to hear.

Baltor, after a few seconds of pause, continued, "Another reason why the Guild can no longer exist is because there are children going through these obstacle courses, in order to become thieves instead of what they should really become—a Special Forces Guild working for the Sharia Empire."

After taking a deep breath through his nose, he added, "Yet this 'top secret guild' will be known to only a very select few—you, the Sultaness, Chelsea, and I for sure... and of course, the students, instructors and the masters who join up! Thus, I am going to call this Guild's forces, 'Shadow Force.'"

With an ever-growing smile on Humonus's pleased face, which smile even caused the thin scar on his left cheek to slightly twist out of alignment, he extended the palms of both hands into the air and exclaimed, "That is an absolutely wonderful idea, Baltor, my Sultan!"

Still bearing a very serious expression on his face, Baltor extended his left hand and index finger into the air in front of him...

Humonus's face immediately sobered up as he realized he was just about to hear the part he wouldn't like hearing.

"What you are not going to like hearing," Baltor confirmed, "is the method I'm going to use in order to accomplish my mission—I'm going alone!"

Humonus asked incredulously, "Why on earth would you want to go alone instead of simply sending a division of our best soldiers with you and I at the helm, and capture the Guild through force and numbers?"

Baltor answered, "Because my desire is to not only take control of the Guild, yet also as many of the members as possible—students, thieves, instructors, master thieves, even the Secret Chief, if possible!"

"I see..." Humonus answered. "So, how exactly are you going to prove anything by going to the Guild alone? At the very least, let me go with you, as I once bore the title of 'Drill Instructor Thief' as you well know—not only might I have a little pull, yet I can also watch your back while you watch mine!

"You also know all-too-well how malicious and backstabbing thieves can be when they learn that their way of life is about to change permanently..."

Baltor looked down the ground as he pondered the words of his mentor, best friend, and teacher. Finally, he responded, "If you go with me, then the Guild will see me hiding behind you as if I was still a student, instead of fully respecting me as their Sultan. Basically, in a nutshell, they will see me as a coward."

Humonus countered, "My Sultan, you are certainly one of the best fighters I've ever seen in my life, and certainly no coward—in a few ways, you are even naturally more skilled than I am!

"Nevertheless, the odds of you winning single handedly against them are a thousand to one, especially for the fact that most of the Guild are equally trained, some far more in our martial arts. A few of those master thieves I know are better than the both of us put together, which I don't like to admit, but they are!"

Without the slightest hesitation, Baltor evenly replied, "Trust me—I know what I'm doing, and I will win. I am not destined to lose now after I have come so far!"

Realizing that Baltor had already made his decision, Humonus promised, "As you command, my Sultan, but you better come out of this alive, or whenever that time comes for me to die, my ghost will haunt your ghost for all eternity!"

With a humored smile and a slight chuckle, Baltor patted Humonus's right shoulder several times with his right hand, while replying, "I will. By the way, will you and Chelsea be free in two hours hence? Brishava and I would very much like to have a late dinner with the both of you."

"As you command, my Sultan," Humonus said, though there was still a very worried expression on his face.

Baltor noticed the look, but only ordered, "Tend to your affairs, my friend and Ruling-General....dismissed."

Humonus bowed, and then replied, "Yes, my Sultan."

He then turned and headed for the doors that the guards had just opened for him—he and his two top generals headed for the commanders' meeting, and the soldiers stationed outside closed the doors.

As for Baltor, he turned back around, and silently stared at himself in the mirror for about five minutes. Once that timeframe was up, he turned around until he faced the two guards stationed at the double doors.

He then said just loud enough so the guards could hear, "Guards, in a moment, I want the two of you to exit my room, and to not come back in here until I have delivered that vocalized command. Before the two of you go, I command that no one—not even the Sultaness—enters this very room until you hear me deliver my next command for you two to enter...

"Finally, anything that you may have just heard between the Ruling-General and I, you are never to speak to anyone. Are all my commands clearly understood?"

Even though neither guard understood why their Sultan wanted to be alone in the dressing room, nor had they heard a single word, both guards cried out, "Yes, my Sultan!"

They then opened their respective door, exited the room, closed the doors behind them, and then relayed their Sultan's orders to the two guards stationed on the other side of the doors—not a single guard voiced out their curiosities and questions, however.

## CHAPTER III

Once alone, Baltor walked over to the walk-in closet and entered for the very first time.

He observed that this angular hallway zigzagged back and forth every twenty feet, was made of a light-stained cedar that smelled pleasantly sweet and contained hundreds of luxurious outfits and coats for any occasion fathomable—everything was hanging spaciously and neatly on hangers, which in turn hung on a single brass coatrack. Tons of shoes, boots, socks, belts and hats sat stockpiled on shelves—above and below the coatrack.

Nearly a minute later, he finally spotted a plain, black outfit that he felt would not only fit him perfectly, yet be perfect for his "top-secret mission"—a pair of boots, pants, shirt and a velvet cape with hood.

He took off his clothes, hung them neatly upon an unused hanger, donned the black clothes and boots, secured the cape around his neck, and drew the hood completely over his head, which cast his face deep in dark shadows.

After exiting the closet and walking back over to the mirror, he took one final glance at himself in order to make sure he would be totally incognito—he was.

Right away he walked over to the edge of the balcony, and looked out across the palace grounds...as the coast was clear right then, Baltor climbed over the rail and jumped off the five-story balcony headfirst.

The second his hands made contact with a concrete sidewalk, only four seconds later, his body rolled out the shock with a somersault and he was once again on his feet.

Stealthily and speedily, he ran through the palace grounds and up to the eighty-foot palace walls, all the while avoiding the patrolling palace guards—once he arrived at the wall, perhaps a minute later, he hid behind a large bush as two such guards passed on by.

As soon as those guards were gone, Baltor scaled his way up to the top of the wall. Once at the top, perhaps fifteen seconds later, he ensured the coast was clear on the other side of the wall, and as it was, he climbed over and dropped the eighty feet down to the ground, this time feet first. Upon making contact with the ground, perhaps six seconds later, his powerful legs easily absorbed all the shock.

Clinging to all the darkest shadows, he slinked his way through the city streets to the top-secret location of the thieves' guild, which had originally been his "home" for nearly half of his twenty-four years of life.

After arriving at the all-too-familiar, thirty-foot tall stonewalls that bore the designs of heroes battling dragons and other ferocious mystical creatures, he leaped over the wall itself, and stealthily made his way around the roaming guards that patrolled the tropical paradise inside...

Not even a minute later and without having been detected by the guards once, Baltor neared the sole entrance to the incredibly beautiful marble palace.

Secretly this palace had been the Guild's home for nearly five centuries, but publicly, it had been the home for two decades to an ambassador of the Sharia Empire, an elderly and fat man that Baltor had only met the prior night who went by the name Rolsch. Whoever owned the palace before this man, Baltor did not know, nor did he really care.

Just as always, he observed that there was a guard stationed on both sides of the double doors made of mahogany.

Once he began to near those doors, he pulled back the hood that covered his face, and boldly walked up to the guards—guards who bore a look of shock because this man looked exactly like the new Sultan. After all, they had attended the public welcoming ceremony the night before.

With a bit of both shock and disbelief, the guard-in-charge asked, "Are my eyes deceiving me, sir, or are you the new Sultan?"

Baltor replied, "No, your eyes are not deceiving you—I am indeed Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth, your Ruler."

"If you really are the Sultan," the guard asked with doubt in his voice, "why have you come alone during the night, and without previous notice, as Ambassador Rolsch is sleeping in his bedchambers and certainly not ready to see you? Where is your escort, sir?"

Even though Baltor recognized the fact that the guard still used the stripped-ambassador's title, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he answered, "All good questions...wake Ambassador Rolsch up immediately, and tell him to come here in his pajamas and all, as I shall be waiting right here for him to arrive. He will know that it is me soon enough—we had a private chat but last night in my palace!"

Just in case this person might truly be the Sultan, the guard replied, "Yes, my Sultan..." He opened the door, entered the palace, closed the door, and ran at top speed to Rolsch's bedchambers.

Once that guard had arrived, five minutes later, he informed the guard in charge stationed at the entrance, "Sir? We need to wake up the ambassador immediately! Whether it is true or not, I do not know, but there is a man standing outside who claims to be the very Sultan, and though he is alone, he does strikingly look just like him with face, crown and all—oh, he appears unarmed but that is not yet confirmed, sir!"

With a nod, the guard-in-charge replied, "Thank you, corporal." He opened the bedroom door, entered the room, and hurriedly walked over to the king-sized canopy bed where the ambassador and his wife were currently sleeping.

Perhaps a minute later, he arrived on the ambassador's side of the luxurious mahogany bed. He then began to lightly shake the ambassador's foot, while saying, "Ambassador, oh ambassador... I hate to interrupt you through your sleep, but Corporal Saxon has just reported that there is a man outside both looking and claiming to be the Sultan of the Sharia Empire, and wishes to speak with you right away."

"Wh-what's that, Lieutenant Lou?" Rolsch asked, while trying to sit up in bed. This ambassador was an old, balding and fat man with a trimmed white beard; his nighttime attire consisted of white cotton pajamas with gold hem. After a few attempts he finally met with success in sitting up in bed, grunting or yawning all the while.

From all the noise, Rolsch's old and obese wife opened her eyes, and though she sleepily looked over, she said not a word.

Only then did Lou report, "Sir, there is a man outside who is claiming to be the Sultan and wishes to speak with you right away."

"This better not be a joke—let me change real quick and—"

Saxon, the guard who had been standing outside and listening, interrupted, "Ambassador Rolsch, not only is this _not a joke_ , but the man commanded you to arrive at the main entrance _in your pajamas_ right away."

Rolsch looked quite upset at hearing this information, and his words confirmed, "If this is some sort of joke from an imposter, this man's head will roll! Perhaps even yours, Corporal. But just to be on the safe side, I want two dozen guards to be in the entrance hall before I arrive to meet this supposed....Sultan!"

"Yes, ambassador," the guards replied. They hurriedly left the room to retrieve more guards.

Rolsch gave a quick kiss on his wife's cheek. He then said, "I'll be back in bed momentarily, Rica."

"Okay," Rica sleepily replied, "Love ya."

"Love you, too," Rolsch answered, as he slipped on his slippers, stood, and then made his way toward the exit of the room and the main entrance as fast as his fat legs would allow him...

By the time he had arrived, nearly twelve minutes later and slightly out of breath, Rolsch was relieved to see that there were already two-dozen guards standing in formation nearby, too include the officer-in-charge. Thankfully there wasn't anyone else hanging out in the room, either, especially any of the thieves.

Rolsch, once halfway in the room, immediately commanded, "Open the doors and allow our visitor to enter—I wish to see him in the light."

The interior guards stationed at the double doors opened their respective door—in walked Baltor, who had once again donned his hood that enshrouded his face under dark shadows.

"Hail, Ambassador Rolsch," Baltor called out from under the hood, "how fare you at this late night?"

Instead of answering the question, Rolsch looked at his commanding officer, and called out, "Captain Proviso, someone's head will roll for this!"

"That someone's head may well be yours," Baltor countered. He first removed the hood, untied the knot that held his cape on, and allowed the cape to fall lightly to the ground.

With a whole lot of suspicion in his eyes, Rolsch asked, "How do I know that you are not a look alike imposter who bears a forgery crown, and ring, of the Sharia Empire?"

"You know I'm 'the real deal' because of the particular information I privately revealed to you just last night at the party about someone-in-particular's demotion," was Baltor's answer.

Immediately Rolsch's eyes filled with fear, as he no longer doubted that this man was indeed the Sultan.

His hands and knees dropped to the ground at the same time, and while still looking at the ground, he pleaded, "My Sultan—I did not know it was actually you, but perhaps a prank pulled on me—I sincerely apologize..."

"Apology accepted, Ambassador," Baltor replied without emotion.

"Wh—what is the reason for you coming at such a late hour, and unannounced, my Sultan?" Rolsch asked while daring to look up.

While pointing his left index finger directly at Rolsch, Baltor answered, "You and I need to speak in private right now, without anyone else present, including your guards—as you can clearly see, I am unarmed, but if you wish, you can have your guards check me for weapons."

"Not necessary, my Sultan," Rolsch cried out, just before he rose onto his feet, snapped his fingers, and ordered, "Guards, leave us immediately!"

Every guard hurriedly shuffled their way out the doors outside, and then the two guards stationed outside closed those doors behind them.

Once the two were alone, Baltor began, "The reason why I have come is because I know what is going on in your little basement."

"What on earth are you talking about, my Sultan?" Rolsch asked with a whole lot of surprise. "I have no basement."

"Do not lie to me," Baltor replied, "because I know all about the thieves' guild, and how rich you've become as a result of harboring them. Perhaps you're not aware, but I once belonged to them myself until but a few years ago..."

"Yes, my Sultan, I am all too aware of these trivialities," Rolsch came back, unsure of where the young man was going with this.

Baltor revealed only a moment later, "Most likely you're not aware of this fact, but the Guild has a bounty on my head, dead or alive—last I heard it was fifty thousand parsecs. It is solely because of this bounty that I cannot permit them to continue existing as they are."

With a shocked tone of voice, Rolsch answered truthfully, "No, I was not aware of this, my Sultan. What do you suggest?"

Baltor again pointed his index finger at Rolsch as he said, "I command that when I am done saying what I got to say, you locate and inform the Secret Chief, as well the High Council, to disband the Guild permanently, or they will find huge bounties for their own heads!"

After taking a deep breath through his nose, he added, "From now on, I will secretly be using the training grounds below to create an elite task force of soldiers. Those former students, instructors and masters who wish to enlist within the Sharia Empire's ranks will be allowed to do so, and will even be given honorable ranks and generous pay!"

"I see..." Rolsch responded with a bit of hesitance.

"Additionally," Baltor continued, "I want the two halves to an ancient world map, which is in the Guild's possession but actually belongs to me."

, Rolsch finally replied, "I see..."

Baltor said, "My final command is that all of this must be kept top secret! For your efforts in accommodating every one of my commands, I will reward you quite handsomely...should you implicitly prove your loyalties, I may consider reestablishing you your ambassadorial rank. Do you have anything to say, Ambassador?"

The ambassador's answer was to cast his gaze down to the ground, and with his left hand, begin rubbing his beard in a downwards stroke—he was thinking out his options. "I see... Umm, first of all, when exactly would you like me to have all your commands accomplished by, my Sultan?"

"Right now," Baltor said without hesitation or emotion.

While waving his left-index finger around in the air, Rolsch stated in a slightly nervous tone, "My Sultan, first of all, but I do not know who the Secret Chief is, nor do I know any of their High Council members."

Now waving two fingers in the air, he added, "Second, neither my guards nor I know how to get down there into the basement, whatsoever! After all, the Guild constructed and decorated the fountain room centuries ago, shortly after the engineers finished building this palace—all I cared about was that their accountant delivered the rent on time yearly. Two million parsecs!"

Baltor's right eyebrow rose upon hearing that expensive figure for rent, but for only a second, before neutrally replying, "I see... Continue."

After waving three fingers around in the air, Rolsch concluded, "Third, my Sultan, none of us have a clue as to where the Guild stores any of its treasures, except for what's in the fountain room. I'm sorry, my Sultan, to be the bearer of such unhelpful news."

"I see..." Baltor replied evenly, "Anything else?"

After gulping, Rolsch asked, "Yes, your Highness...one more question. Will you continue to pay what the Guild paid in order to rent out my basement? I need the money, as I have high expenses in order to maintain my home, especially now that I no longer have a job!"

After a nod, Baltor answered, "I will pay two and a quarter million parsecs annually, and like I said before, once you implicitly prove your loyalty to me, I will reinstate you back into the ambassadorial position you once held..."

Now bearing a relieved smile upon his face, Rolsch declared with emphasis, "Then I will have my tenants vacate the premises immediately, as soon as I see the first master thief I run across...my Sultan! I promise you."

Baltor suggested, "Actually, I've got a better idea. As I know where the secret entrance to the basement is, let me come with you as you personally relay the message to them right now. You and I should go alone, and without any of your guards' assistance—trust me, I will protect you!"

With a great amount of fear, Rolsch began waving his hands helplessly, while objecting, "My Sultan, your request is suicidal—if just you and I go down there now, they will kill us immediately! May I please suggest that we bring my guards to come down with us, so that we can truly be safe?"

"Very well, Rolsch," Baltor reluctantly answered.

Rolsch hurried over to the entryway double doors, and opened the one on the left. Looking outside at the guards, he called out, "Captain Proviso, I want you to hurry and get as many guards together on the double, as we are all going into the secret basement—also allow no one to enter or exit the premises. Your mission is to ensure the safety of your Sultan and myself!"

"Yes, Ambassador Rolsch," Proviso said. He looked over to his underlings standing in loose formation, and ordered, "Lieutenant Lou, inform the guards at the gate not to let anyone enter or exit the premises. Sergeant Tenneco, have your men quickly retrieve the patrolling guards outside and bring them here! Finally, I want everyone back here in five minutes! Execute."

The underlings all cried out, "Yes, sir!" They then commenced to carry out their orders... Five minutes later, eighty guards were present.

"Let us go, my Sultan," Rolsch declared with complete confidence.

With the two leaders in the lead, the party of eighty-two marched their way to the room with the jeweled fountain; and after Baltor had twisted the emerald that revealed the trap door within the checkered-black-and-white tiled floor, they climbed the ladder down.

After about five minutes of traveling through the zigzagging tunnel with burning torches posted every thirty feet, they finally entered the training cavern with dozens of additional tunnels; many of them purposefully left pitch-black. Of course there were still all the training areas, ranging from obstacle courses to weapons' training areas to the dozens of drill instructors and students spread throughout ... an all-too-familiar sight it all was for Baltor.

Everyone—instructors and students—stopped in their training to look over in both shock and fear, as soon as they spotted the party of eighty-two entering their domain.

Despite the fact that none of the students recognized Baltor or the other man in his pajamas, all of the instructors recognized both men—their mouths dropped open in shock that Baltor had returned. Just as surprising was the fact that their landlord had brought along eighty of his guards.

Two of those hardcore drill instructors that had been students during Baltor's childhood years, and had been quite mean and bullish to him and a few other people—both men started hightailing their way toward the nearest tunnels.

Before a single one could escape, Baltor called out, "Hear me, o' Guild, and do not be afraid! I have not come to kill a single one of you—even though I could kill every last one of you if I wished, even single-handedly!"

The instructors that had been running stopped in their tracks, as they believed Baltor was telling the truth, except for the part about him winning against everyone in the room, and so they turned around to listen.

Perhaps five seconds later, Baltor began, "By my command as the Sultan of the Sharia Empire, this thieves' guild is to be terminated as of now! No longer will we have children becoming thieves through these dangerous obstacles, but soldiers who shall become a part of my top-secret elite task force!"

"Furthermore," he added, "I will need instructors and masters to assist me in this most noble and honorable of tasks, and those of you who enlist within my ranks shall be richly rewarded, especially by keeping every last one of my commands 'top secret...'"

Nearing the end of Baltor's speech, nearly sixty additional thieves ran into the cavern at top speed from the tunnel where the special obstacle course existed, and whose alarmed-looking cast included ten members that Baltor recognized right away.

Their names and titles were Mistress Bayema, Mistress Tricia, Master Jensa, Master Fargot, Instructor Qels, Instructor Haves, Instructor Jeramone, Instructor Oasaim, Instructor Laseva, and Instructor Welch.

All sixty of these thieves instantly recognized Baltor—more-than-half recognized him for the good, while the rest saw him as a traitor.

Most also recognized their landlord and his guards, which is why the second half did not initially attack, though they did draw out their weapons.

Quite a few more thieves began to draw their own weapon/s upon hearing their thief-associates' weapons being unsheathed, yet Bayema was the first to order, "Sheath your weapons, immediately....that is a direct order from a ruling member of the High Council."

They complied, though grudgingly ... after all, Baltor's head was worth a whole hell of a lot of parsecs, and these guards would be a piece of cake to take out, or so they believed.

Though there was a bit of shock to her voice, Bayema said, "We heard the alarm there were intruders. What are you all doing here?"

Without fear, Baltor repeated his last speech, word for word.

"I see..." Jensa was the first to reply in his nasal tone of voice. "What's to stop us all from plunging our weapons into you all at the same exact moment, and killing every last one of you before the very next second passes?"

Even though this master thief was technically a human being, in many striking ways did Jensa bear the characteristics of a weasel.

After all, not only were his beady eyes and goateed face similar to a weasel's face, yet he wore expensive, glossy and fluffy clothes with lots of shimmering jewelry—a long-sleeved red tunic, blue pants, knee-high black boots, jeweled rings on every finger and four variously-styled jeweled necklaces. Despite the man's gaudy attire, it still wasn't hard to figure out that he had a real thin and lanky body, or that he was unusually taller than most, being six feet and six inches tall.

"Me," Baltor calmly answered.

Jensa countered, "Baltor, you are certainly skilled and powerful, but not more than me. It'd be a piece of cake for me to take you out in a duel and kill you—if it were just me and you! Man versus man."

"Go ahead and try it..."

"Are you serious?" Jensa asked with a really evil grin.

After a laugh, Baltor confidently answered, "Absolutely..."

"No, don't fight," Bayema interjected, while raising both unarmed hands into the air. She pleaded, "The Sharia Empire cannot take that chance of losing this new Sultan before battle with the Mauritians—a war that will affect us all! It will only be a matter of time before Emperor-Sedious Vaspan and his army of more than one hundred and twenty thousand—if the report of that astronomical number rings true—finds the Guild!"

After taking a deep breath through her nose, she added, "We will not only lose our homes and our wealth if they should succeed, yet perhaps our very lives! I like what Sultan Baltor Elysian has to offer, and from everything I've heard and known about him since he was a boy of twelve, he is both generous, honorable, and most especially, noble."

One female cried out, "I like my way of life as a thief—I'm not changing it for anyone!"

About another dozen thieves, too include a couple of the masters and mistresses, cried out, "Me, too!"

Baltor extended his hands and arms out into the air over his head, and challenged, "Listen to me...I have a proposal for all you objectors. Challenge me to a duel, right here and now!

"At the beginning of this duel, of which I will initially be unarmed, I will disarm all contenders, yet when any of you becomes disarmed of your final weapon, you must immediately leave the arena, as your part in the contest is over...violators are to be promptly killed by the spectators.

"By the end of the battle, I will become the victor with not a single death amongst you that occurs by my hand. And when I win in the end, which I will win, there should not be a single objector left...any and all remaining objectors will promptly die by my hand!"

"And what if you die during the duel?" a female objector barked.

"Then you win whatever prize money my head's worth—fifty thousand parsecs is it?"

"No, five hundred thousand parsecs!" she said with a crooked smile, just before revealing a rather wicked-looking dagger that she had been hiding behind her back—while the black leather handle was six inches long, the razor-sharp/dual-edged blade was twelve inches and slightly curved back and forth from the base to the pointy tip.

Besides this female thief, only nine of the dozen objectors were willing to become contenders—too include Jensa, Laseva, and Welch. Of course, every single thief carried at least one dagger, as these types of weapons could easily be concealed just about anywhere.

As for the eighty guards, they stood rigid in the position of attention, until Rolsch looked back over his shoulder, and called out, "At ease, men..."

The guards did—only then did Rolsch look over to Baltor, and say, "Good luck, my Sultan!"

Baltor looked back over at Rolsch, nodded, looked forward, advanced to the very center of the training cavern, and then stopped.

All the while, these ten contenders slowly began to spread themselves around Baltor in a big spacious circle. Even though Baltor had no weapon, he still assumed the basic ready position, and waited patiently.

Not even ten seconds later, the female who had earlier threatened Baltor launched into a forward roll, and as she came out of the roll, she aimed her dagger so that it would plunge to the hilt into her opponent's heart.

Baltor not only evaded the incoming dagger strike, yet he then grabbed her armed wrist with both of his own hands, yanked, and twisted—her body literally flew over Baltor's own until slamming into the rocky ground, in which the first point of contact was her right shoulder and the second was the back of her head. She was now unconscious.

Though he now possessed the dagger in his right hand, Baltor simply reassumed the same ready position, looking all around.

Laseva, who was armed with two of his own vicious daggers and standing behind Baltor, believed he now had the advantage, and so he made his attack with both daggers coming in—sensing that someone was coming in from behind, Baltor simply threw himself into a sideways roll to the right, just barely evading both of Laseva's daggers.

Even before he had regained his standing position, two other thieves came in for an attack at the very same time, though their attack methods were completely different.

The first thief had done a simple cartwheel, yet as he came out of the cartwheel, his dagger came down in order to stab Baltor in the shoulder—at the same time, the second thief had simultaneously thrown both of her daggers at Baltor's current position.

Unfortunately for the male thief who's dagger was about to strike Baltor's chest, both daggers plunged deep into the thief's back, and he instantly died with a look of surprise on his face.

Dozens of guards, and thieves—masters, instructors, and most especially, students—all gasped their shock in a multitude of ways—from "ooh," to "ah," to "whoa!"

Welch—a rather attractive woman with shoulder-cropped auburn hair—had already retrieved a long sword from the weapons rack nearby, while analyzing both Baltor's strength and weaknesses the entire time. No one had said she couldn't grab another weapon.

It was only then that she came in for her attack—her sword swung horizontally so that it would cut Baltor in two pieces across the midsection.

At the same time, Laseva—who was on Baltor's other side—had just completed a forward roll, just before vertically swinging both of his daggers in a wide arc, one after the other, in order to puncture them both deep into his opponent's upper back.

Baltor fell backwards, and after paralleling his own dagger with the ground a second before he made contact, he performed a backwards roll—this simple action not only caused Welch's sword to miss its intended target, yet to slice Laseva's guts open.

Laseva died in the very next second with a very surprised look on his black bearded face, just before collapsing to the ground—at the same time, just about everybody gasped out in shock.

Baltor did not pause upon regaining his feet, but launched his dagger like a dart straight for Welch's sword-bearing arm, which dagger sunk to the hilt in the bicep and out the triceps.

From the excruciating pain she felt throughout her entire right arm, Welch dropped the sword to the ground, while blood began to pour out of her wounds and down her arm, before collecting on the ground.

While screaming out in agony and with a look of pain and rage on her face, she quickly yanked out the dagger and threw it back at Baltor. Thanks to this stupid stunt, blood flowed like a river now.

At the last second, Baltor surprisingly leapt and caught it in mid-air by the handle, just before performing a forward somersault.

Meanwhile, as Welch had just considered the distinct possibility that if she continued to battle, especially now that she was already bleeding this badly, she might quickly bleed to death, so she kept her anger and tears in check, and ran out of the arena to find a medic.

The remaining five thieves too include Jensa, realized just how powerful a martial artist Baltor was, and they hesitated.

Baltor, on the other hand, did not hesitate for a single second, but threw himself into another somersault to his left, and while coming out of it only a second later, he launched his dagger at the leg of the nearest opponent, a male thief.

Baltor's dagger sank hilt-deep through the man's thigh—that thief collapsed to the ground, all the while howling out his anguishing pain with blood squirting everywhere.

Meanwhile, just about everyone, other than the remaining contestants, was "thrilled to the bone," and surprisingly, they fervently began to chant out one word, "Sultan—Sultan—Sultan!"

At the same time, Jensa, who was still armed with a dagger, had just picked up Welch's sword off the ground, and so he began to twirl and swing his sword all around his body, in order to intimidate Baltor through his masterful sword skills. Not surprising, Baltor wasn't fazed one iota.

As for the other three remaining combatants, not only did they begin to seriously fear Baltor, yet they all backed away, while dropping their weapons to the ground.

All the while twirling his sword, Jensa angrily roared out, "Baltor—come and get some, you little bastard! I'm sick of your childish games!"

After breathing out a little laugh, Baltor said, "No, Jensa...why don't you come to your Sultan and get some?"

Even though Jensa seethed at Baltor's response, he was not stupid—not only did he keep his angers in check, yet he stopped swinging his sword as he began to advance closer to Baltor.

Once Jensa had gotten to about seven feet away, he stopped in his tracks and suggested in the form of a question, "If I do kill you, with all of these people as witnesses, can I be the Sultan of the Sharia Empire?"

"The Sharia Empire is not mine to give," Baltor replied truthfully, "as it really belongs to everyone...so the answer is no, Jensa."

No longer able to hold his anger and hatred in check, Jensa leapt forward into the air, while jabbing his sword straight down as if it was a dagger at Baltor.

Baltor instinctively rolled to his right out of harm's way—while coming out of the roll, his legs performed a back sweep behind Jensa's kneecaps as hard as he could.

As a result of the contact into the back of Jensa's knees, his sword flew out of his hands, spun around in the air several times, and finally stuck itself into the ground several feet away from Baltor.

Furthermore, Jensa's body did a back flip as it too flew out of control, and a moment later, the back of his head slammed so hard into the ground he was instantly unconscious.

Right away, every thief, guard, and even the former ambassador, all burst out into enthusiastic cheering.

A moment later, Baltor was back on his feet, and while looking all around, he yelled out, "Any other objectors?"

Everyone stopped cheering, and then they began to look at each other to see if Baltor's question rang true...not a single thief, as they discovered, raised an objection. In fact, most shook their heads negatively.

Perhaps ten seconds later, Baltor called out, "Good...the name of this new Special Forces Guild is, 'Shadow Force!'"

"Hooray!" was the most common word used by the thieves, as they began to cheer and clap.

Once the applause had subsided, about a minute later, Baltor briefed, "Mistress Tricia, tomorrow night at nine p.m., I will need you to come to the palace. We will need to discuss the changes, which are actually quite few. Also, I need you to bring the two-pieced world map that is rightfully mine."

After taking a deep breath, he added, "One last important thing I need to say before I go. I do not know who the Secret Chief is, nor do I care. The only thing I care about is that you let this person know that if he or she has any objections, please feel free to have him or her visit me anytime at the palace."

Without hesitation, Tricia responded, "My Sultan, the Secret Chief is not amongst us, nor has that person—whom I've been sworn never to reveal—been around for the last five years! Nevertheless, I promise you that when that person does return, I will relay all of your commands...don't be surprised to see the Secret Chief coming in the dead of night, and without invitation!"

With a nod to his head and a pleased smile, Baltor donned his cape, put on the hood, left the Shadow Guild, and began the journey back to his own palace.

He realized that by the time he would arrive in his bedroom, he would only have ten minutes to get back dressed into all the clothes he had worn at the start of his action-packed evening.

## CHAPTER IV

Precisely two hours after the time that Humonus had left his Sultan's bedroom, he and his wife entered the royal dining hall, only seconds before the exterior guards shut the main entryway doors.

Now they were dressed in formal attire—he wore a "Class A" officer's uniform, completely black in color except for the golden buttons holding his suit jacket together, as well the shiny, five-gold-star pin on each shoulder. She wore a very elegant and beautiful, sky-blue dress with a thin platinum necklace that had a small ruby amulet hanging off it.

Besides all the other luxurious couches and coffee-tables spread throughout the room, they simultaneously observed that there was only one dinner table in the room's middle, which square-shaped table had been covered with a red tablecloth: evenly spread on it were four sets of porcelain plates, crystal goblets and silverware.

After confirming that there was no one else in the room, Chelsea turned to her husband before asking, "Where are Baltor and Brish—I mean the Sultan and Sultaness?"

With a slightly concerned look on his face, Humonus shrugged his shoulders before replying, "Not sure where they are right now, but I'm relatively sure they should be here soon. Want to take a seat on the couch, my love?"

Before she could answer his question and then ask what he meant by "relatively," two guards concurrently opened their doors. Walking hand in hand were Brishava and Baltor—Humonus unconsciously sucked in and released a deep sigh of relief upon seeing that his Sultan looked "alive and undamaged."

Once the guards had closed the doors, the group of four approached each other, exchanging friendly greetings and warm-yet-quick embraces.

Everyone then took their non-assigned seats around the round table, whereupon the servants came in bringing steaming trays of five-star foods.

After the delicious seven-course dinner and dessert had been concluded, nearly an hour later, they began to converse until the wee hours of the morning.

The very first topic came from Humonus, as he relayed many of the important specifics about the training grounds that he had personally designed from scratch and made into blueprints the night before. Once he had double-checked everything this morning, he gave them to his generals with the orders to have every carpenter and soldier to assist with building, so that training could begin the following night at ten.

Following Humonus's report, Brishava began talking about her hectic day, and then followed Chelsea.

Shortly before midnight, everyone looked at Baltor, and it was only then that he decided to relay his recent adventure—of course, his wife grew upset to hear that her husband had gone alone, but that emotion changed to happiness upon hearing the results.

At two in the morning, she became the first to retire to bed, as she had to wake up at seven and had a tediously busy schedule all day long—Chelsea stayed up until three.

As for Baltor and Humonus, they discussed further details regarding the Shadow Forces until minutes before sunrise ... and by the time the sun rose above the eastern horizon at five, Baltor was sound asleep in his bed with his wife.

At seven in the morning, Brishava awoke, bathed, and allowed her handmaidens to dress and groom her. Upon their completion, an hour later, she made her way back to the royal dining hall, where sat Chelsea and Humonus in one of the couches. This time she saw that they were dressed in casual attire; he in his battle dress uniform.

Because Humonus had an important meeting with his officers at nine in the morning, he left right after breakfast, after of course giving his wife a quick kiss on the cheek and bowing before his Sultaness. Chelsea, only minutes later, retired back to bed, as she was still exhausted.

As for Brishava, she made her way directly for the throne room. After comfortably sitting on her throne, her first command was to summon Jamar, the coordinator.

Perhaps five minutes later, he arrived—today he wore sheik robes comprising of vertical stripes of gray, white, black and gold.

After he had grandiosely bowed low, Brishava greeted with a smile, "You may rise—good morning to you, Jamar."

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.

Humonus explained, "What I have just performed is a defensive technique that automatically turns into an offensive technique...

"It matters not your strength, but only the speed and skill to know how to throw around the weight of your opponent! Now try it on your opponent and vice-versa...you have one minute to practice."

After everyone, except for he and Baltor, had attempted the maneuver for the next minute, only a few hundred succeeding in the process, Humonus soothed, "Don't worry if you failed just now...you will get a five minute-long practice in just a minute. But listen up and closely for now, this same exact technique can be used even if your opponent should happen to possess a dagger or sword...that is, if you can get close enough and grab the wrist just before the moment of strike! Very, very important combat technique, just remember that."

At this point, Humonus took an elongated pause in order to take in a deep breath, release it, and suck in another deep breath. While breathing out, he concluded, "One last thing—during your practice sessions, we will allow you to ask each other questions and-or share information, but only about the specific technique we're covering. Do you understand, Forces of the Sharia Empire?"

"Yes, sir!" was the highly motivated cry from the troops.

"Practice."

For the next five minutes, they practiced, but only about five hundred people could get it right by the end of that five-minute period.

Finally, after having picked up a wood training sword near the small stack of other training weapons, Humonus yelled out through the megaphone, "Attention!"

The trumpeters blew out a two-toned sound.

Except for the troops already standing on their feet, the rest joined in. They immediately clicked their heels together, put their hands at his or her side and silenced up.

"At ease," Humonus called out.

The troops clasped their hands behind their backs, spread their legs out a bit until they were comfortable, but still, they did not talk.

Humonus turned back to Baltor, set down the megaphone, picked up the wood sword and handed it over to Baltor, and asked loudly, "My Sultan, will you follow the same path as your previous punch, but...take a very, very slow swing at me?"

Baltor nodded, drew back his sword, and took a very slow swing at Humonus.

This time, as Humonus just-as-slowly demonstrated this disarming technique, he also explained how to make it work as loud as he possibly could.

By the end of this particular demonstration, which took a little more than two minutes, Baltor was disarmed of weapon and once again twisted up like a pretzel, slapping the ground with hand.

After both men were facing the troops, Humonus picked up the megaphone, put it to his mouth, and ordered, "For the next five minutes, practice this technique with a completely different partner."

The troops called out, "Yes sir!" They then found another partner to practice with.

The two men watched from on top of the platform for the next five minutes. Once that time was up, Humonus yelled through the megaphone, "Attention!"

The trumpeters blew out the two-tone sound, and the troops went back to the position of attention.

Humonus continued, "The next maneuver we will learn is..."

It wasn't until four in the morning that the exhausted troops were finally dismissed and allowed to get rest—after having been taught a dozen techniques—and most being so exhausted that they couldn't even remember a single one.

The next night, Baltor and Humonus had yet another training session with the troops, but this time it began at eleven.

This night, just like the night before, they trained exceedingly hard (stretching exercises, workout exercises, obstacle-course exercises and reiterating the combat-technique exercises they had learned the night before) with the utterly exhausted troops until six in the morning, when they were dismissed to eat and sleep. They were also given that night off.

As had already become a custom for many years, they—Baltor, Brishava, Chelsea and Humonus—all shared dinner together that night.

It was during the course of this particular dinner that Brishava and Chelsea both volunteered their services in assisting with the training of the troops during the daylight hours whenever Baltor was asleep—after all, they too had mastered the martial arts fighting style back in Chao-chu-sha-maen.

So, for the next five weeks, training occurred at all different hours and with varying lengths of sessions—sometimes as short as three hours, and sometimes as long as twelve.

During these five weeks, the four grew exceedingly proud at the rapid advancements that their seventy-nine thousand and three troops made, and the troops quickly grew just as proud of all their leaders...

## CHAPTER V

Finally, the evening came when Baltor awoke and saw Humonus standing near his bed, but the man's eyes gazed deeply into the pool in the middle of the room—Baltor sat up in bed and looked over.

Humonus heard the sound, and so he looked over and reported, "My Sultan, late this afternoon, our scouts reported that Emperor Vaspan's army has begun to set up camp about three miles away from the city!"

After a nod, Baltor replied, "Excellent...then that means they will be expecting to get some rest tonight after a long day of traveling, which they will not get, for we attack tonight. Line up the troops in formation immediately outside the city, Ruling-General Humonus."

"Yes, my Sultan!"

After Humonus had left the room, Baltor got out of bed, took a five-minute bath in the pool, dried off with a towel, put on his drawers, walked over to the large mirror, and called out, "Assistants."

Only a second later, the assistants entered, once again pushing a closet-on-wheels. After arriving and bowing, they opened the closet doors, revealing a prototype battle-armored suit neatly hanging on hangers—the very first ever completed but a week ago.

This suit had two different layers, actually. The inner layer consisted of a quarter-inch thick padded hat, shirt, pants and socks that allowed him one hundred percent flexibility, and even better, it was one hundred percent impenetrable from the sun's rays when he pulled the hat all the way down below his neck.

The outer layer consisted of a thin spandex-like suit that covered over the inner layer and contained loosened latches, which latches were attached to pre-molded/waterproofed steel plates that were a half-inch thick. There were plates for the inside and the outside of the forearms, the outside of the upper arms, chest, shoulders, back, thighs, and even the kneecaps.

The secret to this armor was that when the latches were tightened around the bodily joints, the plates would simultaneously secure themselves tightly around Baltor's powerful muscular contours.

Making this armor all that much more valuable were the gold-swirl designs molded into each plate, especially the chest plate had an solid-gold plate imbedded on top, bearing the shape of a shield—etched into the gold was the new symbol of the Sharia Empire—Baltor's swords crossed underneath his platinum crown.

Based off all his week-long tests with the suit, he thankfully had ninety-five percent flexibility, yet only actual combat would prove this armor's comfort and protection that Jamar claimed to be almost as good as a full set of plate mail. Three more suits were under construction for Humonus, Brishava, and Chelsea.

As this time-consuming process took place in getting the armor secured to his body, which time took about ten minutes on the average, Baltor considered the distinct possibility that tens of thousands of lives would be minimally lost before this war was over no matter who won.

_Perhaps this great amount of deaths might even happen tonight?_ he grimly thought.

Once the armor was completely strapped on, only seven minutes this time, two assistants began to attach both sheaths upon his back, which sheaths held Baltor's swords.

Two of the assistants had just retrieved the armor-plated boots from the closet, so they could place them onto their Sultan's feet once the sword sheaths were securely latched, which they then did.

By the time that the boots were on, one assistant was already holding the crowned-helmet that had been specially molded and padded to fit perfectly, and comfortably, upon the Sultan's head. This assistant placed it on before securing the chinstrap.

It was then that Baltor's eyes saw—through the mirror—that Brishava had just entered the room and was walking his direction. Now she donned her own set of chainmail battle armor, as well a spiked flail that was attached to her belt—her weapon of choice.

Because the assistants were done, they bowed, closed the doors to the closet, and rolled it toward the walk-in closet.

As Brishava began to near, she said with soothing tones, "My husband and my Sultan, even though you look both awesome and powerful in that new armor of yours, I can clearly see the strains of nervousness and worry upon your face, especially in your eyes. Yes, I do understand that it is not just your life, but the fate of the Sharia Empire that rests within your hands..."

Halfway through her spiel, she had arrived next to his position, lightly wrapping one of her arms around Baltor's waist. Only then did she whisper in his ear, "But now, the opportunity has finally come to prove to the world that you are really the Sultan you were destined to be—all you have to do is see things this way, and you will succeed!"

Baltor silently nodded his head, perhaps six-or-seven times.

Only then did Brishava throw a sweet smile, kiss him on the cheek, step to Baltor's side, and ask, "Are you ready?"

Baltor pivoted his whole body around until he faced his wife. After kissing her on the lips, he confidently answered, "Yes I am, my Sultaness... Let's go."

With a company-sized element of cavalry soldiers as their escort, the two left the confines of the palace and the city on their horses. Of course Baltor rode his prize warhorse, Grasha.

Nearly an hour later, only seconds after they exited the city walls, they saw that their army spanned from horizon to horizon, fully equipped with armor and weapons—sitting on their horses in front of all the ranks were Humonus and Chelsea.

Humonus, who was now wearing his own brand new set of chain mail armor and helmet, as well carrying the megaphone, saw them approach, put the megaphone to his mouth, and called out, "Attention!"

The two trumpeters blew out their two-toned tune: The army instantly snapped to the position of attention.

Perhaps ten seconds later, Baltor and Brishava stopped their horses next to Humonus and Chelsea's position. Humonus handed the megaphone to Baltor.

Once Baltor had put it up to his mouth, he declared, "Forces of the Sharia Empire, the time has come for war. Most likely, many of us will not be coming back, so remember this if you're the one who faces death: Life is what you make of it, so make it the absolute most you can until your very last breath! After you're dead, then you'll have plenty of time to relax."

After handing the megaphone back to Humonus, Baltor unsheathed both of his swords in one quick movement. While raising them up into the air and crossing them over his head, he yelled out at the top of his lungs, "For the Sharia Empire!"

The army first smacked the end of their weapon hard into their armored chest, which caused a single, loud, clanging noise to erupt that was heard miles away as it was all done in unison. They then roared back, " _For the Sharia Empire!!_ "

"Ruling General Humonus," Baltor commanded, "execute the battle plan!"

Humonus replied, "Yes, my Sultan!"

He immediately looked at his commanding generals, nodded his head once, and ordered, "Generals, make it so."

Guided by their commanding general, twenty thousand and two of the forces marched back into the city to their stationed posts—half of them were the archers that would take positions on top of three-hundred-foot tall walls. This general's secondary mission, besides protecting the city and harbor, was to alert Admiral Bryce that half of the naval fleet was to position their ships defensively around Pavelus. The other half of the fleet was to assemble a half- mile away, wait for the enemy navy to attack Pavelus, then to outflank and attack.

At the same time as everything else was going on, the two cavalry divisions, each consisting of five thousand troops either riding horseback or upon chariots, each led by a major general going their separate directions. The first cavalry division rode to the coliseum with the orders to hide inside—that is, until the order came to outflank and attack. The second cavalry division rode to the northeast behind the sand dunes with the very same orders. Outflank and attack.

Finally yet just as importantly, the members of Baltor's Shadow Forces made their way back for the underground tunnels, which tunnels spread out as far as three times the city limits. Their mission was to utilize the very few caves that existed on the far side of Vaspan's forces and launch a surprise attack from that side when the order was given by Baltor to do so.

Led by Baltor, Humonus, Brishava, Chelsea and the flag bearer, thirty thousand troops marched behind, and ten more thousand troops rode on horses or chariots in the very rear of the formation, as they all made their way directly for Vaspan's encampment.

Nearly an hour later, nearing ten p.m., they observed tens of thousands of glowing lights from campfires or torches far off in the distance. Upon drawing nearer, they could make out at least two times the number of tents spread throughout, and enemy soldiers scattered everywhere.

By this time, the enemy scouts had just relayed the information to Vaspan that the enemy was approaching: Immediately he ordered Thorn to form the troops up in battle formation.

Perhaps a half of a mile away from the enemy encampment, Baltor raised his left-armored fist up into the air, signaling for Humonus to command the troops to stop. Humonus commanded, "Halt." They did.

The five of them, including the flag bearer, rode halfway between their own army and Vaspan's assembling army, which army was about a sixteenth of the way assembled.

Perhaps four minutes later, and Vaspan's army had assembled halfway, he and eight other people on horses trotted up, all riding side-by-side. One of the riders held high the black flag of Mauritia that had a red eagle clutching onto the limp body of a golden king cobra.

Upon those riders drawing near, Brishava was the only one to recognize her uncle in the mix. All nine riders stopped about twenty feet away, one of those riders now being recognized as Glacius, the former-ruling general who had somehow escaped from the dungeons of Pavelus.

Despite the fact that Baltor didn't know which of the riders Vaspan was, he still called out, "Emperor-Sedious Vaspan the Magnificent, I am Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth, and as you well know, this is my wife, your niece, Brishava. We do not wish to start war—"

With a sneer upon his haughty face, Vaspan rudely interrupted, "First of all, I am now the Sultan...not you. Second, I know who my niece is, though I know next to nothing about you, boy. Therefore, I will address only her, peasant!"

Even though that statement/insult greatly angered Baltor, he kept his anger and his snappy response contained.

Brishava, on the other hand, didn't hold back as she stated in angry tones, "Uncle Vaspan, Baltor is no longer a peasant, but my husband who is the official Sultan of the Sharia Empire! As you know, my father declared that the next-in-line to rule is me..."

After a pause that felt an eternity, Vaspan sighed, and then said gently, "Brishava, the time will come for you to rule, but not now—it is my turn, as I am the next in line to the throne...not you. Sorry! Therefore, if you unconditionally surrender your forces, your lands, your cities and your wealth to me, I shall not only spare your life, but I will even graciously let you be the next to rule upon my demise—instead of my firstborn son, Prince Jumblee, if you don't!"

Brishava seriously began to consider Vaspan's solution...that is, until she heard him say with derision, "As for the peasant pretending to be a Sultan, he can die with the dogs! After all, there are much better noblemen out there who can become your new husband, like maybe even my firstborn—you guys are only cousins. Perhaps the two of you can one day get married and share the Empires together?"

After delivering an exasperated sigh, Brishava responded, "Not a chance—therefore, I suppose that the time has come for our two nations to commence to war, uncle..."

"Yes, I suppose the time has come," Vaspan said with a forced smile. He began to turn his horse around, so the he could ride back to his encampment, but as he heard his name being called out, he relaxed his grip on the reins.

Baltor suggested, "Emperor Vaspan, I have an alternative solution to war, and the subsequent massive amounts of death which will result, no matter the winner."

Both Humonus and Brishava sharply turned their heads to look directly at Baltor with a look of surprise, for neither had previously heard of an "alternative solution."

Vaspan slowly turned his horse around again, before asking, "You're speaking to me again, boy?"

"I did. Instead of an all-out war between our forces, I have a better idea. Why not let it be you and me that face each other in singular combat to the death...and the winner of our little duel becomes the indisputable Sultan?"

Vaspan laughed lightly at Baltor's unusual idea/suggestion, though his mind was already hard at work. Glacius, who had earlier escaped with the help of several of his loyal soldiers, had delivered to him a very small report about this Baltor.

1) Baltor had originally been an orphaned peasant, and later a thief within the Thieves Guild of Pavelus—Vaspan hated thieves, though of course he used them for his own ends, including his martial arts skills.

2) Most of the population of Pavelus had, only five weeks earlier, volunteered to fight for this pathetic wretch—Glacius reported that they only volunteered because they had always loved and respected Brishava.

3) Though Baltor was reported to be an expert in combative martial arts, he had very little if any practical experience.

Twenty seconds of silence passed before Baltor finally asked, "Well, your Highness? Do we have a deal?"

Vaspan breathed out a short laugh, and after having sucked in another deep breath through his nose, he asked, "Is this agreeable to you, Brishava? If I was to kill your husband now and win, will I have to watch out for your dagger getting plunged into my heart one day when I get old?"

Throughout Brishava's life, there had only been a handful of times that she had become stunned to the point she was speechless: this time occurred because her uncle had not only managed to find out about the "secret assassination" of her father, yet that he even knew that she had been the one to commit the murder.

Perhaps twenty seconds of silence passed as she began to desperately consider any other options besides this one-on-one duel to the death.

When none surfaced, she finally sighed with resignation, "No, uncle....you won't."

Vaspan threw another short cocky laugh, just before he looked over to Baltor and replied, "Before I agree to this duel between you and I, I have four conditions—first, I want to make sure that our armies not only know about our duel, but they get to watch!"

Baltor nodded.

Without delay, Vaspan continued, "Second, any who interferes, too include royalty, is to be terminated immediately by the hands of the army they belong to...that way, there is no question of who should rule both Empires!"

Baltor again nodded.

While swirling his index finger around and around and pointing to the ground below him, Vaspan said, "Third, I want a large circular perimeter of torches for us to fight in right here. In between each of the torch posts, I want a wide assortment of weapons for us to choose from."

Baltor's left eyebrow scrunched ever so slightly, while his right eyebrow rose very sharply. He asked, "Regarding your third condition, why don't we just duel in the coliseum that lies just to the south of Pavelus?"

Before Vaspan could answer, Baltor added, "Your army and my army can all fit comfortably in there with plenty of room to spare..."

Vaspan snapped out only a few seconds later, "This better not be a trap!"

"No, I swear on my honor that this is no trap," Baltor replied. "Had you decided to start war now, however, you would have found yourself in that trap..."

After throwing suspicious glances at Baltor for about twenty seconds longer, Vaspan said, "Fine..."

"I agree to your third condition—so, what is your fourth?" Baltor asked right away.

"Last but not least," Vaspan answered, "if you or I should happen to step outside the boundaries of that circle even once during the course of our duel where they can only be one victor, that person is to be instantly killed by the armies of both sides! That is, until the victor has verbally pronounced his victory while the loser is unquestionably dead."

Without pause, Baltor nodded and said, "Agreed."

"Deal," Vaspan said. Without pause, he turned his horse around, as did his other eight followers.

Before Vaspan had spurred his horse on, he added over his shoulder, "In one hour, we meet at the coliseum, boy...if this is a trap or you don't show in one hour, the deal is off! If the deal becomes dead, then so shall every last one of you—I swear to it on my honor..."

Baltor didn't respond, but continued to watch Vaspan as he spurred his horse into a prance. Right away, the remainder of his companions followed behind, as they all made their way back toward his bloodthirsty army.

"Bal—" Humonus began to say quite loudly, but Baltor interrupted with, "Shh..."

Baltor's superhuman ears were the only ones to hear Vaspan as he began his speech, nearly two minutes later, "Forces of the Vaspan Empire, there is to be a change. Instead of all-out war, the enemy's leader and I will have a fierce duel to the death! The winner shall become the next Sultan over both empires, which shall undoubtedly be me!"

With that, the army roared out their approval, while slamming their armor-plated hands into their ring-mail chests, or banging their weapons into their shields.

This beating caused such a loud and continuous ringing noise to occur that even the citizens of Pavelus could clearly hear both types of sounds, though they fearfully wondered what in the hell was causing them.

About a minute later, the army stopped making their ruckus. Meanwhile, Baltor continued to listen silently.

Vaspan continued in his speech, "Now, there will be several rules, which must not be violated—the penalties of violating these rules even once will instantly mean death!"

As soon as he had finished stating all the rules correctly and completely, about three minutes later, Baltor turned his head to Humonus, who he saw bore a very apprehensive look on his face, and asked, "Yes?"

Humonus said, "My Sultan...in this case, you are making a foolish mistake! Even though we are still outnumbered, this does not mean that we can't win—the battle plan we conjured can work!"

Baltor asked, "Am I really making such a foolish mistake? Even though I too believe that our battle plan can work, Ruling-General Humonus, I still don't like the idea of such massive bloodshed and death which will ultimately result, no matter the winner!"

"Baltor," Brishava asked with sadness to her voice, "what will I do with my life if you die?"

Before he could answer, she promised, "You don't know my uncle like I do—he is the best swordsman in the lands—even better than you only because he's got a hell of a lot more experience!"

Baltor grew quite a bit upset at the lack of confidence from his wife and best friend, but instead of letting his anger pour out through his words, he first sucked in a deep breath, slowly released it, and took another deep breath. Finally, he muttered, "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Without delay, he turned his horse around and began riding back toward his army ... a few moments later, Brishava and the rest of the party turned their horses around, and caught up.

Just as they had begun to near their own army, Brishava asked with panic to her voice, "Baltor, it's not too late to change your mind. Please, I don't want you to die!"

Baltor answered, "At least I'll know, even in my own death, that I will have saved tens of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands of lives! No matter what anyone else thinks, I do not believe I'll lose...

"In fact, I now believe, as you put it to me so eloquently earlier tonight...the opportunity has finally come to prove to the Sharia Empire that I am indeed the Sultan I was destined to be all along!"

At that comment, Brishava could say no more ... Humonus, on the other hand, said with both enthusiasm and confidence, "My Sultan, I have no doubt that you will come out of this battle victorious!"

"Thank you, my friend."

Only two minutes later, which time was spent in silence, they reached their own army.

Through the megaphone, Humonus called out, "Attention!"

The army assumed the position of attention even before the two trumpeters had the chance to blow the two-toned tune. Humonus handed the megaphone to Baltor.

Baltor commanded through the megaphone, "Forces of the Sharia Empire, a major change has occurred within our battle plan—instead of having all-out war, Emperor Vaspan and I will be fighting one-on-one to the death. That is all from me to you right now!"

The troops remained silent, as they patiently awaited any new instructions.

Meanwhile, Baltor set the megaphone into his lap, while saying aloud, "Ruling-General Humonus, dispatch a volunteering messenger immediately to General Hawkins inside the city. Tell the general to keep his forces on red alert, just in case Vaspan's motives do turn underhanded..."

After taking a deep breath through his mouth, he added, "Also, tell the general of our upcoming battle to the death, and that if the flag of the Vaspan Empire comes first without any signs of trickery or war from the coliseum, he is to open the city gates and welcome their new Sultan! That is all for the messenger."

Humonus had already noticed all the hands sprouting from troops who volunteered to be that messenger.

One female soldier cried out, "Ruling-General Humonus, my name is Private Mena, and I feel that I would be best qualified to relay the Sultan's message to General Hawkins, sir!"

Humonus called her over with a wave of his hand, and asked, "And why is that Private Mena?"

"Sir, I have his orders already memorized verbatim—if you would like me to recite them to you word for word, I can...sir!"

"You've got the mission if you can recite his third order verbatim, Private Mena."

Mena recited, "Also, tell the general of our upcoming battle to the death, and that if the flag of the Vaspan Empire comes first without any signs of trickery or war from the coliseum, he is to open the city gates and welcome their new Sultan—sir!"

"Go with haste, Private Mena."

"Yes, Ruling-General Humonus!"

After snapping a salute to Humonus, a cavalry soldier offered his horse to Mena—she took off with that great haste toward Pavelus.

Baltor, who had been patiently waiting, turned to look at the troops, lifted the megaphone up to his mouth, and added , "The rest of you will be coming along to watch the spectacle at the coliseum, first-hand. None is to interfere under penalty of death by the faction that individual belongs, including royalty—the same penalties apply for Emperor Vaspan's army! Also, during the course of our battle, if either he or I step outside the perimeters of the circle without the other combatant unquestionably dead, even once, that person is to die by the hands of both armies—any questions?"

"No Sultan!" the troops snapped.

Through the megaphone, Baltor called out, "Good—forces of the Sharia Empire, right face! Forward, march!"

Baltor led the way to the coliseum. Humonus, Brishava, Chelsea and the guide-on bearer rode right behind. All forty thousand troops marched in ranks, or rode upon their camels, horses, or horse-drawn chariots behind them.

Perhaps a minute after they had left, Baltor looked back over at Humonus and said, "Ruling General, one more thing. Only once Vaspan and his forces have begun entering the coliseum, and there is no trickery from his part, send a messenger out to retrieve my Shadow Forces and have them come to the coliseum. They may miss this fight, or they may not if Vaspan proves to be just an underhanded trickster."

"Yes, my Sultan," Humonus replied.

About twenty minutes later, they arrived at the gargantuan ovular coliseum. This building's height was only three hundred feet, yet the diameter was about five thousand feet by ten thousand feet—only half of this building was complete. After the majority of those who had horses and chariots parked them outside the coliseum, they then walked inside.

Just like the exterior, the interior to the coliseum was also only halfway complete—there were enough seats created for both armies, and an additional fifty thousand people to sit—but most wouldn't want to sit for this event.

Five thousand of Baltor's cavalry, as well their general, eagerly waited on their horses in the middle of the arena for the order to come out and attack.

But surprise didn't hit those cavalrymen when they saw who it was, as an advanced scout had already reported that they had seen the flag of the Sharia Empire flying before the army heading toward the coliseum.

Once inside the arena, Humonus ordered the nearest of the troops who stood around in loose formation: "I need volunteers to draw a very large circle in the center of the arena. Make its diameter one hundred feet, which will give our two combatants plenty of room. Also, place torches about ten feet away from each other around the outside of the perimeter. Between each of the torches, there is to be placed a different type of weapon, or weapons—get creative..."

After sucking in a deep breath, he added, "As for the rest of us, we will wait in loose formation until the other army steps forth, but keep yourself armed at all times and keep calm. Finally, do not attack unless it is by order of the Sultan, himself...understand?"

The troops responded, "Yes Ruling-General Humonus!"

Immediately a small group of these soldiers elected themselves for the task of drawing the circle and putting torches around it.

Just as they were finishing setting out the last of the weapons, about fifteen minutes later, Baltor was the first to hear the enemy forces drawing closer to their current position, evident from the sounds of hundreds of thousands of marching footsteps.

Ten minutes later, with Vaspan and his entourage in the lead, the enemy army slowly-but-surely began to enter the coliseum.

It was then that Humonus delivered the order to send a messenger to retrieve the Shadow Forces. Nearly a half an hour later, three-quarters of the entire coliseum was filled with troops from both sides.

Humonus and Chelsea already sat in the royal bleachers, and watched. Meanwhile, Baltor sat on his horse within the perimeters of the torches that were now burning. Brishava stood within the circle as well, but she was now looking out the open-faced coliseum into the darkness of night. Dozens of stars were twinkling, as neither of the two moons was visible in the sky.

As Vaspan drew within the perimeters of the torchlight, still riding on his horse, Baltor could see that his soon-to-be combatant had a rather smug smile upon his face, as if he had already won the duel—of course, his entourage continued to ride on their horses behind him, also bearing smug smiles.

Seconds later, Baltor walked over to Brishava, who was still obliviously staring at the stars facing the opposite direction.

He next placed his hands on the top of her shoulders standing right behind her, and whispered gently into her ear, "My love of loves...the outcome of this battle has long ago been determined—not by any human being, but by God...

"Even if I should die tonight by your uncle's hand, that does not mean I won't be waiting for you on the other side, waiting to take you into the eternal heavens with me. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can stop me from doing that—I swear!"

Brishava turned around, revealing tears that had been steadfastly pouring down from her eyes. She whimpered, "I just... I just can't stand the thought of losing you, Baltor....especially after all we've been through and overcome!"

He wrapped his arms tightly around her—not only did she return that hug, yet she ensured that it became even tighter by her own gripping arms.

While in that tight embrace, he whispered in her ear, "If you think about all we've already overcome, then you will realize that we're already the victors, no matter the outcome."

A look of confusion suddenly drew upon Brishava's face. She pulled away from the embrace, and was about to ask what Baltor had meant when he said, "no matter the outcome," but didn't get the chance.

Vaspan had just broken up their intimate moment, by jesting, "Well, peasant, have you said all your farewells to my niece yet, or should we just wait until tomorrow morning to do battle, so you can have a last one night stand before you die like a slaughtered pig?"

At that, just about all of Vaspan's troops burst out into voracious laughter at "the joke!" Meanwhile, all of Baltor's troops took it both personally and offensively, as became evident by the weapons firmly clinched in their hands coupled with the furious anger reflected within their eyes—every last soldier sitting down, in which there only a few, had risen to his or her feet.

No matter how horrendous the odds were stacked against them now, the Forces of the Sharia Empire fervently listened, and the majority even hoped and prayed, for their Sultan to voice the command, "Attack!"

After all, over the course of the last five weeks since their training had begun, most had come to respect Baltor as a "great man." Many already loved him.

Even though anger and hurt were also two emotions certainly running through Baltor's mind, he didn't let his face betray anything but love for his wife as he gazed one more time into her absolutely delightful face.

Cupping her face ever-so-lightly in both of his hands, he whispered, "I love you, Brishava, my beautiful wife..."

She, in turn, whispered back, "I love you, my Baltor, my beautiful husband!"

Baltor kissed his wife's lips and then her forehead one final time before letting her go, turning around to face his combatant, and replying quite seriously, "Let's battle now."

The soldiers opened up a gap so that Brishava could make her way to the staircase that led up to the royalty section located within the stands, and watch. At the same time, Vaspan stopped chuckling immediately upon hearing that order from "the bratty kid," which was only a single second before he climbed off his horse and onto the ground.

After Vaspan had entered the circle at the opposite side, he began expertly swinging his two-handed sword all around using only one hand, while gazing at its quick and powerful movements.

Meanwhile, Baltor drew both of his swords at the same time, and waited perfectly still in the ready position.

As for the two opposing armies, they immediately closed all gaps surrounding the circle, which formed a very solid wall—approximately one hundred and seventy-five thousand soldiers there were, though not a single man or woman sat.

Meanwhile, Humonus, Brishava, and Chelsea watched nervously on the royal bleachers—they were helpless to do anything else but sit and watch.

A few seconds later, Vaspan stopped swinging his sword around, and then he turned to face his opponent—all the while, Baltor carefully watched his opponent's every single move.

Almost sounding polite, Vaspan asked, "Would you like to make the first move, or should I?"

Instead of answering his question, Baltor stated, "Sir, it doesn't have to be this way, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is an even better way than me and you battling to the death!"

"What other way is there?"

"The way of peace between our two lands, perhaps even a reuniting? After all, you, Brishava and I are all family, Uncle Vaspan, and there is a whole world for us to claim and rule," Baltor promised. "I also know that this would have already been the case, had your brother shared his empire with you long ago. Please let us end this family feud once and for all!"

For about thirty seconds, Vaspan actually appeared to be considering Baltor's words...

Until unexpectedly, Baltor observed a mysterious phenomenon occur with his uncle-in-law's eyes—they magically glowed a blood-red color for a single second.

Vaspan then roared like a dragon, while swinging his sword aimed directly for his opponent's neck.

Not surprisingly, Baltor had already somersaulted himself out of harm's way, and after rolling twice more in order to gain some extra distance, he asked with a whole lot of concern, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Vaspan yelled, "quit asking me your stupid questions, and let's fight already, punk!"

Baltor's eyes squinted in contemplation—he did not suspect that his uncle was fine at all, especially during that moment when his eyes literally flashed red.

Despite Vaspan's command to fight, Baltor pleaded, though not in any sort of weak or pitiful tone of voice, "I do not want to fight you, uncle! Please, come back home with us to Pavelus, where you will be recognized as the royalty that you are!"

Vaspan snarled, "The reason I will win this duel is not just because I am a better fighter, and not just because I am the rightful Sultan, but it's really because I absolutely refuse to share my Empire with a pathetic peasant, thief and punk like you!"

After a moment's pause, he added, "As for Brishava, she is both young and pretty—she, with my help, will find her a new husband of noble blood, one who both she and I deem worthy to rule after my time is complete! Probably Prince Jumblee."

Even though that last comment got Baltor's "blood boiling," Vaspan was still the first to make the next offensive strike, as he came rushing in with his two-handed sword sticking out straight in front of him like it was a lance.

Baltor knew the time for talk had ended, and even though he remained in the ready position without moving a muscle, he was ready for his enemy to near.

A few seconds before Vaspan's arrival, he unexpectedly threw his body into a forwards somersault, and while coming out of the roll, he angled out his sword so that it would slice Baltor open from top to bottom.

Just in the nick of time, Baltor had already rolled backward out of the dangerous sword's reach—the sword bounced harmlessly off the ground, making a loud clanging noise.

As soon as Baltor had regained his standing position, he saw that his opponent was already coming in with another angled attack.

Using both swords just like lock picks, Baltor not only barely deflected the angle of Vaspan's sword, yet tapped the side of that sword with both of his swords one extra time.

Vaspan's attack completely missed, his sword flying wildly out of his hands and landing five feet away.

Without pause, Baltor flicked both of his wrists up and out, in order to rip across his opponent's abdominal muscles times two, but Vaspan had performed his own backwards somersault out of harm's way.

Many in the crowd, from both sides, breathed out, "Oooh..."

In that same moment, one combatant held a look of astonishment, while the other surprise.

Baltor was quite astonished because Vaspan utilized the same martial arts style as he. Vaspan, on the other hand, was only momentarily surprised at the incredible fighting ability this kid had—no one had ever disarmed him before, with the exception of his older brother and father—no one.

Using Baltor's astonishment to his advantage, Vaspan hightailed his way to the edge of the circle, and while staying within its perimeters the whole time, he surprisingly threw himself into a sideways somersault while plucking three foot-long daggers off the ground in the process—once acquired, he regained his ready stance.

A second later, Vaspan laughed, "That was a good move you had there, boy, but you haven't seen anything yet!"

He immediately began to expertly spin, twirl, and even juggle those daggers around as if they were merely children's toys, and not lethal weapons.

After those daggers had begun to spin around in a rapid circle right in front of his body, nearly ten seconds after he had begun juggling, he not-too-surprisingly launched the first, the second and the final dagger straight for Baltor. Already he had begun to run for the next weapon...

Meanwhile, Baltor had just begun to tightly rotate both of his wrists into a figure "8" pattern, which caused his swords to form that same pattern on a much-larger scale—in the very next second of time, the first two daggers straight away became deflected by Baltor's swords, landing on the ground nearby.

The hilt of the final dagger, a split-second later, astonishingly became caught up in the "gravitational pull" from Baltor's swords, which swords continuously spun around in the "8".

Six astonishing seconds later, and without his hands having physically touched the dagger even once, he flicked both sword-bearing wrists still a different way, which caused that dagger to launch straight and true for where Vaspan was now running.

Only a second before the dagger could impact, Vaspan dropped and rolled out of harm's way, but one of his officers standing right outside the circle wasn't so lucky as it plunged to the hilt in his heart, killing him before his body had even hit the ground.

Baltor's troops had begun to cheer—Vaspan's began to boo. In fact, several of that officer's underlings became so infuriated that they tried to charge into the ring in order to kill Baltor, but their buddies from the same platoon tightly held them back, remembering the commands from Sultan Vaspan that "any interference means death."

As for the man himself, he had already neared the closest weapon lying on the ground, which was a spiked mace—he picked it up and turned to face Baltor.

"You got lucky with that dagger, boy!"

While waiting in the ready position, both of Baltor's eyebrows rose sharply before he asked with a laugh, "Think so?"

Without answering the question, Vaspan's face instantly contorted to rage, just before he cocked back his mace and began charging for his opponent at top speed. What had pissed the man off wasn't Baltor's question, yet the "really snotty way" he had asked it.

Once he had neared his opponent, nearly fifteen seconds later, his hands widely swung around his mace from back to front, so that it would flatten his opponent's head like a pancake.

However, Baltor was already prepared with a good defense. At the very last second he took a very large step to the right, which caused the mace to instantly miss and thud into the ground—without delay, he kicked his left foot hard into the back of his still-running opponent.

As a result of the kick, Vaspan flew out of control through the air until crashing on the ground several feet away, which caused him to see shooting stars everywhere.

From that maneuver, many more of Baltor's troops began to cheer, while just as many of Vaspan's began to boo.

Before Vaspan could stand back up onto his feet, Baltor had already arrived, crossing both swords right in front of him into an "x"—the edges now lightly pinched up both sides of Vaspan's neck. Though neither sword yet drew blood, Baltor said neutrally, "I don't believe in luck."

Vaspan's rear hand had already grabbed a handful of dirt, flinging it hard into his opponent's face and eyes—Vaspan's body rolled out of the way a nanosecond before Baltor's swords uncrossed.

Surprising to everyone present, Baltor did not try to remove the dirt in his blinded eyes, as his opponent began to run away—instead, he simply chose to hold onto both swords in the ready position and simply wait in silence and blindness.

Meanwhile, Vaspan was already nearing the border of the ring of torches, checking his neck with his left hand to see if it was bleeding, discovering happily that his hand didn't have any blood on it, and looking for the next best weapon to use.

Once he saw what he wanted, he instantly averted his running direction straight for them—two curvy sabers. He picked up both weapons, ran to the nearest torch, and swiped the blades through the oily wick at the same time. With sword blades literally on fire, he next turned back around, and then began to run toward his adversary's unmoving location, while gleefully noting that Baltor's eyes were still sealed shut.

As Vaspan began to near, perhaps twenty seconds later, he leapt high into the air—while flying, he threw the flaming saber in his left hand straight for Baltor's head, but kept a very firm grip of the other saber, readying it for a downwards slice.

Even though Baltor couldn't see a thing, he did hear the whirring sounds of the spinning weapon flying toward him. His hands instinctively crossed his swords right in front of him, which not only deflected that saber that caused it to hit the ground and the flame to go out, yet deflected the second saber attack that Vaspan had just launched.

For the first time in the entire battle, Baltor immediately began to launch a series of offensive strikes that lasted nearly a minute. Not only had Vaspan successfully countered every attack, yet he had managed to pick his other saber off the ground, and was now even turning a few of his own defenses into offenses that surely would have taken out most opponents.

Despite the fact that Baltor was still "completely blind," it was instinctively easy for him to deflect every single various type of attack that Vaspan had thrown so far, which had already turned out to be dozens upon dozens—after all, Baltor had truly mastered the art of blind-fighting.

As for the armies on both sides, many now began to believe that Baltor was unbeatable, even by one of the greatest warriors of all the surrounding lands—many soldiers within Vaspan's army began to cheer for Baltor now.

While still engaged in swordplay, Vaspan decided to try an offensive tactic he had earlier unsuccessfully used—again, he performed a double roundhouse swing with both sabers going in the same direction—one right after the other.

Unlike the previous time, Baltor somersaulted to his right, which caused both sabers to miss—before he had even regained his standing position, he had swung his own left sword up and around aimed for Vaspan. As for the sword in Baltor's right hand, even though it wasn't in attack range, it too swung up and out...both swords literally "sang" through the air.

Even though Vaspan was successful in deflecting the first attack by using both of his own sabers—almost unbelievably, except for the fact it was true, Baltor's sword literally had cut through both sabers, turning them into four pieces halfway down the blade.

The two ends of the sabers dropped straight to the ground—as for Vaspan, he hightailed for the edge of the circle as fast as he could, dropping his broken sabers and then looking for a new weapon.

As soon as Baltor had heard his opponent's footsteps begin to run away this time, he used that time to shift the sword in his left hand into his right, and with his free hand, clean out the dirt still lodged in his eyes.

Ten seconds later, once the last of the dirt was removed and he could now see, he observed that Vaspan already had a weapon in his hand, in which he was now hurriedly unwrapping it at the edge of the circle. This weapon looked both strange and unfamiliar to Baltor.

After Baltor had shifted the extra sword in his right hand back into his left, a split second later, he began to run at top speed for Vaspan, forty feet away.

Only seconds after he had begun running, he observed that Vaspan was now unwinding his new weapon—Baltor couldn't understand, however, how it would really be very useful against both of his swords.

After all, Vaspan's weapon consisted of two steely nightsticks—attached between two of the ends was a metallic cord made of small sharp, metallic thorns. Once fully unwound, only five seconds later, Vaspan began to laugh maniacally, as his hands speedily and expertly twirled and bounced them all around and off his body like nunchakus.

Despite Vaspan's incredible fighting skills, even with this weapon, this did not deter Baltor whatsoever—he leaped forward into two tight somersaults upon the ground before him, back to back.

The split-second before the second somersault was complete, Baltor immediately propped his legs firmly into the ground, and with everything he had, he propelled himself forward into a powerful leap aimed for Vaspan, who was now about twenty-two feet away.

As he literally flew headfirst through the air toward Vaspan, thanks to that extra ounce of strength Baltor had used in his left leg while pushing off the ground, his body commenced to spin in tight circles—all the while his arms remained extended straight over his head, and his hands continuously spun around in the "∞" pattern. Both of his swords looked just like two large spinning fans.

Meanwhile, Vaspan continued to spin his nunchakus, while mentally preparing for the moment that he would simply drop to the ground, which he hoped would cause Baltor to land outside the perimeters of the circle...and thus, end the duel.

When Baltor was ten feet away, he slowly lowered his arms, though his hands and wrists never stopped twirling those singing swords, which tips were now only inches from the ground—yet another crazy pattern emerged that caused the onlookers to gape in awe.

Moreover, what Vaspan saw and heard coming at him had scared the hell out of him, as it now looked and sounded like a thousand spinning metallic fans coming at him all at once—never before had he imagined that such a maneuver could be performed. Suddenly, he began to greatly fear there would be a hell of a lot of pain in the instant he died.

He instantly dropped the weapon in hands and dropped to his hands and knees, all the while pleading with tears pouring out his eyes, "I surrender!"

By the time Vaspan had begun to speak, Baltor was now six feet away. He instantly sheathed his swords with a flick of his wrists, and angled his entire flight pattern by throwing his hands back down toward the ground.

Upon hitting the ground a foot later, he performed a tight forwards somersault, which maneuver included getting back onto his feet. In the end, Baltor had stopped but one foot shy in front of Vaspan's kneeling position.

Though most were absolutely shocked at the battle that they had the privilege and honor to witness, all of Baltor's admiring soldiers instinctively began clapping and cheering, as well the majority of Vaspan's own troops. The only ones who appeared to be very angry were Vaspan's five sons, Thorn, Glacius, and one other "dark soul."

Not surprisingly, Baltor appeared to be totally worn out as he was forced to take a couple of stumbling steps backwards, while slowly breathing out, "Can... we... can we please, have some peace?" Even though his breathing was haggard, there remarkably wasn't an ounce of sweat to be seen on his body.

Quickly the terrified look on Vaspan's face transformed to sorrow. Seconds later, he confirmed, "Yes, my nephew... I... I am sorry..."

The look in Vaspan's eyes, and the tone to his voice, genuinely reflected that sorrow—Baltor's "warning senses" picked up no hostile-or-underhanded intentions, whatsoever.

As soon as the word "nephew" crossed Brishava's ears, tears began to pour steadily out of her eyes in happiness and joy, though she didn't allow herself to make a single noise so she could continue to hear every single word that was spoken between her uncle and her husband.

"You are forgiven, Uncle Vaspan," Baltor had already responded.

Still on his knees, Vaspan added, "What you said earlier—you're right! The whole reason that our Empires do not encompass and rule the whole earth is because of the division within our family!"

Baltor first threw a very warm smile, before he replied, "That's the way that I see it too, uncle. Now, please, get off your knees, for you are royalty, and you are family! Let us go back to Pavelus and celebrate. In fact, let us all go back and celebrate—we have an empire and a whole world to rule!"

Hundreds of thousands of people cheered at that last bit of news.

Once the cheering had abated a minute later, which cheering included Vaspan's four youngest sons, Vaspan asked, "Can you help me to my feet, nephew? I'm not as young as I used to be..."

"Of course, Uncle Vaspan," Baltor replied with a warm smile.

As Baltor drew within arm's reach, he extended his right hand out, though unsure how his uncle might need it. Meanwhile Vaspan grabbed his nephew's forearm with his right hand, and as he slowly began to pull himself up onto his feet, he leaned closer and closer into his nephew's right side.

Upon regaining a standing position just to Baltor's right, he began to gaze proudly at his nephew...until suddenly, Vaspan's eyes flashed that red color again.

Before Baltor could do anything about it, it was already too late, for Vaspan's boot knife was now buried to the hilt in between his back and right armor shoulder plates of armor, which five-inch blade had punctured deep into his right lung, thus causing a whole lot of blood to spray.

Baltor screamed in both pain and anger, just before his left fist instinctively delivered an uppercut punch into his uncle's face very-very-very hard—flying out of control, Vaspan's body literally flew up and into the air for an amazing ten feet before crashing back into the ground. Vaspan had been knocked out in one punch.

Now grunting both angrily and painfully, Baltor plucked the dagger out and dropped it to the ground—though the monstrous beast inside of him wanted to come out and play, he forcibly kept IT in check.

Instead, with but a flick of his wrists, Baltor extended his swords out in front of him in the defensive position, while stumbling toward Vaspan, who he saw was already returning to consciousness and slowly sitting up although his face had swollen to twice its normal size.

Without a word spoken, Baltor slowly approached Vaspan until he was two feet away. Meanwhile, Vaspan had just begun to sit up, though still a bit clumsily.

"Now, Vaspan, you die," Baltor replied without emotion.

After Vaspan had quickly lifted up his left arm until his hand was pointing directly at Baltor, he said, "I've got one more trick up my sleeve, punk!"

Specially created and installed within the sleeve of his armor, he had a blowgun device, which, when triggered by a specific upwards flick of the wrist, shot out a lethal dart wherever the end of the sleeve pointed—Vaspan flicked.

Baltor fell backwards to the ground as the dart zinged just millimeters over his head—he next performed a reverse somersault, returned to his feet and hurled both swords at Vaspan—one right after the other.

Both swords—one right after the other yet side-by-side—buried themselves to the hilt through both Vaspan's armor and chest, causing his mortally wounded body to crash back to the ground.

As Baltor inched forward, even though he could see that his opponent was barely moving at all, his very keen ears heard the man whispering Baltor's name repeatedly.

Several seconds later, Baltor stood over his opponent, and his wound was now fully healed—Vaspan had been looking straight up into the night sky with a bleeding smile on his face, until his glowing red pupils ran across Baltor.

With a light snap of Vaspan's right index finger and thumb, time magically stopped—everyone, except for the two men, were now frozen in place.

Though Baltor was aware of the finger snap, he was not aware of the time freeze, because his focus and gaze remained completely upon his still-living opponent, of whom he thought might be trying still another trick he had up his sleeve.

Vaspan, now strangely bearing the voice of a shrilly/snaky-sounding woman as well those glowing red pupils, began to deliver this message that only Baltor could hear, "Baltor Elysian, you do not know me, but I certainly know everything about you... You have never seen me, but I have always watched you—oh, you were so close to changing your uncle's mind, but oh so far...

"Now watch out, for I, my minions, and my masters shall soon utterly destroy Trendon Harrn, so that we can once again possess the Rod of Ro'shain, and control the Realm of Darkness, as well all the other universal planes!"

"I have a question for you, Baltor Elysian: Will you join the rest of your vompareus brothers and sisters...or do we have to utterly destroy you, as well your master?"

After only a moment's consideration, Baltor replied, "My answer is no—I will not join any of you. What you will come to discover is that you are the ones who will become destroyed by my master's hand, and not the other way around. Justice and order must prevail in the universes, dimensions, and realms, and so it shall until the very end of time—that is what I firmly believe!"

Vaspan first hissed like a snake, "Sssss..." Still bearing the voice of that female, he said, "Beware—I am the anti-soul you were forewarned about! What Trendon Harrn did not forewarn you about are these five facts—one, I am a black dragon; two, I—like you—am a vompareus; which makes three, I am the first vompareus dragon in history!"

Obviously not done, Vaspan continued, "Four, I am the only one of my kind who can teleport through the Realm of Darkness without the Rod of Ro'shain, or any other realm for that matter at any time...

"And five, I've brought along me an unstoppable gnome army, consisting of tens of millions of warriors and priestesses, which army I have bred for the sole purpose of destroying three things—you, your master, and your world!"

Baltor said in disbelief, "Yeah right!"

"You don't believe me yet, Baltor Elysian, but you will soon enough...and when we meet again on the battlefield, along with all my forces, I will ask you once more if you will join us! If you say no then, Baltor Elysian, then it is you who will die in the—"

At that moment, Baltor had grabbed the blades still inside of Vaspan, and pushed just a bit further. Baltor said, "I seriously doubt that, but good luck!"

Vaspan instantly died—time just as instantly recommenced.

Baltor slowly raised his two bloodied swords into the sky above him, which caused the blood from his opponent to seep down his arms and make "the vompareus" in him extremely hungry, though he forcibly kept that vampire hunger "in check."

As for the troops on both sides, they had already begun to chant, each time getting progressively louder, "Hail to the Sultan!"

Surprisingly enough, just about everybody began chanting out, "Hail to the Sultan," too include most of Vaspan's sons. Minutes ago, Glacius, had already disappeared into the night.

Only the eldest of Vaspan's sons, Jumblee, was not chanting, yet instead bore a terribly upset-look on his face...after all, not only was he not going to rule the Sharia Empire as his father had promised, but he was no longer going to get to inherit the Vaspan Empire either. Even his brothers, Jumblee realized, had turned on he and his father.

Once Baltor had crossed his swords high over his head, he somehow managed to shout above the din of the hundreds of thousands still chanting, "Hail to the Sharia Empire!"

Now frenzied, the soldiers shouted back, "Hail to the Sharia Empire! Hail to the Sharia Empire!"

While continuing to shout this in place, they then began to stomp their boots into the ground in unison, which caused the earth to shake for miles around, while concurrently beating their armored gloves into their armored chests every time their left foot hit the ground.

Baltor felt the blissful energy from all his soldiers as he slowly turned to look at all of his men and women, which was equally blissful for the lot of them.

The only people worried at all was everyone back in Pavelus, who still did not know the victor of the duel, or what was going on to cause such loud noises—though nearly all there hoped and prayed that Baltor had won.

As for Brishava, she threw a sidelong glance over at Humonus and Chelsea on the platform, noting that they too were clapping and chanting with tears of joy pouring from all eyes.

Baltor then faced toward Chelsea, and as soon as their gazes locked, a warm smile suddenly crossed his face—Chelsea couldn't help but continue smiling back, though she did bow her head very respectfully before her Sultan.

Baltor's gaze fell onto Humonus in the next moment, and that smile widened further still—Humonus closed his eyes while slowly bowing his head before his Sultan.

It was then that Brishava's gaze fell back to her husband—her mind thought, _I can't believe how lucky I am to have the man I do—the incredible power he holds over his army, over me, over us all, is absolutely unquestionable!_

It was just as Brishava had finished her thought that Baltor stopped looking at Humonus—Baltor's gaze, at that moment, locked onto hers.

While their gazes remained locked, Brishava thought she heard Baltor's voice say in her head, _The world is ours, my love, the world is ours_ ...

She tried to say forcibly back in her own mind, hoping that Baltor could hear it, _Yes it is—I love you, my husband!_

Once she had completed her thought, Baltor stopped looking at his wife—those eyes gazed back again at his soldiers as he declared, "Tonight, my Forces, I will need to see a medic and get my rest...but tomorrow night—we celebrate!"

" _HOORAY!!_ " was the most common word used by everyone.

The only person who didn't say a word was Jumblee. Because he could no longer hold back his "unadulterated rages," he drew a boot knife, and chucked it straight and true for Baltor's right jugular vein on his neck.

Without even a second thought, Baltor's right sword had automatically deflected the incoming knife, even though it came from behind his standing position—in the end, the blade of the knife harmlessly stuck itself into the ground, while the armies on both sides instantly killed the would-be assassin of their Sultan.

Once everyone sensed that everything was okay, the crowds began to chant out excitedly and repeatedly, "Sultan Elysian! Sultan Elysian! Sultan Elysian!"

## CHAPTER VI

Baltor awoke the following evening after sunset, and without so much as an ounce of pain anywhere. Even before he had opened his eyes, he could feel the bandages and gauze tape that the medics had tightly wrapped around his chest, back and shoulder following the battle—although there had been no wound nor scar even then. He had ordered the medics to remain forever silent to this fact, even to their Sultaness and ruling-general.

Upon opening his eyes a second later, he observed that Brishava was sitting on the bed nearby, and that she was gazing and smiling at him. Currently she was dressed in one of her sexy nighties. He couldn't help but smile back.

Nearly a minute passed as the two continuously stared at each other without a word spoken yet so much being communicated between the two. Baltor was the first one to break the silence by yawning and then saying, "Good evening, Hun."

Brishava replied with a very chipper tone of voice, "Good evening to you, my Love! How ya feeling?"

"Not bad. You?"

"Good!"

As Baltor felt the urge to yawn yet again, he slowly breathed in while just as slowly stretching his arms out over his head, and then he sucked in a deep breath of air into his lungs. He released that very deep yawn, before lowering his arms back to his sides. Once so, he extended out his right hand so that he could clasp Brishava's left hand.

The very second their hands made contact—a light flickered in her eyes, just before she asked excitedly, "Guess what?"

Already curious by the excitement that was evident, Baltor asked, "What?"

Brishava shifted her free hand so that it could hold Baltor's free hand. Once this was so, she revealed, "Tonight, at nine, we have our victory celebration! It will be held at the coliseum, so that we can have plenty of room to celebrate with absolutely everybody!"

After raising just his left eyebrow while slightly pursing his lips, Baltor asked, "You're really, really good at getting things done quickly and thoroughly, aren't you?"

"Of course," Brishava said with a flattered smile. The look on her face unexpectedly turned to concern as she asked, "So, how is your shoulder?"

"It still hurts in so many ways that he stabbed me in the back," Baltor answered truthfully, "but I'll be all right! Just to let you know, I didn't want to kill your uncle, but I had no—"

At this point, Brishava had physically silenced him by cupping her right hand gently over his mouth, and saying, " _Shh_ ....it wasn't your fault!"

Through her cupped hand, Baltor asked with a muffled voice, "Are you sure?"

Once Brishava's hand was once again clasping her husband's hand, a second later, she said, "Yes, I'm sure. Like you predicted, the duel not only saved the lives of tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, yet you've more than tripled the size of our troops! We now have two hundred and twenty-eight thousand strong men and women enlisted in the Sharia Empire's armed forces, too include my uncle's top general!

"Regarding this particular man, Thorn has already solemnly sworn his allegiance to us, and we, via me, have graciously promised that we will give him plenty of chances to prove his oaths, as he shall be placed directly under your command as a one-star general. If he fails once, he will immediately die by your hand, and he knows this to be true..."

During the course of Brishava's last sentence, a confused look had begun to draw on her husband's face.

Once he was one hundred percent sure she was done saying what she had to say, Baltor asked his question a few moments later, "Has there been any sighting of General Glacius?"

After sighing disappointedly, Brishava answered, "No, he has managed to escape, yet again. Don't worry—he won't get far."

Though he spoke no words, Baltor nodded his head in agreement.

After releasing a wistful sigh, Brishava's eyes glimmered as she exclaimed, "By the way, that was by far, the most incredible battle I've ever witnessed in my life—trust me, you made no mistakes! And what it all really boils down to is this...you gave my uncle so many chances to join us and our family that it wasn't even funny—but like I said before, my uncle was just as tyrannical and devious as my father."

It was then that Baltor's face visibly relaxed, before he replied with a slight growl, "Good....so, do we have any time for some hanky—"

Just then, there was a repetitious knocking upon the double doors interrupting Baltor in his words.

Brishava, with a knowing smile directed at Baltor, quickly threw her black silky robe on before replying authoritatively, "Enter."

The guards opened the double doors from the other side, and in walked Humonus, who clearly looked angry.

Baltor immediately realized that _something wasn't right_ , and so he sat up in bed before asked very somberly, "What's going on, Ruling General?"

"My Sultan, word has just reached us from Lasparus—instead of me relaying that message to you, I will let the captain who barely escaped with his life relay it," Humonus said, snapping his fingers twice.

Only a moment later, two guards carried the mortally wounded captain on a stretcher into the room. Not only was his uniform tattered to shreds, yet half of his unshaven face and three-quarters of his body were completely bandaged up. Though the medics had obviously done their best to keep the captain alive as long as possible, they felt convinced that he wasn't going to make it for much longer.

As soon as the captain's horror-stricken eyes reached his Sultan's, he painfully began, "My Sultan, I... I am Captain Fletch, from Lasparus... The Duke of Vispano and his men....they ambushed and attacked the city two weeks ago, after our commanding officer let them in because we received no orders to the contrary. They attacked us right away, killing every soldier they ran across, or any civilian trying to fight...

"We were so horribly outnumbered, as half of our forces had been sent here... I... I believe I am the only soldier to escape and sur—" Fletch managed to say, just before he died with his eyes wide open.

Humonus permanently shut Fletch's eyes, crossed the captain's arms over his chest, and laid his own hands lightly on the man's hands while throwing a little prayer for a speedy trip to the afterlife, which prayer took about ten seconds.

Once he was complete, the two guards that had brought the captain into the room on the stretcher took his body out.

Meanwhile, Baltor looked over at Humonus, and then he sighed aloud, "I guess that it's really true what King Thorven the Great said, more than a thousand years ago, in his book called, _The Chronicles of the Eternal King_ : 'When peace finally emerges between two warring countries, war will erupt with still another...so always, always, always be ready.'"

"What are your orders, my Sultan?" Humonus was the first to ask.

Baltor answered, "Tomorrow, Ruling General, we shall inform the troops that one hundred ten thousand soldiers and sailors shall be deploying by land and sea to Lasparus, led by me: Not only will we be taking back our city, but then we shall conquer the entire Vispano Province. The Duke can no longer be trusted..."

After taking a deep breath, he ordered, "Forty-five thousand, twenty-eight soldiers shall stay here in Pavelus, in which I have every confidence in my Sultaness's ability to more-than-sufficiently rule the affairs of the Sharia Empire on her own...

"The remaining forty-five thousand soldiers will immediately deploy back to Mauritia, in order to reclaim this city and her surrounding lands once more, led by you, my Ruling General."

Nearly ten seconds passed before Humonus finally answered, "As you command, my Sultan."

"Tonight," Baltor added with a little smile, "we say nothing, and simply celebrate our first victory. That's it."

"Yes, my Sultan."

Brishava, who had been paying fervent attention as always, commended enthusiastically, "All great ideas, Hun!"

Baltor glanced over at his wife, and said with a wink, "Thank you, Love!"

Humonus abruptly cleared his throat, before asking, "If you will please excuse me, my Sultan and Sultaness? I have many missions to accomplish and very little time to do it all."

"Of course! See you tonight at the celebration, my friend," Brishava said with a pleased smile.

After delivering a low bow, Humonus walked toward the doors that the two guards had just opened.

The guards instantly snapped a sharp salute to their ruling-general as he passed them by, which salute was returned. Once he was gone, the guards exited the room, shutting the door behind them.

Only three seconds later, Brishava had already finished glancing all around the room, discovering that they were once again completely alone.

She next looked on over at Baltor, threw off her robe, and said with a crooked yet very sexy smile, "Now, back to what you were suggesting originally about some hanky panky, but listen up first...this is important. We only have one hour before our assistants will arrive, mine in my dressing room, which means we have about thirty-to-forty minutes to have a little fun, so that we can _also_ take a quick bath before they arrive. Oh, of course, we need to make sure your bandages don't get wet!"

"Okay," he replied with his own crooked smile.

She purred like a kitten in desire, and so he growled like a tiger right back—still like a kitten, she immediately crawled to him, and passionate touching and kissing began between the lovers....

Exactly one hour later, Brishava departed for her dressing room, while Baltor stayed where he was. His assistants had already arrived, pushing the closet-on-wheels.

Only a moment-or-so after they had bowed, they started the process of dressing and grooming him up. Right away, Baltor announced, "I've decided that I want my hair to get long enough to put it into a ponytail, but you can do everything else you normally do. Understand?"

"Yes, my Sultan," the lead assistant replied with a nod, before he and the rest of his assistants continued to work.

After they were done and gone, thirty minutes after they had started, Baltor's eyes only then began to perform his self-inspection in the mirror.

The first object to draw his attention was his royal Sultan's crown, perfectly placed on the top of his head. Then it was his two highly prized necklaces, one of them a gift from his wife and the other from one of his best and oldest friends, Humonus.

Then it was his snazzy-looking purple tunic that had tiny silver-swirls sewn throughout, as well the silver buttons that buttoned up the front of the shirt, as well his silver-colored breeches.

Then it was his royal insignia, his wedding ring, and his pinky rings. Finally, it was his pair of knee-high, white, leather boots.

Not even a second after his inspection had ended, and he was quite satisfied with the result, he saw—still through the mirror—Brishava enter the room, noting that she now wore a shimmering golden evening dress, as well a pair of matching high-heeled shoes. Her hair loosely flowed straight down both her front and backside, held in place at the top of her head by her matching yet smaller crown. Her eye shadow consisted of several horizontal gold and silver glitter layers. Why, even her painted ruby red lips had silver-and-gold glitter on them.

When both husband's and wife's eyes cast upon each other, they gazed at one another in astonishment and wonder...

"Oohhh—you look good," both stated simultaneously and with ear-to-ear smiles.

In the very next moment, they replied in unison, "Thanks—so do you!"

At that, both husband and wife began to burst out laughing with merriment at the very same time.

Only three seconds after the laughter had begun, however, someone was already knocking on the bedroom door.

Still chuckling, Baltor replied, "Enter..."

Humonus and Chelsea were the first to enter, and they were both dressed up formally for tonight's event. She wore a beautiful black evening dress, while he wore his "Class A" uniform. Following behind was Jamar, also wearing his own formal attire. All three bowed for a moment.

Upon rising, Humonus was the first to say, "Your transportation has arrived, my Sultan and Sultaness. Are we ready to leave?"

Yet again in unison, both Baltor and Brishava replied, "Yes we are." At that, neither could help but burst out into unrestricted laughter from the parallelism. A teardrop had even started to form at the inner corner of each of her eyes.

Humonus's eyebrows rose in confusion, but he said not a word. On the other hand, Jamar had a few words to say, and so he said them frantically, "Please, my Highnesses, your mascara!"

Both she and Baltor instantly checked their laughter by lightly clearing their throats, as they both had eyeliner on. A moment later, Brishava added, "You're right—thank you, Jamar."

"No problem, my Sultaness."

Brishava had to clear her throat one more time before she could say, "I need to check myself out in the mirror one more time before we go, especially as important as this celebration is—and so do you, Honey."

"Already done, Sweetheart," Baltor replied with a wink and a knowing smile. He had done just that only three seconds earlier.

Moments later, the group casually exited the room, and joining them out in the hallway was a platoon of guards, marching in front and behind their rulers. After exiting the main doors to the palace and into the courtyard outside, they, in turn, entered the over-sized royal carriage that had twelve horses pulling it along.

Once everyone was comfortably seated with the door closed, the chauffeur clucked his tongue a few times, while snapping the reins and driving them out of the palace grounds.

Joining them outside the palace walls was the entire army already assembled in formation, and following behind them, all of the nobles who rode in the back of their carriages. The vast majority of the "commoners" had all been hired to set up tonight's victory celebration—cooking, cleaning, decorating, etc., etc. They had all been working non-stop since being hired.

Jamar had been put in charge of elaborately designing and preparing the coliseum for tonight's event, despite the fact that it was still only half-built, so that the coliseum could comfortably seat, feed hungers, parch thirsts, and entertain all _two hundred, eighty thousand guests._ Overall, it could hold three hundred thousand people.

Nearly fifteen million parsecs had been spent in order to produce this one single night of celebration—three quarters of the "total bill" was taken care of, most graciously, by the nobles of Pavelus out of their own pockets.

Once they had arrived at the coliseum, about an hour-in-a-half later, Jamar escorted Baltor, Brishava, Humonus, and Chelsea into the royal waiting room, while everyone else—nobles, common folk, officers, and enlisted soldiers began to locate their assigned seats, and then sit down.

Nearly thirty minutes later, everyone was finally seated, and so Ruksha walked out onto the balcony. After the two trumpeters had played the Empire's national anthem, Ruksha proudly introduced the Sultan and Sultaness. Thanks to the fact the balcony had been acoustically built to magnify all sounds, he did not need a megaphone to be clearly heard by everyone.

It was then that Baltor and Brishava walked hand-in-hand to their thrones and sat down—all the while, the royal trumpeters had been playing the royal tune, while everyone else bowed their heads in sovereign respect.

Once the two rulers of the Sharia Empire had comfortably seated themselves, and the trumpeters had stopped, Baltor commanded, "You may all rise."

Everyone rose.

Ruksha next formally introduced Ruling-General Humonus and his lovely wife, Lady Chelsea.

Again, the trumpeters blew out another melodious tune—already had the entire regiment of soldiers snapped their sharpest salute to their Ruling General.

Humonus just-as-sharply returned the salute, and then he and Chelsea headed over to the main rectangular table and took the seats on the outside, which had been set for four—it had earlier been briefed to them that Baltor and Brishava would inevitably be sitting in the two middle seats, during the course of dinner.

Meanwhile, the soldiers dropped their salutes, and took their seats. Without the salute, the nobles had already begun to take their seats.

Just as before, a servant came out holding a gold serving tray, which held three other gold objects: two jeweled goblets, and a matching jug filled with wine. After another servant had come out and tested the wine, and that servant appeared okay fifteen seconds later, the wine was poured into both goblets, and distributed to their leaders.

The second Baltor was given his goblet, he rose to his feet, raised the goblet high into the air, and declared, "It is an honor to be your Sultan! I promise that I shall always be just and fair to the very last one of you, until the very last moment of my life!"

After taking a deep breath through his nose, he continued, "As your Sultaness and I are like the brain in the human body, you all are our eyes, ears, noses, arms, legs, hands, and feet! It is only as one single unit that we can give duty, honor, and glory to the Sharia Empire! Be the Sharia Empire! For the Sharia Empire!"

With the conclusion of his toast, Baltor consumed the entire goblet of wine, and once done, he raised the goblet back into the air.

Everyone else repeated in unison, "For the Sharia Empire!" They also slammed the entire glass down, even if they weren't normally hearty drinkers.

Baltor allowed the servant to dutifully fill his goblet with more wine. He then proclaimed, "Your Sultaness earlier commanded to me that she has her own toast to make, which command I must obey...Honey?" Without waiting for a response, Baltor laughed as he sat back down upon his throne.

Most of the people either lightly chuckled at the "endearing title" or the "jest" he had just made. Meanwhile, almost all of the adults began to refill their own glasses with the pitchers of alcohol—ale or wine—that had been sitting in the middle of the tables. Parents filled their children's glasses with juice, milk, or water.

Once Brishava saw that everyone had a full glass, about a minute later, she rose from her throne, and while raising her own goblet high into the air, she declared, "My toast goes out to my husband, Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth...

"After all, not only has this man saved us all from an all-out war, which war would have minimally cost the lives of tens of thousands, and possibly everyone present here tonight, yet he has inspired each one of us to make the most out of ourselves with every precious moment! These are the valuable qualities I admire most about this man who is my friend, husband, teacher, and leader. Baltor is not just your Sultan—he is equally mine!"

With that, she raised her goblet high into the air, and said with jubilation, "For the Sharia Empire!"

The people responded back the same phrase just as jubilantly.

With that, Brishava actually chugged the remainder of the red wine down, which was ninety-nine percent of it—she had only taken a sip during Baltor's toast. She quickly sat back down as she felt the head-rush hit.

After clapping his hands twice, Baltor declared, "Bring on the grub—let's listen to some pleasant dinner music while we eat. Later, we'll watch some dancers and other entertainers—ultimately, let's have some serious fun tonight! All right everyone?"

" _Hooray!_ " almost everyone cried out jubilantly, using that word or another similar one.

From amongst the din, a powerfully masculine voice was barely heard a moment later, "May I please be allowed to give a quick toast also, please?"

A moment later, the din immediately died down, and then everyone began obligingly filling his or her mugs once again.

The man that had spoken, as it turned out, was Thorn. He toasted, "I would like to say thank you for allowing me the chance to now serve the Sharia Empire! With you, Sultan Baltor Elysian, leading the reunited Empires to victory, we cannot fail! I have never in my entire life seen one as powerful, noble, and just...that is, except for the Sultaness. Therefore, this toast goes to the both of you! For the Sharia Empire! Here—here!"

The majority of the crowds replied, "Here—here!"

With that, Thorn chugged the entire contents of his mug down ... as did everyone else, except for Brishava who again took a small sip, as she was still dealing with a bit of the head rush.

Right after the toast's conclusion, Baltor clapped his hands twice.

Servants began to roll out dinner carts, while an orchestra began to play formal dinner music.

A few seconds later, Baltor looked over at Brishava, and asked, "Ready to head to the table?"

"Yes, Hun...if you'll guide me there. I'm still feeling a little tipsy."

"No problem," he said with a loving smile.

With that, he stood to his feet, walked over to Brishava, and extended his hand out—she took it, and rose to her feet. Together, they proceeded to their table, only twenty feet away from their thrones.

Once they had taken their seats, the servants were already there, filling their leaders' plates with whatever and however much food they wanted—breads, meats, fruits, vegetables, cakes and other delicacies ... and if needed, more water, juice, wines, and ales.

Once the last person at the head table had been served, one dish of everything was set onto the table's far side—everything at this table had of course been tested for poison, as always.

Right away, Baltor used his seasoning shaker, spreading a bunch of the dried-red seasoning all over his food.

Meanwhile, these servants immediately began to assist the other servants who were distributing out the food to the rest of the population, beginning with the nobles, and then the officers from highest to lowest, and finally to the remaining guests.

Everything went "wonderfully perfect" for a little over half the night—that is, until about one o'clock in the morning.

Only minutes before the incident that ruined just about everything occurred, a "celebrity musician" played from a strange looking horn that had all these various buttons and gadgets on it—the horn produced swanky, exotic yet beautiful dance tunes, some songs fast and others slow.

All the while, contortionist acrobats danced amongst the guests, either on both their feet, sometimes on their hands, rolling around in unison, or even climbing and clinging onto each other, while forming all sorts of various shapes and patterns.

Meanwhile, the guests, who were mostly drunk, had either been watching the entertainment, socializing and/or drinking with one another—all of course were in "celebration mode!"

As for Baltor, for the most part, he had mostly sat upon his throne, as Brishava sat on hers. To their sides sat Humonus in a very plush chair to his right side, and Chelsea on the far side. Everyone, of course, continued to watch the amusing, artistic, and breathtaking entertainment.

All, but one individual, was drunk, Baltor—getting drunk or even buzzed was impossible for him, no matter how much alcohol he drank. Not even drinking the alcoholized juices from the cah-su-cahn berries, which berries he had discovered in his friend Prince Cheo's jungle kingdom of Chao-chu-sha-maen several years before, made him feel even a slight buzz.

It was ironic he was thinking about all of these facts when he did, because just as his eyes had turned away from the dancers, he happened to spot something out of the ordinary. Entering the opened main entryway to the coliseum, there were two guards who were dragging a black man that was wearing a bloodied-up/dirty fur loincloth, as well a very scruffy beard and hairstyle.

Baltor's eyes zoomed in like binoculars, and a second later, he instantly recognized this barely conscious man—Prince Cheo.

In a single moment's time, Baltor became incredibly upset and angry upon seeing that this prince's hands and feet were all shackled together—this was certainly no way to treat royalty in Baltor's empire.

He became ever more upset—if that was even possible—to see that Cheo looked extremely unhealthy, besides the fact he had lost all of his powerful muscles and looked skinny as a rail. Not only were his eyes three quarters of the way shut, while his feet drug on the ground as the guards carried him by the armpits, yet his face and body had scars of all shapes and sizes just about everywhere.

Baltor immediately rose to his feet, while yelling at the top of his lungs, "I command that you two guards unshackle that prince immediately, before you ever-so-gently lay him down on the floor!"

Already had the musician stopped playing his music with a sour note, the acrobats stopped moving, and absolute silence filled the coliseum, and for two reasons—one, the Sultan was unquestionably furious, and many of them became scared because his yelling voice had been amplified so loudly.

Reason number two—a good majority of these people had ever before seen a black man. That is, except for Baltor, Brishava, Humonus, and Chelsea—they knew exactly who this prince was.

All four people rushed out of their seats and over to Cheo, who was now lying on his back upon the ground and unmoving—meanwhile, both guards were unshackling him as fast as they could.

Baltor was the first to reach his friend, only three seconds later, as he knelt down onto his knees next to Cheo's body, while gently cupping his friend's head underneath his hand. Without looking away, he called out, "Get me a pillow—now!"

At that very moment, Brishava, Humonus, and Chelsea were also kneeling around Cheo, and examining the horrible wounds.

Besides the multitude of scars everywhere, they saw that Cheo had a particularly deep and jagged scar on his right cheek—he also looked really malnourished and exhausted.

Fortunately for the guards, none saw any fresh wounds on the man, which meant that their guards hadn't tortured him.

Strangely enough, Cheo continued to stare uncomprehending without a single word spoken, even though his friends now surrounded him on all four sides.

"Prince Cheo," Baltor could only say, while trying to fight the bloody tears that now wanted to pour from his eyes, as he looked upon his friend who had obviously been through— _HELL!_

After regaining a control over his distraught emotions, Baltor managed to say in Cheo's language, "Cheo...my brother! Are you all right?"

In that next moment, a nobleman—who had originally been sitting on a soft and plush pillow at a chair nearby—laid the pillow underneath Cheo's head. After a bow, that nobleman headed back to his table, but did not go back to sitting.

Meanwhile, one of the two guards who had drug Cheo inside, reported very nervously, "My...my Sultan! I...we didn't—we didn't know who he was, nor did we ever see a man with black skin before! I—we swear that this is the way he looked when he arrived at the city gates on horseback not even a half an hour ago!"

Without pause, the other guard continued, "We—we didn't know what to do with him, which is why we decided to bring him here to you! We were honestly afraid that he could turn hostile on us at any moment—we thought he looked dangerous!"

Baltor asked the two incredulously, "You thought he was dangerous? What on earth is the matter with you two? This man is Prince Cheo of the Chao-chu-sha-maen Kingdom, and from here on out, you are all to treat him as royalty! You—go get him some water... You—go get him a blanket."

Even though the guard who had been ordered to get a blanket immediately began to do so with great haste, the guard who had been ordered to get the water answered, "Yes—yes, my Sultan! Can we please say that we are truly sorry?"

"Let's talk about apologies after you've gotten the damned water, okay?" Baltor snarled.

"On the way, my Sultan," the guard exclaimed just before he took off at top speed while nervously gulping all the while.

Baltor's attention immediately focused itself on Cheo, who had just squinted open his eyes. Baltor intentionally asked this question in both languages, "My friend...can you hear me?"

Cheo didn't respond verbally, but with his head still resting on the pillow and his eyes closing for the very first time, he slowly cocked his head from side to side one time. Only the four knew that this was Cheo's way of saying, "yes."

Still they all wondered why Cheo hadn't verbally responded, as he knew all too well how to fluently speak his native language, as well Pavelian.

A moment later, Baltor asked, "Good! Are you okay?"

Cheo's head circled around one time, which indicated the negative response—just then, the second guard had returned with a pitcher of water. He said, "My Sultan, here is the water you requested—so, are we please forgiven?"

After taking the pitcher of water, Baltor replied with a bit of irritation to his voice, "Not yet. You and your fellow soldier stand by, whenever he gets back with that blanket!"

"I'll look for one too, sir, just in case he can't find one, my Sultan," he said, before fervently looking around for a blanket.

Meanwhile, Humonus had already taken off his own five-star formal trench coat, and gently laid it over Cheo's body to keep him warm.

Baltor then began the process of dunking his index and middle finger into the icy water. Once wet, he then began gently patting those wet fingers upon Cheo's blistered lips, in order for them to get moist enough so that he could open his mouth...

Nearly a minute later, once Cheo had slightly opened his mouth, Baltor first poured but a few of drops into his mouth, and a few moments later, a few more drops. Finally, he poured a very short burst of water into Cheo's mouth.

Just then, both guards made it back, each bearing a thick blanket in hand.

Humonus took back his jacket, and, while putting it on, ordered, "Roll that blanket into a bundle and set it underneath his feet—you, lay the other blanket right on top of him."

"Yes, Ruling-General Humonus," both guards snapped as they began to execute their orders.

While laying the blanket over Cheo, the guard that had initially asked for forgiveness asked again, "My Sultan—I hate to interrupt...but I—we've got to know whether we're going to live or die! And most especially, your Majesty, will you please forgive us?"

Baltor sighed, "So long as you two are never prejudicial toward anyone for the rest of your lives, then yes, you are both forgiven, as you will have learned the way we all should really live! Deal?"

While Baltor looked back down so that he could pour another small burst of water into Cheo's mouth, he heard both of the guards reply, "Deal, my Sultan!"

"Then you both may live," Baltor said without looking up. "Dismissed, and keep living, soldiers!"

The two guards bowed one more time and hastily departed, while breathing extremely deep sighs of relief.

Meanwhile, Cheo pushed the pitcher away from his mouth, indicating that he didn't want any more to drink. Baltor took that cue, handing the pitcher to Humonus who held onto it just in case.

Baltor asked in Cheo's language, "Can you now talk, my friend?"

Cheo circled his head around in a circle one time, which indicated the answer, "no."

"Why not?"

Cheo fully opened his mouth—what was missing was his tongue...it had been cut out.

"Oh my God," Baltor breathed.

"What happened, my friend?" Brishava immediately asked with a whole lot of concern etched on her face and in her voice.

Cheo weakly, yet intelligibly, signed back with his hands, "Not even two months after you guys left—they came and killed my people with an army of astronomical proportions. Perhaps millions?"

Baltor asked, "Who?"

Cheo signed, "I do not know who they are—I have never seen people like them before. Though they are humanoid, they definitely are not humans. More like monsters from a horrible nightmare, but in real life!"

Humonus, who had just returned after setting the pitcher onto a nearby table (though he was watching and listening the whole time), verbally asked, "Can you tell us anything about them, like maybe what they looked like?"

Cheo fervently signed, "Yes—they all had even darker skin than me—a pure black color! What really made them stand out, besides the fact that they stood at six feet tall on average, were their pointy ears and teeth, silver-colored hair, angular eyebrows, and even more so, their weapons that magically glowed a reddish color! Oh, and they possess powerful magics that could make ten-foot circles of black clouds, which clouds could even temporarily snuff out the light from torches or bonfires...

"When they attacked our village in the middle of the night, in the middle of us celebrating Cash's birthday party, we didn't hear them coming as they could fly through the air, so we weren't prepared, nor could we defend—this is how they were able to destroy us all in one single night.

"Even though they killed everyone, too include my parents, they strangely kept me alive! For about a week, this beautiful woman—other than her really pointy teeth—tortured me mercilessly with either daggers, or scorpion whips that continuously pumped venom into my system, which made me feel as if a horde of scorpions were stinging me simultaneously! Just as torturous were these bolts of lightning that literally shot from her fingertips and penetrated my body...

"The woman seemed to enjoy torturing me very much as she laughed a lot, and as often as possible—not once did she ask me a single question, not that I could have understood what any of them said anyway! So many times did I think I was going to die, but that woman would chant a few words that I couldn't understand, and moments later, my wounds began to heal, though never completely—not even for a single second did she ever relieve the pain!

"Just before they let me go, the woman first cut my tongue out, and then handed me the reins to a horse! Just before a very colorful sunset one evening that I could not bear to look at for obvious religious reasons, I began riding my way west toward Pavelus..."

For the Chao-chu-sha-maen tribe, colorful sunsets were religiously symbolic of their god, "Shaka-Tula-Suah-Lakasa-Casusea," who shines down his heavenly lights and blessings—in fact, the very name of this tribe literally means, "Nation of the heavenly lights!"

Baltor, Humonus, Chelsea, and Brishava had come to learn all this very well from the years spent with the friendly villagers, and most especially, from this prince who was their friend. Even stranger to them all was the fact that both Humonus and Baltor had taught the villagers of Chao-chu-sha-maen the martial arts style, yet it hadn't saved them one iota.

Perhaps five seconds after Cheo had stopped signing, he continued, "Only moments before darkness had consumed the western horizon, I heard some strange repetitious whooshing noises filling the sky to my east, sounding like a giant bird. When I looked up and over, I saw the silhouette of something extremely large and black hovering in the lit part of the dusky sky far away to the east, though only for a moment, as darkness took over the lands in the very next moment! Despite the darkness of night, as there were no moons in the sky, for several minutes longer did I hear those whooshing sounds, though they slowly began to dissipate, and finally disappeared altogether!"

Now looking scared, Cheo concluded his spiel, "At first I thought it might've been a bat, but if it was, then it was at least ten thousand times the size of any bat I've ever seen before—I know that I sound insane, but what I'm telling you is the truth!"

Baltor had no question that Cheo was telling the truth the entire time—the only thing his mind wondered was that the "bat" might really be "a vompareus dragon..." But he purposefully did not ask this question.

Instead, he looked up to the people surrounding them, stood to his feet, and said with a friendly smile, "You all may go back to your celebrating in a few moments, after I get done saying what I have to say—the time has come for my wife, friends, and I to depart back to the palace.

"But before I go, I need to say this to some of you. Forces of the Sharia Empire, there will be a briefing tomorrow evening at nine p.m.—for now, someone please find the chauffeur and have him bring us the royal carriage so that we can head back, and call it a night..."

As soon as the chauffeur had arrived with the carriage, only two minutes later, and they had comfortably laid Cheo to rest inside, the rest squished together on the other side of the seat—Cheo fell right asleep.

Once they had arrived back at the palace, about forty minutes later, Cheo was still passed out, and so they set him up in a guest bedroom fit for a prince.

It wasn't very surprising at all that Cheo not only slept throughout the night, but most of the day, awaking shortly before sunset.

Upon opening his eyes, he saw Brishava sitting next to his bed in a comfortable chair—her caring eyes remained firmly locked onto his.

For the first time since the tragedy that befell his entire family, Cheo smiled.

Brishava immediately smiled back, and after gently patting her hand on Cheo's shoulder, she signed, "Are you feeling better today?"

Cheo cocked his head from side to side too indicate the affirmative.

"Good," Brishava signed, "I had my medics tend to your physical wounds last night, but I am greatly concerned about your emotional ones..."

"Thank you," Cheo signed, though there was an incredible look of sadness that suddenly crossed his face as he began to visually remember the murders of many of his people...

Brishava interrupted his thoughts, by saying, "Listen, you must never forget what happened—but there is something even more important that you must never forget! Never forget that you survived for a reason, so that you can exact justice...and one day, rebuild the Chao-chu-sha-maen!"

"But," Cheo signed back, "there can possibly be no other survivors! One thing I forgot to mention last night was that after I was let go, I saw the army make their way south to the other village of Ca-shew-cha-camanan, and they could not possibly have survived! What woman is there who will help me to reestablish the Caw-she-cas Dynasty?"

"You do not know that there are no other survivors, just yet," Brishava signed.

After a short pause, she continued, "And even if this should be found ultimately true, does it matter that the woman that will continue your dynasty, and your legacy, be of the same race? I don't think so..."

"I guess you're right, Brishava," Cheo signed. "No, you are right—everything you said! Yes, I can rebuild the Caw-she-cas Dynasty! But first, I, at least, must go back to seek vengeance and reclaim my lands, no matter the odds..."

A few moments of silence had passed before Brishava verbally replied, "It is no longer an issue of you, but an issue of _us_. Although we had been celebrating a major victory against one enemy when you arrived, we still have another that needs to be contended with. Now, it seems, we have two major enemies..."

After taking a deep breath of air through her nose, she added, "Moreover, we must take both groups of enemies out before they get too comfortable...perhaps even unite together in order to more easily destroy us! But I can safely speak for Baltor and myself when we commit ourselves to helping you as best as we can!"

"Thank you."

While placing her hand gently on Cheo's shoulder, Brishava answered, "You're welcome—now there is a pool and some soap for you to bathe in right over there, and there are some fresh towels, clothes, socks and shoes lying right beside the pool.

"When you are done, open the door and snap your fingers once to the guards stationed outside your room. They will immediately alert me that you are through and ready to see Baltor and myself. We'll decide, at that time, if you're up to moving around more, or not—okay?"

"Okay..."

After giving Cheo a warm hug that lasted about thirty seconds, she left the room—Cheo easily got up as he found that he wasn't in any physical pain at all anymore, and so he took a bath.

Once done drying off with a towel, and dressing into his new attire about three minutes later, he opened the door and snapped his fingers once. The extra guard who stood outside immediately hurried over to his Sultaness' bedroom, just before knocking upon the door.

By this time, Baltor was already up out of bed, and was just finishing bathing himself—Brishava, who was with him, replied, "Yes?"

From behind the door, she heard one of the guards say, "King Cheo has indicated that he is now complete."

"Does he look physically able to come over?"

"Well, yes he does, my Sultaness..."

"Then ask the king to follow you and bring him over here—he is fluent in Pavelian."

"Yes, my Sultaness..."

Baltor hurriedly hopped out of the bathtub, wrapped one towel around his waist, and began patting himself dry with yet another towel. Once dry, he threw on his underwear, and called out, "Assistants."

They came in, pushing the cart-on-wheels with today's attire.

Only a few seconds after they had begun, the door opened, and in walked Cheo—though Baltor saw him through the mirror, he stifled back a laugh...as did Brishava.

For Cheo hadn't notched his belt buckles on his shoes, which made them flop around slightly—that, and he was holding up his pants as he hadn't wrapped the belt around his waist, but the belt was wrapped around his shoulder.

Squashing any surging laughter, Brishava immediately hurried over. Once she had drawn near to Cheo's position, she said, "Let me get you dressed up properly—take off your belt, please. Did you wear some socks under those shoes?"

While taking off his shirt, Cheo signed, "Yes, I am wearing socks and shoes. What is a belt?"

While Brishava politely showed him what the belt was with a point of her finger, Baltor pointed his own index finger at three of his assistants, and said, "You three—assist the King into his attire, and give him a hair grooming job and facial shaving."

"Yes, sire," the two assistants then answered, just before they did.

Twenty minutes later, the two men were done—now both looked very snazzy. As the assistants were done, they bowed and exited the room with the closet on wheels. Baltor, Brishava, and Cheo were now alone.

It was Baltor who began the conversation with, "So...are you ready for dinner, my brother?"

With a small smile, Cheo signed, "Yes my brother, I am very hungry, actually."

"Good," Baltor said aloud, "Humonus and Chelsea should already be at the dining hall by the time we arrive there, and so should dinner that we will spend in silence so we can think. After dinner, we'll discuss out our ideas and figure out some brand-new battle plans, based off our existing options and new problems. At nine p.m. tomorrow night, we shall brief our troops of whatever decisions we come to. So that is the plan for tonight, okay?"

Cheo signed, "Okay."

"One last thing I should say before we go—you know that you are royalty here, my brother, right?" Baltor asked, while first pointing to his left eye and then to his forehead.

Cheo delivered that wide smile that Baltor had come to love, and while returning that same physical gesture, he answered in sign language, "Yes, my brother, I do...thank you!"

"Let's go eat, already—I'm starving," Brishava signed.

The group of fifty-five, fifty-two of them being a platoon of guards, all departed for the royal dining room. Upon arrival, the guards stayed outside, while the remaining three entered.

Inside the room, they saw not only Humonus and Chelsea, yet the servants who had already rolled out their carts filled with steaming trays of food.

After they had taken their seats, the servants began to serve everyone the food—dishes were left in the middle of the table before they left.

The entire dinner, as planned, was spent in silence...

## CHAPTER VII

Once dinner was over, fifteen minutes after it had begun, Baltor was the first to rise to his feet and say in Pavelian, "I have thought long and hard about all the options that may exist, as I'm sure you all have, and I want to hear what you all have to say...in turn.

"King Cheo will begin. After he's done, it will again be my turn. Then each of yours—please do not interrupt until that person who is speaking is completely finished and sits down, or someone is asked a direct question. By the end, we should have an indisputable plan. Sound good?"

"Yes," everyone said.

Baltor sat down.

Cheo stood and signed, "When I spoke earlier this evening to Brishava, I told her that I wanted vengeance for the genocidal crimes against my people! After having listened to you all, I have changed my mind. Now, I just want justice to be served for my people—our people!

"Even if you can send me but one determined man or woman, then our resolve alone will be enough to help us overcome our enemies, no matter the numbers. I believe that their entire army will literally capsize upon itself—that is, once we stealthily have located and destroyed their leader!"

Just after Cheo had signed the word "leader," he smacked his right fist into the palm of his left hand quite hard for emphasis, which caused a loud noise to reverberate through the room for a second.

He then continued to sign, "I assume and hope that you passed along all the information I revealed to you earlier today, Sultaness Brishava. Am I correct?"

Brishava signed back, "Yes, you are...my brother!"

"Thanks—that is all I have to say," Cheo signed before sitting down.

Baltor stood and said, "I feel that it would be best if I was the one man to go along with King Cheo—especially for the fact that they have magical capabilities! As you all well know, I have a bit of magic and a hell of a lot of skills within these bones! I can fight completely blind, and I know that he and I can even decimate the entire dark gnome army, if the need should come."

Though all but Baltor and Cheo raised his or her eyebrows upon hearing the word "gnome," no one said a word.

Casting his eyes toward Humonus, Baltor continued to say, "Ruling-General Humonus, regarding the Forces of the Sharia Empire, we should stick with our original battle plan as to where our troops should deploy. Instead of me leading them, however, I think that it should be you. Do not stop the day you reclaim Lasparus, yet leave only twenty thousand troops behind to protect her.

"With the rest of your forces, conquer by both land and sea until you reach the Vispano Province's capital city of Parthway; and once there, conquer it! Whenever you need troop reinforcements and/or supplies, send back a detailed report of everything by our speediest boat. Brishava will ensure that you receive your soldiers and supplies in an expedient and timely manner!"

Baltor cast his eyes over to Chelsea, pointed with his index finger, and said, "As for you, I think it best if you go along with your husband, and keep him company during this campaign that could possibly take years."

Looking over to his wife, Baltor said, "As for you, my love of loves, I feel it best if you stay here in Pavelus and govern the Sharia Empire, as well all her successes. After all, I'm sure that there's no one better for the job than you, my Sultaness!"

As Baltor said the word Sultaness, he bowed his head respectfully toward her ... she bowed hers right back.

Pointing his index finger up into the air, Baltor added, "Last but not least—we should promote Commanding-General Hawkins to Governor, and have him govern Mauritia, as well all the lands of the former Vaspan Empire. He has certainly earned our trust, after all! Well, that is all I have to say." He sat down.

Humonus rose out of his seat at the same exact moment as Brishava, but he obligingly sat back down so that his Sultaness could say what she had to say first.

After throwing Humonus a respectful nod, Brishava looked over to Baltor, and said, "I agree with your entire plan, except for one thing, my husband. It needs to be you who lead the campaign against Duke Marlborough! After all, the bulk of our troops need to see and have their beloved Sultan amongst them...a Sultan that I personally know is ready to die alongside them in a blaze-of glory, though I seriously doubt this will be the case!"

She gave a few moments for everyone to consider her words, before she asked, "How about this? Let us send Ruling-General Humonus and King Cheo to face and decimate the _gnome_ army, along with our most-elite cavalry regiment—twenty thousand strong on horses, camels and chariots! That is all I have to say..."

Humonus rose to his feet and said, "I agree with the Sultaness. Do not forget that I have a bit of magic in my own bones, my Sultan. Please don't take this question offensively, but have you already forgotten who it was that trained you when you were a wee little lad?"

All lightly laughed too include Baltor, though none respectfully said a word.

Perhaps six seconds later, Humonus added very seriously, "While en route, I shall train my cavalry so that they can be proficient in blind-fighting—even on horseback! In the end, we'll destroy them, no matter their numbers, or race, or magical powers, my Sultan and Sultaness—that is all I have to say..." He sat down.

Baltor, upon seeing that Chelsea was rising out of her seat, didn't attempt to stand up, even though he was initially about to.

Chelsea said, "I know that I'm not as great of a fighter like the rest of you, but if there's one thing I've got, as you all well know, it's a woman's intuition!

"Remember who it was that had that _funny feeling_ the very evening that the cannibals attacked several years ago, though I didn't voice out my opinion because I thought it was foolish?"

When everyone nodded their heads in the affirmative, Chelsea looked over at Baltor and continued, "Well, here's what my feelings are telling me now... Brish—I mean the Sultaness, and my husband's ideas for you to lead the campaign against the Duke are really the best solution, my Sultan. Now, more than ever, the bulk of the troops will need to see you in action!"

After casting her eyes at Humonus, she continued to say, "As for me, well, I _feel_ it's best that I stay here and help the Sultaness. Well, that's all I have to say..." She concluded just before she sat back down.

Even though both Baltor and Cheo stood up at the same time, which actually caused a bit more laughter to erupt in the room despite the gravity of the situation, Baltor was the first to sit back down, though Cheo was only a split-second later behind. This caused even more laughter to surge from everyone for a few seconds.

Baltor gestured with a wave of his hand for Cheo to go ahead and speak.

Cheo stood up and signed, "I agree with Chelsea, Humonus and Brishava. It should be you, Baltor, who leads the bulk of the Sharia Empire to victory! With twenty thousand soldiers, and most especially with Humonus at the helm, we can annihilate a million of them, even if that's how many of them there ultimately turn out to be!" Cheo sat down.

Baltor stood up and said, "I am very reluctant about making this decision because none of you, except for King Cheo, have a clue about the gnome-army's leader, but I agree to your all decisions..."

He was about to sit back down, but then he heard Humonus ask, "What do you mean we don't have a clue, my Sultan? Do you?"

Baltor continued to stand up as he hesitantly answered, "The enemies that destroyed both your villages, King Cheo, let you go because they knew you would get to me. Their leader, which you saw hovering in the sky was no bird or bat, but a black dragon, whose sole mission is to destroy me!"

Humonus was the first to reply, "Though I do not believe in any type of mythological creatures myself, even a flying dragon must die if its brain is punctured by an arrow, a spear, or a sword!"

Brishava was also a skeptic in creatures like dragons, and though she had seen and heard about many other types of "unusual creatures" in the world, there was never so much as "a peep" about dragons, other than in other fairy tales—after all, she lived the life of a very well educated princess.

She patiently waited until Humonus had sat back down. She then stood up, and declared dubiously, "There are no such creatures like dragons—impossible!"

Baltor stood up and replied, "No, it's not impossible—especially for the fact that they all come from another dimension! Brishava, you once asked me if I believed in Destiny, Fate, and God. At the time, I really didn't know how to answer your question, but as it fits into the subject matter now, and makes possible the impossibilities, let me answer that earlier question for you all now..."

After taking a deep breath of air through just his nose, he revealed, "It is now firm in my mystical beliefs that souls are continuously being generated throughout the eternal heavens, and some souls are very powerful. Yet for every powerful soul that fills a life form, there is an equally powerful anti-soul that erupts from the planes of hell!"

After taking another deep breath, he added, "My anti-soul just happens to be a black dragon that can fly, breathe fire, is magically gifted, and even comes from another dimension...along with both a magical and deadly army behind her! It's possible that it will take magical weapons to kill even a single one of them—though of course, I currently don't know anything about the subject of magic, so I can't make magical weapons...yet!" Having concluded with what he had to say, Baltor sat down.

Cheo instantly stood up and signed, "No...I know they can be killed! I killed a half dozen of them before the rest took me down—they wear only leather armor and black capes! If you strike at them around their armor and penetrate their flesh, they die like anybody else."

Brishava stood up, looked on over at Baltor, and asked doubtfully, "So your ultimate destiny is to destroy your anti-soul, whom you believe to be a black dragon from another dimension?"

"I believe that it is—yes..."

Brishava, compromising, asked, "Well, how about this? You need to lead the bulk of your army to victory, so that they can see you in action—no one has a question about that, not even you!

"How about you first reclaim Lasparus, conquer the capital city of the Vispano Province, but instead of just stopping there, make your way southeast until you can face and decimate the dark army led by your anti-soul that you claim to be a dragon?

"Maybe by then you'll have produced the solution to creating magical weapons, or Humonus and Cheo can simply steal the magical weapons themselves—if all this business about magic and myths and dragons are actually true!

"No matter, by the time you arrive, Humonus and Cheo and twenty thousand of our best cavalry should minimally have already taken a good-sized chunk out of them, which obviously can be done, and even better, you'll be strategically outflanking the enemy army from a completely different direction..."

After extending her left index finger into the air to indicate she had one more thing to say, she concluded, "Last but not least, you will face your dragon, and your destiny, at the right time...allow Fate and God to decide when the times are right, as it has done with everything else within our lives, okay?"

Baltor agreed, "You're right. Anybody else have anything to add?"

Humonus stood up, and said, "Yes, my Sultan. Your cavalry, King Cheo, and I will not only ride east to destroy the dark army, yet we can hopefully save the villagers of Valakan by having them hastily retreat to Pavelus, as soon as possible!"

A look of worry instantly crossed Baltor's face for only a second—in the next, he pointed at Humonus with his index finger, nodded his head once, and said, "Extremely good point. Anybody else have anything to say?"

Cheo stood up, and signed, "Thank you all very much... from the bottom of my heart, mind, and soul!"

This time, everyone cocked his or her head from side to side for a few moments, indicating the affirmative.

Baltor asked, "Anybody else?"

Chelsea asked, "I hope it doesn't sound like a ridiculous question, but...what's going to happen to Vaspan's four sons? I know you made them into all into nobles last night as they're still your family, but are you going to actually send them back to Mauritia, or keep them here?"

Brishava answered, "In three nights from now, when our army is ready to go their separate ways, General Hawkins will be going to Mauritia, but he will not be going alone. Accompanying him will be a guide-on bearer holding the flags of both Empires high into the air, a commanding general to lead thirty-five thousand of our most loyal troops, and finally yet most importantly, my youngest and most trustworthy cousin, Lord Bradmir...

"As for my other lordly cousins, they will comfortably reside in separate yet lavish homes in the upper class neighborhoods of Pavelus, and be both guests and collateral—that way, there will be no accidental rebellions! That's the plan with them," Brishava concluded just before she sat back down.

Baltor asked, "Anybody else?"

Everyone said or signed, "No..."

A few moments later, they all began to rise to their feet—before stepping away from the table, Baltor said, "And so this'll be the battle plan we tell our armies tonight at nine."

After Baltor and Humonus had verbally briefed the "battle plan" to all the assembled troops, which briefing took a half-hour, they then began to do all the "field promotions." Statistically, Baltor only had one promotion to incur, which was Hawkins, who was promoted to governor.

Humonus, however, had thirteen general-ranked promotions to do, including Thorn ... twenty minutes later Humonus finished the last.

It was then that Baltor declared through his megaphone, "Forces of the Sharia Empire, before I allow Ruling-General Humonus to dismiss you all for the night so that you can get your much-needed rest, I am going to say right now that you better get your sleep tonight, and that in the morning, you better eat a hearty breakfast. For, come seven a.m., we have formation right here."

He added, "Following the formation, we will all need to give one hundred percent in prepping the Forces of the Sharia Empire for deployment!"

Before handing Humonus the megaphone, he concluded his briefing, "Ruling-General Humonus, you may dismiss the troops for the night whenever you are ready..."

For nearly ten seconds, Humonus remained silent. Finally, he broadcast, "See you right here at seven in the morning... Forces, dismissed!"

The soldiers, without hesitation, headed to their recently-assembled tents just outside the city walls, and went to bed.

Come morning at seven, following formation, all of those soldiers designated to deploy began the process of packing up their personal gear, sharpening their swords, polishing their armor, etc., etc.

The soldiers selected to stay in Pavelus all assisted with the process of packing up and preparing absolutely everything else. Just about all of them were disappointed that they would not be riding off to war, but they understood the importance of defending the city, especially against a dark and powerful army that could already be heading in their direction.

Precisely at nine, three nights later, Baltor, Brishava, Humonus, Chelsea, Cheo, and Hawkins gave "one final inspection" as they rode on horseback before the two hundred, twenty-eight thousand assembled troops. Prior to that inspection, during dinner, the group of six had already delivered their warm farewells with each other.

Once the inspection was met with "satisfactory results," about an hour later, and the six were once again seated on their horses or chariots in front of the ranks, Baltor called out through his megaphone, "Forces of the Sharia Empire. I have said everything that needs to be said, but two important pieces of information... One, trust in your leaders' decisions, and I promise you that we shall all ultimately succeed!"

After taking a deep breath, he added, "And two, I'm not much good at saying goodbye nor do I like saying it, so let me say this instead... Until we meet again, in this life or the next—I shall always do everything for the honor and the glory Sharia Empire. My question for you now is this, will you?"

Everyone fervently chanted back, "Yes, Sultan!"

After securing his megaphone to his saddle, Baltor unsheathed both swords in one quick movement, holding them high over his head and crossed. He yelled, "For the honor and the glory of the Sharia Empire!"

"For the honor and the glory of the Sharia Empire," they chanted back.

Baltor cast his eyes to his left, where Humonus sat on his horse, and commanded, "Ruling-General Humonus... Execute your battle plan!"

"Yes, Sultan," Humonus replied. Using his own megaphone he commanded, "Cavalry—rear face!"

They did.

He looked back at Baltor, and then ever so quietly said, "God's luck to you, Baltor...my Friend and Sultan!"

Humonus turned his head to look ahead, and was about to snap on the reins in order to spur his horse on, so that he could ride to the left side of his troops, but then he heard Baltor excitedly reply, "Wait...I've got something for you!"

Humonus relaxed his grip on the reins, looked back over, and then asked in surprise, "What is it?"

"Actually, it's something that you gave to me a long time ago—a good luck charm that I feel will best serve you now, as it did me...as I found out, it truly does make impossible things become possible!" Baltor said, while extending his closed hand out.

Already, Humonus knew what that object was—the gold necklace with the gold arrowhead pendant. The very arrowhead that had gotten lodged into Baltor's left forearm during one of his special tests to become a thief as a young boy; later, Humonus had transformed it into this elegant piece of jewelry that had rarely ever left Baltor's neck.

Humonus replied, "I can't take that—who knows, maybe you'll still...ah, yes, thank you my Sultan!" Even though there was a bit of hesitation to his movements, he did extend his right-gloved hand to take the necklace.

After having put it firmly into Humonus's hand, Baltor added, "Trust me...you'll need it! This magical charm has saved me from destruction too many times to count, but I want it back when it's all over, and that's an order."

Humonus, who had just finished taking off his helmet with one hand and donning the necklace around his neck with the other, replied with a wistful tear in his right eye, "Yes, my Sultan!"

Baltor spurred his stallion a couple of steps, quickly swiped the tear with his left index finger, and rubbed it on Humonus's head in a circular motion.

Even though a single bloody tear poured from Baltor's eye, which Humonus easily identified as blood, Humonus quickly swiped that tear with his gloved hand, and rubbed it on Baltor's head without a word spoken. All the while, Cheo smiled as he instantly recognized the Chao-chu-sha-maen ritual for his two best friends becoming "soul brothers."

Without another look back, Humonus and Cheo spurred their horse-drawn chariots onward into a prance, but before either could snap their reins, so they could break into a full gallop, Humonus first called out loudly over his shoulder, "I love you, Chelsea!"

"I love you, Humonus, my husband!" Chelsea cried back. "Wait—come back to me for one more second, please, my husband..."

Humonus obligingly turned his chariot around, and rode back to his wife. Cheo, who had been riding alongside, stopped his chariot, as well.

Chelsea had already hopped out of her horse, and was now running toward his direction with arms fully extended.

Humonus took that cue, stopped his chariot, hopped out, and then embraced his wife—she hugged right back. In between all her kisses, she said, "I love and will miss you very much, my wonderful husband!"

Humonus, in between his kisses, replied, "I love you and will miss you too, my wonderful wife! But now, I must really go...I promise that we'll meet again soon enough, my beloved wife—in this life or the next!"

She gave him one last tender kiss on the lips before letting him go.

Humonus headed back to his chariot, climbed back in, and snapped the reins repeatedly on his horse. Cheo rode alongside him a second after. Once the two were to the left of the cavalry division, Humonus called out over his megaphone, "Forward, ride!"

They did.

Chelsea watched her husband the whole time until he disappeared into the darkness of night.

Meanwhile, Baltor turned to Hawkins, and said, "Good luck in your mission, governor! Your Sultaness and I have put an incredible amount of trust and responsibility into your hands. Please do the best that you can, while always aiming for the peaceful resolution first!

"Oh, the possibility does exist that the dark army may come after Mauritia, sooner or later—alert the forces there of this possibility, and ensure that they always remain on red alert!"

Even though Hawkins sat on his horse, he replied with a bow, "Yes, my Sultan! I swear on my life, and the lives of my ancestors before me, that I shall not let you down—you are the most honorable man and Sultan that I have ever met...and it has been a privilege and honor to serve the Sharia Empire, and also you, my Sultan!"

To his soldiers, Hawkins cried out, using his own megaphone, a moment later, "Attention! About face! Forward march! Column half-right, march!"

Hawkins' army immediately carried their orders in precision by first marching in the eastern direction.

Slowly but surely, the army angled itself toward the southeast. About fifteen minutes later, the last of these soldiers disappeared into the darkness of night, while going southeast toward Mauritia.

Hawkins had already joined the commanding general on the left-hand side of the army, the guide-on bearer bearing both flags of the Empires, and Vaspan's youngest son, Bradmir.

Meanwhile, Baltor turned his head toward Brishava, and sighed, "The time has come for us to depart ways now too, my love..."

"I know...my love! But before I let you go, I also want a hug and a kiss from you!" With that, she climbed out of her saddle, and met her husband halfway.

A moment later, Baltor hopped off his stallion, gave his wife a tight hug, and then a very soft and sensuous kiss that lasted nearly a minute. Finally, Baltor pulled away from the kiss, and replied, "I really must go now."

Brishava said, "Wait, I have a gift for you to remember me by!"

With that, she pulled off the scarf wrapped around her neck, and then wrapped it several times around Baltor's wrist. With a girly smile, she then cooed, "I spiced it up with that perfume you especially love me wearing—I love you, my husband...goodbye!"

"I love you too, my wife—in exchange, here is that necklace you gave me in Valakan, my love. Let it always remind you of me, and how precious our love really is!" Baltor said, all the while taking off the jeweled necklace and donning it around Brishava's neck.

"For the Sharia Empire, my Sultan," Brishava said before giving one final quick kiss on Baltor's lips.

Baltor concluded in a command tone, "For the Sharia Empire, my Sultaness!"

He next looked over to the bulk of his army, calling out through his megaphone, "Attention! Right face! Forward, march!"

Baltor rode to the left of his troops, alongside the guide-on bearer bearing the flag of the Sharia Empire, his commanding general, and Thorn, of whom carried a lit torch in his hand.

Once Baltor had nodded at Thorn, he waved that torch high into the air, which was the signal that the other forty thousand troops—navy sailors and marines waiting readily upon seven thousand ships—to begin sailing north. Besides the troops, the ships carried catapulting and siege machines, food, and water.

Brishava looked over at Runas, who was her commanding general. She ordered, "Bring our forces back into the city."

"Yes, my Sultaness," Runas replied. After turning to face those thirty-five thousand, twenty-eight soldiers that still remained, he then called out through his own megaphone, "Forces of the Sharia Empire, about face! Forward, march!"

Together, with Brishava, Runas, and Chelsea in the lead, they either marched or rode their way back into the city gates of Pavelus.

## CHAPTER VIII

Baltor, and his one hundred, ten thousand and four forces, all traveled their way north to Lasparus, by land and by sea.

His army consisted of fifty thousand infantrymen that marched in columns of one hundred—side by side. Behind them, five thousand soldiers who rode on camels, horses, or in horse-drawn chariots, which he labeled the "assault cavalry." Five thousand additional soldiers, also on horses or chariots, were the "support cavalry." The final ten thousand horseback-riding soldiers were the "officers."

The most important officer within Baltor's forces was Commanding-General Han—he was in charge during the day as Baltor slept. The next-in-line was Admiral Bryce, who was in charge of all the naval forces. Behind him was Major-General Petrol. Thorn was the fourth-in-command as a brigadier general.

During the course of these next six weeks, the army marched by night and slept during the day—other than the three hundred swordfish sleuths that patrolled all around the fleet, the rest of the navy purposefully went as slow as the army.

While camped, Baltor slept within the command tent that Jamar had specifically designed so that no sunlight would ever enter.

Right after sunset each night, Baltor woke up, bathed, and put on his underwear. He would then call in a couple of his soldiers to assist him into his battle armor that had proven to be as "comfortable" as clothes, as well attach his sheathed swords to his back.

While a few soldiers brought in dinner for their Sultan and his top-generals, the remainder began unsetting camp. Once dinner was over, these leaders exited the command tent and issued the command for the army to "form ranks."

Baltor's next mission was to train his troops—army and navy—in his "master martial arts fighting skills." Most of the time, Thorn was the dummy ... although there were the infrequent occasions when Han would volunteer.

Once that training was complete, sometimes several hours later, they would then march, ride, or sail north—that is, until thirty minutes before sunrise when camp was set up again...

Six weeks later, and not coincidentally an hour before sunrise, Baltor's forces arrived just one mile south of Lasparus. It was then and there that he ordered the men to set up camp. They did.

When Baltor had awoken just after sunset, he went through his normal routine. So far, there had been no reports of enemy movements.

An hour later, just as he was just finishing his dinner alone, Han entered the command tent.

Han reported, "My Sultan—the advance scouts have reported seeing the enemy ranks forming outside the city walls of Lasparus, by the glinting of their armor off the lights from both moons in the night sky! We suspect that they may either be intending either a night attack, or the pre-battle talks—we don't know which!"

After delivering a short nod, Baltor replied, "Perfect, either way. Commanding-General Han, assemble the men into formation outside."

"Yes, my Sultan," Han said, just before he snapped a salute, exited the command tent with all his generals following right behind, and once standing in the midst of the soldiers, he lifted his megaphone to his mouth and called out, "Form ranks!"

Once the soldiers had formed ranks in front of him, about thirty seconds later, Baltor exited the command tent, borrowed Han's megaphone, and then called out, "Forces, as of right now and until I say otherwise, we shall hold a defensive position; that is, until the catapult and siege machines arrive tomorrow and we place them around the city walls. If the route of peace can be achieved first, then this is my first command!

"Simply put, do not attack unless I give the vocal command to do so. Also, send word to Admiral Bryce of my orders. Do you all understand my commands?" Following his question, Baltor gave the megaphone back to Han.

At the same time, seventy thousand and three soldiers cried out in unison, "Yes, my Sultan!"

While crossing his swords into the air over his head, Baltor yelled out, "For the honor and the glory of the Sharia Empire!"

"For the honor and the glory of the Sharia Empire!" the troops yelled fervently back.

Baltor sheathed his swords, looked over to his generals, and then calmly said, "Commanding-General Han, ensure that my horse is brought to me on the double."

Han looked over at his colonel with a nod to his head. That colonel hurriedly left to get his Sultan's horse—even though it wasn't his job, it was his privilege and honor.

Not even a minute later, that colonel returned riding on Baltor's stallion, Grasha, while also securely holding onto the reins of the two top generals' horses.

Except for the very first night that Baltor and his forces left Pavelus, he observed that Grasha was wearing her battle armor, which gold-plated steel not only protected her body, yet her head—her helmet bore the etched-symbol of the Sharia Empire.

Once the colonel had gotten off, and snapped a salute, Baltor returned the salute, and grabbed the reins. He then tenderly patted his stallion's face while chatting pleasantries to her for nearly a minute before climbing into the saddle. Meanwhile, Han and Thorn had already climbed into the saddles upon their horses, waiting patiently for Baltor's next order.

Baltor looked at his men, and ordered, "Generals and Guide-on-bearer, follow me."

He then lightly snapped the reins, spurring Grasha into a trot—the officers and the guide-on-bearer followed right behind.

Not even two minutes later, Baltor and his men finally began to draw near the enemy army's leaders, who were riding into the middle of the battlefield by themselves ... all eight of them. It appeared that the enemy did not wish to attack, just yet.

Once everyone had arrived to a safe distance of twenty feet away from each other, Baltor issued the command, "Halt!" Not only did his men halt, yet so did all of the enemy's leaders.

After quickly surveying these men that were quietly looking back, he realized that the Duke of Vispano was not in the mix, and so he introduced, "My name is Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth, and I am the Sultan of the Sharia Empire. Pray tell, where is Duke Marlborough Vispano, so that we can parlay the reasons on why he stole our money, conquered my city of Lasparus, killed my soldiers that were simply protecting it, and most importantly, what we can do to reestablish trade and peace between our two nations?"

One knight rode out in front of the rest—he wore plate mail armor, as well a helmet-with-visor that covered his entire face, just like the rest of his entourage. He also wore a black cape with four silver bars sewn into each shoulder—the others wore capes, but theirs had different earthy colors, and not as many with silver bars.

After raising the visor, which revealed piercing green eyes, a hawk-like nose and a salt-and-pepper goatee with matching eyebrows, this knight nobly replied, "Greetings, Sultan Baltor Elysian—my rank and name is Commanding-Knight Valiante."

Valiante took a deep breath through just his nose, before continuing, "To answer your question regarding the location of the Duke of Vispano...he has returned to Parthway but two days ago, as he has already selected a candidate to become this city's earl, of whom he has personally gone to retrieve."

"I see," Baltor said.

Valiante added, "As for answering your two other questions, only the Duke himself can answer those questions—he never did tell me his reasons for conquering Lasparus in the first place. If you like, we can dispatch word for him to return as soon as possible, but I guarantee you that it will be no less than a month before they return."

Baltor stated with a whole lot of agitation, "I, and my forces, am not going to wait a month, nor even two days. This city belongs to the Sharia Empire, which your Duke unjustly stole because he got angry with my wife for not being his wife! She, Sultaness Brishava Elysian, even paid your Duke _ten million parsecs_ , so that we could not only continue our trade, yet keep the peace between our two great nations."

"I'm sorry, Your Sultan, but I am only following orders until the Duke of Vispano returns," Valiante countered with a slightly frustrated look upon his face. "The duke will have my head if he finds out I gave back this city without his direct consent."

Angrily, Baltor replied, "Then understand this, if you don't release the control of my city into my hands, peacefully and immediately. The vast and powerful army, which stands behind me with more than seventy thousand elite soldiers, shall destroy you all by land, while my navy with tens of thousands of ships and more than forty thousand sailors and marines will destroy you all by sea! In the end, we shall personally hand all your heads to the duke, if you and your forces do not vacate my city and lands...now!"

With that, Valiante unconsciously gulped. He only had a total of sixty thousand troops himself—thirty thousand knights on horseback had already assembled outside the defensive walls of stone that surrounded Lasparus. The remaining thirty thousand of Valiante's foot soldiers, archers, and catapult launchers continued to protect Lasparus from within this city's eighty-foot tall by fifty-foot thick walls—the duke had taken the remaining ten thousand soldiers with him back to their capital city of Parthway.

A few moments later, Valiante finally replied, "Your Sultan, without the Duke's expressed consent, I cannot relinquish Lasparus back to you, no matter the odds stacked against us—after all, I truly do not have the executive power to override his commands! I'm sorry it has to be this way, but it seems that war is inevitable, despite the fact that you seem to be a very honorable and peaceful man."

Still sounding and looking angry, Baltor snapped out, "Where is the honor and peace in the distasteful way that your duke treated my wife and her generosities by taking our money, stealing our city, and mercilessly killing our soldiers?"

Valiante peacefully extended both of his hands into the air, just before he justified, "The only question that I can answer is the last one. The Duke felt that the surviving soldiers would become a threat—I could not argue with that logic!"

After throwing both hands up into the air with anger and frustration, Baltor asked, "Why didn't you just send the survivors by ship back to Pavelus—doesn't that sound at all logical?"

"Umm, well, I guess it does," Valiante answered. "I, he, we never thought about that—I'm sorry, Your Sultan, but it's too late to save them now..."

While slowly nodding his head up and down, Baltor stated, "You're right that it is too late to save my soldiers now, but it's not too late to redeem what they fought and died for, Commanding-Knight Valiante, which is honor, duty, and peace. The truth of the matter is that I can sense those very qualities within you as well, which is most likely reflective within your men."

After gesturing his left hand out for Valiante to remain quiet, Baltor continued, "I have never seen or heard about these qualities within the Duke of Vispano...ever! Why are you serving someone that is rotten and tainted? Instead, serve my honorable, noble, and peaceful cause—the Sharia Empire—which is both fresh and pure."

Valiante answered, "You're suggesting that my knights and I mutiny against the Duke? We, the Vispano Knights have existed for more than four hundred years, and we are both honorable and dutiful warriors that have pledged our earliest vows and lives not only to this duke, yet all our Vispano ancestors! To even think about breaking our vows bears the strict penalty of death, as well the loss of our family's honor and name!"

A few moments later, Baltor sounded calm, cool and collected as he replied, "Very well...I have but one more thing to conclude our pre-battle discussion with, Commanding-Knight Valiante, if you'll allow me, please?"

"Your Sultan, of course," Valiante answered with a respectful nod to his head.

"Thank you," Baltor said with his own respectful nod. "I know I've said this before, but let me try to say it in this way. Please, please give back that which is rightfully mine, and retreat your forces peacefully back to Parthway. If you don't, then my vast and powerful army and navy shall be forced to eliminate every single one of you! What is your choice, Commander?"

Valiante asked, "Your Sultan, may I be allowed to discuss all your suggestions with my knights, and give you an answer in the morning?"

Baltor answered, "I will graciously give you even more time than that, Commanding-Knight Valiante. As I know that this will not be an easy decision for you to come by, I will give you until one hour after sunset tomorrow evening... Goodnight."

"Very well, goodnight," Valiante concluded. He lowered his visor, turned his horse around, and rode back to the camp with his two top knights and guide-on bearer following right behind.

Meanwhile, Baltor turned his stallion around, and rode back up to his two generals and guide-on bearer. Together, as they began to ride back to their army and camp, he grimly said, "I have a strong feeling that war and death will be their answer!"

"My Sultan," Han said with a whole of lot of excitement, "you're words were most inspirational and true! I, too, could sense the honor within the Commanding-Knight, and I know that he will relay the entirety of your message to his equally-honorable knights—surely, they will join our ranks, my Sultan!"

Thorn added, "My Sultan, I agree with Commanding-General Han."

A slight look of worry suddenly crossed Thorn's face, and a moment later, he asked, "When we get back to camp, I wish to discuss something important with you in private, if you will, my Sultan...?"

Baltor was now very curious as to what Thorn's message was, especially by the look of worry he had seen on his face—instead of saying anything about it, however, he simply nodded his head.

Once they had returned to camp, a minute later, Han called out through his megaphone, "Attention!"

The troops instantly assumed the position.

"Forces of the Sharia Empire," Baltor declared through his megaphone, "I will make this briefing short so you can all get your rest tonight. Make sure that by tomorrow morning, all of the catapult and siege machines are set up around the city, as well as all our ground and naval forces. We will not allow any supplies to go in or out of Lasparus."

Baltor continued after a short pause, "Tomorrow night, Commanding-Knight Valiante—the highest ranking officer of the Vispano Forces occupying my city—will come back and relay his message of whether we are to have peace...or war! As I stated to him, peace is the preferable route, but we are all ready to face the latter route, should it prove necessary, right?"

The whole of the army boomed out, "Yes, my Sultan!"

No longer using the megaphone, Baltor ordered, "Commanding-General Han, dismiss the troops for the night. General Thorn, come with me."

Both generals cried out, "Yes, my Sultan!"

While Han called out the command for the soldiers to dismiss, Baltor and Thorn climbed out of their saddles, and after a couple of troops had taken their horses back to the temporary stables, Thorn then followed Baltor into the command tent.

As soon as he saw his Sultan turn around, Thorn immediately dropped down onto both knees, and with both fear and sorrow to his voice, he pleaded, "My Sultan, I ask of you to forgive me..."

Looking a bit confused, Baltor asked, "For what?"

While looking at the ground in shame, Thorn confessed, "My Sultan, the Vaspan Empire not only contains the city of Mauritia, yet also another city called Driven. Both are fortified with a massive labyrinth outside the cities...and expertly guarded.

"Within each city, there are twenty thousand forces loyal to Emperor Vaspan, not including the citizens who can fight, which will make it nearly impossible for Governor Hawkins, Lord Bradmir, and your thirty-five thousand troops to win if their 'route of peace' should fail...

"The reason I never before relayed this information to you, my Sultan, is because I had considered the possibility of simply escaping from you, getting to Driven as soon as possible, and informing the forces there that I was now the new Emperor-Sedious..."

Baltor's right eyebrow rose at hearing all this information, though he did not say a word, but continued to listen.

A few moments later, Thorn dared to look up at his Sultan, eye-to-eye, before he continued, "However, over the course of these last six weeks, and most especially for the way you handled tonight's performance, I no longer have a single doubt in you anymore, my Sultan, and I ask of you to forgive me."

Without waiting for answer, he unexpectedly threw his arms out before he pleaded, "No... I beg of you to forgive me and allow me to serve you, honorably and dutifully—even as a lowly cook, especially now that you can't trust me as a general."

Without hesitation, Baltor looked down upon Thorn, while placing his right hand on his right shoulder. Finally, he said, "Of course I will forgive you and allow you to continuously serve me, General Thorn! Your honesty reestablishes your trust with me."

Thorn asked with both surprise and relief to his voice, "Really, my Sultan?"

"Really. Now, how about some chow—I'm hungry!"

Thorn stood onto his feet, snapped his sharpest salute to his Sultan, and then replied, "Yes, my Sultan!"

Just then, Han entered the command tent, and coincidentally replied, "Dinner should be here momentarily, my Sultan."

"Excellent, I'm starving," Baltor replied with a wink and a smile...

The following night, Valiante, his two top knights, and his guide-on bearer all met Baltor and his entourage in the middle of the battlefield once again.

The thirty thousand knights had spread themselves outside, only a few feet around the city walls of Lasparus, while the other thirty thousand soldiers defended from within.

Meanwhile, Baltor's seventy thousand infantry and cavalry soldiers, as well the catapult and siege machines, had all been set up about a half mile around just about the entire city, except the harbor—all were ready and eager to attack.

It was Baltor's navy who blocked off the harbor. They were armed with twenty percent of the catapult machines, and just as eagerly waiting for the command to "attack."

Just like the night before, the two leaders met in the very middle of the battlefield. A nervous look could be seen within Valiante's eyes, as he knew Lasparus was completely surrounded—Baltor's face bore no expression whatsoever.

Once they had drawn to twenty feet away from each other, a friendly smile unexpectedly crossed Baltor's face as he greeted, "Good evening to you, Commanding-Knight Valiante."

Returning the smile, though his face and eyes continued to look very nervous, Valiante greeted back, "Good evening to you, Your Sultan."

"So, Commanding-Knight, have you and your forces reached a decision?"

After clearing his throat, Valiante answered, "Perhaps—if you and your forces can accommodate to our unusual request, my forces and I have an alternative suggestion to war and death that will reach cataclysmic proportions on both sides...no matter the victor."

Baltor looked confused, and asked, "What is your unusual request?"

Valiante answered, "Written in our most sacred and historical book called, _The Code of the Vispano Knights_ , which was written by our first commander-in-chief, I quote:

'When an impasse or decision can't be reached between two opposing yet honorable factions that bear such massive armies that will ultimately result in massive disorder, destruction, and death no matter the victors. Then consider the possibility of honorable combat to happen to the death between the two best warriors from both factions...

'In the end, it is well worth the chivalrous sacrifice of the best warrior, who has now transcended into a martyr for countless other lives if you were to consider everyone's future generations.'

"'And most importantly," Valiante added, "that martyr will forever be a hero—no matter whether the friend or foe—for the eternal Vispano Knights—fear not o' warriors, in the end, only honor, justice, and glory shall prevail'...unquote."

After spending nearly a minute to digest all of this information, Baltor finally asked, "So, what you're basically suggesting is that you'd like to have a duel to the death between your best warrior and my best warrior?"

"Yes. Is this acceptable to you, your Sultan?" Valiante asked.

Baltor asked, "What if your best man wins?"

"Then you and your army must wait patiently until my duke returns, so that the two of you can discuss peace negotiations."

"And if we win?" Baltor then asked.

"Then my army and I peacefully leave Lasparus, and return to Parthway...but you must not attack us from behind."

"I agree to your proposal."

Even though Baltor gave this simple answer, his mind was still shocked that history was about to repeat itself, especially in the fact that there would be two combatants fighting to the death in order to determine the victor of property.

Valiante then asked, "So, who is your best warrior, your Sultan?"

"Me...and yours, Commanding-Knight?"

Even though Valiante became quite surprised to hear that this Sultan was willing to risk his life without hesitation, he replied a moment later, "Commander Barquoth."

"Who?" Even though Baltor asked this simple question, he realized that history wasn't exactly repeating itself any longer. He would be fighting someone else.

For only the time it took him to say what he had to say, Valiante turned his head around, and barked out, "Get me Commander Barquoth!"

His two top knights turned their horses around, and then they both rode at a gallop back to their army. Once there, a minute later, they barked out, "Commander Barquoth!"

Nearly five minutes later, Barquoth arrived on a massive chariot that had to be pulled by four powerful horses—strangely, he looked very familiar to Baltor.

After all, not only did this armored giant strongly resemble his friend Yaush in the fact that he had thick and wavy blonde hair and good looks, yet was also more than five hundred lbs. and ten feet tall.

From behind this giant, all the knights on horseback began chanting out his name, "Barquoth—Barquoth—Barquoth!"

A minute later, Barquoth arrived, stepped off the chariot that elevated him by three feet, pulled off a six-foot long studded mace that he had strapped onto the back of the chariot, and then casually slung it over his shoulder as if it was a paperweight. While casually strutting up to Valiante, he sounded like thunder as he stated, "Yes Commanding-Knight Valiante!"

Upon closer inspection, Baltor observed that Barquoth's face was slightly different in facial features and angles, but otherwise, he was nearly an identical twin with Yaush.

"Commander Barquoth, the Sultan of the Sharia Empire has agreed to our plan of single-handed combat to the death between his best warrior and ours...are you ready for combat and possible death for the Order of the Vispano Knights?"

"Yes Commanding-Knight Valiante, I am ready..." With a surprising amount of respect to his voice, he looked over to Baltor, and said, "Your Sultan, I am ready to face your best warrior to the death. Who shall be my opponent?"

Without fear or hesitation, Baltor answered, "I shall be your opponent, Commander, but I have an additional request I'd like to make to your leader before we begin our duel, okay?"

Barquoth replied, "No problem, Your Sultan."

"Commanding-Knight Valiante, would it possible to have this duel in one hour, so that it will give my troops, both army and navy, to come to our position so that they can witness the battle, firsthand? I can assure you that they will remain honorable and not interfere."

"Of course, your Sultan," Valiante promised. "One hour from now, we—all my honorable forces and I—shall join you right here as well, if that's okay with you, your Sultan?"

"It is."

Valiante, his two top knights, and Barquoth, all rode back to their troops.

Meanwhile, Baltor turned his horse around and said, "Commanding-General Han—let's draw a circle in the sand that is one hundred feet in diameter—also, post torches every ten feet around the borders. That way, all of our forces can witness the spectacle—use as many soldiers as necessary to make my command into actuality within the hour!"

"Excellent idea, my Sultan!"

Han hurriedly rode back to the army, in order to relay this message, and find volunteers to help create this arena.

A few seconds after Han had left, Baltor turned his head to Thorn, and said, "General, ensure that all of our forces, both army and navy, come to witness the duel within the hour. I understand this will be a difficult task for you to accomplish, but make it so."

"Yes, my Sultan!" Thorn said. Without another second's delay, he escalated his horse into a gallop in order to fulfill his Sultan's command.

Two minutes later, Baltor arrived back at camp, and then he began to perform all his stretching exercises.

Exactly one hour later, more than one hundred, seventy thousand troops encircled the circle, and of course the two combatants were inside—Baltor and Barquoth.

In order for everyone to clearly see the battle, everyone was ordered to sit on the ground in a circle, and not to stand up until the battle was over.

Baltor unsheathed both of his swords with a quick flick of his wrists, twirled them expertly around his body for about thirty seconds, and then held them in the ready position.

Meanwhile, Barquoth revealed that he was extremely dangerous anywhere within ten feet of his immediate position, due to his four-foot long arms that rapidly swung around his hundred-pound mace, as if it was a half-ounce flyswatter.

A moment later, Barquoth stopped swinging around his mace, set it casually back down onto his shoulder, and then asked, "Are you ready, Your Sultan?"

"I am, Commander Barquoth," Baltor began. Surprising to everyone present, Baltor sheathed back his swords with another flick of his wrists, and then he began to bolt forward.

Meanwhile, Barquoth stood still and patiently waited for his opponent to draw near enough, in order to make a quick kill with a single swing of his mace, as he had done so often in the past.

Baltor, still about thirty feet away, did three cartwheels, but instead of stopping there, he began to do forward flips. Upon Baltor's third flip in the air with all the power of his legs, he flew nearly sixteen feet straight up into the air.

Meanwhile, Barquoth watched in amazement at this highly-skilled acrobatic, though ready to make that swing straight over his head as soon as his opponent had made it within his mace's berth.

Surprisingly enough, Baltor flew so high into the air that he literally landed upon Barquoth's shoulders with both of his feet, and without pause, he performed a back flip—Barquoth's mace missed Baltor by less than an inch, but only because Baltor had laterally twisted his body out of harm's way.

The second he felt ground underneath his legs, he jabbed both swords forward and up at Barquoth, who now towered in front of him—instead of his blades puncturing into his opponent's stomach, it was the hilts of both swords.

Every single one of Baltor's forces began to cheer as they thought that their leader had already won the battle, which he could have...

Due to the nature of the deadly contest between the two combatants, Baltor did not pause upon contact, but instantly angled both of his swords out to his sides as he performed a backwards roll—Barquoth's mace zinged inches over his opponent's head and body.

As soon as Baltor had regained his standing position with both swords sheathed a moment later, Barquoth's mace was coming in for yet another downward swing.

This time, Baltor threw himself into a forward roll, rolled right between his opponent's legs, and a second later when his hands found solid ground, he kicked his feet hard into the back of Barquoth's knees.

Both of Barquoth's legs buckled, as he crashed hard onto the ground by his kneecaps—a split second later, Baltor flipped around, pinching both of his swords tightly up against both sides of Barquoth's neck.

Upon feelings the sharp blades against his neck, not too mention the incredible pain in both of his knees, Barquoth realized that he had lost the battle, but strangely, he did not feel those swords make "the final cut."

Still Barquoth dared not move a single muscle, especially to turn his head to look at his opponent.

When Barquoth didn't die about ten seconds later, he said, "Your Sultan, I know that I have lost the battle, and am about to die, but let me say that it has truly been an honor to fight against such a skilled and quick opponent like yourself! Never before have I been so easily bested!"

Baltor replied, "It is not my desire to kill you, Commander Barquoth, unless I am forced to do so. Therefore, if you honorably surrender, I will spare your life. By the way, do you happen to know a giant like yourself named Yaush who resides in a town called Valakan?"

Upon hearing Yaush's name, Barquoth's head unconsciously turned around, but Baltor had already safely yanked away both blades.

Barquoth boomed out, "Yaush is my brother!"

Chills surged up and down Baltor's spine upon hearing this incredibly surprising news.

Instead of asking any further questions about the family relations, he asked, "Do you surrender, Commander Barquoth?"

"I—I surrender, your Sultan..."

"Very well, I accept your surrender," Baltor replied, just before he sheathed his swords, walked in front of the giant, braced both of his legs firmly into the ground, and then assisted the five hundred pound giant back onto his feet.

Meanwhile, all of Baltor's troops had just begun to cheer, though all of Valiante's troops remained silent.

Baltor extended his hands and arms out into the air, and then slowly lowered them back to the ground, which silenced all his troops.

Once silenced, Baltor turned back to Barquoth and said in the giant's native tongue, "Yaush is one of my best friends in the world—he literally saved my life...from a scarain!"

With a thoughtful nod to his head, Barquoth replied in the same language, "Yaush is indeed a good man, though his and my ways of looking at life have been different since we were both born—he is a simple hunter, while I am an honorable soldier. That is why I left Valakan more than a decade ago, and soon after, found and joined the honorable ranks of the Vispano Knights!"

Baltor replied with quite a bit of interest, "I see..."

At this point in their conversation, Valiante and his two top knights had joined the pair in the very middle of the circle.

Even though there was a whole lot of confusion as to what the two men were talking about, especially since they were still speaking Valakanese, Valiante called out, "Your Sultan, you are the victor of this most honorable duel, and therefore, the city of Lasparus is yours—congratulations!"

Valiante's troops began to cheer—Baltor's forces joined right in.

Once silence reigned nearly two minutes later, Baltor finally replied, "Thank you, Commanding-Knight Valiante!"

Without pause, he revealed in the language of Vispano, "By the way, Commander Barquoth, your brother, his wife, and Valakan are all in serious danger!"

"Why?" Barquoth asked with a look of worry now totally etched onto his face.

Baltor answered, "There is a powerful and evil army which lies far to our east, yet they are quickly traveling westbound to destroy my capital city, and possibly other directions...

"Soon enough—perhaps already—this army will run across your cities or towns, and they will annihilate everyone there, as I know for a fact because that they destroyed a good friend of mine's entire kingdom without mercy! This entire planet is in danger."

With a very concerned expression upon his face, Barquoth asked, "Really, Your Sultan?"

"Really...a little over six weeks ago was the time when I first heard the horrible news from one of my best friends, the sole survivor—twenty thousand of my best and fastest cavalry soldiers are currently galloping that direction with a two-fold mission!

"One, save the residents of Valakan by assisting them with their retreat to my capital city of Pavelus, which is very well fortified. And number two, take a nice-sized chunk out of this army before we—the bulk of my army and myself—arrive from the northwest, in order to finish them off!"

Barquoth's glance fell to Valiante, and he asked, "Commanding Knight Valiante, would it be possible for me to temporarily join this Sultan and his forces, so that I can help eradicate the army which has possibly already destroyed my hometown and family of Valakan?"

Without waiting for an answer, he added, "Once this war is over, I promise I will return home, as my heart, mind and soul belongs to the Order of the Vispano Knights."

Even though Valiante's eyes fell to the ground, yet he did not immediately give an answer ... a few moments later, he looked back up with scrunched-up eyes at Baltor, and asked, "You said that this army might be traveling in other directions, as well? Do you know how many this army has in their ranks?"

After shrugging his shoulders, Baltor answered, "To answer to your first question, yes, it is quite possible. As for your second, no I don't know how many, but I heard millions. They've at least destroyed one powerful kingdom containing two thriving cities—perhaps many more by now!"

Valiante replied, "I see. Yes, Commander Barquoth, you may accompany the Sultan, and return when you are done."

Barquoth was about to reply with a "yes sir," but Valiante unexpectedly snapped his fingers before pointing his index finger up into the skies, indicating to his commander to remain silent.

Only a few moments later, Valiante half-sang, "Actually, I change my mind, Commander. If Your Sultan agrees to my little idea, I think that it'd be a better idea if we all, the Vispano Knights, along with Your Sultan and your forces, all deploy for Parthway...

"By coming along with us, Your Sultan, you can personally relay your message to my Duke that this army you speak of may soon become a dire threat to the Vispano Province! Do you concur, Your Sultan?"

After pondering his idea for about a dozen-or-so seconds, Baltor nodded and answered, "Your idea is ideal, Commanding-Knight Valiante! In fact, this common enemy may be the key ingredient to reestablishing our trade and peace between our two nations. So my answer is, yes...let's go."

With a smile, Valiante replied, "I agree."

Thus, the following day, all of Valiante's forces began the trek northeast on the main dirt road between Lasparus and the Vispano Province's capital city called Parthway.

Following behind them were fifty thousand of Baltor's soldiers, as well the man himself. During the night hours, he led in the front of the ranks on his stallion, while Thorn led in the rear of the formation.

During the daylight hours, they both slept in the backs of different bunk wagons. Meanwhile, Han oversaw the riding formation for an additional three-to-four more hours, just before halting the army behind Valiante's just-halted army, in order to make camp, eat chow, and get six-or-seven hours of sleep until it was time to wake up in the evening hours and start a brand-new day.

As for those ground forces assigned to remain in Lasparus, so as to not scare the Duke of Vispano—twenty thousand soldiers. As for the vast fleet of marines, sailors, ships, and catapulting machines, Baltor had half of them return to Pavelus—the other half stayed in Lasparus's harbor.

Finally, shortly before the splitting up of the forces of the Sharia Empire, Baltor field-promoted Thorn to major-general, Petrol to commanding-general, Ray to brigadier-general, and Han to governor of Lasparus.

The very first charge given to Governor Han was for him to write and deliver a message by his fastest frigate back to Pavelus, relaying all the successful news about their mission, to date. His next-and-final charge was for him to govern the city effectively and productively, as well as the troops—this, Han swore to do with his mind, heart and soul for the glory of the empire.

## CHAPTER IX

Back in Pavelus—6 weeks and 1 night earlier...

Through most of this first night of traveling that passed, Hawkins and Bradmir rode on their horses to the left side of the army without conversation.

This army had just begun the long journey southeast where they would traverse through one thousand, one hundred seventy-six miles of desert, always during the nighttime, and depending upon travel conditions, to arrive at their final destination approximately six to seven weeks later—the city of Mauritia.

In the lead were the infantry soldiers who donned chain mail armor, helmets, and swords—thirty thousand soldiers who marched in columns of ten.

Following right behind the infantry were the two divisions of cavalries—the "assault division" consisted of four thousand elite soldiers who rode on camels, horses, or upon horse-drawn chariots.

The "support division" consisted of one thousand soldiers that rode on, or in the back of, seven hundred fifty horse-drawn covered wagons, which wagons were stocked with food, water, tents, supplies, etc.

The final two thousand soldiers, all riding on horseback on the outskirts of the entire procession, were the officers; they continuously scanned all their horizons for any possible dangers.

Of course, there was the guide-on bearer, which made thirty-five thousand and one, who rode to the left of Hawkins and his commanding general named Rumsfield, which made thirty-five thousand and three.

The last individual that rode along at their side, but wasn't tabulated into the total number of troops, was Bradmir. This seventeen-year-old's most striking feature were the dozens of small freckles upon his very boyish face—in fact, the only hair he had at all on his head were his thick red eyebrows, as well his curly red hair that stopped short of his shoulders.

Most of Bradmir's hair was hidden by a red-brimmed hat with a feather of the same color sticking out of it. He also wore a tight red trench coat and pants that both had gold seams, a white cotton tunic with furls at the neckline and sleeves, black pants, and a pair of black boots.

During this first night of travel, which lasted until shortly before sunrise, everyone remained steadfastly silent, focusing on the road ahead...

That is, until about six o'clock in the morning, Hawkins finally ordered, "Commanding-General Rumsfield, order the soldiers to stop and begin the process of setting up camp and the temporary stables, as well making us up some hot chow, before we retire for the day."

After nodding, Rumsfield looked to his right side, and called out through his megaphone, "Forces, halt!"

The army halted in their tracks.

Rumsfield turned his horse to the right ninety degrees, so that his horse's head now faced the troops. He then called out, "Left face."

The army did.

Rumsfield next ordered, "You heard the governor's orders—set up camp, the stables, and of course, hot chow. Remember this, Forces: The sooner we get done, the sooner we can get some sleep. Now execute."

While the army did as ordered with a quickness, the guide-on bearer hopped off his horse, pulled out the flag holder stored in a saddlebag, and set both flags into the holder about thirty feet away. He then left to assist the other soldiers.

Meanwhile, Rumsfield looked over at Hawkins and said, "Governor Hawkins, if you will please excuse me, I need to personally oversee the troops...sir?"

With a nod to his head, Hawkins answered, "Carry on."

"Yes, sir," Rumsfield said, just before he left to do his duties. Five seconds later, he disappeared in the masses of troops now setting up camp, or cooking breakfast.

Already, a sergeant and his dozen privates had just arrived in order to begin the process of setting up the large command tent directly behind the crossed flags.

It was then that Hawkins decided to try to converse with the boy, if possible. Thus he asked what hopefully would be an ice-breaking question, "So, Lord Bradmir, how was your trip this evening?"

Bradmir, who continued to gaze at the construction of the command tent, snottily answered, "Fine."

"I see," Hawkins calmly replied, "Well let me get right down to business, okay? My name is Governor Hawkins, though I was one of the commanding generals of both the current Sultan, as well the last Sultan for the last seven years of my life...

"For the last thirty years, I have always been an honorable and respectful soldier as I worked unbelievably hard to earn my way from the rank of lieutenant to the rank of governor...

"I do ask, respectfully, that you use my hard-earned title when answering my questions—okay, Lord Bradmir?"

Bradmir looked over at Hawkins with an annoyed look on his face, and replied just as snottily, "Whatever—the only people I now serve are Sultan Baltor and Sultaness Brishava. After all, I am their cousin, and that still makes me royalty!"

Hawkins sighed, "I see..."

With that, he hopped off his horse, and only two seconds later he grabbed the collar of Bradmir's shirt with his right hand and yanked.

Before Bradmir could snap the reins and spur his horse away, he was slammed hard to the ground, which caused his hat to fly off his head and reveal his striking red hair.

He tried to react by drawing the dagger in his belt, but Bradmir felt the tip of Hawkins's sword already pinched lightly up against his neck—Hawkins kept a hold of the young lord's twisted-up collar.

Hundreds of soldiers saw and heard the spectacle, and though all stopped in their tasks to watch, none interfered, or even so much as said a word. However, if the second came that they sensed their governor was in danger; they would be on Bradmir like flies on dung.

Nearly thirty seconds later, Hawkins hissed, "Repeat this sentence verbatim, nicely, and I will let you live: 'After all, I am their cousin, and that makes me royalty, Governor Hawkins!'"

Bradmir slightly wet his trousers as he tried to gulp down his fears. With fear still in his quivering voice, he repeated, "After all, I am their cousin, and that makes me royalty, Governor Hawkins!"

Hawkins slowly released his grip on the young lord's collar, took a step back, and sheathed his sword—Bradmir continued to look up at the governor in both suspicion and fear, as he assumed a sitting position.

Once again in a respectful tone of voice, Hawkins informed, "Sultan Baltor Elysian is an honorable man with whom I take great pride in serving. Even though I did not have the opportunity to witness his duel with your father, I had my own important missions to oversee: One, protect Pavelus. Two, welcome the 'victor' back into the city as the Sultan of the Sharia and the Vaspan Empire, regardless of the winner."

Even though Hawkins took a thirty-second pause at this point, Bradmir continued to listen as he assumed a more comfortable sitting position.

When Hawkins finally did continue, he said, "Still, even though I was not there, I did hear the 'same story' from just about everyone who did have that extremely fortunate opportunity, too include General Thorn via his toast at the victory celebration. In fact, the only people I didn't hear talk about that night, ever, are you and your three surviving brothers."

Bradmir opened his mouth to speak upon this pause, but Hawkins interrupted, "Hold there, Lord Bradmir. Please let me finish, and then you may speak."

Bradmir remained silent.

Ten seconds later, Hawkins continued, "The story that I heard, which I know you're fully aware of, is that your cousin gave his uncle many chances to 'peacefully rule together as a royal family' during the course of their duel to the death! Now I'm sure the 'royal family' would have included you and your four brothers!

"After all, I have come to learn and know without question that my Sultan is not only ambitious and peaceful, yet equally, honorable and generous."

Bradmir didn't try to speak when Hawkins paused at this point.

Perhaps thirty seconds later, Hawkins finally did continue, "Whether you like to hear it or not—the truth is that your cousin won the duel honorably, while your father lost the duel dishonorably."

At this point in the conversation, the soldiers that had been watching now believed that their governor was safe from Bradmir because of the fact that the young lord continued to listen in a relaxed sitting position on the ground. They recommenced to working...

Hawkins continued to say, "Even more honorable is the fact that my Sultan and Sultaness have graciously allowed you and your three brothers to live and to even have 'lordly titles,' despite your eldest brother's failed assassination attempt against the Sultan of both empires! Both he and the Sultaness are very honorable rulers, if you ask me."

Hawkins added, "However...if it had been left up to me, I would have had you all executed because of your brother! Should I go on? Why, yes, I should...please, let me finish with what I say before you speak—I swear that I will let you know when it is your turn, Lord Bradmir."

Even though Hawkins took a pause that lasted nearly twenty seconds, Bradmir didn't say a word but continued to listen.

After clearing his throat, Hawkins added, "What makes my Sultan and Sultaness the most honorable people of all is that they even graciously bestowed upon you, Lord Bradmir, a golden opportunity to prove your loyalty, your honor, and most especially, your love...because you guys literally are a family by blood!

"Yes, Lord Bradmir, you are the key ingredient to the route with which our mission becomes successful, which it will become successful one way or the other, ultimately. I, Governor Hawkins, can promise you that!"

A few seconds later, Hawkins extended the index finger of his right hand up into the air, and said, "Now, if you choose to remain truthful and honorable when we arrive at Mauritia, tens of thousands of lives will be saved from both sides of the battlefield! This is the route of truth, honor, and even peace."

Hawkins's middle finger joined his index finger before he continued, "The second route consists of lies, deceit, war, and death, which will result if you are not successful in your mission, or even worse, become a traitor in your own lust for power!"

Wagging both fingers back and forth, Hawkins continued, "I would prefer the first route myself, as I know that my Sultan and Sultaness do also. Still, they have instructed me in what to do in either route, as has General Thorn, in case you are unconvincing, or decide to be dishonorable!"

Hawkins concluded, "Last but not least, if you are an honorable man, which both they and I believe you to be—I would like you to tell me all about yourself, Lord Bradmir."

Bradmir—who had long ago regained control over his fears—replied in a respectful tone, "Well, Governor Hawkins. My name is Lord Bradmir and I'm seventeen, the youngest of five sons generated from my father—things I'm sure you already well know..."

After taking a deep breath through just his mouth, he added, "What you don't know are the reasons why I have decided to serve my cousins. The main reason is because I never much liked or respected my father! He was always very brutish to all my brothers and I—that is, except for Jumblee, my eldest brother...

"Even worse, father never cared that I have always been his smartest son, especially when it came to economic or strategic matters within the Vaspan Empire—all my other brothers are dolt-warriors like their father before them! You know how I know that my father never cared about any of us except for Jumblee, and most especially not for me, Governor Hawkins?"

Hawkins asked, "How, Lord Bradmir?"

After a ten second pause, Bradmir finally answered, "Because...whenever I told father any of my brilliant ideas, he would always use those very ideas to expand his empire, and then take all the credit, glory, and wealth himself, because they were that _successful_. He never once told me anything like 'good job...'"

"Wow—that's terrible," Hawkins said, just before he sighed while shaking his head in disbelief.

Bradmir's thick eyebrows rose as he asked, "You want to hear yet another reason, or have you heard enough?"

Just then, the sergeant-in-charge of setting up the command tent, walked up, and snapped a salute. While still bearing the salute, he reported, "I apologize for the interruption, Governor Hawkins and Lord Bradmir. The command tent is ready for you both...sirs!"

Hawkins returned the salute, and then replied, "Thank you, sergeant. That will be all."

"Yes, sir," The sergeant then did an about face, went over to the privates under his charge, and ordered, "Squad, right face—forward march!" They marched off.

Hawkins looked back over at Bradmir and said, "I do want to know everything you're willing to tell me, but let's first go inside, eat dinner, and then get comfortable, okay, Lord Bradmir?"

With a smile, Bradmir answered, "Okay, Governor Hawkins."

Hawkins obligingly walked over to Bradmir's hat, picked it up off the ground, dusted it off, and then extended it out for the young lord.

After Bradmir had taken the hat, he saw that the governor was now extending his hand out for him to take, and so he grasped it. Hawkins lightly pulled him to his feet before releasing his hand.

The two walked inside the command tent, got comfortable by taking off their jackets, hanging them up on a coat rack that a soldier had brought in, and sat at the table that other soldiers had just finished setting up.

During dinner, seasoned fish mixed with rice and a glass of wine, they talked sociably (mainly about Bradmir) for about another half an hour before going to sleep in their bunks for the duration of the day. A day that passed by without a single problem.

After waking up that night, as the army began the process of unsetting camp, they ate breakfast with Rumsfield in the command tent—a bowl of sweet porridge.

By the time they had finished dinner about twenty minutes later, and had exited the tent, they saw that the rest of the camp was almost unset—a squad of soldiers immediately began the process of disassembling the command tent.

Once so, nearly fifteen minutes later, Rumsfield called the men to formation, and then the army began to march or ride...

Over the course of the next seven weeks, which was the time it took for them reach the borders of the Vaspan Empire due to a lot of bad sandstorms along the way, Hawkins listened to "a ton of important pieces of information" from Bradmir along the way.

One of the most important pieces of information was that the Vaspan Empire actually consisted of two successful trade cities. Strangely he hadn't ever heard about this second city before called Driven, not even in the briefing given by Thorn, in which Bradmir had not been allowed to attend.

Another very important piece of information Bradmir reported was that Driven also contained an army of twenty thousand strong that were fiercely loyal to his father—equally skilled in defending its own city walls/stone labyrinth.

Of course, the bright seventeen-year old also told Hawkins many other important things about both cities—economically, offensively, and defensively. Why, there was even a top-secret entrance, via an underground tunnel five miles away from the city, to get into Mauritia's palace.

Hawkins was able to verify nearly everything, as Thorn had at least been truthful about Mauritia, including about that secret entrance.

However, what Hawkins could not figure out was why Thorn had omitted all information about Driven, though he had long ago sent a messenger to Pavelus in order to relay the "suspiciousness of General Thorn."

Perhaps fifteen miles away from the outer borders of Mauritia's labyrinth, camp was set up at the time of dusk. It was only after the commanders meeting—with Bradmir included—that they ate dinner. Dried rations and water.

After this most-exhausting day of traveling, especially since they had been traveling for the last sixteen hours with only a few pit-stops along the way, Hawkins and Bradmir finally got the opportunity to relax in their bunks.

Hawkins, while picking the remaining food out of his teeth with a toothpick and lying in his bunk, looked over at the young lord who lay on his own bunk, yawned, and said, "Well, Lord Bradmir, tonight you will need your rest."

Bradmir look over, and replied, "I know, Governor Hawkins. Do not worry, for tomorrow, I shall be an honorable man, as you have taught me to become over these last seven weeks."

Hawkins looked back up to the ceiling of the tent, and said, "I'm not worried, Lord Bradmir. In fact, I'm sure that by the time we have successfully united both empires under one banner, I will promote you to Lieutenant Governor. That is, if you would like to hold such an honorable position!"

"Really...?" Bradmir asked in awe, while looking over at Hawkins with a look of shock on his freckled face. A few seconds later, he finally asked, "You would like me to be the lieutenant governor?"

"Sure."

"Well, what if we are forced to go to war tomorrow, even though I will try my best to go the route of peace?"

Hawkins looked back over and answered, "As long as you remain honorable from beginning to end, then my decision will never change...no matter the route that occurs tomorrow!

"Just so you know, I'm not asking you to accept this position now, Lord Bradmir, but sleep with that option bouncing around in your mind. Perhaps in the morning, your answer will be there...perhaps not?"

Bradmir replied, "Okay. Goodnight, Governor Hawkins."

After a really long yawn, Hawkins replied, "Goodnight, Lord Bradmir."

The next morning, an hour before sunrise, both Hawkins and Bradmir awoke to the delicious smells of food permeating the tent and wafting up their nostrils. For the last three weeks, they had eaten only dried rations, dried fruits and water.

When they sat up in their bunks almost at the same time, they saw that the cooks had set up a table filled with two large bowls of scrambled eggs with pieces of bacon. After having finished eating this delicious and hearty breakfast, ten minutes later, Hawkins dressed into his battle armor, just before strapping on his sheathed sword to his belt.

Bradmir had been given a sword too, though he did not have any armor, so he dressed in his regular attire.

Only seconds after these two men were ready to go, Rumsfield entered the command tent, along with his two top colonels.

After the three officers had shared a sharp salute, Rumsfield reported, "Governor Hawkins and Lord Bradmir, the troops are waiting outside in battle formation for your final inspection and briefing. Throughout these last seven scorching-hot weeks, your army has suffered only two heat-related deaths, which puts our numbers at thirty-five thousand and one."

Hawkins replied, "Excellent, Commanding-General Rumsfield. We will be out there momentarily."

Rumsfield replied, "Thank you, sir!"

After Rumsfield and his two colonels had delivered a sharp salute, which salute was returned, they departed the command tent.

Hawkins looked at Bradmir and said, "Well, Lord Bradmir—the moment of truth in nearly upon us!"

"Yes it really is. I have decided to become your lieutenant governor, once everything is said and done. The reason I am giving you this answer now is due to the dream I had last night, interestingly enough!"

Hawkins's right eyebrow rose at that comment, and though his mouth said not a word, his throat released a humming sound.

Bradmir explained, "In this dream which I swear to be true, not only did I see what I will look like in the future, but I also saw my cousins, most of my brothers, you, and everyone else important in my life! I also saw an army of millions assembled in formation behind us...and the Flag of the Sharia Empire flapping in the wind right in front of us!"

Hawkins replied a bit skeptically, "Really?"

Bradmir answered defensively, "Really, but that's not all! I also saw, in fleeting images, hundreds of battles against millions of enemies that we had to fight against and overcome—I never saw a single image of us losing a single battle."

Hawkins replied with a humming tone, "Really..."

"Yes, really, but that's not all," Bradmir replied with ever-growing excitement. "Just before I woke up, I saw two snapshot images, which will forever be locked into my memory banks. The first snapshot image I saw was myself, and my two cousins, but in a third person's view—we were all looking at a piece of parchment that rested on a table within a tent! In fact, Baltor was pointing at the parchment, and his mouth was slightly open as if he was speaking! Brishava's gaze, however, was focused upon me, and there was a look of implicit trust and love in her smiling face!"

"Hmmm..."

Excitedly, Bradmir continued, "Yes—the second and final image I saw was the very parchment, itself. Amazingly, it was what appeared to be two halves of a world map put together—our world! Drawn next to each city, which included several dozen cities I don't even know about, there was the Flag of the Sharia Empire!"

As goose bumps surged up and down Hawkins's body, he incredulously asked, "You dreamt all this?"

"Yes, I did, Governor. Why, don't you believe me?"

A few moments had passed, as well the goose bumps, before Hawkins replied, "I do believe you, actually. I, too, had a dream that made me choose the path I did—in fact, the very night before Sultan Brishavus Helenus died!"

After sucking in a deep breath through his mouth, he added, "I even dreamt what Baltor—I mean my new Sultan—looked like, before my physical eyes had ever seen him...even once! Just before I had woken up from my dream, my Sultan had literally grown so big that he was able to hold the entire planet in the palm of his right hand, which I presumed to be ours."

"Wow..."

"This is why I believe that your dream is true!"

Just as Hawkins was saying the word "true," both he and Bradmir heard Rumsfield's magnified voice call outside, "Form ranks!"

"Time for us to go, Lord Bradmir. Destiny calls," Hawkins said.

After delivering a friendly smile, Bradmir replied, "Yes, Governor Hawkins, you're right."

The two made their way outside, and with the assistance of all the officers and Bradmir, they performed the final inspection on the troops.

Once all was said and done, about a half an hour later, Hawkins began his final briefing through the megaphone, "Good morning to you all. Today is the day of truth! Today, the green team will arrive at the city gates. At the same time, the red team, will arrive and travel through the secret underground tunnel that leads directly into the palace, and execute anybody who stands in our way! If they force us into war, for whatever reason, we shall quickly sweep out and annihilate any resistors to the unification of the two Empires! Hoo-rah!"

The entire regiment affirmatively roared out, "Hoo-rah!"

Hawkins continued his briefing, "It is my intention, however, to avoid war and the tens of thousands of deaths that will inevitably result, as is my Sultan's command! Therefore, the route we must all prefer is peace. That may or may not happen, as it greatly depends upon the convicting words of Lord Bradmir, who continues to promise his loyalty to our Sultan and Sultaness. Hoo-rah!"

"Hoo-rah!" the soldier cried back in unison.

Hawkins looked over at his second-in-command, who sat on his horse to his left, handed over the megaphone, and asked, "Commanding-General Rumsfield, do you have any final questions before you deploy your troops to the secret tunnel, and await further orders?"

"Governor Hawkins, I have no final questions."

"Good—Execute plan A!"

"Yes, sir," Rumsfield said before placing the megaphone up to his mouth, and commanding, "Red team! Right face—forward march!" Half of the marching troops, along with a quarter of the officers still riding on horses, made the right face, and marched toward the spot the secret tunnel was located.

Meanwhile, Hawkins looked over at the young lord, and asked, "Lord Bradmir, do you have any final questions before you deliver the command to deploy our troops to the city gates?"

"Governor Hawkins, I have no final questions."

Hawkins ordered, "Good—Execute plan A!"

After nodding, Bradmir called out through his megaphone, "Green team! Left face—forward march!"

The remaining half of the regiment made the right face, and all made their way into the borders of the Vaspan Empire. Hawkins followed by Bradmir's side in the front of the ranks, as did the guide-on bearer who was holding high both flags.

Nearing noon, just as the green-team was nearing the city walls/labyrinth that surrounded Mauritia, Bradmir called the forces to a "halt."

Soon after they observed an army of at least five thousand on horseback who were quickly assembling outside the walls of the labyrinth, and so these three men began to ride forward at a trot.

Manifesting in front of that army and riding toward their position at a fast pace, was the commanding officer that Bradmir instantly recognized as "Commanding-General Strums," his top three generals, and of course, the guide-on bearer bearing the flag of the Vaspan Empire.

Bradmir had known Strums ever since he was ten years old, and also knew that he was a reasonable and honorable man. Bradmir was all too aware that Vaspan liked to have "reasonable people" placed into positions of power whenever he was away as he knew that "other unreasonable people" would try to steal away his power and lands.

Once all the leaders had gotten to within twenty feet of each other, they all stopped their horses in unison.

Strums greeted, "Hail, Prince Bradmir! Please oblige me in allowing me to relay the 'suspicious reports' I've been hearing about for the last couple of weeks before you speak—please your majesty?"

"No problem, Commanding-General Strums."

Strums acknowledged with a bow to his head, "Thank you, your majesty—two weeks ago, our advanced scouts reported that your army of around thirty thousand bears both flags of the Vaspan and the Sharia Empire held high, which army now appears to be halved. They also reported that they did not see any of your princely brothers, the Ruling-General Thorn, nor even Sultan-Sedious Vaspan in the mix...

"Now the only reason we didn't lay out our hundreds of thousands of defensive traps all around the city for miles, which traps would have easily destroyed your little army...is because you were recognized, my prince. And it appears to me that you are not being held hostage, but as we all know, appearances can be deceiving."

After clearing his throat, Strums continued, "Really, I have so many unanswered questions right now it isn't even funny. Here are the most important ones, Prince Bradmir. Why are you the only royalty I recognize here? Where is your father, or any of your other brothers? Are you and-or they being held hostage? Who is this man who rides beside you, and most importantly, where is the other half of your army?"

Bradmir actually became a bit nervous, as he hadn't planned to have to answer the very last part first, but he didn't let his face betray a single ounce of nervousness. He was poker-faced.

After sucking in a very deep breath through just his mouth, an answer suddenly popped into Bradmir's mind, and so he replied it, "You have done quite well in keeping both the Vaspan Empire's forces to par, via your report, including asking me those very questions you just did, Commanding-General Strums..."

Bradmir found he had to clear his throat several times, before he could continue saying, "In order to answer every last question, to your complete satisfaction, will take a bit of your time, as well some patience, which I am fully aware that you have a lot of patience and are very reasonable."

"Thank you, your majesty," Strums replied with another respectful bow to his head.

After sucking in a light breath through just his nose, Bradmir answered, "Nearly eight weeks ago, we—my father, brothers, the Ruling-General Thorn, the army and the mercenaries, and of course myself—did arrive at Pavelus. Not even an hour afterwards, the Sultan and Sultaness Brishava of the Sharia Empire met us in the very middle of the battlefield, but an all-out battle did not erupt. Well, it did, but not in the way that you think..."

At Bradmir's last statement, both of Strums' eyebrows scrunched up, but he did not say a word, only continued to listen.

After a three-second pause, Bradmir began to relay the story from beginning to end, regarding the deal, duel and victor between his father and the new Sultan over both empires—Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth. Truthfully.

All the while, Strums and his top-generals listened very attentively without so much as a word spoken, though there were both thoughtful and mixed expressions on their faces the whole time.

In the end, Bradmir introduced Hawkins as the new Governor of both Mauritia and Driven, though he never once relayed any of the information that the other half of the army was waiting for the command to execute "Plan B" at the secret entrance.

Following that introduction, Hawkins immediately greeted, "Hail, Commanding-General Strums. I am Governor Hawkins. All that Prince Bradmir has told you is the truth."

Still suspicious, Strums said, "I see...governor. Well, I have another important question for either of you to answer. Where is Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth that you speak of, who doesn't even bother to show up to claim his prize...his new empire? Or at least send Princess—excuse me—Sultaness Brishava?"

Bradmir was the first to answer, "Sultan Elysian is leading a campaign with the bulk of his army of more than a hundred thousand soldiers, along with Ruling-General Thorn, in order to recapture the city of Lasparus, which city was recently conquered by the Duke of Vispano."

"As for the Sultaness," he added right away, "she is not only incredibly busy overseeing affairs back in Pavelus, yet is preparing the city's defenses and offenses as there is still yet another army that must be contended with—not you guys, of course! That is why they sent us in their stead."

Strums asked, "How do I know that this all isn't a trick by your father, in order to test my loyalties?"

Without hesitation, Bradmir answered, "My father is dead—I swear on everything this is no trick and all I've said is the truth!"

A moment later, Hawkins confirmed, "This is no trick from anyone—I swear upon my soldier's honor as a former commanding general, just like you are now, good sir. If you like, I can send the request to have Sultaness Brishava sail this way, which I'm sure that she would be more than happy to oblige this request...or even better, how about bringing over Prince Bradmir's brothers, so that they can confirm our truthful story?"

"Hmmm," Strums replied, "I need to talk this over in private with Major-General Noose and my other generals for a minute...okay, gentlemen?"

Once Bradmir and Hawkins had both nodded their heads, Strums cocked his head to the side, turned his horse around, and spurred it on. A second later, his generals and the guide-on bearer followed behind.

They stopped about fifty feet away, and began to discuss things quietly amongst each another. Nearly five minutes later, they rode back and stopped at ten feet away.

Strums first bowed his head, and after he had looked back up toward Bradmir, he informed, "My generals and I wish to speak with the other princes of the Vaspan Empire before we can make any sort of major decision like this, in order to be one-hundred percent sure this is no trick. I'm going to send our fastest frigate ship to Pavelus in order to retrieve them, so that they can confirm your story—two-to-three tops, depending on the weather."

Strums added, "In the meantime, you and your army can safely camp at this spot until they arrive. By the way, where is the other half of your army? You never answered this question for me."

Hawkins replied, "The other half of our army is the rear detachment. They will join us once the command has been issued, which it will momentarily."

"Very well," Strums neutrally replied. "Any suspicious tricks from your part at any time, and we will be forced to destroy your army, no matter its size. And trust me, we will be watching you... through our scopes."

"Understood," both Hawkins and Bradmir replied both simultaneously and coincidentally.

Bradmir added right away in promising tones, "I can assure you—Commanding-General Strums—that soon enough, this just, wise, and powerful Sultan, Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth, will rule the entire world."

With a laugh, Strums replied, "We'll see...I've heard that one before—a few months ago as a matter of fact!"

After chuckling and shaking his head a few times, he next looked over to his generals and guide-on bearer—they had not laughed once, yet bore poker faces throughout. Strums, once again serious, ordered, "Let's go, men."

"Yes, sir!"

The four then rode their way back into the labyrinth of Mauritia ... as did all the rest of the troops.

Meanwhile, Hawkins had already delivered the order for the red-team to not only stand down, but to come to their coordinates. About an hour later, not only was camp set up and hot chow being served, yet thankfully, the red-team returned without having been spotted by the Mauritian scouts.

Two in a half weeks later, the three princely brothers arrived at the docks of Mauritia on her fastest ship, and without hesitation or trickery, they confirmed Bradmir's story. So, without so much as a drop of blood spilled, the Vaspan Empire merged into the Sharia Empire.

Once all was said and done, which included peacefully apprehending Driven not even a day later, Hawkins ordered that same fastest ship back to Pavelus to report about his "successful mission."

## CHAPTER X

Back to the very night the Forces of the Sharia Empire split—

9 weeks and 4 nights earlier...

Humonus, Cheo, and their army of twenty thousand cavalry soldiers began the even longer journey eastbound across the Sharia Desert.

By the order of Baltor, this army belonged to both men equally, and whenever Cheo had a command for the troops, he would sign language it out to Humonus, who would then verbally broadcast the king's command to anyone.

Yet it was all three men—Baltor, Humonus, and Cheo—who had strategically planned this "very special" cavalry unit, which had been split into two separate teams—the fast-paced "assault team" that led, and the steady-paced "support team" that followed behind.

The assault-team consisted of sixteen thousand troops that rode on saddled horses, or upon horse-drawn chariots. The riding formation with which they traveled was in four rows riding at a safe distance of twelve feet away from their fellow rider on either side. Because there were a thousand soldiers in each row, the length of the row spanned for two miles.

As for Humonus and Cheo, they rode in the very center of the first row. Regarding the strategic placement of officers in all four rows, ranging from lieutenant to commanding-general, one officer in between each and every forty enlisted soldiers.

Later that evening, when the assault team had stopped for the night, and camp was set up for both teams (the support team wouldn't catch up until the early morning hours), Humonus then taught his assault team (whose trainees included Cheo) the two main secrets to blind fighting.

The first secret for everyone to learn was to wear blindfolds and fight with training weapons and random partners. The not-so-simple second secret was how to learn to utilize the other senses—besides sight—in order to become proficient, especially the sixth sense Humonus called "intuition."

Of course Humonus easily proved the effectiveness of his blind-fighting skills to everyone—after all his demonstration had been completed, not a single person had any doubts. During the course of these training sessions that happened every single night for up to three hours, not only did the troops practice with random partners who were not blindfolded, yet so did Humonus and Cheo.

The third and final secret, which Humonus never made any mention to anyone at all, was the fact that he had learned his first two secrets from his former profession as a master thief, shortly before he became this army's ruling-general.

As for the support-team that followed behind at a trot, this consisted of four thousand troops riding upon, or within one thousand horse-drawn covered wagons, that traveled in three tight columns, with no more than five feet spaced between each wagon. In fact, this formation resembled a mile-long snake.

The single wagon that led the support team was the support-command-station, and within this wagon was the second-in-command assigned to oversee them all—a just-promoted commanding general whose name was Stormea.

Riding behind this wagon on horses were half of the commanding officers of this unit, who protectively surrounded the nine hundred ninety-nine horse-drawn wagons.

Not only did these covered wagons carry tons of medical supplies, food, water, and even bunks, yet the majority of the support troops. Those soldiers not assigned to drive the wagons, or to continuously scan their horizons, were trained in the back of the wagons by the medics during the day, and later at night. One final mission they had was to make hot chow for both teams before early morning came.

Once the support team had joined up with the assault team, typically at about one or two in the morning, they served hot chow to everybody. Once dinner was over, other than those scheduled on guard duty, the entire army was allowed to sleep until one hour after sunrise.

And once that hour was over, the support team cooked up breakfast, while the advanced team unset the tents and broke up camp. By the time breakfast was ready to serve, the assault team had just finished packing all the gear back into the wagons. Finally, once chow was over, nearly two hours after sunrise, the riding recommenced.

It took nearly a month's worth of hardcore training for the assault team to show serious improvement; training that first consisted of blind fighting against another non-blindfolded opponent.

Once they had all gotten decent, but still needed much more practice (in Humonus's vocalized opinions), he began to instruct them how to ride blindfolded upon their horses during the day, after of course having already assumed the riding formation.

Just before they practiced this for the very first time, Humonus specifically instructed, "Rule number one—never veer the direction of your horse or chariot for any reason, without first alerting your buddies to your left and right, by calling out the direction you now need to travel...yell, if necessary. Rule number two, if you don't alert your buddy, you will cause a very serious and painful accident!"

At first, the riding was at a slow gait, but as the days progressed into weeks, Humonus had the assault team gradually quicken their paces, ultimately into full gallops.

With only minimal injuries sustained throughout, once the assault team had begun to show serious improvement with this task nearly three weeks later, Humonus then integrated the training so they would learn how to fight blindly, while riding at a full gallop. Moreover, because the troops had gotten good enough to keep themselves at a safe distance of twelve feet away from each other's horses through the sense of sound, it wasn't very hard for them to pick up this bonus feature.

An hour after breakfast, eight weeks and three days after having departed Pavelus, the army began to see a vast mountain pass that covered the entire length of the eastern horizon—the Bospa Mountains.

An hour after lunch, they could clearly see that these mountains were jagged, ice-encrusted, and very beautiful. An hour after sunset, they set up camp within a fertile valley at the base of those mountains.

At about eleven that night, Stormea and his two top officers arrived at the command tent. Both Humonus and Cheo had just begun to take off their battle armor.

After snapping a salute that was immediately returned by Humonus, Stormea reported, "Ruling-General Humonus, the grand total of casualties that we have sustained since having traveled through the desert these last two months is one hundred eighty-eight, sir. Most of the accidents came as a result of the horseback riding accidents while your forces were riding blindfolded at a full gallop, but per your order, I had the support team spread out our columns into rows of one as we rode directly behind the entire length of the assault team. Fortunately there was only one fatality, six life threatening injuries, thirty-four major ones, and all the rest were minor...sir!"

"Excellent work, Commanding-General," Humonus commended.

Cheo, who was lying down in his bunk, snapped his fingers once.

Humonus glanced over at Cheo, and asked, "Yes, King Cheo?"

Cheo quickly signed something to Humonus, who interpreted, "King Cheo agrees with my commendation of 'excellent job!'"

Stormea proudly replied, "Thank you Ruling-General Humonus and King Cheo!"

At a normal tone of voice, he next asked, "What are your next orders for traversing through these Bospa Mountains, which you vaguely mentioned before, sirs?"

Humonus answered, "We are going to divide the assault team into two sections with three columns in both sections—the first half will lead the formation through the mountain passes, while the second half will trail at the rear—in between we will place the support team—in columns of two. As for you and the command wagon, you will ride at the rear of the support. Now remember that trouble could arise at any time, so keep your soldiers on yellow alert—understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Stormea said just before he snapped a salute, which was returned by both Humonus and Cheo.

Stormea then departed, along with his two top generals—meanwhile, Humonus and Cheo ate their dinner of dried rations that the soldiers had just brought to them, and then they went fast to sleep in their bunks.

The next morning, just after a very colorful sunrise, Humonus called for formation through his megaphone. Then and there he briefed the same information to the army that he had shared with Stormea the night prior. Through his vocalized commands, he next re-shifted his entire army around until they were now in the new formation. Finally, together, as a single unit with he and Cheo in the lead, the army traveled through the summery warm valleys...

Six afternoons later without a single encounter, incident, or even a chilly night, the army finally arrived at the borders of Valakan, which lands consisted of all the fertile valleys surrounded by jagged mountain peaks around here. Most of these soldiers had never seen "beautiful landscape" such as this—not even Cheo, whom had come a different route through the mountains.

The only person who did not pay much attention to the scenery was Humonus, as his focus strangely remained locked on the road ahead—about an hour later, relief finally crossed his face upon discovering that the town of Valakan itself, consisting of hundreds of giant-sized log-cabins of all styles, was entirely unscathed.

Thankfully, the giants of the village, mostly ranging from seven-foot to nine-footers, were now running out of their cabins and uniting together—however, all bore alarmed expressions, and all wore metallic armor, helmets, shields, and possessed at least one weapon. The women and children stayed inside the cabins.

As the army drew within fifty feet of the first cabin, Humonus lifted up his left-armored fist into the air, and called out loudly to his forces through his megaphone, "Halt!"

The troops stopped in perfect synchronicity. Meanwhile, the giants had just finished forming themselves into the shape of a triangle—in the very next second, the giants not only simultaneously slammed their shields together on the ground around them, yet also over their heads, which instantly formed "a massive shield fortress!"

A second later, a door/shield in the top of the fortress disappeared right near the front, and "the leader of the pack" stood to his feet, which revealed everything above this ten-foot tall, six-hundred pound giant's waist—a man who Humonus instantly recognized as Yaush, one of his close friends.

He had also observed that this giant's massive hands not only possessed an equally massive steel bow and arrow, which already had an arrow "locked and loaded." A very intense look was in his eyes as he carefully analyzed the size of the arriving army, while simultaneously looking for any and all people who looked like high-ranking officers."

Only a second later, Humonus realized that Yaush certainly wouldn't recognize him with the helmet on, so he took it off with one hand, and while waving his other hand through the air, he said one of the dozen or so sentences that he had learned how to say in Valakanese: "Visha blaka, Yaush!" (1)

Both of Yaush's thick eyebrows rose in surprise, recognition and happiness—all at the same time. In the very next second, he lowered his bow to the ground, while his very loud and booming voice greeted back, "Visha blaka fe mao, Humonus... Jaosaim!" (2)

It was then that Humonus instantly remembered that the Valakanese word "jaosaim" meant, "friend." He asked, "Jaosaim, mensa sahu mao?" (3)

"Visha! Mao?" Yaush answered with both enthusiasm and happiness in his voice. (4)

Just as enthusiastically, Humonus answered, "Visha!" (5)

He did not understand the semi-lengthy thing that Yaush said next, (6), but he did notice that the giants right away began to relax their shields, while simultaneously rising to their feet as they had been kneeling, though they did not move from their current location.

A second later, Humonus spoke aloud the name of the only seven-foot giant he knew that could fluently speak twelve languages, including that of Thoriumite, which he could also speak, "Salami?"

Humonus had first met Salami during his last one-month stop in Valakan, which was but nine months ago in fact. During this wonderful visit, Humonus, Chelsea, Baltor, and Brishava had all been traveling westbound from Chao-chu-sha-maen to Pavelus, so that Baltor and Brishava could inherit the Sharia Empire, which they did.

Again, Humonus asked the old giant's name in the form of a question, "Salami?"

This time, Yaush turned around, looked amongst the crowd of giants, but after a few moments without success in locating Salami, he yelled, "War sahu mao, Salami?" (7)

Salami, now possessing a completely white beard and a very wrinkly face, hobbled his way on a cane through the group of giants with a bow and arrow strapped onto his back.

He yelled out in the language of Thoriumite, "Hold on there. Even though I'm not as good of hearing as I used to be, ya young whippersnappers, that doesn't mean I can't see the both of you!"

All of Salami's "s" sounds were more like "shh" sounds. Upon completing his sentence, Salami then began to cackle an old man's laughter.

With a nod, Humonus greeted, "Visha blaka fe mao, Salami." (7)

Once Salami had hobbled his way over to Yaush and Humonus's position, about three minutes later, he immediately greeted with a toothless grin, "Good morning to you, Humonush!"

Yaush said something to Salami. Salami then interpreted, "Yaush wants to know what brings you out in our direction, especially with this huge army following behind you, which is obviously is under your command?"

Humonus answered, "Though I am one of the two main commanders of this army, this army isn't mine. They belong to Baltor and Brishava. I sincerely hope our arrival hasn't frightened anyone, especially the women and children around here, but we—the army, King Cheo, and I—are traveling eastbound toward the Jungles of Galgaa."

Instead of interpreting Humonus's answer into Valakanese, Salami looked quite excitedly around as he asked, "Where are Baltor and Brishava, those blessed children?"

Yaush politely reminded Salami to interpret with a tap on his shoulder.

Now remembering that he was the interpreter, Salami cocked his head around to look at Yaush, who began to interpret Humonus's answer in Valakanese.

Once done about fifteen seconds later, Yaush said something to Salami. Humonus detected the words "Baltor" and "Jaosaim" used in the sentence, remembering that jaosaim meant "friend."

Salami straightened his head to look at Humonus once again, and then asked, "Yaush also wants to know where Baltor and Brishava are?"

Humonus answered, "Baltor is traveling with the bulk of his army—more than a one hundred ten thousand elite soldiers—to fight against another army that has just stolen a city of the Sharia Empire."

With disbelief clearly in his voice, Salami asked, "Did you say one hundred ten thousand elite soldiers? Wow!"

Without pause, he cocked his head back to Yaush, and interpreted Humonus's answer. In turn, all of the giants either whistled aloud, or made some other type of "astonished noise."

Once Humonus saw that Salami was looking his way, about twenty seconds later, he added, "Yes, the numbers are true. As for Brishava, she remains back in Pavelus with a ton of unbelievably important tasks to accomplish, as there is yet another army heading our way—yes, we have many enemies. In case you haven't figured it out yet, Baltor has successfully become the Sultan of the Sharia Empire, and Brishava the Sultaness!"

Salami breathed out in awe, "Really? So their plan really succeeded?"

Humonus answered with a smile, "Yes...so far."

Yaush politely tapped Salami on the shoulder, in order to interpret—Salami did.

Though a mixture of emotions crossed Yaush's face as he listened to the interpretation, a wide smile crossed his face upon hearing the conclusion.

As soon as Salami had finished interpreting, Yaush immediately commenced to say something else, which sounded like a question by his slightly uprising tone of voice.

Upon completion of Yaush's question, many of the other giants began to boom out the word, "Gav," while nodding their heads up and down.

Salami interpreted, "Yaush offers his congratulations to both Baltor and Brishava for their wonderful successes—all of us want to know, however, why they are sending your army through our lands?"

Just then, coincidentally enough, Cheo had just gotten off his chariot and now stood to Humonus's right.

Humonus first pointed at Cheo, and then explained, "This man here is the King of Chao-chu-sha-maen, which as you know based off Baltor's history, is a friendly nation that lies to your east deep within the Galgaa Jungles. They are also your neighbors...

"Tragically, Chao-chu-sha-maen was attacked not too long ago, and destroyed by a dark and evil army that is making their way west toward your direction...your new-new neighbors! Before I continue, I will break here so you, Salami, can translate what I've said so far, okay?"

"Okay..." Salami said. He next looked over at Yaush, and interpreted. As soon as he had finished, many of the giants began grumbling toward each other.

As for Yaush, he nodded his concerned-looking face at Salami but said nothing—at that, Salami looked back at Humonus, and said, "Continue on, please."

Humonus first cocked his head to the ride side, before yelling out to the soldiers behind him, "At ease!"

The troops assumed that far more comfortable position.

Speaking at a normal volume, Humonus next said, "Most especially, King Cheo is Baltor and Brishava's friend and ally—it has been commanded of me to destroy the enemy army, or at least slow it down until Baltor and his reinforcements arrive."

After Salami interpreted, Humonus continued, "Moreover, if you will allow us to help you, we can even give the citizens of Valakan a ride to the fortified walls of Pavelus that are three-hundred-foot high by one-hundred-foot thick. That is, before the dark and evil army arrives on your very doorsteps, which is almost certain to happen any day now!"

"I see," Salami said. He turned to Yaush, and interpreted.

Following that interpretation, all of the giants, too include Yaush and Salami, immediately began to talk both loudly and angrily amongst one another, while many of them began to shake their weapons and shields around, which caused quite a chaotic ruckus for about two minutes.

Meanwhile, Humonus related to Cheo the gist of what had been said. Some of their troops began to worry that the giants might actually be getting angry with them. Once the last of the giants had quieted back down, perhaps a minute later, Yaush said something to Salami.

Salami turned his head to Humonus, and interpreted, "Yaush said that he has many questions, but his most important one is if there's anything more you can tell us about this...dark and evil army!"

Looking over at Cheo for a second, Humonus answered, "Yes. However, I will let King Cheo tell you, as he has firsthand experience dealing with them. I will have to interpret for you what he says as he cannot speak either of our languages, but only use sign language. Okay?"

Salami answered, "Okay...but let me first tell everyone what you just said."

With a nod to his head, Humonus answered, "Okay."

Once Salami had finished translating what Humonus had just said to all the giants who remained silent, he looked over at Cheo, and said in Pavelian, "Go ahead, King Cheo."

Even though there were unabashed tears now flowing from Cheo's eyes as he looked at Salami, he signed out fervently with his hands while Humonus verbally interpreted, "Yes, all that General Humonus has said is true! They destroyed my two villages mercilessly, and even less merciful, they did not kill me but let me go because they knew I would find Baltor, who they know is the Sultan of the Sharia Empire!"

Cheo took a lengthy pause so that Salami could interpret to the giants what Humonus had just said.

Once Salami had completed the interpretation, he then looked back over at Cheo, and nodded his head.

Cheo continued to sign, while Humonus interpreted, "This very evil army that numbers in the millions fights with magic, believe it or not, both from their weapons and from their fingertips! Not only do they like to fight at night, yet they have pitch-black skin that is vastly darker than mine, and very pointy ears!"

Humonus continued to interpret, "Sultan Baltor Elysian and I both firmly believe that the army are not humans, but evil gnomes, and that their just-as-evil leader is a giant black dragon that flies, breathes out fire, and has magical capabilities!"

At this point, Salami actually began to cackle out in laughter as he heard the absurdity of these "fairy tales about gnomes, magic and dragons" being true, which caused everyone in the vicinity to cast "strange looks" at him—giants and human leaders.

Salami tamed back his laughter a few seconds later, especially upon seeing that pissed-off look coming from Cheo. He immediately explained, "I swear that I was not laughing at what happened to you and your nation, King Cheo, but there must be a logical explanation, perhaps even a different type of human race never before discovered! Then you mentioned dragons? Next thing I'll be hearing, there are vampires somehow involved too in this crazy little tale, right? I shouldn't have asked that question—sorry! If you took my laughing offensively, King Cheo, I sincerely apologize."

During the course of Humonus interpreting Salami's answer, Cheo's face slowly relaxed from anger to calm.

Following another tap on his shoulder by Yaush, Salami interpreted all that Cheo had said, even though Salami obviously continued to sound disbelieving.

Yaush, on the other hand, replied something to Salami in Valakanese, which instantly caused a fearful look to cross Salami's face.

Salami immediately asked a question in Valakanese. A few moments later, when Yaush finished his answer, this caused yet another fearful look to cross Salami's face.

Salami asked yet something else, and a moment later, upon hearing Yaush's answer, a third look of fear crossed Salami's face.

With fear in his voice, Salami looked at Humonus, and revealed, "Yaush says that what you just said can be partially confirmed. Three evenings ago, he says that he saw something flying in the sky to the east of Valakan! He says that he guesses he is not going crazy, after all..." At this point, he stopped talking and stared off into space.

After feeling chills that ran up and down his back, Humonus was the first to ask perhaps five seconds later, "What did Yaush see?"

Salami answered, "That's what I asked him. He said something to the effect of: 'While I was returning home from my unsuccessful hunting expedition, just after sunset but before night took over, I was extremely tired from the long and boring day without so much as a single kill. I thought I was imagining things when I saw a very-very-very large shadow fly in between two of the mountain peaks to my southeast. It was there for no more than a second!'"

Salami continued, "So I asked him, 'Are you sure it wasn't a large bird you saw, Yaush?' Yaush answered, 'I don't really know what it was, but if it was a bird, it was one freaking big bird without feathers and shiny black skin!"

Meanwhile, even though the army continued to remain perfectly still, the giants continued to talk angrily amongst one another. Some of the giants were even smacking the end of their weapons into the palm of their hands.

Amidst the chaos, Salami instinctively asked in Valakanese, "Larse brothi mersha maotaos prisha?" (8)

As soon as Yaush began to answer, the rest of the villagers clammed up. Once done saying what he had to say, they simultaneously raised their weapons and shield into the air while booming out, "Hoooossshhhaaa!"

Humonus had no idea what that word meant.

Yaush said something else—Salami interpreted, "Yaush said for me to say first that he is really proud of Baltor for deciding to take a stand against an army of might, magic, and myths—one that is most likely led by a black dragon, unless of course we're all going crazy!

"Before I could interpret this to you, however, Yaush unexpectedly asked all my kinsmen, 'Am I correct, my brothers, that we—the Valakan Nation—would work better as a team with our friend Baltor's army against a looming threat that may soon attempt to destroy our home and lands, as they have already done with King Cheo's home and lands?'"

Salami then concluded, "Once they all agreed with the "Hoooossshhhaaa" sound you heard them all make, Yaush then said, 'Tell Humonus and King Cheo that Valakan will join Baltor and his Sharia Empire in eradicating this common enemy! We shall send our womenfolk, or those who can't fight, to Pavelus as soon as possible!'

"That is all that he had to say..."

Humonus interpreted to Cheo, and a small smile of appreciation formed on Cheo's face upon hearing all that news.

Humonus looked over to Yaush, nodded, and said, "Gav." He then added, "Tell Yaush that the womenfolk or those who can't fight can ride on however many ever wagons it takes to get them all safely and quickly there—there will be an armed escort going along for the ride, of course. As for the rest of us, we must continue to head east as soon as possible—no later than tonight!"

Salami first said, "Agreed." He then interpreted to Yaush.

Yaush and everyone else agreed with a "Gav."

Hastily the giants began the preparations to evacuate the village of Valakan, while the army patiently waited outside the town.

By nightfall, a little more than three hundred old men, old and young women, and all the children, rode in the back of fifty wagons westbound—accompanied by two hundred soldiers from the assault and support teams.

Two hundred and twenty-eight "brawny" Valakanese giants joined the ranks of the Sharia Empire. Not a single person knew that the "dark and evil army" was literally only days away from arriving at Valakan...

## CHAPTER XI

Near the borders of the Sharia Empire and the Vispano

Province—2 weeks earlier...

The following day after Baltor had conquered Lasparus, he and his army followed behind all of Valiante's forces, as they trekked their way northeast on the main road between Lasparus and the Vispano Province's capital city of Parthway.

Along the road over the next couple of weeks, not surprisingly, there were nearly a dozen encounters with platoon-to-company sized elements of the duke's soldiers—on foot and/or on horses.

Thanks to Valiante and a dozen of his Vispano Knights that proudly held their national flag high into the air, a red flag that contained a black, two-headed hawk in the middle, there was not a single battle that occurred along the way. Moreover, as this man was the third-in-command of all the Vispano Forces, he ordered that every soldier join his ranks. They did ... approximately four hundred of them.

Besides the duke, of course, there was only one officer higher in rank than Valiante, and that man's name and rank was Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail.

He was the only man who ever bested Barquoth in a friendly weapons-dueling contest, twice—in fact, Travail was known as the greatest weapons' master throughout the entire Province, never before beaten in single-handed combat, battles, or wars.

Moreover, Valiante believed, and knew by serving under Travail for more than fifteen years, that this equally honorable man lived his life by the book called _The Code of the Vispano Knights_. Travail even had this book's words memorized in his head, verbatim.

It is solely because of _The Code_ that Valiante believed he could convince Travail the reason as to why he returned control of Lasparus back to the Sharia Empire. In turn, Travail could convince Duke Marlborough, or so he hoped...

He also hoped that his Duke would be very relieved to hear his report that the Sharia Empire was not coming to attack, but assist against this common and powerful foe that lay to the southeast—a dishonorable and evil army who's numbers contain at least millions ... and not just in Sultan Baltor Elysian's words.

However, things did not work out for Valiante like he had hoped and planned. Not at all.

Instead, the very second Marlborough's advanced scouts reported that the Sharia Empire's forces were marching toward his capital city—even though Valiante and his knights could clearly be seen leading them all—this duke became extremely surprised, fearful, and angry.

Immediately he, along with his new earl, about-faced their thirty thousand forces on the road, hastily retreated back to Parthway, and entered the fortified city made of waterproofed steel—walls that stood at fifty feet tall, thirty feet thick, and five-squared miles. This square-shaped city had only one steel-gated entrance located at each quadrant.

Once safely inside the city walls with the gate securely shut behind them (as well his ninety thousand infantry soldiers, twenty thousand archers, and last but not least, forty-five thousand Vispano Knights), the duke's fear and anger turned to outrage.

While his forces were still in formation, he declared to them all, "Valiante, and sixty thousand of my troops including knights, have not only abandoned their posts at Lasparus, but now they must be trying to mutiny against me, as they are coming directly this way!

"If you include the Sultan and his forces following behind, there are more than one hundred ten thousand men now rallying against me...against us! They are all trying to %$#@ steal my capital city and our riches, our way our life, even our families! We, of the Vispano Province, cannot allow this happen, no matter the costs."

Of course almost every last Vispano Knight present believed that there must be a logical and honorable reason for what was going on, especially with Valiante in the lead, and so it was only because of Travail's strongest suggestions that the Duke agreed _not to shoot on sight_ , but _ask questions first_ ...

As soon as the two armies had neared the Capital City, just after sunset nearly two weeks later, Marlborough immediately set all his archers upon every inch of the walkway that existed at the top of the walls. He next headed to the armored podium that sat safely behind and above the walls, yet overlooked the entire area.

The second Baltor first gazed upon the massive steel walls of Parthway, from a little over a mile away, he called out to his men through his megaphone, "Halt—set up camp...and chow!"

The forces of the Sharia Empire first halted, and then they began to do as ordered.

All the while, Valiante and all his forces continued to draw closer and closer to the city gates, but even upon their arrival about ten minutes later, those gates never opened a single inch.

Upon getting within ten feet of the front gates, which still had not opened, Valiante had to order his forces to halt, and of course they did.

Right away, the duke's voice called from above and with an outraged tone of voice, "Commanding-Knight Valiante, what the hell is going on around here? Why have you all abandoned your posts in my city of Lasparus? Why are there more than fifty thousand ground forces of the Sharia Empire behind you in the distance? Valiante, I should seriously have you flogged to death for your treason against the Vispano Province! Before I flog you, I should—"

At this point in the conversation, Valiante had had enough. He replied in a loud but respectful tone of voice, "My Duke, please allow me to deliver my report at this time, before you make any hasty and harsh decisions!"

After the duke had heard his "number two" clearing his throat, he gruffly replied, "Go ahead...report!"

"My Duke, first of all, I would like to remind you of the _Code of the Vispano Knights_ , which as you well know was written by your ancestor—Duke Artesium Vispano the First," Valiante began.

After clearing his throat, he then continued, "By _The Code_ , which you also know all too well my Duke, Sultan Baltor Elysian won honorably in single-handed combat against the greatest warrior we had available, Commander Barquoth! In fact, this Sultan even spared your commander's life at the end of the battle, which is the reason why we have peacefully relinquished control of Lasparus back to the Sultan—by the book."

The duke snapped out angrily, "It is not up to you to make this type of executive decision, it is up to me! So why in the hell has the Army of the Sharia Empire followed you all the way here to Parthway?"

Valiante answered, "There is a common enemy that both the Vispano Province and the Sharia Empire share—a dishonorable and evil army who's numbers are reported by the Sultan to be in the millions—they may already be heading this way, my Duke!"

After a six second pause, this time without interruption, he added, "Also from the Sultan's reports, this army annihilates everything in its path, and thus poses a serious danger to the Vispano Province, as they are most likely spreading their way outward like a plague, sir!"

The duke asked, "Another army to the southeast?"

Valiante answered, "Yes sir, the Sharia Empire's forces have not come to conquer Parthway, or any of the Vispano Province whatsoever, or fight us at all, but hopes to ally with our forces, and fight this new foe together, while reestablishing the peace and trade between our two great countries, my Duke!

"Last but not least, I'd like to conclude my report by swearing on my honor and my honorable ancestors that my entire report is accurate to the best of my knowledge."

The duke replied, "So what? So what if the Sultan of the Elysian Empire won honorably in single-handed combat against Commander Barquoth? No disrespect to the commander, but he is not the best warrior from our faction, and you, Commanding-Knight Valiante know this to be true. Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail is!"

Valiante countered, "True sir, but he was not there at the time, which time is obviously a very pressing matter for the Sultan! After all, he has already committed he and his forces to make their way and fight this most-evil army, and I believed we could perhaps assist him, my Duke. Especially considering that this army may soon become a threat to the Vispano Province?"

Instead of answering the question, the duke asked his own, "Again you mention this supposed enemy army that exists to the southeast? I have certainly heard no reports of any enemy activities happening in that direction—bah!

"The only armies I've heard about, besides my own standing right behind you, are the enemy Forces of the Sharia Empire who have tricked you. You are a pathetic excuse for a commanding officer, Commanding-Knight Valiante—I hereby strip you of your command!"

Looking over to the second-in-command who sat upon the horse to Valiante's right, the duke ordered, "Senior-Commander Ransche, you are now in command of the army below—in a moment, I am going to have the city gates opened. Once opened, you are going to command my army to enter the gates. Once the gates are closed, with Valiante by your side, you are going to order him to lay his 'commander's sword' down upon the ground and you are going to mantle it upon your own belt. Do you understand me, Commanding-Knight Ransche?"

Ransche replied, "My Duke, I have loyally served twenty years under Commanding-Knight Valiante, who has always been loyal to you and the Vispano Province, and I must concur that he did everything by the book and nothing wrong, sir!

"Even you, my Duke, cannot dispute the infallible logic written by the first commander-in-chief, nor can I! Please let us honorably fight the enemy that—"

At this point, the duke interrupted, "What talk is there of any enemy besides the one that is now in the process of setting up camp directly behind you, so they can wage war in the morning? The only thing I'm really surprised about is that they haven't attacked yet."

Without pause, he looked to the commanders on Valiante's left, Barquoth and Parse, and said, "Commander Parse, you are therefore promoted to Commanding-Knight in charge! Order my forces to enter the city gates."

Parse, who had originally been the third-in-command of Valiante's forces, replied, "I, too, must concur with both Commanding-Knight Valiante and Senior-Commander Ransche, sir!"

The duke snapped, "I have heard of no reports of enemy armies moving to the southeast—it is an obvious trap that any fool can see! Is there anyone who will lead my army back into the city? Even a private? No...? That's it—you are all fired! Archers, fire!"

Instantly five thousand arrows zinged toward them all at once, which in the first round, killed one thousand, five hundred eighty-two, and wounded in all degrees one thousand, eight hundred and five! Tens of thousands more would have died or been injured, but all of these soldiers wore armor and helmets.

A moment later, just before the second volley of arrows was shot, Valiante called out, "Retreat!"

The forces turned around and began to retreat, but not before another one thousand, seven hundred fourteen immediately dropped to the ground, mainly dead with arrows stuck in their backs.

The third volley of arrows killed six hundred twelve, including Ransche, and wounded nine hundred twelve. The fourth volley killed eighty-three and wounded twenty-five, and the fifth neither killed nor wounded any.

The grand total of dead reached four thousand, three hundred ninety-two troops in under a minute's time, and two thousand, seven hundred forty-two men had been wounded. Fifty-eight thousand, two hundred forty came out unscathed...

An hour later, the first words from Valiante to Baltor in his command tent were, "Your Sultan, I—I can't believe he fired upon us!"

Baltor shook his head from side to side as he grimly replied, "I'm not. His conquering Lasparus in the first place is clear proof of his lack of honor, Commanding-Knight! Come tomorrow morning, my forces and I shall be moving southeast to face the army, as time is of the essence."

Valiante asked, "What about the Duke? Aren't you afraid he will attack you from your rear flanks?"

"My forces and I will be prepared for it should he make the attempt, but I cannot wait any longer! I am not really sure of what to tell you or your men, except to say that I am truly sorry about your losses of good men."

Valiante breathed out a deep sigh, and then he said, "I'm not really sure of what I should tell them, either. Wait—what if we simply hold them back until you and your army are long gone?"

Without waiting for an answer, Valiante added, "Once you have departed the Vispano Province, then this 'act of peace' will prove to the Duke that your intentions were completely honorable all along!"

"Excellent idea, Commanding-Knight Valiante," Baltor sighed wearily. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to be getting my rest for the night—after all, tomorrow shortly before dawn, my army and I leave."

Valiante left Baltor's command tent, headed back to his own men, calmed them down, and ordered them to set up camp for the night, but to the south side of Parthway, safely away from archers.

During this very same night, coincidentally enough, a squad of four soldiers arrived at Parthway. They originally had been stationed in the third largest of five cities within the Vispano Province, a city containing tens of thousands called Scarthan, located in the far southeastern quadrant.

It had literally taken these four soldiers six days of furious galloping on horseback before they arrived.

The route the squad entered into the city was through a secret underground passage that directly led to the army barracks. Once inside, the lieutenant-in-charge of the squad reported to the first higher-ranking officer he saw.

He asked, "Cap'n? You'd never believe the news I'm 'bout to report, except for the fact that I've proof—proof'll need to be directly relayed to the Duke!"

The captain first looked strangely at the lieutenant who was holding a bloody sack in his left hand, and then he asked, "What is your name, Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant La Pax," he said while snapping a sharp salute with his right hand.

"Lieutenant La Pax," the captain asked, "what is the news you speak of, so that I can relay it to my supervisor?"

"Sir—Scarthan's in utter ruins 'n all forty-eight thousand, one hundred 'n fifty-two citizens, soldiers, 'n even Earl Grean—dead! We watched as hundreds of thousands of 'em set fire to the city, 'n killed just about everybody! Though they're humanoid in shape, they're definitely not human, and act like beasties..."

After releasing a deep sigh, he added, "The only reason me 'n my squad survived was 'cuz we were on patrol—we're pretty damned certain they're headin' this way!"

At that news, the captain asked, "What nonsense are you talking about?"

La Pax opened the bag, and pulled a body-less head out of the bag by her long silvery hair, which head really stunk and was hideous to look at. The female's pitch-black face might have been considered extremely beautiful, had it not been for the razor-sharp teeth in her open mouth, the red-tinted eyeballs, and the pointy-ears that had silver-hoop-earrings all around the tips.

The captain's nostrils caught whiff, and he immediately hurled all of the contents of his stomach on the ground.

La Pax obligingly put the head back in the bag, and then he proudly stated, "Killed her myself, I did, sir! Sir, even weirder was the fact that she magically appeared outta thin air, right in front of me 'n my men, though she was facin' the other way from me, 'n didn't see me 'til my sword sliced off her bloody head! Well, cap'n, believe me now?"

The captain looked up, and said quite queasily, "Yes, lieutenant, let's get this news relayed to the duke as soon as possible!"

Within the next twenty minutes, La Pax again delivered his report to the duke, as well warned him to put something over his nose, as it was a very-very nasty smell—the duke obligingly did.

When he saw the head, he replied with several layers of perfumed silk veils draped over his nose and mouth, "Thank you for your report, Lieutenant La Pax! You have served the Vispano Province well by relaying this information to me...have your men get their rest. As for you, stick around here—I'm going to need your services real soon! Oh, and take that smelly bag somewhere out of this room for now—but don't set it on the ground, please..."

"Yes, sir," La Pax replied. He quickly retied the bag with the head in it, walked over to a spear that was hanging on the wall, and slipped the knot over the end of the spear. With a yawn, he snapped a salute, and said, "I'll be back, sir."

"Thanks, lieutenant," the duke said while returning the salute. He then looked over to Travail, and said, "It appears that that Sultan Baltor Elysian and Commanding-Knight Valiante were right! This changes things a bit now...doesn't it?"

"Yes my Duke, I believe that it does," Travail replied.

"In two hours, you and I shall personally go to the Sultan's camp with the white flag raised, and call for a meeting with both Commanding-Knight Valiante, and him.

"By the way, are you willing and ready to die for the honor and the glory of the Vispano Knights should it become necessary, my Senior-Commanding-Knight?"

"As always, my Duke," Travail answered. "Why do you ask?"

Instead of answering the question, the duke asked another, "Do you trust my decisions implicitly"

"Up until your decision to fire down upon Commanding-Knight Valiante and your loyal forces this evening, my Duke, yes," Travail replied truthfully.

"I see....besides that?"

"Besides that one faulty decision, my Duke, I have always trusted you!"

The duke said, "Good, my friend, then trust me with this one. You are the best warrior in my kingdom, as the Sultan is in his, and so it shall be the two of you who fight by _The Code_ for the proper claiming of Lasparus, to the death... I have no doubt, my friend, that it shall be you who comes out victoriously honorable!"

Travail stammered, "You—you want me to duel to the death with the Sultan? Is not Commander Barquoth's battle sufficient to prove the man's honor? Why must we provoke more death between each other as our two nations truly have a common foe?"

The duke sighed, before calmly answering, "Because, my friend, this Sultan must die. He shall, if not stopped immediately, become a threat to the Vispano Knights and the Province!

"With him at the helm, the Sharia Empire shall soon encompass the whole earth and there will no longer be any Vispano Knights and Province, altogether—I can feel it! Please trust me on this one, my number one."

After releasing a deep sigh, Travail answered, "I do, my Duke. If he agrees to the duel, then so shall I... I just hope you're not killing an honorable leader, if that's what he actually is!"

"Would an honorable leader steal another man's fiancée?" the Duke countered.

"Is that the man you told me about who rushed in on you while you were having dinner several years ago back in the palace at Lasparus, asked where Princess Brishava was, and when you said you didn't know, he escaped into the night without identifying himself?"

"The very man—I'll never forget his face."

"I see...then yes, my duke, I shall accept the duel, should he also accept! There is no honor in stealing another man's woman."

"Excellent, my friend, I knew I could count on you...for the Vispano Province!"

Travail replied, "For the Vispano Province!"

Two hours later, Baltor, Petrol, Thorn, Valiante, Travail, the duke, both guide-on bearers, and of course La Pax, who sleepily carried the bag with the head in it, met in the middle of the field. All of Baltor's soldiers, other than those on guard duty and his generals, were allowed to sleep.

While pointing toward both Baltor and Valiante, the duke began, "Well...it appears that I was wrong in one way, and the two of you are wrong in another way!"

When both men looked confused, the duke explained, "I was wrong in the fact that the Sharia Empire and the Vispano Province do indeed share a common enemy! Lieutenant La Pax, first relay your report and then show everyone what's in the bag."

After La Pax had finished relaying his report, he then showed the head to everyone—of course, several other soldiers had brought lit torches so they could clearly see the head.

While everyone studied the head in shocked silence, the duke added, "What you are both wrong about is the fact that it is I who choose the best warrior of our faction to fight the best warrior of your faction, Sultan Elysian. As my number one officer is my best warrior, that makes Commander Barquoth's fight with you invalid. Sorry!"

Though Baltor's face contorted to anger, the duke nonchalantly continued to say, "But I'll tell you what... I'll honor _The Code_ by relinquishing Lasparus back to the Sharia Empire, and even allow our forces to fight together against this common enemy, if the best of your forces honorably beats Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail in combat where someone must die, and obviously with no exceptions to the rule this time!"

"I am the best fighter within my forces," Baltor replied.

"So I've heard," the duke said without emotion. "Therefore, Sultan, if you lose and die, then the Sharia Empire, your forces and even your bride will belong to me. If you win, our forces will fight together, and we shall forever have peace and prosperity between our two nations, once this common enemy is eradicated—do we have a deal?"

Baltor asked with angry tones, "Duke, I've got a better idea—how about this duel be between me and you, and the winner inherits the loser's property?"

The duke quickly answered, "I'm too old to combat you now, young man, or I would. So, do we have a deal or not?"

Baltor answered, "Other than my wife, we have a deal! She will never marry you, but you must swear on your honor that you will let her go in peace wherever she wants to go."

"Fine, I swear by my honor. Senior-Commanding Knight Travail, are you ready to fight right now?"

Travail snapped, "Yes, my Duke... I am!"

Baltor asked, "Well, Senior-Commanding Knight Travail, before we commence with our duel to the death, may I be allowed to tell you something?"

"Of course, your Sultan," Travail answered respectfully.

Meanwhile, everyone—besides Travail and Baltor—gave a wide berth for the two men to fight.

Three seconds later, Baltor said, "Let me say that it will be an honor to combat with you, though I would have much rather had you assisting both the Vispano Province and the Sharia Empire in eradicating this common enemy."

Travail asked, "Why are you telling me this now instead of later in the battle, especially once you've seen how good I am in combat, your Sultan?"

Baltor answered, "Because, in my very first series of maneuvers, my true opponent will be punctured by the very tip of your very sword, and that opponent will die!"

"We'll see about that, but thanks for the warning, your Sultan," Travail said. "Oh, and it was an honor to fight you, as well."

Baltor nodded his head affirmatively once, and with a quick flick of his wrists, both swords were in the ready position. Travail now carried a long sword, as well a medium-sized metallic shield that was rectangular. The two men began to walk slowly around a circle, while facing each other the whole time.

Suddenly, Baltor began to swing both of his swords around his unmoving torso going in the same direction—one after the other—that is, until the blunt of his right sword not only scooped a small rock off the ground, yet flung it toward Travail.

Even though Travail's shield caught the rock, which bounced harmlessly to the ground, he had to shift the shield several more times to deflect four more rocks that were flying in his direction—the dust had just begun to get into his eyes as well.

Meanwhile, Baltor had been drawing nearer as his rapidly swinging swords flung each rock. Right after the sixth rock was cast, he first swung the left sword into a very wide roundhouse, immediately followed by his other sword.

Travail's shield deflected the first sword—and his sword deflected Baltor's second sword attack, which caused Travail's own sword to in turn bounce off his shield.

From that second impact, the pointy tip of Travail's sword surprisingly shattered, which then flew through the air until it punctured through Marlborough's brain via his left eyeball, of whom was sitting on his horse nearly thirty feet away. Instantly his corpse fell out of the saddle on dropped onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Everyone, but Baltor, gasped in utter shock.

Baltor had already sheathed both swords with one quick movement. As he looked around at the still astounded crowd, he called out, "Now that my true opponent is dead, let us ride together to face the gnome army which will soon destroy this entire world if they are not stopped. Together!"

Though there were only a handful of people present, all cried out, "Hooray!"

A second later, Baltor decided to add, "An army led by a giant black dragon, I kid you not..."

"What?" Both Travail and Valiante asked in shock.

A few moments later, Baltor answered, "Yes. I did not want to mention these trivial facts about there being gnomes and dragons to you, Commanding-Knight Valiante, because you would have thought me insane, but now and with no pun intended...the proof is in the bag!"

Valiante asked, "But how did you know that there were indeed such creatures as gnomes and dragons, if you had no proof prior to seeing this gnome's head?"

Baltor answered, "Thanks to the testimony of King Cheo, of whom I told you about."

"Ah," Valiante answered.

Baltor added, "King Cheo is a close friend of mine who is a king of a nation that exists far to the southeast within the Jungles of Galgaa—your distant-distant neighbors. His nation is called Chao-chu-sha-maen.

"Tragically, it was this gnome army that destroyed my friend's two cities and killed everyone but my best friend, the king—and after they had captured him, they tortured him mercilessly, and then, cut out his tongue...

"Once the gnomes had concluded with the torture sessions, they even gave my friend a horse and let him go so that he could find his way to me.

"While traveling to my capital city of Pavelus, he swore that he saw a giant-black-dragon flying in the skies to his west! As for me, I never doubted my friend's horrifying and grief-stricken words, not for a single moment!"

Surprisingly, Valiante snapped a sharp salute with his sword, and then said, "You truly are an honorable individual, Sultan Baltor Elysian!"

Baltor nodded his head, and humbly said, "Thank you."

Valiante said, "Because you are the victor by _The Code_ , it is in my opinion that you should become the next commander-in-chief, as the Sultan of the Vispano Province. What do you think, Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail?"

Though Baltor looked shocked upon hearing this, Travail answered, "Yes, I agree. Not only for this reason, yet another that none of you are aware of...I have within my library at home a seven-hundred-year-old scroll which clearly proves that your ancestors, the Elysians, once ruled the Vispano Province, as well lands far beyond!"

Baltor asked with even more surprise, "Really?"

Travail answered, "Really...however, it's written in a foreign language that took me nearly a dozen years to interpret—my personal hobby. The diary belonged to a young man whose name was Sultan Pasho Elysian the 5th!"

Baltor asked inquisitively, "Would it be possible to see that diary, sometime?"

"Of course, my Sultan!"

Baltor then asked, "Will there be any other next of kin, nobility, or soldiers loyal to the duke who will feel differently, and may even resist the transfer of power?"

"There may be a few, my Sultan," Travail honestly answered, "but we shall allow them to leave your city and lands peacefully, so long as they remain honorable throughout."

"Excellent," Baltor replied. "In one hour, I shall need statistical figures so that I can figure out exactly how many of your soldiers will be aiding us in the fight against the army of evil gnomes and the dragon!

"Also, if possible, I shall need to look at a current map of the entire Vispano Province, especially the lands leading up to Scarthan, okay?"

"Give us one hour," Valiante promised, "and you shall have all your commands fulfilled, my Sultan."

"Excellent!"

Once the two knights had bowed and left, Petrol and Thorn walked up to Baltor's side. Thorn asked, "My Sultan—do you trust that the Vispano Knights will be honorable?"

Without hesitation, Baltor answered, "Implicitly, Major-General. I can clearly see the truth and honor in their eyes, just as clearly as I could yours the night you confessed your alternative plan."

Upon hearing that answer, Thorn couldn't say anymore, as all three men made their way to the command tent. One hour later, Travail and Valiante arrived inside.

After saluting, Travail reported, "My Sultan, after I reported to the Vispano Forces all the events that transpired tonight, as well showed them the head of the gnome as proof, not a single man left."

Baltor nodded his head, and continued to listen as he sensed that Travail had more to say.

Travail confirmed, "You now have a grand total of two hundred thirteen thousand, two hundred forty additional Vispano soldiers under your command, my Sultan! Specifically, you have one hundred nineteen thousand, one hundred and two infantry soldiers, twenty thousand archers, and seventy-two thousand, six hundred sixty-eight cavalry Vispano Knights!"

Baltor's mind instantly translated that he had a grand total of three hundred twenty-three thousand, two hundred forty-one soldiers under his command...an unbelievable number except for the fact that it was now true.

He replied, "Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail, I am going to ask that you personally lead fifty thousand infantry soldiers, fifteen thousand archers, and thirty thousand Vispano Knights, and fight with us in battle."

"Yes, my Sultan! But what should we do as for your coronation ceremony?"

"We don't have time for that right now...later."

"Yes, my Sultan. I perfectly understand!"

Looking directly at Valiante, Baltor added, "As for you, Commanding-Knight Valiante, I am going to leave you in charge of Parthway as governor, and ask that you keep the rest of the forces here on red alert!"

After taking a deep breath through his mouth, he added, "Of course we shall periodically send messengers along to relay the successes of our battles, as well whatever types of supplies that we need...especially food and water."

"Yes, my Sultan!"

"Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail, how soon will your men be ready to march?"

Travail answered, "Two days, my Sultan."

"Excellent," Baltor replied with a nod. "I, and my army, shall be leaving right after dawn, as scheduled. When you and your men are ready, join us with great haste! Are there any questions from anyone?"

Travail asked, "One more question, my Sultan...did you want me to retrieve the scroll for you now, or wait until later when we meet down the road?"

"On the road is fine, thank you."

"Of course."

Baltor asked, "Any other questions from anyone?"

Everyone replied, "No, my Sultan!"

Baltor concluded, "Then...execute!"

Ten minutes later, Baltor called his forces to "form ranks," and he and his army departed southeast—a messenger was immediately sent to Admiral Bryce back in Lasparus to now begin sailing his fleet north and east around the continent—just in case.

It would take two weeks for the messenger to arrive on horseback at a full gallop—which would be shortly after Baltor and his army should have arrived at Scarthan.

And the time it would take to reach the Galgaa Jungles would be at least two months, depending of course on how long it would take to conquer Scarthan.

## CHAPTER XII

Back in Pavelus—the same day...

Since the very first night that the Sharia Empire's forces had split, Brishava remained unbelievably busy governing the successful trade relations with more than a dozen other major cities and seaports. Her schedule was all that much busier because she had to ensure that all three divisions were continuously supplied with food, weapons, and supplies, which made her personal time "nil."

On this very day, during lunchtime, she and Chelsea were eating in the royal dining hall. Not even five minutes after lunch had begun, the exterior guards opened up the doors, and in walked a soldier whose uniform identified him as a colonel.

Immediately after that officer saluted, he began, "My Sultaness, my name is Colonel Manin, and I bear a written and sealed message from Governor Hawkins."

After Brishava had swallowed a small bite of smoked salmon, she said, "Show me the seal first, and then go ahead and read it to me, please."

"Yes, my Sultaness," Manin said just before he stood straight up.

After showing her the wax bearing the emblem of the Sharia Empire, breaking it, and then unrolling the scroll, Manin read aloud, "'My Sultaness, it is with great honor that I report to you that the entire mission was successful! The lands of the Vaspan Empire, as well their wealth, armies, and cities—Mauritia and another city called Driven—all now belong to the Sharia Empire!'"

Manin had to clear his throat before he continued reading, "'If you would grant your permission, Sultaness, I request that you allow your cousin Lord Bradmir to be promoted to Lieutenant Governor. Had it not been for him, we would have had at least thousands of deaths and tens of thousands of casualties! In my honest opinion, Lord Bradmir has certainly earned the right for this esteemed position, but has not yet proven his worthiness to be a full governor just yet. My second request is that you delegate a new governor for the city of Driven, which is also now under the control of the Sharia Empire.'"

Again, Manin had to clear his throat, before reading.

"'My third request is that you send an ambassador to the Kingdom of Thorium as soon as possible. After all, there are already reports of territorial disputes, due to lands stolen by the former Vaspan Empire that once belonged to this kingdom...

"'As for everything else, I have it all under control—all, of course, is for the honor and the glory of the Sharia Empire! Loyally yours, Governor Hawkins.'"

At this point, Manin looked up from the scroll, and as he rolled it back up, he informed, "That is all Governor Hawkins had written. Will there be a message for me to relay back, my Sultaness?"

"Yes there will be...but please give me 'til tomorrow morning to have it written, sealed, and ready for you to deliver to the Governor."

"Yes, my Sultaness."

"Thank you, Colonel Manin. Say, why don't you take this large platter of food from our hands, and eat whatever you want, okay? If you're tired, ask the guards outside to provide you with a bedroom," Brishava concluded with a smile.

Manin smiled back, bowed, and then said appreciatively, "Thank you very much for the kindness, my Sultaness."

He then took the platter, bowed again, and then departed the room.

Brishava took her final bite of salmon, set her fork and knife down onto the table, picked up her napkin, and lightly wiped the corners of her mouth.

Meanwhile, Chelsea asked, "Brishava, would it be possible for me to become the ambassador to the Kingdom of Thorium? That is, until you can find someone you can trust to do it on a more permanent basis?"

Brishava asked, "What about your baby?"

While lightly patting her slightly swollen belly, Chelsea answered, "I'm over the morning sickness, and besides, it'll give me something to do for awhile."

"You know Chelsea, I hate to admit it, but I really wish Baltor would have gotten me pregnant," Brishava sighed.

Chelsea smiled as she said, "I know it hasn't happened for you yet, but it'll happen. Besides, it's not like Humonus even knows I'm pregnant, as I didn't even find out about it until two days after they left!"

Brishava replied with a wide smile, "I know...but what a surprise it'll make for him when he returns!"

Returning the smile, Chelsea answered, "Yeah, but you'll have your chance soon enough—I feel it to be true!"

"Yeah?" Brishava asked.

Without pause, Chelsea answered, "Yeah. The reason why I want this ambassadorial position is because I'm missing my husband way too much, and not only will this keep me busy, yet I can do my very own part for the Sharia Empire."

Brishava happily replied, "Of course, you're most welcome to the position if you really want it. I know you'd be good at it, too!"

"You think so?"

"Of course," Brishava said very evenly.

"Well then, my Sultaness, I want it," was Chelsea's gleeful reply.

"It's yours," Brishava said just as gleefully. After sighing, she added, "But I must confess that I'm beginning to miss you already...you really are my sister, except for us sharing the same blood."

"True that, Brishava, my sister..."

A few moments later, the guards opened the double doors yet again. Standing outside were fifty-two additional guards ready to escort the Sultaness back to the throne room, as lunchtime was over.

Brishava stood up out of her seat, and then added in a serious tone of voice, "I will need you to get packed immediately, Ambassador Chelsea. It is imperative that you work with Queen Calitta, and draw up our new borders between the Sharia Empire and the Kingdom of Thorium...as soon as possible."

Chelsea bowed her head respectfully, as she replied, "Yes, my Sultaness."

Following lunch, she went to her bedroom so that she could pack.

Meanwhile, Brishava and the guards made their way to the throne room—once there, she took her place at her throne.

Immediately she ordered, "Bring Ruksha here."

A guard left to retrieve him. Ten minutes later he arrived and bowed.

Brishava said, "Ruksha, I'm going to need you to write a message for Governor Hawkins."

"Yes, my Sultaness."

After he had pulled a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill pen, he sat at a table nearby. As she relayed this message, he wrote it out:

' _Dear Governor Hawkins,_

Thank you for all your timely messages and updates regarding all the Sharia Empire's successes. Your Sultan and I were very right in assigning you the position as Governor, and I know that he will be just as pleased to hear the news as I am.

In fact, I received word but three days ago that my husband has peacefully retaken Lasparus, and is even marching his forces behind the Duke's forces toward Parthway, in hopes that they will be able to unite their forces to fight against the army to our east.

Let me remind you that it's still quite possible that the enemy army may be lurking at your doorsteps anytime now—keep your forces on yellow alert, ready to go to red in a single moment of time.

As for your first request and the promotion of Bradmir to Lieutenant Governor, I am going to grant it. Regarding my three other cousins, I am going to request that you either test them for their loyalties there in Mauritia, or send them back to Pavelus so that they can be tested here...your choice!

Regarding your second request in delegating a new governor for the city of Driven, I am going to ask that you continue to govern both Driven and Mauritia for now. I know that it will be quite a challenge to govern two cities, but I also know that if there's anyone who can handle the challenge—it's you.

Regarding your third request in sending an ambassador to the Kingdom of Thorium, I have appointed Ambassador Chelsea to handle the territorial disputes and help to draw us up new borders, so that we continue our peace and trade with the Kingdom of Thorium.

_For the honor and the glory of the Sharia Empire—Sultaness Brishava Elysian_.'

After letting the ink dry, which took a minute, Ruksha rolled up the scroll, placed a gob of melted wax in order to seal it, and approached the Sultaness.

Brishava imbedded the royal insignia ring into the wax, which caused the seal to be formed.

She said, "Ruksha, I am going to need you to deliver this message to Colonel Manin. He will be the one to deliver it to Governor Hawkins."

"Yes, my Sultaness."

Not even a minute after Ruksha had departed, an elegantly dressed man entered the throne room.

After getting to twenty paces from the Sultaness, he first bowed and then introduced, "My Sultaness, my name is Ambassador Cartwright, and I am from the Kingdom of Rolinsa. I bear two gifts from King Amnion and Queen Tessa."

Brishava was fully aware that this nation existed on a different continent to their southwest, and had been trading with the Sharia Empire for only the last thirty years. She had never met this ambassador before, however.

Not only had the two nations been on peaceful terms and fair deals the whole time, yet Brishava had been very generous with the last shipment of merchandise and their asking prices.

So there was no pause to Brishava's voice as she asked with an inquisitive smile, "Gifts?"

Cartwright looked up, and with a slightly mischievous look in his eyes, replied, "Two very special gifts. Will your Sultaness please walk with me to the palace courtyard outside, and see these gifts with your very own eyes, instead of me revealing what they are by words? It was by the king and queen's special request that the revealing of these gifts be made this way."

Though Brishava looked a bit surprised to hear all this information for a second, she nodded her head in the next, stood to her feet, and began to walk forward—a platoon of guards joined her outside the hallway.

The party of fifty-four made their way to the palace courtyard; once there, Brishava began to look around, yet saw nothing.

A few moments later, her eyes averted over to Cartwright, and then she asked, "Where are the gifts that you had me come all the way outside in order to see?"

Cartwright's eyes, however, had been looking all around the skies, until she asked that very question. He looked back over at Brishava, and with a smile on his face, he pointed his left index finger directly up.

As Brishava looked up, she saw two tiny dots slowly circling in the sky far, far above. Without looking down, she asked, "Are those hawks or eagles?"

"They are hawks, your Sultaness...your gift."

Brishava cast her eyes at Cartwright and asked, "What are so special about hawks? After all, we have dozens of varieties of hawks here in Pavelus."

"Ah, your Sultaness, not like these! These hawks are extremely special and rare—trust me. Soon enough, you'll understand everything..."

Brishava didn't respond, but patiently waited.

About ten seconds later, those two tiny specks in the sky stopped circling as they plummeted straight down. Only seconds later, there were two giant hawks perched on the ground in the very middle of the palace courtyard. Each hawk's torso was even bigger than a fully-grown shire horse, which size did not include the huge-feathered head, wings, and tail.

With both shock and wonder etched on her face, Brishava observed that the nearer hawk was thirty feet away while the further hawk was fifty feet away—both hawks bore a saddle with a rider, though each saddle was obviously built for two riders.

Brishava could only say in awe, "Oh my goodness..."

"Yes, my Sultaness," Cartwright replied proudly. "With a whole lot of surprise, we discovered a nest of six eggs nearly two years ago, yet strangely without a mother. Since then, we trained the babies so that they can have riders upon them—in another year or so they'll be ready for breeding, which is why we gave you a male and a female."

Simultaneously, both men climbed out of the saddle, and once on the ground two seconds later, they turned and bowed.

Cartwright continued, "Actually, these hawks ride exactly as horses, except for the fact that the rider has the additionally option by pulling up on the reins to go up, and pushing down to go down."

"I see," Brishava said, still wowed by the sight in front of her.

Cartwright added, "King Amnion and Queen Tessa of Rolinsa send their warmest regards, and these gifts in appreciation for the fair deals and products from the Sharia Empire these last three decades, and most especially, for the last shipment of wonderful merchandise you sent."

"Why—thank you, Ambassador Cartwright," Brishava said with both delight and appreciation. She dared to ask, "Can I ride one of them?"

"My Sultaness," Cartwright replied, "of course, but I would strongly recommend that you ride with one of these two hawk masters, Darius and Traes, of whom are also gifts from my King and Queen."

Brishava answered gleefully, "Awesome! Can my friend ride on the back of the other hawk?"

"They're your hawks, my Sultaness...as for me, I must be heading back now, as I have other urgent business to tend to. That is, if your Sultaness will graciously excuse me?"

Brishava answered, "Of course. Would you please not only extend my sincerest gratitude to King Amnion and his family for these extraordinarily wonderful gifts, yet deliver a personal message from me to them, as well?"

After a respectful bow, Cartwright answered, "Of course I'd be delighted to relay the message, your Sultaness."

"Would you invite them to come here to Pavelus for a month's long vacation?" Brishava asked. Without waiting for an answer, she added, "I promise that they will not regret a second, as this is a city filled with many wondrous paradises. Say one year from now?"

"I will ask them. Farewell, your Sultaness," Cartwright said. He smiled, bowed, and then left with his own entourage of guards back to the harbor and his awaiting ship.

As for Brishava, she turned to face one of the guards, and asked, "Would you please find Ambassador Chelsea for me, and ask her to come to the courtyard, as soon as she possibly can? Tell her she and I are about to go for a ride, but don't tell her on what!"

"Yes, my Sultaness," the guard said before he bowed, and hurriedly entered into the palace, in order to fulfill her order.

Brishava turned back around until she was facing the two riders that were still standing in front of the hawks—holding onto the reins so the hawks would not take off.

She said, "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

A second later, both men replied simultaneously, "Good afternoon, my Sultaness."

Brishava asked, "So, which one of you is Darius?"

The man on the left, who was a short-cropped blonde with a thin beard, identified, "My name is Darius, my Sultaness. My counterpart here is Traes—he's my brother."

Brishava said pleasantly, "Nice to meet you, Darius."

Darius bowed.

After casting her gaze over to Traes, she said, "As well you, Traes."

He bowed. Unlike his brother, Traes had long, black and wavy hair and a thick-black goatee.

Traes confirmed, "Even though we certainly don't look alike, my Sultaness, we oftentimes—"

"Finish each other's sentences, as we think parallel to one another," Darius said. "Did you know, my Sultaness, that we were—"

Traes finished the question, "conjoined twins at birth? Just so you know, our skills are identical to one another, as we both are not only hawk masters, fully trained how to drive and to care—"

"For these beautiful hawks," Darius continued, "yet we are also fully trained in first-aid, and even reading aerial maps."

"Wow..." Brishava replied in awe.

"Thank you, my Sultaness," both men replied in unison.

Brishava asked, "Will they bite me if I pet them? How intelligent are they? Do they have names?"

Even though both men proudly cast their gaze upon his delegated hawk, Darius was the first to answer, "Since I was first introduced to this lady hawk but a year ago, she was never given a name. I've called her Chiquita. But, you may call her what you will—"

Traes then continued, "My Sultaness, I've called this boy Olifax, but as my brother said, you may name him what you will. To answer your other questions—"

"Yes, these are very intelligent creatures," Darius continued, "and no, they will not bite—so long as you're not mean to them! Believe us, there's so much for us to teach—"

"And so much for you to learn. Have you decided on names for these hawks yet, my Sultaness?" Traes asked.

"Yes," Brishava said, while drawing near enough to the hawk's position, so that she could lightly pet the hawk's right flank. "I'm going to name him Praetor..."

After petting him for about a minute, she walked over to the female hawk, began to pet her, and then said, "And I'm going to name her, Leshava."

"Excellent names, my Sultaness," both men replied in unison.

Just then, Chelsea arrived in the courtyard—her eyes were filled with both wonder and disbelief, as she slowly drew nearer to the hawks.

When Brishava heard footsteps behind her, she turned around, saw Chelsea, and asked, "Aren't they beautiful? Want to go for a ride?"

"Yes...and yes!" Chelsea exclaimed.

For the next hour or so, Brishava rode with Darius, while Chelsea rode with Traes—thousands of feet up in the air on the hawks who proved to be unbelievably fast and agile.

Once the ride was over and they were back on the ground, and the girls had their shoulder straps released, they ran to each other, and gave each other an excited hug.

Sounding like she was out of breath, Brishava was the first to ask, "Wasn't that the most awesome ride ever?"

"Yes, it was! Whew!" Chelsea replied just as excitedly.

Once Brishava had finally calmed her adrenaline down by taking a few deep breaths, she then looked back over at the brothers, took still another deep breath and asked, "Would you two gentlemen like to join us ladies for dinner tonight? Just to let you know, this is not a date as we're both married."

Darius replied, "We'd be delighted to join you for dinner, my Sultaness—"

"But we have about an hour and a half of work to do with these hawks before we'll be done for the day and ready to eat," Traes concluded.

"Perfect," Brishava said with a pleased smile. "In one hour and thirty minutes, inform any of my guards that you are ready to be escorted to the royal dining hall—okay?"

"Okay, my Sultaness," both men replied.

After saying their quick farewells, Chelsea headed to her bedroom to finish packing while Brishava headed to the throne room.

Once on her throne, she ordered the guards to retrieve the cooks ... they did.

Upon their arrival, five minutes later, Brishava revealed all the things she wanted for dinner—tonight it would be rotisserie chicken, roasted potatoes, green beans, a fruit salad, and a nice bottle of red wine.

Only minutes after the cooks had left to carry out their orders, Ruksha delivered a dozen official documents that needed her signature. He also delicately reminded her, while she was signing away, that the following day was Moonday, which meant that she would be spending most of tomorrow listening to the concerns, complaints, and crimes of her people—nobles and commoners.

Following eating that very delicious dinner in the royal dining hall with the two brothers and they had left to go to bed, the two girls said their fond farewells to each other down in the courtyard. They stood next to a horse-drawn carriage, which had a driver sitting in the front and another man holding the door open.

Immediately after the last hug, Chelsea climbed into the carriage, in which the doorman shut the door before climbing up into the seat next to the driver.

Right away, the driver snapped the reins, spurring the horses and the carriage on—their destination was the harbor, where a personal ship waited for Ambassador Chelsea to arrive. This ship's destination would be the capital city of the Kingdom of Thorium, called Politesse.

Chelsea's three-fold mission: one, to be the voice of her Sultan and Sultaness; two, to continuously ensure that both peace and trade exist between the two nations; and three, to warn them about the evil army that could be on their doorsteps at anytime.

Right before going to bed that night, only thirty minutes after Chelsea had left, Brishava handwrote a letter on a scroll to Baltor, sealed it with wax, stamped it with her ring, added some spicy smelling yet delicious perfume, and then put it into a scroll case. The letter read:

Dearest Baltor,

My sunshine...and my love! I am willing to bet that you are just as surprised and delighted to see this giant hawk, as I was earlier this very day...and even more so by smelling that spicy perfume you love me to wear—perfect!

I have named this hawk "Praetor" and he shall aid you in the fight against the evil gnome army and the flying dragon! He's now yours.

Praetor is but one of two gifts delivered today from King Amnion and Queen Tessa of Rolinsa! In gratitude, I have already dispatched an invitation for the king and queen to stay here in Pavelus for a month long vacation in one year's time.

I hope and pray that by the time of their arrival, you will have returned to Pavelus, so that you can meet them yourself, and then we can give them several wonderful gifts of our own—you and I!

Please do your absolute best in keeping Praetor alive, so that we may later breed him with the female, whom I have named Leshava...she has been dispatched to aid your friends, King Cheo and Ruling-General Humonus.

Once the war is over, I am going to keep Leshava for myself, and as I said before, Praetor is yours.

And once we've bred them, hopefully in a year's time, I have promised both your friends—that they will each get the first of the litter!

Also, please listen carefully to whatever this hawk master named Traes has to instruct, as this boy-hawk is very sensitive, proud and intelligent.

I'm sure you will come to love Praetor as much as I already do in the brief time I got to meet and fly upon him, as he reminds me so much of you when you fly!

Of course, my Husband, you are forever my Love, my Life, and my Sultan.

Sultaness Brishava Elysian.

The following morning, after handwriting yet another rolled-and-sealed scroll and then putting it in a scroll case, she ate a light breakfast alone outside on the patio, in which she felt a bit lonely because Chelsea was gone.

Following breakfast, she headed down to the courtyard with a scroll case in each hand, as well her personal guards—one scroll case for each brother.

Upon arrival, Brishava observed that the two brothers appeared to be all ready to go, as they were already buckled into the saddle of a hawk.

She first handed the scroll case in her left hand to Traes, as well a copy of the world map.

Once he had taken both items, she pointed out Baltor's approximated location on the map, and said, "Sultan Baltor Elysian and his army of more than seventy thousand strong should be located somewhere around here at this time...easy to spot from the skies. Once you have found my husband, give him the scroll case, please. In the meantime, if I were you, I would keep this map protected in that scroll case I just gave you, when not in use."

"Yes, my Sultaness," Traes said with a bow, before putting the map away. He looked over at his brother and said, "Farewell, my brother. I'll see you soon... in this life or the next!"

"Farewell, my brother! Be safe..."

After throwing a salute, Traes put the map away and launched his hawk straight up into the air, and once at an altitude of a thousand feet, took off northbound.

Meanwhile, Brishava walked over to Darius.

The very second she had handed him the scroll case and the other copy of the world map, she drew an imaginary line on the map with her index finger, a line that ran from east to west, and said, "Ruling General Humonus, King Cheo, and their army of twenty thousand cavalry soldiers took this route to the east. They should be located somewhere around here, maybe even as far as the Galgaa Jungles by now...got it?"

"Yes, my Sultaness, and I too shall keep the map safe in the scroll case when not in use. Farewell," Darius said with a bow.

"Farewell, my friend, and good luck!"

After another bow, he launched Leshava straight up into the air until reaching the altitude of a thousand feet, and took off eastbound.

In the same moment, Ruksha came prancing out of the palace's entrance and saw Brishava looking off into the skies. After bowing, he cleared his throat before asking, "Your Highness—are you ready to see your people in the throne room?"

Looking over, she answered with a nod and a smile, "I am."

Ruksha returned the nod. With that, he and Brishava reentered the palace, and went to work...

## CHAPTER XIII

30 miles to the east of Valakan—2 nights later...

Cheo, Humonus, and their army continued to ride in the same formation that they had been using since having first entered the Bospa Mountains—in the rear of the formation marched two hundred twenty-eight powerful Valakanese giants.

During this first night of travel, a night without any encounters or problems, they made their way eastbound via the safest routes that Humonus remembered by heart, as he had traveled this very route twice before.

Thanks to the fact that both of the half-moons were in the sky providing quite a bit of illumination throughout the tree-filled valleys, only a few soldiers at the front and the rear of the formation were needed to carry lit torches.

Twenty minutes before the sun was about to rise, and the skies had already been lightening up, which was at four-forty in the morning, Humonus ordered the troops to set up camp and chow in between two mountain passes—they did.

That evening, after a day without any problems or encounters, camp was unset and dinner ate before they trekked their way through the valleys. Other than hearing the sounds of howling wolves off somewhere in the mountains, there were no worries all night long.

Thirty minutes before sunrise the following morning, they again set up camp and made chow.

While everyone was quietly eating breakfast, only twenty minutes later, however, the "red alert" came.

"Gnomes!" was the word heard way more than seen, especially for the fact that tens of thousands of seven-foot-diameter circular patches of pitch-black clouds had instantly sprouted in the middle of the air just about everywhere—especially where large congregations of exhausted troops or giants sat and ate. Magical clouds that enshrouded most of the camp and surrounding area in utter darkness—not even the lights from any of the burning torches could be seen.

From a widespread volley of poison-tipped arrows shot by the attacking gnomes in the first round, thousands of arrows, more than sixty men on the friendly side were already dead, injured and/or poisoned, and one giant had instantly been killed from an arrow puncturing his throat. Those individuals who had been wounded from the arrowhead, but not killed, began to get nauseous from the poison and puke their guts up.

Even though Humonus could not see, as he was lost in one of those clouds himself, he instinctively stabbed his sword deep into the gut of a female gnome who possessed a wicked dagger and had just teleported to his position—she was dead.

As Humonus didn't sense any other dark gnomes right near his location, at the moment, he yelled out through the darkness, "Forces, remember your training!"

The gnomes had already shot several dozen arrows with precision into Humonus's direction, but the man had already performed two leaping somersaults—back to back—out of harm's way.

The troops neither spoke, nor moved, nor attacked, nor used their shields, unless they _felt_ they had to, as per the orders of their ruling general.

A handful of seconds later, the patch of darkness that had been surrounding the very man strangely dissipated and he could again see.

Just before Humonus had leapt back into yet another cloud, he noted to himself that the giants were the ones stomping all about and making a lot of noise in the darkness in order to find the gnomes, or each other. At the same time, he saw that the gnomes that now surrounded the camp were continuously shooting more volleys of arrows whenever they saw their human enemies, or heard noises, especially at the giants. At the same came all the other combative sounds of swords or other weapons slicing others—coupled with the sounds of people or gnomes screaming out in pain.

Once again on his feet in the darkness, Humonus half-whispered in the language of Thorium, "Salami, tell your giants to stay still and keep quiet..."

Salami, who had been eating breakfast with Humonus and was still nearby enshrouded in his own cloud only twenty feet away, yelled out in Valakanese, "Silence—stop stomping about!"

Nearly a dozen arrows would have just killed Salami, but fortunate smiled on him as every single arrow had been deflected and destroyed—with one swipe of Humonus's sword.

Salami, however, did not know this fact that his life had just been saved. Fortunately, the giants had listened to Salami, stopped in their tracks, and were making no noises whatsoever.

For a little over a minute, silence reigned, except by the horses and camels that all had been snorting out their nervousness and fears, as well the crying from the wounded and/or the dying.

Not even thirty seconds later, ten thousand gnomes simultaneously screamed into the air, just before they swarmed like angry bees through the encampment in order to kill every human and beast.

Thanks to the troops' expert combat training, however, they had killed nearly a thousand gnomes in the first round and injured another thousand, while only several dozen humans were dead, and a few dozen more injured.

At the same time, the giants had killed two hundred-or-so gnomes in that same first round—nearly a couple thousand clouds dissipated in total, which made about one-tenth of the entire camp—people, giants, and gnomes included—become visible.

Even though Cheo remained perfectly, still in the darkness, he heard the sounds of a sword zinging his way, and based off the direction that the sounds were going, he dropped to his knees while swinging his own sword horizontally.

The gut of a gnome was split wide open, and the shroud of darkness that had covered over Cheo's position dissipated.

Now that he could see, he began pursuing and killing all those female gnomes that were either teleporting, or the males sneaking from cloud to cloud, in order to get to their pre-selected prey. He had killed about two dozen of them, mostly males, so far...and counting.

With every swing of Yaush's six-foot axe—whether in darkness or light—two to three gnomes were not only hit and killed, but their corpses flew a dozen feet through the air.

For the next ten minutes, a fierce "battle of the ages" was fought, as wave after wave of dark gnomes continued to attack with everything they had, including their magical weapons and martial arts skills, in order to win. For some unexplainable reason, whenever a gnome was killed, his or her weapon stopped glowing. In the end, however, thousands more gnomes had been slaughtered, and only a few thousand had successfully retreated into the day.

After the very last creature was gone or dead on the bloody battlefield, as well all the black clouds, the Valakanese giants and the Forces of the Sharia Empire lifted their weapons high into the air, and for several minutes longer, they all cried out, "Hooray!" or "Hoosha!"

Once things had finally settled back down, Humonus found Stormea, and so he ordered, "Commanding-General Stormea, find out the number of men and giants killed or wounded, and report this number to me on the double."

"Yes sir!"

Nearly twenty minutes later, Stormea reported the information that four hundred twenty-three men had been killed, and eight hundred had been wounded in all degrees, including the four hundred soldiers who were still dry heaving from the poison, as they had nothing else left to puke up. Nine giants had been killed with thirty wounded—twelve of these were also dry heaving. Last but not least, an approximate count of the number of dead gnomes—at least eight thousand.

Only seconds after hearing the report, Humonus called out through his megaphone, "Attention!"

The army assumed the position—he briefed, "Forces, we have finally met the evil enemy face to face, and we have lost more than four hundred good lives today—let there no longer be any doubt amongst any of you that the words of our Sultan bear true!"

He stopped in his speech and nodded at Salami. In turn, Salami interpreted in Valakanese...and in turn, his brethren cried out, "Hooooooosha!"

Humonus only then continued, "Today, we shall pick up our camp, move the wounded into the back of our support wagons, and move a half-mile down the road, where we will set up our new camp and properly treat all the wounded—and let's triple the guards, while the rest of us rests and recuperates. That way, we will have three times the chance to raise the alarm and fight back should they make another attack!"

Salami interpreted.

Once it was his turn, Humonus added, "Come tonight, we ride with even more haste toward the Galgaa Jungles, which should only be about four days away. After all, our chances of beating the gnomes in the jungles will be far greater than fighting in these very narrow valleys."

Salami interpreted.

Humonus asked, "Are all my orders clearly understood?"

"Yes, Ruling-General Humonus," the troops cried out in unison.

Salami interpreted what Humonus had just said—in turn, the giants again cried out, "Hooooooooosha!"

Humonus concluded, "Make it so."

That evening, after their new camp had been broken and dinner eaten, the army went back on the trails that, for the most part, descended.

Four uneventful mornings later, just before sunrise, the army had once again finished setting up camp, this time within the borders of the Galgaa Jungles.

Until all of a sudden and coming from out of nowhere, a giant hawk carrying an unknown man landed only twenty feet away from the command tent.

Not even a second later, "the alarm" got raised as hundreds of nearby soldiers—with weapons drawn and ready to kill—quickly began to surround the hawk and rider. At the same time, many of them soldiers were yelling out, "Intruder alert!"

The man looked all around real nervously, before gulping and then asking, "Is there—is there a Ruling-General Humonus or a King Cheo around here?"

Though these very men had exited the command tent in the next second with weapons drawn, Humonus answered using suspicious tones, "Yes, this man and I are the ones you seek. Who are you?"

"My name is Darius, and I bear a sealed message from Sultaness Brishava Elysian!"

Now sounding a bit curious though mostly suspicious, Humonus asked, "Really—where is the message?"

"May I be allowed to get off my hawk, sir? The scroll is in a saddlebag."

"Yes... Soldiers, at ease."

The soldiers relaxed their weapons, but of course they did not leave the area.

Immediately Darius climbed down to the ground, pulled out a scroll case out of one of his saddlebags, and extended it out for Humonus to take—he did.

Humonus then opened the case up, and pulled out a scroll that bore the unbroken seal bearing the symbol of the Sharia Empire. After handing the scroll case back to Darius, Humonus cracked the wax, unrolled the scroll, and once unrolled, he verbally read aloud this message:

"'Greetings King Cheo and Ruling-General Humonus,

I trust that your campaign against the dark gnomes and the dragon is going well, and that the Valakanese have joined us in our crusade against these abominable monsters...

To let you know, this man who stands before you is named Darius. Darius is not just a hawk rider, yet he is also the special caretaker and trainer of hawks—a hawk master.

Please listen very carefully to everything Darius has to say regarding this most beautiful female hawk I have named Leshava, of whom is a very sensitive, proud, and intelligent creature I already love.

Now I am going to allow the both of you, King Cheo and Ruling-General Humonus, to equally borrow and share her, until the war is over—after all, she is a special gift to me from King Amnion and Queen Tessa.

Leshava will serve you best as a scout that can literally climb miles up into the sky, or sharply dive with the simple tugging of the reins.

Please try and keep her out of direct combat situations, as I would very much like to keep her alive, so that we can breed her with the male hawk counterpart, whom I have given to your Sultan.

Speaking of my beloved, Baltor successfully continues onward with his mission. Not only has he successfully recaptured the city of Lasparus without so much a drop of blood spilt, yet he and his army are marching northeast toward Parthway, in the hopes of uniting his forces with the Vispano Province's forces.

How much greater our odds, and how much more wonderful it would be, if we had them fighting alongside us, despite our recent past grievances? Well, that is the last word I heard from any of my husband's messengers, which was but a few weeks ago—of course I love reading every word your Sultan has to write...

Finally, know that we have peacefully reclaimed Mauritia, as well another successful city of the Vaspan Empire we did not know about previously, called Driven—so great is the news I bring to you in so many ways! The Sharia Empire grows more and more each and everyday.

Good luck with your campaign, Ruling-General Humonus and King Cheo...and God speed,

Sultaness Brishava Elysian of the Sharia Empire.

P.S. Please ensure this message is relayed to King Cheo, okay?

P.P.S. Once the war is over, we will breed our two hawks, Praetor and Leshava. Both you and the king will get your pick of the first batch of baby hawks, okay?

P.P.S.S. Ruling General Humonus, your new battle armor is ready and is sitting in a large bag upon Leshava. King Cheo's should be done in another month.'"

Upon having concluded the letter, Humonus rolled the scroll back up, placed it in the scroll case, shut the case, and wedged it between his arm and armpit.

"So," Humonus asked, "is it possible if King Cheo gets the first ride on the hawk with you for about an hour? And then I can be second for another hour, after of course you've given me my armor so I can try it on, and make sure it fits and works properly?"

"Yes, sir," Darius replied with a smile and a salute. He immediately unclasped the bag that held the armor from the saddlebag and handed it over.

While Humonus entered the command tent with his two generals-in-tow to help him put the armor on, Cheo took the rear seat of the hawk's saddle, while Darius took the front seat.

As Humonus came to find out, thirty-or-so minutes later, his armor fit just like a glove. While waiting for the next half hour so he could have his turn riding on the hawk, he began performing somersaults and other acrobatics, in order to see that he had his "flexibility." He did...and after the hour was over, he got his ride on the hawk, which ride was, in his opinion, "incredibly exhilarating."

Following, they—and the army—watched as Darius allowed the hawk to hunt on her own...and once over, everyone ate dinner and went to bed.

For the next week, the army spread itself out into their original battle formation, before they began to maneuver at a slower-than-normal pace through the Galgaa Jungles, due to the lush jungle environment that existed everywhere—Humonus had also ordered the army to be very flexible, and to avoid any areas that looked un-traversable. So, very rare was the time when a chariot or a wagon actually got stuck in the mud, which immediately had to be pulled out.

Throughout the evenings, whenever the army had made camp for the night, Humonus and Cheo quickly learned how to fly the hawk...per Darius's instructions. It was just like riding a horse, as they quickly found out, except for the fact they could additionally go up and down.

Strangely enough, there weren't any other encounters against the gnomes the entire time. Nor had it even rained even once, which was highly unusual for a jungle environment.

## CHAPTER XIV

Back in the Vispano Province—1 evening later...

Only seconds after the sun had set on this particular night, Baltor woke up out of his deep sleep in the command tent.

Upon having completed with his bath in the portable bathtub, drying himself off, and putting on all of his underclothes, his assistants came in so that they could fit him into the armor and equip him with his swords ... just like every night.

Only seconds after the assistants had finished and departed, Thorn entered the command tent, saluted, and then reported, "My Sultan, a special surprise dinner will be here momentarily."

With a smile, Bator said, "Thank you, General Thorn—perfect timing, as always!"

"Thank you, my Sultan..."

"Where is General Petrol?"

"He said he'll be here in about ten minutes, or so, as he had a few important things to take care of with the troops, my Sultan."

"No problem," Baltor said as he took his seat at the table, which had been set for three. Thorn sat down on the other side.

Not even five seconds later, three male soldiers entered the tent, carrying a tray of steaming food. Following behind them was a female soldier carrying two pitchers—one filled with water and the other with wine.

Right away was the food and drinks set neatly onto the table, before these four soldiers saluted and departed the command tent.

After the lids were removed and steam had cleared, a few seconds later, what became revealed were spicy-red potatoes that had an equally spiced strip of salmon to its side.

Only seconds later did Baltor become very pleased with the taste of the fresh salmon he ate, instead of the heated-up porridge or dried jerky that they typically ate.

Several bites later, Thorn revealed, "About two hours ago, we discovered a large river not too far away from here, so while most of us set up camp, I had several thousand of our troops go fishing. The salmon you are eating now came from the river, and is quite delicious, yes, my Sultan?"

"Wonderful!"

"Thank you, but I did not cook this. It just was my idea."

"Outstanding idea, General."

"Thank you, my Sultan!"

"You're welcome!"

Upon completion of dinner that even included a couple glasses of red wine, a just-promoted general entered the command tent, snapped his salute, and reported, "My Sultan, the troops are outside ready in formation, and ready to train under your command."

Baltor replied, "Excellent work, General Loken"

"Thank you, sir!"

A moment later, Loken asked with quite a bit of curiosity to his voice, "By the way, what is it that we will all get to learn today? Blind fighting? Some additional martial arts techniques? Weapons training? What?"

After having swallowed the portion of salmon in his mouth, Baltor replied, "Actually, I haven't decided that—I'll know once we commence with the next lesson, as I always let my intuition guide me."

"As you wish, my Sultan," Loken said.

He snapped a sharp salute, before he departed out the command tent with his two colonels—only seconds later, Petrol entered the tent, bowed to his leader, and said, "Finally...time to e—"

Petrol did not get to finish his word of "eat," for what interrupted him was the cry of one word resounding outside the command tent—"gnomes!"

Not even a second later, Baltor and his generals were all running out the tent with swords drawn and ready—they saw that every soldier was now frozen in place with weapons and/or shield in hand, as Baltor had earlier instructed them to do. After all, they had undergone many training sessions in learning how to fight blindly—they were ready for the darkness to enshroud the land.

Ten million gnomes magically appeared around the entire encampment in the blink of an eye! Strangely enough, there were no magic black clouds anywhere...they clearly wanted to be seen.

Only a handful of seconds later, Baltor's ears were the first to detect the sound of flapping wings from somewhere far off to the east—instantly Thorn, who had just caught up, asked with a little fear in his voice, "Is—is that the dragon?"

Still scanning the skies, especially to the east, Baltor replied with a cool calmness, "My intuition tells me that it is the dragon, this army's leader, who has come to have our pre-war discussion—yes."

"What is your command, my Sultan?" Petrol asked with apprehension in his voice.

"Commanding-General, calm yourself down and order the men to form ranks—I shall personally deal with this dragon myself!" Baltor ordered. "Perhaps, just like before, this war can be averted and millions of lives saved, if the dragon and I fight one on one combat to the death?"

Before Petrol could order the troops, Baltor interrupted him as he smacked his left fist into his right open palm, declaring aloud, "Yes, this is the exact route in making their army disorganized! This is how we will ultimately win this war today, so that we can go back homes to our wives and families."

"Yes, my Sultan! Forces, form ranks!"

Thirty seconds later, the source of the sounds could be seen by everyone—a dark shadow flying in the skies toward them.

Only Baltor's eyes were able to zoom in and clearly see every single detail about this gargantuan black dragon that nonchalantly flew back and forth through the skies. This creature was as big as a house.

Baltor's super-intelligent mind had already tabulated that this dragon was nearly a hundred feet in length, and eighty feet in width if you counted the sixty-foot wingspan—it also had at least fifty tons of flesh that was protected by natural black-plated body armor.

Only once in every ten seconds or so did those massive wings flap, though for the rest of the time they remained evenly spread out. Its flight pattern resembled a hawk's.

It took another half minute before the dragon arrived by landing on the ground right next to the command tent. Right near Baltor and all his officers.

The fear in the soldiers' eyes was clearly evident, and the dragon appeared to be thoroughly reveling in that fear, as it gazed all around with its emerald green eyes squinting menacingly, coupled with its very sinister and snaky smile.

A few moments later, the dragon looked over at Baltor, and hissed, "Greetings, Baltor. Now is the time that we finally meet for the first time face to face in the flesh on the battlefield...and perhaps for the last! Will you join us?"

"Never," Baltor calmly replied.

The dragon replied, "I'll tell you what, Baltor. Surrender all your forces to me, as well your life and soul, and I will spare the lives of everyone on this stinking world! If you do not surrender, however, my army of darklings and I will kill every single one of you—as you can see, you and your army are completely surrounded, and outmatched. You will lose..."

Baltor answered with a question of his own, "How about a one on one between me and you—nameless one?"

"How rude of me...let me introduce myself—my name is Dreeak!"

"Well how about it, Dreeak? How about it? One on one? You versus me? Man versus dragon? Come on, Dreeak the Freak—bring it on!"

Instead of answering any of Baltor's questions and attitudes, Dreeak replied with a question of her own, "Why don't you just honorably sacrifice yourself for the world, and prepare for your death that is inevitable?"

In exasperation, Baltor flung both his hands and head high up into the heavens, and while gazing all around in those skies, cried out, "My God, why have you given me such a cowardly and stupid dragon who speaks of honor and sacrifice as if it knew all about these divine qualities, yet knows nothing at all?"

Instead of waiting for a response from God or the dragon—Baltor's hands instantly grasped the handles of his swords, unsheathed them, and threw them like darts straight for the dragon's eyes!

Even though each sword simultaneously punctured through an eyeball of the dragon, the illusion completely disappeared in "a puff of smoke," as did all the images of the darkling gnomes.

Baltor's dropped-open mouth asked the question, "What the—?"

The very second he had begun to voice this question, his two swords landed and stuck themselves into the ground, fortunately without hurting anyone in the process.

Just as Baltor had begun over to walk to retrieve his swords, the sounds of flapping wings, as well a deep booming laughter, could be heard far away to the southeast; soon after, those sounds dissipated into the night...

After he had sheathed his swords, only a couple moments later, he declared through his megaphone, "Forces—what we obviously just experienced was a magical illusion of epic proportions!

"So, from here on out, whether you can see and hear a darkling gnome and/or dragon does not mean they are actually there. Thus, trust only in your sense of intuition, in order to win against the actual foes wherever they lie. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Sultan!" they all boomed.

"Unset camp and eat dinner...in one hour, we assume battle formations and move southeast. Dismissed."

They did.

Precisely one hour later, and the report was given that all was said and done, Baltor replied, "Excellent! Major-General Thorn, order the forces to move."

Only a second earlier, Thorn had arrived riding on one horse while bearing the reins of Baltor's horse. While handing those reins over, he answered, "Yes, my Sultan!"

After Baltor had grabbed the reins, Thorn called out, "Forward march—half right, march."

Baltor climbed into the saddle of Grasha and the army began to once again march southeast. By sunrise the following morning and without any encounters, they made camp with triple the normal guards. That night, before camp could be unset, Baltor issued the order that the army was to keep the camp set for the night as they would be staying one more night—the following morning was when they would move on.

That night, alone in his command tent with the strict order not to be disturbed for any reason other than if they were being attacked, Baltor continued to make what he called "acid bombs."

In order to produce one such bomb, which he had learned long ago how to create in his chemistry class, there were three necessary ingredients—the first ingredient was a glass beaker that had all these qualities: one-gallon sized, ovular-shaped and acid-proof.

The next two ingredients were very different, yet equally powerful acidic solutions that could eat through flesh, rock, and even steel ... all but this special glass.

As Baltor had almost-fatally discovered, years ago, during the time of the "Great Earthquake," as well his classmates and teacher, the first type of acid reacts very violently when shaken up and intermixing with sudden large doses of oxygen—it literally explodes like a bomb!

So, here were the very-very-very careful steps Baltor used in order to make each and every acid bomb—first, he set the opened-at-the-top beaker into a beaker holder sitting on his table.

He next filled the beaker nearly halfway with the first solution, and then he ever so slowly heated the glass in the middle until it got soft and manageable. Once so, he ever so gently pinched the glass in the middle with pliers until thoroughly sealed. After the glass was cool and stiff, he inspected the beaker to make sure it was sealed, washed out the top half, dried it, and filled it three-quarters of the way to the top with the second solution. Finally yet importantly, he heated the glass back up and thoroughly sealed it at the very top.

Baltor could only imagine the "devastatingly brutal effects" that would occur when the glass finally got shattered and the two acids intermixed—after all, he had never seen this weapon yet explode.

For this very reason, the reason of caution, he ensured that the "completed acid bombs" were carefully wrapped in blankets, placed in a wood box, and stored in the back of the supply wagons. By the end of this night, since having left Pavelus, he had managed to create yet another bomb to add to his collection of sixty-four.

The following morning, while the army marched, Baltor slept in the back of one of the bunk wagons—nearly a dozen small-to-medium battles against dark gnomes occurred throughout this day, but nothing major occurred—only a dozen friendly casualties there were in total, while hundreds of gnomes died. That night, while the army camped and treated their wounded, he made yet another bomb—sixty-five.

## CHAPTER XV

In the Kingdom of Thorium—the very next morning...

Chelsea arrived at the docks of Politesse on her ship. As soon as she had identified herself to the port authorities, both rank and name, a small procession of guards escorted her beyond the city walls, through the beautiful capital city, and up to the stunning stone castle that lay near the center. Thousands of city folk walked here and there, mindful of their own business.

This massive/ten-story building had not just been built for looks, yet more-so to be a formidable fortress—complete with a moat that surrounded her and an attached drawbridge that was currently down.

Once inside, the guards forthwith escorted Chelsea to the throne room, where she saw a gorgeous young woman sitting in her red-velvet throne. She had short-cropped, blonde and wavy hair, wore a golden crown, and of course, a classy golden dress.

The royal announcer declared in the language of Thorium, "Queen Calitta... Ambassador Chelsea of the Sharia Empire has arrived, and wishes to speak with you."

Calitta politely greeted in Pavelian, "Welcome to Politesse, Ambassador Chelsea."

With another low bow, Chelsea replied, "Thank you, Queen Calitta."

"So, what brings you to my kingdom?"

"Most likely you have heard the news that the Sharia Empire has recently taken over the Vaspan Empire?" Chelsea answered with a question of her own.

With a pleased smile upon her face, Calitta answered, "Yes, I have, which is a very, very, very good thing! Emperor Vaspan has been a royal pain to us for many decades now, stealing our lands and killing not only our soldiers, yet marauding and pillaging our villagers—men, women, and children."

With an understanding nod, Chelsea said, "As you know, he was just as much of a problem for the Sharia Empire, but now this problem has finally been eradicated, Your Majesty. He was killed in a one-on-one duel with Sultan Baltor Elysian. The Sultan and his wife now equally rule both the Sharia and the Vaspan Empire."

"Most excellent news," the queen replied. "By the way, have you had breakfast yet, ambassador?"

Chelsea answered with a smile, "No, I have not..."

"Would you dine with me for breakfast? I haven't even eaten yet."

"I would be delighted to dine with you, your Majesty."

Returning the smile as well a nod to her head, Calitta rose from her throne. Besides the thirty guards who accompanied them, the two left the throne room, and headed for the royal dining hall.

Once there, nearly five minutes later, servants served a delicious breakfast, consisting of breakfast meats, hard-boiled eggs, toasted muffins, fresh fruits, and fruit juices.

Nearing the end of breakfast, in between taking small bites as well the two sharing a few get-to-know-you conversations, Calitta finally asked, "So, are you married, Ambassador Chelsea?"

As soon as Chelsea had swallowed a piece of spicy sausage, she replied, "Why yes I am. Are you, Queen Calitta?"

"No, I'm not. Even though I've had a lot of suitors and three fiancées over my life, mostly princes from other nations, I've never married. It is so hard nowadays to find a suitable man, and most especially, a suitable king for my kingdom!"

"Really?"

"Unfortunately so. So tell me, what's your husband's name and what does he do?"

"Well, I am married to Ruling-General Humonus, and he is off fighting a campaign for the Sharia Empire as we speak."

"Hmmm, I met a man named Humonus, once upon a time, when I was a teenaged girl—I think he was about seventeen or eighteen, but he was no soldier and definitely no ruling general."

"Really? What was he like?"

After releasing a deep sigh, Calitta said, "A dashing hero he was, and from the way he moved and fought, a very skilled warrior! He literally saved my life from kidnappers who were holding me for ransom in your city of Pavelus when I was sixteen, believe it or not."

"Really?"

Calitta answered with a distant look in her eyes, "Yes, but other than telling me his name and that he had come to rescue me, this Humonus spoke nothing about himself, even though I asked him many-many questions. He always grumbled something to the effect of, 'Don't worry about me, Princess...who I am is not important...'

"A month later, the second he had dropped me off back here at the city gates of Politesse, he departed back into the night, and I've never seen him since!"

"Really," Chelsea responded with a bit of awe, "in many ways, this man does sound like my husband."

"Yeah, but there must be dozens of men out there in the world who bear that name of Humonus," Calitta countered. "Perhaps hundreds?"

"Perhaps..."

A few moments later, a distant memory popped up in Calitta's mind, so she asked, "Does your husband, by chance, have a thin scar that runs up and down on the left side of his cheek?"

"Yes, he does!"

"Whoa," Calitta said as goose bumps surged up and down on her arms, "this is the same man."

"Even though my husband never mentioned your name before to me, he did mention once that he had rescued a princess, Queen Calitta," Chelsea said with a bit of awe at the coincidence. "I did not know that that princess was you!"

With a smile, Calitta said, "You are by far a lucky woman, Ambassador Chelsea! He's a hunk."

Returning that smile, Chelsea answered, "Thank you... Actually, if you can't tell, I'm pregnant with his child!"

"Wow...I did notice. Congratulations!"

"Thank you so much again, your Majesty."

Calitta got down to business, and so she cleared her throat a couple of times before asking, "So, what can the Kingdom of Thorium do for the Sharia Empire, especially for the fact that we have been trade partners and friends for quite some time...and now we are next-door neighbors?"

No longer smiling, Chelsea answered, "The Sultaness has personally asked me to come here so that we can discuss and draw up the new borders between our two nations. After all, she and her husband, Sultan Baltor Elysian, wish to maintain the trade, the peace, and the friendships between our two nations."

"Sounds great," Calitta sang.

As another important question popped in her mind, only a moment later, she asked with curious tones, "I must ask—what happened to Sultan Brishavus Helenus?"

Sounding indifferent, Calitta answered, "He died several months ago, and his daughter Brishava and her husband Baltor have inherited the Sharia Empire."

"I see," Calitta said. "Well, the Sharia Empire has always been generous to us, especially as of late, so we can definitely negotiate everything."

Chelsea said with happiness, "Excellent!"

Calitta's right eyebrow rose slightly as she asked, "If you don't mind me asking, where is the new Sultan? Sultan Baltor Elysian."

"He, just like my husband, is fighting against a dark and evil army that is spreading out across the world like a plague; in fact, this army may be knocking upon your own doorsteps, soon enough. This was yet another important reason for me coming here, so that I can forewarn you about this looming threat, so that you can have your forces ready to defend your nation!"

With concern now etched into her eyes, Calitta asked, "What warnings do you have about this army?"

After taking a deep breath through just her nose, Chelsea answered, "I know that it will be hard for you to digest what I'm about to say, but you must trust me as I am quite serious. For one, this army knows and uses magic, including their magical weapons. For two, this army consists of gnomes with black skin and white hair. And for three, this army is being led by a giant black dragon!"

Calitta couldn't help but laugh upon hearing all of this preposterous news. After all, not one report about any such mythical creatures existing was ever reported to her before ... gnomes or dragons.

While Calitta laughed, Chelsea added with pleading tones, "Queen Calitta, you may not believe me now and think I'm crazy, but all I'm telling you now is the truth, just like everything else I've said since we first met—I swear! Sultan Baltor's best friend, King Cheo's Nation of Chao-chu-sha-maen was obliterated by these gnomes, with him being the sole survivor."

Calitta, who had stopped laughing due to the desperate tones in Chelsea's voice, replied, "I see. Well, I'm going to try and take your warnings seriously. I will have my guard posts triple their normal numbers."

"Hopefully that will be enough, your Highness, but like I said before, this gnome army was able to destroy my Sultan's friend's kingdom in one single night," Chelsea informed.

After taking another deep breath, she suggested, "You may need a lot more than just adding the triple amount of guards to your posts."

Calitta replied, "Well, I definitely want to hear more specifics about this army, but I'd like to have Superior-General Lennick here listening as well, so that he can devise a strategic plan of defense. He is much better in handling our national defenses than I am...

"However, he won't be available until this afternoon, which is when I'd like you to tell him everything you know about this army, okay?"

Chelsea answered with a bow, "Well, I've pretty much told you everything I do know—but, as you wish, your Highness."

Perhaps five seconds later, Calitta said with a chipper voice, "Great—in the meantime, shall we get to work with our new national borders using all of our maps?"

With a bow and a smile, Chelsea answered, "Yes, we shall."

For the rest of the morning, both girls brooded very hard over the map, while discussing all the options the whole time.

By lunchtime, there obviously was still a whole lot more work to do, so they moseyed over to the royal dining hall to eat a nice, healthy lunch of smoked chicken kabobs laid out on a bed of rice with a side of corn and a fresh garden salad.

As soon as the two were in the process of finishing eating their last few bites of this most-delicious food, perhaps twenty minutes later, the two guards stationed outside the room opened his respective door.

A moment later, Chelsea peripherally observed a man enter the room—he was dressed in all black attire and looked to be in his early fifty's, due to the all the wrinkles etched onto his face and his thin silvery hair.

Once the man had entered, the exterior guards closed the doors behind them—there were no interior guards, which meant there were only three occupants in the room.

Upon closer inspection, Chelsea observed that this man donned a black cape that draped over a set of black plate-mail armor. Painted onto the chest plate was the emblem of a brown, white and gold double-headed lion. She simultaneously observed that there was no evidence of rank insignias on this man anywhere, but he was holding his purple-plumed black helmet-with-visor in the nook of his right elbow.

A few seconds later, after having finished studying the man, Chelsea then glanced back over at Calitta, and noticed that the queen was looking at the empty plate before her, seemingly lost in thought.

After a bow, the man greeted with a deep tone of voice, "Your Highness, as soon as I received word that you needed to speak to me, even though I was in the process of inspecting your troops, I left General Artlett to finish. So, what can I do for your Majesty?"

Calitta introduced, "Superior-General Lennick, this is Ambassador Chelsea from the Sharia Empire...and she brings some important news that you need to hear right away."

Simultaneously, Chelsea and Lennick greeted each other with smiles upon their faces, "Nice to meet you." The only difference between their sentences were the titles they used at the end—however, neither person laughed, nor even looked amused, at the simultaneousness because of the seriousness of the moment.

Taking her cue, Chelsea relayed all the information she knew, which only took less than two minutes to explain. All the while, Lennick listened attentively to everything she had to say.

Thirty seconds after she had concluded, Lennick finally sighed aloud, "I see... So what you're basically telling me is that there is an army of millions of evil gnomes who use magic and magical weapons, have a dragon as their leader, and may be on our doorsteps any day now. Yet you have not one shred of proof about anything, whatsoever...nor have we heard so much as a peep of any of what you've said. Nothing personal, ambassador, but it all sounds to me like a grand fairy tale!"

"I can assure you, general, that this is no fairy tale," Chelsea countered.

Still with that look of disbelief, Lennick glanced over at Calitta and asked, "My Queen—what do you believe and suggest?"

Calitta shrugged her shoulders, just before she answered, "I don't know—I suggested to the Ambassador that we triple the guards at all of our outposts, but she said that it probably wouldn't be enough."

Lennick replied, "Well, here's my suggestion, my Queen. I say that we deploy and disperse ten thousand of our soldiers to patrol our northern and eastern borders, just in case the ambassador's information is indeed correct, and should we need more, we'll deploy the rest. As you know, my Queen, it will take our forces a day to prepare and a week to get to the borders."

As soon as Lennick had finished speaking, Calitta looked over at Chelsea questioningly.

A few moments later, Chelsea replied, "My only hope is that ten thousand will be enough."

Calitta looked back over at Lennick, and then replied, "Make it twenty thousand."

After delivering a bow, Lennick said, "As you wish, your majesty." He then left the room to execute his orders.

Three days later, the girls were still brooding hard over the map in the lounge room. That evening just before dinner, however, they finally reached a deal they were both happy with, which entailed that two-thirds of the stolen lands be returned to Thorium.

Strangely enough, it was just as Calitta and Chelsea were about to exit the lounge room and head for the dining hall that they ran across a soldier bearing the rank of lieutenant on his sleeve.

After a low bow, that guard reported, "My Queen... You may not believe what I'm to tell you, but I swear on my honor that it's true! I'm the only survivor of Outpost Three—all my comrades are dead...

"The army that attacked us consisted of strange looking humans—they had black skin, white hair, and very pointy ears and teeth, had magical weapons, and somehow managed to surround the ground with black clouds, even though we had posted lit torches everywhere!

"I only survived the onslaught because I was in the outhouse and watched the massacre from inside...thankfully they never searched the outhouse before they left, or I would be dead"

Chelsea, who was sitting next to Calitta in the lounge room, gave a knowing look, yet said nothing.

Calitta replied, "Thank you for your report, Lieutenant."

She looked at a messenger standing nearby, and added, "Bring me Superior-General Lennick. I shall inform him that the Thoriumites are going to ally with the Sharia Empire, and we will help to decimate this gnome army..."

## CHAPTER XVI

Approximately ten miles northwest of the city of Scarthan—3 days later...

On this particular day, Baltor's army had set up camp an hour before sunrise—thankfully nothing notable happened all day long.

That is, until late in the afternoon, a female officer entered the command tent, observed that Thorn was the only one in here, stopped in front of the man, snapped a sharp salute, and said, "Major-General Thorn."

Thorn, who was currently sitting in a chair next to a table that contained about a dozen maps, looked up. As he recognized this particular soldier, he smiled as he returned the salute and asked, "Yes, Lieutenant Macao?"

Macao continued to look straight ahead into the air as she crisply reported, "General, there is a rider who just arrived from Pavelus, sir. When I approached the man and his unusual form of transportation, I asked him his business. He told me that he has a message for Sultan Baltor Elysian, sir!"

Because he knew his Sultan was still sleeping in one of the random bunk wagons, Thorn took matters into his own hands. He asked with a humming tone of voice, "Unusual form of transportation—what do you mean?"

Shaking her head slightly, Macao replied, "Seeing it is believing it, sir...that's all I'm going to say!"

"Interesting," Thorn said, just before he rose to his feet. "Lead the way, lieutenant."

"Yes, sir!"

Macao led the way outside of the command tent, and then toward the southern borders of the encampment, which took of walking about ten minutes time.

Once there, Thorn's feet stopped in is tracks at the same time his mouth dropped open in shock, upon seeing a giant hawk perched on the ground, about eighty feet to the south of the last row of tents. He also saw that the rider was currently strapping a cap over the hawk's head and eyes, which Thorn knew as a hawk-trainer himself that this measure prevented the hawk from flying away.

Now standing to his right side, he heard Macao say, "Well, sir, I would love to stay, but I've got quite a few more important tasks that still need to get accomplished with my platoon, so I will you see you later?"

Thorn looked over, nodded his head, and said, "No problem, lieutenant."

After throwing a sharp salute, Macao said, "See you later, sir!"

Thorn returned the salute, just before he recommenced to walk toward the rider and the hawk, all the while with his mesmerized and enamored eyes staring at this "truly magnificent beast"—he wanted one.

Fifteen feet away, he stopped in his tracks, before greeting, "Greetings, good sir...my name is Major-General Thorn. May I perchance help you with something?"

The rider looked over, cast a real friendly smile, and answered, "No, thank you General...I bear a written message strictly for Sultan Baltor Elysian's eyes alone, written by his wife, Sultaness Brishava."

After casting his gaze over to the rider for the very first time, Thorn answered, "The Sultan is currently sleeping and won't be up until sunset. I am the one in charge during the daylight hours."

Traes said with a nonchalant wave of his hand, "Not a problem, general...we can wait. After all, I still need to feed Praetor—a boy hawk. Not only does he take his sweet time when it comes to hunting and eating dinner, yet he really, really loves it when I give him a good grooming right after he eats, which is an hour's work for me! Makes him very happy...doesn't it boy?"

He immediately began to pet the hawk's flank lovingly—in response, the hawk delivered a short piercing scream into the air.

Traes chuckled for a few moments, before saying, "That's right...you are such a very good boy!"

While his left eyebrow rose on his face, Thorn asked, "By the way, where'd you ever get a magnificent hawk that size? How old is he? Does he have a name?"

After taking a deep breath, Traes stopped petting the hawk and answered, "The Sultaness named him Praetor, though for most of his life he went by the name of Olifax. Praetor is two years old, and he is a gift from the king and queen of Rolinsa..."

After a short pause, Thorn finally exhaled with amazement, "Wow—he's a beauty! I have four hawks myself, but I have never seen a hawk with such beautiful feathers before!"

"Thanks," Traes responded, while unlatching a metallic cage with tiny holes from behind the hawk's saddle, obviously built to house an animal the size of a pig.

He next set that cage onto the ground, before asking, "General, would you like to watch Praetor feed? I can assure you that it's an absolutely amazing sight to see!"

"Sure," Thorn answered enthusiastically.

Traes smiled, and then he asked, "After I've launched the bird, please don't move until I tell you that it's okay to move, okay? We don't want to distract Praetor from his prey."

"No problem...but what about the soldiers in the camp?"

"Oh, they're no problem. I'm going to send this pig running the opposite direction."

"Okay."

After undoing the straps holding the cap on the hawk's head, and taking off the cap, Traes clapped his hands three times with quick succession. With an incredible speed, the hawk leapt into the air—within seconds, he was already hundreds of feet up.

Once the hawk had ascended to about six hundred feet up in the air, which made him look like a tiny speck in the sky, he then began to circle around slowly in large circles.

Traes slipped open a sliding door located in front of the metallic cage—and out ran a fifty-pound pink pig, squealing all the way. Quickly, that pig took off into the open field.

About eight-or-so minutes later, Praetor's hawkish eyes finally spotted the pig running between two patches of bushes—instantly he collapsed his wings, diving straight down toward the pig on the ground.

Meanwhile, Traes, Thorn, and a good majority of the other soldiers, continued to watch with amazement as the hawk's powerful claws clutched themselves around the pig, which was about two hundred feet away from their position.

"Whoa..." Thorn said.

With a cock of his head, Traes asked, "Ready to follow me, general?"

Thorn nodded his head.

With Traes in the lead, he jogged over to the hawk's current location.

By the time that these two men had neared the hawk, they both observed that Praetor was already hacking away into the pig's flesh with his very sharp beak.

As soon as Praetor had finished eating, about ten minutes later, Traes put back on the cap. He next cleaned the hawk's beak with a large cloth he had just pulled out of his pocket, which took another ten minutes. Once done with that, he pulled a large feather comb out of the saddlebag, and began to groom the feathers.

Most surprising to Thorn, he listened as Praetor happily made chirping noises while being groomed, sounding just like a baby bird.

Perhaps a minute later after the grooming had begun, Thorn remembered that he had a few more missions to accomplish with the troops before his shift was over, and so he said, "Well, Traes. I must be off. I promise that the very second the Sultan wakes up, I shall have him straight here."

"Thank you, general," Traes said with a respectful nod, while continuing to groom the hawk.

Once the sun had set below the western horizon, only hour later, Baltor awoke, took off the hood protecting his face, and got out of his bunk.

At that moment, he saw Thorn entering the back of the wagon.

Upon seeing that Baltor was up, Thorn reported with excitement, "My Sultan, there is a messenger, named Traes, who has arrived from Pavelus!"

"Excellent," Baltor replied enthusiastically as he rose out of bed and stood onto his feet.

"Wait until you see what the messenger arrived on, my Sultan," Thorn added. "Then you'll really be saying excellent!"

Curious, Baltor asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, instead of me explaining to you what I mean, my Sultan, I feel it'd be best if you get dressed immediately, so that I can escort you to the messenger and is unique mode of transportation," Thorn replied. "I will ensure that your servants make your bath for you in one hour."

"Very well..."

Once Baltor had quickly changed into some casual attire, twenty seconds later, he followed Thorn to the command tent.

After rounding the last corner on the far side of the tent, Baltor's mouth immediately dropped open in awe upon seeing Praetor, who was perched on the ground nearby.

Even though the hawk was blindfolded, his head still turned toward Baltor's direction as soon as he had rounded the corner.

Thorn called out, "Traes, this is the Sultan."

Traes turned his head to look at Baltor for a moment. He then turned back his head, walked over to the saddle, extracted a scroll case, walked over to Baltor, bowed, and said, "My Sultan, I bear a message from Sultaness Brishava Elysian. The message can be found within this here scroll case."

"Very well."

Traes handed over the scroll case.

The first thing that Baltor's nostrils noticed upon opening the scroll case was the smell of the spicy perfume Brishava had acquired in Valakan, perfume that he really loved whenever she donned it—he immediately knew that this letter came from his wife, before even having pulled out the scroll. After extracting the scroll and breaking the wax seal, he began to read the letter.

While his eyes and mind read, he clearly heard an unrecognizable man's voice say, "I cannot see you, my master, but I can feel your presence..."

Baltor looked up from the letter, and asked, "What?"

Both Traes and Thorn looked at Baltor in total confusion for a moment, and in the next, the two looked at each other with that same confusion.

Thorn looked back over, and with a strange tone in his voice, he said, "You were the last to speak, my Sultan!"

Baltor's right eyebrow rose a few fractions for only a second—in the next that face instantly cleared. Just as his eyes gazed back down at the paper so that he could continue to read, he said, "Oh...my mistake."

A few seconds later, he was again interrupted in his letter reading, as he clearly heard that same masculine voice say, which voice was actually inside his head, _Even though my birth name is Olifax, my master, it seems that I have recently been given a new name. Actually, I like the name that the pretty lady gave to me much better—my new name is Praetor. What is your name, my master? What do you look like?_

After Baltor had looked up at the hawk, he said in his head, My name is Baltor Elysian. Why do you want to know what I look like?

Praetor answered, _Why wouldn't I want to know what my master looks like—my master?_

Baltor heard another voice ask, "So, did you finish reading your letter...and if so, what are your initial thoughts, my Sultan?"

He looked over, and saw that the man who had spoken was the messenger. Strangely enough, he had already forgotten this man's name.

A moment-or-so later, Baltor's memory flashed on what it was, and so he answered, "No, Traes. I haven't reading it yet, but it's because I am just that amazed at this absolutely awesome hawk! He's beautiful!"

Traes replied, "Please, my Sultan, finish reading your letter."

Baltor finished reading the letter, looked up, and then said, "Wow—cool!"

"Yes, my Sultan, he's yours. Gifts from King Amnion and Queen Tessa, as am I," Traes said.

"May I please see his eyes?" Baltor asked.

"Of course, my Sultan, but I will need to hold onto his reins first, so that he doesn't decide to fly away," Traes answered.

"Trust me," Baltor countered with a nonchalant wave to his hand, "that won't happen."

"If you insist, but please don't hold it against me if he does take off, okay?" Traes asked.

Baltor confidently answered, "No problem."

Traes first undid the straps, and then removed the cap covering the hawk's head.

Baltor and the hawk's eyes gazed at each other for a few minutes, but the hawk never did try to take off, which amazed the heck out of Traes.

Baltor's mind heard Praetor's voice say, _It truly shall be an honor to serve you, my master—Sultan Baltor Elysian_.

Baltor's physical ears heard Traes ask in the next moment, "So, are you ready to learn how to fly this hawk, my Sultan? There's a lot for you to learn about Praetor."

"Yes I am, and yes there certainly is," Baltor said with a very appreciative smile.

Not even one minute later, thanks to Traes's expert-yet-quick tutorials, Baltor was already a master at steering Praetor, even without using the reins at all, which utterly astounded Traes and everyone else. After all, they didn't know about the telepathic-link between hawk and master.

As for the troops, by the order of Han, they had just begun to either unset camp or make hot chow.

The following hour, while sitting in the saddle of Praetor in front of all the assembled troops, Baltor called out through his megaphone, "Forces of the Sharia Empire, tonight is the night we make our attack on the city of Scarthan and destroy the gnomes occupying it!"

"Huuuah," came the emphatic response from the troops.

"No matter their numbers, and no matter whether the cowardly dragon decides to show up, which she probably won't, we will all fight our best until the moment death should overtake us...for beyond death is Elysium!"

" _Huuuah!!!_ "

"Fortunately for us, Forces, we now have an incredible advantage that we didn't have before today—that advantage is this hawk that I now sit upon. Therefore, my brand-new battle plan is for our Forces to spread our ranks out and surround the entire city!

"Once this is so, I will fly over the city, drop acid bombs over the largest congregations of the enemy, and then wave a lit torch. Wherever I am waving my torch in the air, this is the area that the assault team will go, fight quickly, and then retreat back out of the city before the enemy can regroup."

After taking a deep breath through his mouth, Baltor continued, "As we have discovered before, there is the possibility that the enemy shall be using optical illusions, whether they be dark clouds or actual images. Nevertheless, you must all trust in my intuition as it continuously guides me, as you must trust in yours! Do you all understand, Forces?"

The troops boomed out, "Yes, my Sultan!"

Baltor set the megaphone down in the saddlebag, before unsheathing both swords in one movement. As he held them crossed over his head, he yelled out, "For the Sharia Empire!"

The troops boomed out, "For the Sharia Empire!"

This time, Baltor yelled at the top of his lungs, " _For the Sharia Empire!!_ "

The troops boomed out even louder, " _For the Sharia Empire!!!_ "

After sheathing back his swords, Baltor continued to yell, "I have one last important thing to mention before we execute—Major-General Thorn is hereby given a field promotion to Commanding-General!"

A strong look of pride crossed Thorn's face upon hearing this most surprising news about the promotion.

Speaking at a normal tone of voice, Baltor ordered, "Commanding-General Thorn, order the troops to march to Scarthan. Once there, Commanding-General Petrol shall lead the assault team. You will be in charge of the defensive team that surrounds the city—ensure that no dark gnomes escape from any direction. Are my orders clearly understood?"

"Yes, my Sultan," both Thorn and Petrol snapped aloud, while throwing a sharp salute. Once the salutes were returned and dropped, Thorn ordered the troops, "Forward march!"

The army marched.

About two in the morning, the army finally arrived a quarter of a mile away from the ruined city of Scarthan.

Even though there wasn't a single manmade light at all in the entire city, everyone could clearly see the ruins of what this once-beautiful city had been. After all, both moons were nearly full in the night sky, which actually gave off an incredible amount of light.

After Thorn had ordered all the defensive forces to surround the entire city, and they had done so, Baltor then ascended his hawk to about two hundred and fifty feet altitude, which was just out of range from the most powerful of gnome archers, and then flew over the city itself.

Meanwhile, he keenly scanned for the largest congregations of dark gnomes, and once discovered, he would drop an acid bomb down into the congregation, which caused around eighty-or-so fatalities and wounded dozens upon dozens more. Once dropped, he would wave the lit torch in his free hand.

Thus, the assault forces guided by Han knew exactly where to charge into the city, attack the disorganized gnomes, and then charge back out of the city before the dark gnomes could regroup or outflank.

For the next two days and nights, non-stop, Baltor's army valiantly fought this way against one hundred fifty-two thousand, one hundred fifty-four dark gnomes at Scarthan—never was there a single sign of the black dragon. Because this battle was fought non-stop, Baltor ordered his forces to fight for twelve hours, sleep for six hours, and then fight for the next twelve hours.

On the third day of fierce combat, the Vispano Forces arrived—fifty thousand infantry soldiers, fifteen thousand archers, and thirty thousand knights.

With these additional forces, Baltor and his army quickly decimated the gnome army, especially through the continuous volleys of arrows shot through the day and night into the city.

Two nights later, once the last gnome was dead, Petrol delivered the report to Baltor that he had lost eighteen thousand, one hundred fifty-two men and women upon the battlefield...and that very few of the dark gnomes had escaped.

The following night after the victory at Scarthan, Baltor's army of one hundred forty-six thousand, eight hundred forty-nine troops began to march southeast toward the Galgaa Jungles, but per the report by Travail, they wouldn't arrive there for at least two months.

While Baltor slept the following day, he had a very disturbing dream, and though he could not recall most of the details, he did see Humonus and some other man riding on a giant hawk, all engaged in a ferocious battle with the black dragon. And that somehow, Humonus had gotten mortally hurt, but Baltor could not remember how or if he had survived.

For this reason alone, Baltor's first order upon awakening was for Thorn to locate Traes and tell him to prepare the hawk for departure as soon as possible, and once ready, have Traes land outside the command tent. The second order was to have the troops assembled in formation, and ready to go, in thirty minutes.

Thorn saluted, before leaving to carry out the orders.

Twenty minutes later, Praetor was perched outside the command tent—with Traes standing on the ground and holding the reins. Already had quite a few of the soldiers gathered, and many more were on the way.

Baltor used this time to gingerly place the last two cloth-and-box wrapped "acid bombs" into Praetor's saddlebags, one in the left and the other in the right. No one got in his way.

Once done with that cautious task, nearly five minutes later, he began to lovingly stroke his hawk's face while staring eye to eye the whole time, and smile. Praetor definitely appreciated the attention he got from his master. Meanwhile, Traes had already strapped himself into the back of the saddle, which saddle also had three small pigeon cages strapped onto it, and patiently waited.

Precisely five minutes later, Baltor sensed that the time had come for formation, so he stopped petting and talking to his animal. He next looked over and confirmed that his Forces were now assembled and in the position of attention. Travail, Han, Petrol, and Thorn stood in the front of the ranks—each before his own division of soldiers.

After climbing into the saddle and buckling himself in, Baltor picked up the megaphone and called out, "Forces....I must leave you all at this time, as I shall be exploring the road ahead and get to the war against the gnomes and the dragon even sooner...the sooner, the better."

After taking a very deep breath through his nose, he added, "If I see-or-learn about any threats coming your way of any kind, I shall send word via one of the pigeons...

"Until I return, which I will, listen and obey the orders of your superior officers, who are speaking on my behalf. Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail, as well my Commanding-Generals Travail, Han, and Thorn—you know all my other important orders from our last commanders' meeting, and you are now in charge...

"Finally, for all that you do, no matter whether general or private, do it for honor...do it for glory... Do you understand, Forces of the Sharia Empire?"

The forces boomed out, " _Yes, my Sultan!!!_ "

"Good...carry on."

With that, Baltor launched Praetor high into the skies, just before flying southeast at top speed.

## CHAPTER XVII

In the middle of the Galgaa Jungle—

three days and one hour later...

Cheo, Humonus, Yaush, Salami, Stormea, and Ray all ate dinner in silence and exhaustion, while sitting around a large rectangular table set up in the command tent, which dinner consisted of a small portion of dried jerky and a quarter mug of water. All the while, the rest of the army, as well the giants, continued to set up the rest of camp or the temporary stables—they had already eaten.

Once Cheo saw everyone was done eating, only a few minutes later, he stood up out of his seat, and then began the commanders' briefing by signing, "Gentlemen, just so you all are aware, I know exactly where we are, even without a map or having rode the hawk today, as it was Ruling-General Humonus's turn...

"Currently, we are camped sixty-six miles due west of my village, once proudly known by my citizens as Chao-chu-sha-maen—it should be only about a day-or-two until we arrive, depending upon our speed. Really, that is all I have to say right now,' Cheo signed before he sat down.

As always, Humonus verbally translated all that Cheo signed.

Salami, in turn, interpreted to Yaush. In turn, Yaush nodded.

Following the nod, Humonus stood up out of his seat as he declared, "Thank you, King Cheo. Now, before I say what I have to say, I first need to know—how are the morale and the stamina of the troops, Commanding-General Stormea?"

Salami interpreted.

Stormea stood up and replied, "Sirs, for the most part, the morale and stamina surprisingly aren't all that low—there are the occasional negative complaints that the troops make to my commanders, who in turn report everything to me. I have personally talked to any of those who expressed complaints, and attempted to boost their morale. For the most part, my strategies have worked."

He purposefully gave a lengthy pause. Meanwhile, Salami interpreted to Yaush, not only through this pause, but also through every pause.

Once Stormea saw that Salami was done, he then continued, "One of the most common complaints from the troops is the fact that our water and food supplies have been strictly rationed, and that they are still hungry, or thirsty, after having consumed their rations...

"The troops are quite aware, or made to be aware, of the important reasons, sirs, for the rationing—one, we've received no new supply wagons carrying food and water supplies for nearly two months...

"Two, we haven't received a single drop of rain since we entered the Galgaa Jungle a month ago, not even enough morning's dew to collect from the leaves. Which leads to three, your direct order not to refill canteens or water bags at any of the lagoons or small streams we've passed, as they've probably been poisoned by the gnomes...

"Most of the other complaints relate to the harsh jungle conditions we've been enduring rather well—the non-stop hot and sticky weather, the dense vegetation and trees that oftentimes become very difficult to traverse, especially for those soldiers driving horse-drawn wagons or chariots...

"Oh, and of course they complain about all the leeches, snakes, ants, and all the other sighted predatory jungle animals—you get the picture..."

After clearing his throat, Stormea concluded, "Again, sirs, I'd like to reiterate that, for the most part, the morale and the stamina of the troops isn't bad." He sat back down in his seat.

While Salami interpreted, Humonus waited until done. Once so, he stood up, looked over at Stormea and said, "Thank you for your report, Commanding-General Stormea. I know all-too-well that this is a very tedious war we're waging. We're all hungry. We're all thirsty. We're all tired. We're all homesick. We need to stay strong and focused..."

Salami interpreted.

Casting his gaze over at Ray, Humonus next said, "Major-General Ray, for your information, as you were asleep all day long, there hasn't been any sighting of the gnome army on this day—by the advanced scouts, or by myself scouting around on the hawk. Just because we've only had one encounter with the enemy, this does not mean that a major battle can't erupt at any moment, so ensure the troops remain on yellow alert!"

Although this information was intended only for Ray, as everyone else had been awake all day long and on the march, Humonus waited for Salami to finish interpreting it anyway.

Humonus next ordered the general, "Tonight, we shall quadruple the guards and sub-commanders normally posted—you and your soldiers will get to sleep tomorrow in the backs of bunk wagons. That is all I have to say." He sat down.

Ray crisply replied, "Yes sir!"

After Salami interpreted and Yaush had nodded his head, no one rose to his feet or said another word, and for at least the next ten seconds.

Still sitting, Humonus looked around the room one final time before asking, "Does anyone else have anything to report? Now is the time to say it...anyone?"

After Salami had interpreted, Yaush stood up out of his seat and said something that took nearly a minute. Upon his conclusion, he began to laugh his booming laughter for a few moments.

Once Yaush had sat back down, Salami interpreted, "Yaush says that he is very happy to see that the Valakanese and the Forces of the Sharia Empire are working so well together, despite the language barriers...

"He also said that none of the Valakanese has expressed any major complaints, even though so very few of us have ever been exposed to this type of hot-and-humid weather before. Even worse than the weather, he half-joked, is the fact that we Valakanese love to eat a lot—especially Yaush himself! He said he had to tie a shirt tightly around his waist, so he wouldn't hear his stomach grumbling angrily at him anymore... _Ha ha ha!_ "

At that, everyone began to chuckle lightly—of course, Salami's chuckles sounded like an old man's cackles.

Perhaps a dozen seconds later, Cheo stopped laughing, and stood up out of his seat before yawning and stretching deeply. He then signed, "Well, gentlemen, let's all get our rest, for tomorrow's going to be real busy day, which day will come before we know it! Goodnight gentlemen."

After Humonus and Salami had both translated, everyone rose to their feet while nodding their heads in agreement. Everyone but Humonus and Cheo exited the tent.

These two men walked over to their individual bunks, hopped in, covered themselves with a blanket, and went fast asleep.

Only an hour before sunrise the following morning, the exhausted guards began the process of waking up the troops and giants.

Meanwhile, Ray's final mission before going to sleep was to wake up Cheo and Humonus and give a detailed report of the previous night, and so he had already begun to head to the command tent to do just that.

As soon as this general's eyes lay upon the command tent, he saw that Stormea was comfortably sitting in a plush chair on only two legs, just next to the closed tent flaps. He appeared to be quite dazed.

When he had halved the distance to the command tent about a minute later, however, he observed that Stormea's eyes had crystallized upon spotting him through the throngs of other soldiers already working, or just getting out of their tents.

Upon having arrived in front of his commanding officer, another minute later, he stopped in his tracks and threw a sharp salute.

Still leaning back in his chair, Stormea lightly returned the salute. After releasing, he said in just above a whisper, "Good morning, Major-General—just so you know, I'm going to be the one personally waking Ruling-General Humonus and King Cheo up, in one hour. I think that our leaders will need that little extra bit of rest, especially for what lies ahead. Why don't you just give me that report, so you can go to bed?"

Ray replied just as quietly, "Sounds like a wise idea, sir. Would you like us to take a walk somewhere else for me to deliver my report?"

After rising to his feet, Stormea replied, "Wise idea, Ray—let's go. I need the exercise anyway."

As the two men began to mosey their way through the camp, Ray delivered his report, which wasn't all much except for a few cases of leeches, and a pair of tigers that had been sighted near the encampment much earlier in the night. A few of the soldiers were about to take off into the jungle and hunt the tigers down for the meat, but thankfully, their superior officers had ordered them to stay at camp—after all, it could have been a trap from either the jungle cats, or the gnomes.

Once Ray had completed his report by throwing up another sharp salute, which salute was equally returned by Stormea, he headed off to one of the bunk-wagons, and fell fast asleep.

As for Stormea, he headed back to the command tent, and sat back in his seat for the next hour. For the first half hour that passed, he watched as the troops and giants exhaustedly and quietly ate their dried rations and drank their water. For the second half hour, he watched as they began the process of unsetting camp or preparing all of their animals for departure.

Only minutes before sunrise, Stormea rose to his feet, entered the command tent, walked over to Humonus's bunk, wiggled the man's toes on his right foot, and quietly said, "Sir? The time has come to wake up. I took it upon myself to give you an extra hour of rest, sir, so that you and King Cheo will be able to function your best. Your food and water is already set for you on the table, sir, so whenever you're ready, you can get up..."

A quarter of the way through his words, Humonus's mind had slowly begun to return to consciousness. By the end, he sat up in bed while yawning and stretching his arms out to the skies.

Seeing that Humonus was now completely awake, Stormea headed over to Cheo's bed, and gently wiggled this man's toes until he was awake...

Perhaps fifteen minutes later, Cheo and Humonus—now armored and armed—consumed their small breakfasts within the command tent; it was then that Stormea relayed the short report from Ray.

Only seconds after Stormea had finished with the report, the troops outside began to chatter with excitement amongst each other about _something going on in the skies_.

Immediately all three leaders ran outside, seeing that many of their troops were pointing eastbound—turning to look, they saw that the entire eastern and southeastern horizons were covered with very thick, black, smoky clouds.

Perhaps thirty seconds later, Cheo tapped Humonus on the shoulder until he turned around. He signed, "I wonder what's going on over there?"

Humonus answered, "I'm not really sure. Want me to find out on the hawk, your Majesty?"

Cheo signed, "Actually, may I go and find out? Today's my turn, anyway."

"As you wish," Humonus respectfully said with a bow.

Cheo, after an appreciative nod to his head, made his way over to the stable areas in order to retrieve the hawk and Darius. Meanwhile, Humonus looked over at Stormea, and said, "Commanding-General, it looks like our forces are almost ready—in fifteen minutes, we need to be in formation and ready to leave."

"Yes, Ruling General," Stormea said, just before he snapped a salute and then departed to carry out his task. Just then, Yaush and Salami arrived at the command tent.

While cocking his head to the east, Salami greeted, "Strange looking clouds, eh?"

Humonus nodded his head and answered, "Yes. King Cheo is going to check it out."

After interpreting Humonus's answer to Yaush, Salami said, "Good. Oh—just to let you know, we're all ready to go, whenever you guys are."

Humonus replied, "We'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

Salami interpreted—Yaush nodded his head.

Salami said to Humonus, "Sounds good to us."

These two giants then walked back to the rest of the loosely congregated giants who were silently standing or sitting around. As for Humonus, he walked around the camp that was nearly unset, ensuring that everything would be ready to go at the scheduled time of departure.

About five minutes later, Cheo and Darius had just finished strapping the last of the saddle and reins upon the hawk. They next climbed into the saddle and began to buckle themselves in, Cheo taking the front seat.

Once so, Cheo pulled back on the reins so that the hawk would launch straight up into the air, and once they had risen to one thousand feet in altitude, he veered Leshava eastbound toward the direction of the dark and smoky clouds.

Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, Cheo had to evade dozens of large flocks of birds that were frantically flying to the northwest.

Upon nearing the source of those very clouds, which had surprisingly spread from the southeastern horizon to the northeastern horizon, both men couldn't help but see that there was a raging fire far ahead in the distance.

As far as their eyes could see, which were thousands of square miles because they were now at an altitude of five thousand feet, they could tell that the dried-up jungle vegetation and trees were quickly burning up in all directions, due to the lack of rain.

A minute-or-so later, Darius was the first to broadcast his thoughts, saying, "It would appear that this fire was intentionally set, your Majesty."

Cheo turned his head around to look at Darius before he nodded his head affirmatively twice.

It was only then that Darius observed that tears were steadfastly pouring from the king's eyes, but then his mind immediately reasoned that the reason for this was because his kingdom was being consumed by fire.

Through the unabashed tears, Cheo pointed at the three of them with his index finger, and then pointed that finger toward the direction where their army's last known coordinates were.

"Wise idea, your Majesty!"

Cheo sharply tugged the hawk's reins to the right, in order to do a U-turn—in response, Leshava began to circle to the right. Once they were facing the correct direction, he relaxed the reins, which then caused the hawk to fly forward.

Nearly a half an hour later, now bearing an altitude of one thousand feet, he spotted their army.

Thirty seconds later, he pulled down hard on the reins—in response, the hawk collapsed her wings, which caused the three of them to plummet straight down to the ground.

About fifty feet up in the air, Cheo pulled back up the reins, and Leshava smoothly landed on the ground thirty feet in front of the formation, where Humonus currently rode on the chariot.

Humonus lifted his left-armored fist high up into the air, while calling out, "Halt!"

After the officers to his right and left called out "Halt," they did.

Humonus pulled back on the reins with his right hand, and the two horses pulling the chariot stopped in their tracks.

At the same time, even though every last giant was too far away to hear the vocalized command, they saw the troops halt, so all but two of them stopped in their tracks. Yaush and Salami began the walk ahead to the front of the line.

Humonus only had to wait for a little over three minutes before Yaush, Salami, and Stormea had arrived, as well as Cheo and Darius.

Once together, Humonus asked with great concern, "So what's with the dark clouds that are rapidly coming from other directions now as well, King Cheo?"

Salami interpreted the question to Yaush. Once done, Yaush nodded his head, but did not say a word.

Bearing a horrified expression upon his face, Cheo signed, "Well, where should I begin? Okay—there is a massive jungle fire ahead of us, which fire is spreading every direction from the northeast to the southwest! Already, from what Darius and I've seen, it has destroyed a bare minimum of hundreds of thousands of acres of my home, perhaps even millions! It is coming this direction and it is way too big to stop..."

At this point, Cheo took a lengthy pause, so that his words could be interpreted to everyone—meanwhile, a grim look had begun to cross both Yaush and Stormea's face during the course of these interpretations.

By the time that Salami and Humonus had concluded, Yaush and Stormea's faces looked pretty much the same as everyone else's face—nervous yet thoughtful.

A minute of silence passed before Cheo clapped his hands two times together, in order to get everyone's attention. Once this was so, he then signed, "This fire was most likely set last night—most likely at the very same time by the dark gnomes, and perhaps the dragon.

"If we are to avoid the likely possibility that this fire will be quickly heading this way, we will need to veer our course northbound. I know of a river that exists to our north about sixty miles away. Once we have all safely crossed this river, we should be safe from the dangers of the fire. We can then continue to travel northeast until we are directly north of Chao-chu-sha-maen, and then we make our way south if possible."

After another lengthy pause so that his words could be interpreted, he added, "Once the fire has been extinguished, we can then recommence to find and destroy these villains who are not only guilty of killing my people, but destroying my land. Sound good?'

Humonus interpreted to Stormea and then Salami interpreted this information to Yaush.

Once all the interpreting was complete, everyone remained silent for about ten seconds as they contemplated all this new information.

Yaush was the first one to speak. Once done, Salami interpreted, "Yaush said that this plan sounds very good. He says that we should waste no time in getting there, either!"

"Agreed," everyone but Cheo said in unison.

After Humonus had interpreted to Cheo, he nodded his head.

Humonus added, "One final thing I'd quickly like to say before we adjourn this meeting and move our forces... Let's keep moving and not make camp again until after we've crossed the river—no telling how quickly that fire will get here!"

Salami interpreted, and Yaush nodded with complete agreement as did everyone else.

Only moments later, they stood up to their feet and began to exit the command tent. Right away, a dozen soldiers began the process of packing everything up inside, while another dozen soldiers began to unset the tent itself.

After the two giants had waved farewell, they hurriedly walked back over to the location of the other giants in the rear of the formation, in order to relay the "new news."

At the same time, Cheo made his way back over to the hawk, in which Darius had already buckled himself into the back seat and was holding onto the reins. Once there, he climbed into the front seat, buckled in, took the reins, and took off into the air. By this time, Stormea, who had ridden on his horse, waited in the very middle of the first set of ranks, as was his designated spot.

Humonus continued to remain where he was, standing outside the front of the tent, but his eyes never stopped gazing around at all of his forces to ensure everyone was in place and ready to go. Other than those soldiers disassembling and packing everything away, in which they should be done by the time the last wagon passed, they were nearly ready.

Exactly one minute after the men had exited the tent, one soldier drove up his ruling-general's two-horse-drawn chariot, stopped the chariot in front of the man himself, got out of the chariot, and saluted.

After returning the salute, Humonus climbed aboard. The soldier headed back to his wagon.

Through his megaphone in his right hand, he ordered, "Forces of the Sharia Empire. Forward, ride. Column half-left, ride."

They did.

Once Humonus saw this was so, a minute later, he then called out, "Column half-left, ride."

The army did, now traveling north.

Without making camp once, and with only two half-hour-long breaks, due to the threat of the fire that was fast coming their way and spreading quickly, they arrived at the river the following hot-and-steamy afternoon.

The utterly exhausted army, their horses, and the just-as-exhausted giants—finally began to cross the juncture at the river that flowed from the northeast to the southwest ... it used to be rapids. Now it was only halfway filled—looking shallow, weak and calm.

Only once on the far side did Humonus deliver the order to make camp, eat dinner, collect as much water as possible, and then rest. All slept obliviously, except for the night-guards who had been given plenty of time to rest during the trip.

The following morning, after the army and the giants had unassembled camp and breakfasts were eaten and drunk, they continued to travel northeast along the river.

By noon, for the first time since having entered the Galgaa Jungle, thick rain clouds now covered the entire skies and a steady rain poured down not only all day, but for most of the night. Everyone was quite joyous, especially Cheo, about this fortuitous turn of events.

Despite the fact that everyone was completely exhausted, drenched, and muddy by the end of this day, they did not camp or stop at all through this night either.

After all, Humonus had briefed to everyone, during their hour-long break, that a night like this would be a perfect night for the gnomes to attack, and it'd be better to ride until morning and then make camp ... no one disagreed.

It was only shortly after sunrise the following morning that Humonus ordered the beyond-exhausted troops to make camp—they did, and once camp was set, all but Humonus, Cheo, and the guards immediately passed out.

During the dried-jerky breakfast that commenced in the command tent, the only time that Humonus spoke at all was when he informed Cheo, "I'm going to scout around on Leshava for a couple of hours this morning, before I come back and pass out...until we ride tonight."

Cheo, while disgustedly and tiredly continuing to chew on a piece of jerky in his mouth, simply cocked his head from side to side, indicating the affirmative. He had to drink it down with a few swigs of water, before waving farewell to his friend, getting up, climbing into bed, and passing out.

Humonus, on the other hand, stood up, exited the command tent, and headed to the temporary animal stables. Once there, he assisted Darius with the final preparations. Thankfully, both hawk and hawk-master were not tired, as they had ridden on a topless wagon and slept.

Once the two were strapped in, he launched Leshava straight up into the air with Darius riding passenger.

An hour later, and now forty miles to the southeast flying at an altitude of two thousand feet, he continued to cautiously steer the hawk around the smoky, stinky, and poisonous clouds that rose from the areas where there once had been beautifully lush plants and trees.

Minimally, that smoke enshrouded half the skies...typically it was seven-eighths of the way filled with smoke.

Nearly thirty-five minutes later, filled with tons of loop-da-loops, Humonus just happened to glance to the front-left of the hawk, which was to the east.

Spanning from the north to the south—in between dozens of smoke-rising clouds—millions and millions of dead tree stumps lined the landscape. However, there wasn't an ounce of smoke strangely rising up from that area, in which his deductive mind approximated to be thirty to forty miles away.

Only a split-second later, Humonus had already begun to veer the hawk that direction.

Approximately twenty minutes and twenty miles closer, he saw that these dead tree stumps spanned across at least three horizons...

About twenty minutes later with the same amount of distance being passed, Humonus could only now tell—with shock—that these tree stumps were actually moving about, resembling tiny black ants. Looking back over his shoulder at Darius, Humonus ordered, "Scope."

"Yes, sir," Darius said, just before his right hand reached to the right, opened up the rear-right saddlebag, pulled out an unadorned black scope, and extended it out in front for Humonus to take.

Once Humonus had the scope in his right hand and put it up to his eye—he observed that these were not black ants at all, but millions upon millions of dark gnomes engaged in some chaotic type of combat training!

After handing the scope to Darius, who not only took it but put it up to his own eye, Humonus informed, "Darius—it seems that we have finally located the enemy army. Let's get back and report our findings as soon as possible."

Without waiting for a reply, Humonus had already begun to pull the reins hard to the right, in order to get the hawk to pull a U-turn and go back to his army's encampment.

"Yes, sir," Darius replied only a moment later, while holding tight onto the scope as he hadn't enough time to put it away.

Out of the very corner of Humonus's left eye halfway through the turn, he unexpectedly saw a much larger black speck leap off the ground from in the very middle of all the gnomes.

He turned his head that direction, and observed that the speck was not only gaining altitude, yet was flying directly toward them...

Realizing that this speck must be the dragon, even without having used the scope to identify for sure, Humonus lowered the reins so that the hawk would begin to descend, and at the same time, they could pick up a whole lot more speed.

Only a second later, Darius—who was looking through the scope—gulped out, "Sir—it's the dragon! Oh my God! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Humonus mumbled, "Doing the best I can...I promise you that..."

Perhaps ten minutes later, Humonus finally dared to look back, grimly noticing that the dragon had miraculously quartered the distance. It was then that he realized that they wouldn't make it back to their own army...not even close.

While pulling the reins hard to the left in order to another U-turn, he informed, "It looks like we're going to have to fight this beast alone—it's flying much faster than we are."

By this time, the hawk now faced directly toward the dragon, and so Humonus relaxed his grip on the reins and allowed his mount to fly straight ahead.

With fear etched onto Darius's face as well in his voice, he asked, "Fight it? Alone? Are you freaking crazy?"

Humonus breathed out, "Maybe..."

"You're kidding me, sir! Please tell me you are...right??" Darius asked with utter terror in his voice.

"Nope, no kidding," Humonus said evenly, just before he turned his head around so he could look directly into Darius's eyes.

Once so, his voice sounded as solid as steel as he stated, "Darius, you really need to settle down and control your fears, and not just for yourself as I am frightened too...okay?

Without waiting for an answer, he added, "After all, Darius, your main mission is to ensure that Leshava stays alive and well—I shall do the actual battling with the dragon. So please, while you calm yourself down, undo the rear strap holding the lance in place, hold onto your end of the lance until I'm ready to mount it, and, thank you."

"Yes, sir," Darius gulped, while trying to tame down his fears and undo the rear strap.

At the same time that Humonus undid the saddle's front strap that held the fifteen-foot-long steel lance, Darius undid the rear strap and then held his end of the lance.

Humonus said, "Okay...pass up that lance now, carefully."

It was then that Darius apologized, "Yes sir, and by the way sir, I apologize for two reasons. One, I'm sorry for letting my fears take a hold of me. Two, I'm sorry for not having a weapon—though I don't know how to fight at all, as I am just a hawk master."

By this time, the lance's handle securely rested within the circular wooden post that extended out the side of the saddle.

With his left hand, Humonus first gripped the wood handle of the lance, and then said, "No problem. I'm a highly skilled warrior who knows how to use weapons of any type, including lances. Hopefully I'm good enough to kill this... _thing_!" He had grumbled aloud his final word.

About five minutes later, both he and Darius could both see the whites of the hatred-filled eyes as the monstrous dragon continued to zoom directly toward them at an uncanny speed, especially for something so freaking huge. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile away now.

In Darius's unspoken opinion, it seemed that both Humonus and this dragon were playing the popular gambling game that was held monthly in a large arena back in his home city—a game called "chicken."

In this dangerous-and-deadly game that had only two contestants, each contestant rides upon a horse-drawn chariot moving at full-throttle toward the other contestant; that is, until one of the contestants chickens out by pulling his or her reins sharply to the right or the left, in order to avoid the impact.

From the dozen-or-so times Darius had witnessed the games, he oftentimes more-than-not discovered horses, chariots, and contestants brutally smashing into each other, and both contestants getting majorly injured if not killed in the huge pileup. In fact, the only real winners to this game, in his opinion, were the hundreds of viewers doing the betting and cheering—they could even bet that a collision would occur in the next round, in which they called that round "a draw." In Darius's case, however, he never had good luck in most of his predictions, and as he didn't like to lose hard-earned pay, it was but a rare occasion that he ever went.

Only moments seemed to pass before Humonus pointed at his target and steadied the lance ... only dozens of feet separated the two contestants at this point.

Just at the last possible second before contact, Humonus tugged hard twice to the left on the reins, back to back, which caused Leshava to immediately roll to the left, and those two forces to miss each other by mere inches.

A split-second later, the lance contacted, punctured, and ripped through the dragon's right wing, but only a second after contact, the wooden base of the lance suddenly cracked completely off, just before the handle was ripped out of Humonus's right hand.

Out of the corner of his right eye, Humonus saw that the dragon had no choice but start slowly circling its way down to the ground—thankfully with the lance still stuck in its right wing.

Humonus's right hand drew out his sword, while his left hand pulled the reins down and to the left...until Leshava was flying about a hundred feet directly over the dragon.

Once so, he yanked twice down on the reins, back to back, which yanking caused the hawk's wings to collapse, and for the three of them to plummet straight down toward the dragon.

Less than five seconds later, upon drawing close to striking range of the dragon's neck, Humonus pulled up on the reins, so that the hawk would level out in altitude—she did.

Humonus, once in that range two seconds later, swung his sword with all of his might. Right away it bounced off the thick armor on the dragon's neck, which didn't surprise the man. What did surprise him was the fact that the dragon had unexpectedly flipped around in midair, and was now clutching tightly around his torso with its front-right paw. Even worse, one of those claws had ruptured through his body armor and into his abdominal flesh...he couldn't help but scream out in horrific pain.

Because Humonus was strapped into the saddle, all four—dragon, two humans, and hawk—began to plummet for the ground. They were currently a little over eight hundred feet in the air.

Through the pain, he realized that everyone aboard would die if he didn't immediately do something about it, and so he did.

Instantly he located and released the quick-release straps holding him into the saddle...he and the hawk were now separated.

Leshava had already recommenced to level out in altitude, even though her reins were still wildly flapping around in the wind. Meanwhile, Darius continued to desperately reach out and grab them, so that he could regain control over the hawk's flight.

As for Humonus and the dragon, they continued to plummet straight for the ground.

Only five seconds later, the dragon unexpectedly flipped back around in midair yet again and spread out her wings as best she could, in order to slowly descend. Once on the ground, it was her fullest intentions to yank the lance out of her wing, heal up, and then eat this "most-troublesome human" that was still in her clutches.

Although everything seemed hopeless for Humonus, his fighting spirit never gave up—with the tip of his sword, he began to try and pry the sharp blade between two of the scales, in order to pierce the dragon's flesh and do some damage.

The dragon, upon feeling the very first ounce of sharp pain caused by the sword, became quite irritated with this pest-like human, and so she purposefully released her grip.

In turn, Humonus's body instantly plummeted five hundred feet through the sky and toward the earth—the very second before making impact with the ground, he instinctively relaxed every muscle in his body.

When the dragon—now at an altitude of four hundred feet—threw her head back and saw the human bounce off the ground and fly ten feet back up into the air, she began to laugh menacingly. Not only did her forked tongue dart in and out like a hissing snake, yet thousands of jaggedly sharp teeth instantly became revealed like a shark's maw.

Still, it took her nearly a minute before she able to finally land on the ground, due to her broken wing with the lance still stuck through it, perhaps two thousand feet away from the unmoving human. Once there, she next began to use both of her front paws, in order to carefully yank out the lance.

Upon removal, about thirty seconds later, her wing began to heal itself, magically—two seconds later, it was once again "undamaged and unscarred!"

In the very next moment, she cast her fuming gaze to the human who still hadn't moved a single inch, ever since having landed on the ground the second time. She was just about to stomp her way over to this human and eat him, but she heard a deep, masculine voice inside her head call out, _Hail, Your Unholy Greatness!_

Ever since the day that she had first became conscious in the egg did she recognize her super-consciousness's voice, as well respected it, and so for these two reasons alone did she ignore those hungry-growling sounds inside her stomach, and close her eyes.

Inside her mind's eye, she saw a duplicate dragon to herself flying in the middle of darkness, except that this dragon was male—true enough, it was Mitanium. Just like a five-star chef, Mitanium would arrive shortly before any and every "special meal" she had or would come across, so as to wet her appetite ... he was also very useful as a trusted advisor or companion.

Dreeak said not a word, but listened—even though her stomach continued to get hungrier with each passing second...

Mitanium began, _Your Unholy Greatness, as always, that was a most-excellent battle! Your opponent now lies mortally wounded on the ground in front of you, thanks to your mighty claws. He will not be going anywhere, as he is paralyzed from the neck down, but will live at least for thirty minutes longer—I will be done reading off this menu in the next minute or so..._

Just so you know, tonight's dinner should be extra delicious, as its name and rank is Ruling-General Humonus—Baltor Elysian's #1.

Dreeak's throat growled deeply upon hearing that information. She not only hated Baltor with a passion, yet even more, his master Trendon Harrn, because this man had killed her mother when Dreeak was but a baby.

Once that growl had subsided, a few seconds later, Mitanium continued, _Your Unholy Greatness, what you will hear next will make your taste buds really drool, and your stomach growl with eager anticipation, I guarantee! Though Humonus's body is completely broken, it still lives by willpower alone...this is but a taste of the magic that runs through your dinner's veins—it is not only a fierce warrior, yet it's even Baltor's instructor and mentor, and tastiest of all, best friend! Oh, might I add that this meal has as a powerful soul?_

Dreeak's mouth uttered out the word, "Yummy..."

Mitanium was not done, however, as he added, _Dinner will not end there, but will become a three-course meal, which is that hawk and that human rider flying about a thousand feet away to your southwest—both of these meals possess tasty souls that will multiply your powers. I believe you will have enough power then that you can best Baltor tonight—even without "The Plan!" Bon appetite, Your Unholy Greatness_ ...

The inner dragon immediately disappeared.

Though Dreeak's mouth had long ago been slobbering and her stomach growling fiercely, she opened her physical eyes and began to stomp her way toward the human—every forty-foot step caused the earth around her to shake, violently.

Only seconds before arriving at her meal, which meal was now a hundred feet away, yet another voice popped inside her mind—this time, it was her "Vompareus Creator." Again, she had to stop and listen, but this time, she had no choice in the matter—her entire body had just become paralyzed from the neck down.

He and she howled angrily, _Dreeak, so sorry to interrupt your dinner, but did you know that Baltor is only a couple minutes away from arriving at your location? No, of course you didn't because you were thinking with your stomach. Now listen up!_

You must stick with "The Plan" we earlier arranged and go back to your Army immediately after we unfreeze you—wait until the morning after the two new moons, which is only in three nights from now. That is when your two armies will fight on the battlefield, and the rest of "The Plan," which you know all-too-well, will be engaged and concluded! We will win...then!

For a mysterious reason we cannot identify, Baltor is too powerful for you to fight on your own right now, as his aura is glowing so brightly that it is the size of a mountain. You will lose this battle even if you eat this meal lying on the ground before you, so don't be stupid and go back to your army!

Finally, know that this is a direct order from us to you, Dreeak, or we will be forced to destroy you, even from the Realm of Darkness. You didn't know, prior to now, that we could freeze you at all, did you? Well, we can. We can also destroy you back to oblivion just as easily...don't test us! Huhuhuhahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

They unfroze her.

With a hell of a lot of anger, and hunger pains, Dreeak launched high into the air, just before she began to fly at top speed back to her arm, as well her Chao-chu-sha-maen prisoners, of which there were fifty-eight savory treats left. She would eat ten of them tonight.

Once the dragon was no longer in sight, nor could the sounds of her wings be heard, Darius landed the hawk ten feet away from Humonus's position. Hurriedly, he undid his straps, ran on over, and collapsed onto his knees.

As the ruling-general was laying on his back and unmoving, except for the ever-so-slight moving of his chest, Darius had already observed that he was still unconscious and still alive, at least for the moment.

As Darius looked closer at the wound itself, he noted that a small portion of Humonus's guts were now hanging outside his body armor through a circular wound that was a good foot in diameter. Even though he was well trained in first aid, he wasn't even close to being a surgeon, which is exactly what this man needed, and soon. Humonus's blood was fast pumping out the sides of the wound in all directions, spilling off the sides of his armor, and splashing onto the ground.

Darius ran over to the hawk. Quickly, he pulled out the medical kit stored inside the left-rear saddlebag. With kit in both hands, he ran back over to Humonus, and dropped back onto his knees.

After unsealing the sterilized medical kit and opening it, he saw four bottles filled with various colors of fluids inside. There were also a dozen bandages, a long roll of gauze tape, a pair of scissors, a scalpel, a pair of pliers, a pair of sanitary gloves, and a sewing needle attached to a large spool of thread.

Once he had put on the gloves, he pulled out the bottle with the clear fluid that was the antiseptic, and opened it. He slowly poured a bit of the fluid directly onto the wound, which caused a foamy substance. Not surprising to anyone, Humonus hadn't felt an ounce of pain.

Upon completion of this three-part step, perhaps thirty seconds later, Baltor gently laid the first bandage right over the small intestines, as well all the rest of the bandages. He then took the gauze tape and began wrapping it around Humonus's waist until half of it was gone.

Though the bleeding had slowed down, it did not stop—most likely, he dismally reasoned that Humonus would not survive, as there was nothing more he could do. He began looking all around the jungles for anything around him that might help, but there was nothing.

A few moments or minutes later, Darius didn't know, but he looked at Humonus's face, observing with surprise that his eyes had opened and were now staring up into the dusky sky. He looked dead.

Nearly four seconds passed, though it felt to Darius an eternity, before Humonus's eyes unexpectedly blinked.

It was then that Darius asked with great concern, "Ruling-General Humonus—are you in pain? If you are, I have some pain medication."

"Actually, I can't feel a damned thing at all, other than a little headache, so I don't know whether that's a good thing or not," Humonus answered hoarsely as his eyes looked toward Darius.

"You can survive this, my friend," Darius said with hope and determination, "but we must find you a surgeon really soon! If we're careful, we can gently move you to Leshava and fly our way back to the army, and once there, the surgeons there can make you good as new, okay?"

Shaking his head ever so slightly, Humonus said, "I know I've lost a lot of blood, because I've been feeling more and more lightheaded as the time goes by...and won't it take us over an hour to get back? I don't know how much blood I've got left in me anymore."

"You must not give up, Ruling General—the army needs you! The Sultan needs you! The world needs you! Even I need you, my friend and brother."

Inside Darius's mind, he cursed, _Damn it—why don't I have a blood-transference machine, so that I can donate some of my own blood to this most noble of men!_

Nearly ten seconds later, Humonus finally replied, "You're right...I won't give up! Let's get to the hawk. You're going to have to help me. Wait! Look—straight up in the sky. Tell me if I'm hallucinating or not?"

Feeling goose bumps surging up and down his back, Darius looked straight up into the ever-darkening skies, though there were still colors that ranged from reds to violets—the sun had descended below the western horizon only two minutes earlier.

Darius simultaneously observed that these skies possessed only four glimmering stars in the sky—ten seconds later, he observed a teensy-weensy black speck slowly circling around.

About thirty seconds later, now with nine stars in the sky, Darius noted that this black speck was not only directly overhead them now, yet it was now plummeting straight down to the ground—he immediately began to suspect and fear it was the dragon who came back to eat its dinner.

Three seconds before it landed on the ground, Darius and Humonus were finally able to identify that this creature wasn't the dragon, yet the hawk named Praetor bearing two riders.

Once on the ground, Darius glanced at the man in front first. Recognizing his brother right away, he greeted, "Hey Bro—it's me, Darius! Get over here quick...we've got a major problem."

With concern in face and voice, Traes replied, "Hey Bro! What's going on?"

For the first time, Darius glanced at the man in the backseat, of whom was frantically undoing the straps holding him into the saddle...this person, he saw, wore black-plated armor with a gold-plated chest, a crowned-helmet, a black cape, gloves, and boots. Although Darius strongly suspected this man to be Sultan Baltor Elysian, his main focus right now was Ruling-General Humonus.

Looking back down only a second later and seeing the man was once again unconscious, Darius answered, "This man really needs a surgeon immediately—that is, if he is to survive. Right now, however, it's looking very dismal he will live much longer."

By this time, Baltor had already arrived with a first-aid kit in his hands, kneeling on the other side of Humonus. Looking back and forth between his ruling-general and Darius, he introduced, "I am Sultan Baltor Elysian, and yes, I do know a little something about surgery. What's wrong, medically speaking, with the Ruling General?"

It was only then that Traes had arrived at their position, keeping silent yet ready to help.

Darius—who continued to look at Humonus with a worried expression—answered frantically, "All I know is that his stomach doesn't look too good—his intestines are literally hanging out on his stomach, and it's been pumping out a lot of blood ever since it was punctured by a dragon's claw. Even though I've been trained in first-aid, I am not a surgeon who can do surgery and remove the pieces of jagged body armor still trapped inside his body. I don't think he's going to survive!"

After taking off his armored gloves, Baltor said, "Please, Darius, open my medical kit for me and put the sterile gloves onto my hands. Only once I have removed the last of the bandages do I want you to slowly pour about a quarter bottle of the antiseptic directly onto the Ruling-General's wound—understand?"

"Yes, my Sultan," Darius said, just before he followed orders by putting the gloves onto Baltor's hands.

Baltor picked up a pair of steel scissors, and began to cut through the bloody gauze tape covering Humonus's torso. Once the last of the tape was removed, nearly ten seconds later, he then began to delicately pull out the blood-soaked bandages. After the last of the bandages had been removed, Baltor observed two things—one good and one not so good.

The good thing—there was only a minute portion of Humonus's small intestines hanging out to the side. The not-so-good thing—there were five large pieces of steel armor that jaggedly penetrated deep into his stomach cavity, which pieces would have to be ever-so-carefully removed without ripping any more tissue.

Though Baltor realized that getting this armor would not be an easy feat at all, that didn't mean for one single second he would give up. After picking up the pair of pliers located in the medical kit, he began the careful process of prying each individual piece of steel out...

By the time Baltor had gotten to his third piece, about a minute later, he called out, "Darius, I'm going to need you to pour some more antiseptic on the wound."

Darius did as told. It was then that Humonus's eyes opened a quarter of the way.

Even though Baltor's main vision was focused on the task-at-hand, his peripheral vision still caught the little movement. Without looking up or stopping in his task, he confidently replied, "Hang in there my friend, and you'll soon be good to go...okay?"

Most surprisingly, Humonus's lips popped into a weak smile, blood spilling out of his mouth. He half-whispered, "Okay, Baltor... Thanks."

While delicately pulling out the fifth and final piece of metal, nearly two minutes later, Baltor asked, "Humonus, are you feeling any pain that you're not telling me about, and if so, do you want some pain-relieving tonic?"

With blood-covered teeth, Humonus half-smiled, "My Sultan, I haven't been able to feel a damn thing since I crashed, so I don't know whether that's a good thing or not, but seeing your face is definitely a good thing, my friend!

"And even if I should feel some pain soon, the answer is no, I don't want any of that pain-relieving medicine. Though I feel light headed right now, I want my mind to be clear as possible, just in case I don't make it... I know I've lost a lot of blood!"

By this time, Baltor gingerly picked up the intestines, held them right over the wound itself, looked at Darius, and said, "Okay, Darius, what I'm going to need you to do is to quickly unlatch all the straps securing the chest plate to the rest of the body armor. Once done and I tell you to, ever-so-slowly remove it off the Ruling General—all the while, I shall keep his intestines clear of that metal. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Sultan," Darius said, just before carried out his orders, which took a little over a minute and a half.

Once Baltor had delicately placed the intestines back inside Humonus's stomach, he said, "You'll be okay, buddy, but just hang on, okay? A couple of minutes is all I'll need, and you'll be stitched up and bandaged up, and good to go..."

After coughing out more blood, Humonus answered, "I'll try, but I must confess something that I meant to tell you long ago, but forgot about. That is, until about a few minutes ago when I was laying here on the ground and thinking about my life as far back as I can remember."

All the while working, Baltor asked, "Yes?"

Humonus answered, "Remember when you were a little boy and I was your drill instructor, and I told you that there must be the defenders so long as there are the oppressors?"

At this point, even though Baltor's eyes squinted into contemplation to extract the memory, his left hand pulled out a sewing needle from the medical bag, which simultaneously pulled out the thread attached to the head of the needle.

As he began to skillfully sew Humonus's wound shut into tiny stitches, he finally said, "Yes I do Humonus. Darius, I need you to pour the remaining contents of this bottle of antiseptic. Okay?"

"Yes, my Sultan," Darius said, just before he did as ordered.

"Yes, Humonus... I never forgot," Baltor said as he continued to sew.

Humonus replied, "Well, the truth of the matter is, I knew all about your investigations into Vakshia's disappearance. In fact, I secretly followed you just about every night, as you searched through and around those dangerous obstacle courses—I was even the one who provided all those torches...

"Lucky for you, I happened to be there the very night you found Vakshia's body in the valley, but couldn't find out for sure whether it was her or not because you didn't have enough rope. At the time, we both presumed, but didn't know for sure, her to be Vakshia! Of course, I didn't reveal my presence to you..."

After coughing out even more blood, he added, "But early the next morning, just before I headed out the door to go to work, I brought along the sack containing the fifty-foot length of rope, and placed it into a semi-hidden area of the supply room, and skillfully threw lots of dust onto it....you found it."

At this point, Baltor had just finished sewing, and so he pulled out a fresh bandage and placed it on top of the stitches. He then searched his bag for the gauze tape.

Meanwhile, Humonus continued to reveal, "I was even there the following night when you went back with enough rope, rappelled to the bottom, tied Vakshia's body around the base of the rope, climbed back up, and began to pull her body up...

"I watched as Thesmul confronted you with stiletto in hand, while confessing to the crimes of rape and murder, just before he attacked you. I watched you two viciously fight each other, until you finally kicked him over the valley's edge that killed him!"

Despite the shock at learning all of this for the very first time, Baltor actually managed to say with a bit of anger to his voice, "Humonus, why didn't you come to my defense against Thesmul? Or at the very least, defend me during my trial with the High Council?"

Without waiting for an answer to either of his questions, he said, "Darius, gently lift up his body so that I can securely wrap the bandages around his waist."

"Yes, sir."

As Darius gently lifted and Baltor began to wrap, Humonus answered, "Because...if the High Council had suspected that I was involved even one iota, then Master Salmot would have certainly claimed that I had been the one who schemed the whole plot up in the first place, which plot included Thesmul ever being around Vakshia in the first place. Not true, of course. Besides, I always knew you'd be a winner, even during your battle and your trial! You have always been destined to win—my Sultan..."

At this point, Baltor observed for the very first time that there was a puncture in Humonus's back about three inches in diameter, as the gauze tape on his backside was becoming increasingly slimy from the blood—the ground was totally soaked in it.

Humonus was about to say more, but suddenly, an excruciatingly painful look crossed his eyes.

A moment later, he confirmed, " _Owwwwww_ ...now my back really hurts! Really, really, bad! Listen, my best friend in the whole wide world and my Sultan, if I don't make it, I want you to tell Chelsea that I love her and that—"

In that moment, Humonus died with his eyes open.

For the next several minutes to come, Baltor silently stared into his dead friend's open eyes—eyes that no longer reflected the sparkle of life.

Suddenly an incredible amount of pain surged within Baltor's own stomach and chest. As his head turned up toward the night skies, his mouth screamed out his angers, grief and frustrations...while bloody tears steadily began to pour out his eyes.

Meanwhile, Darius and Traes could only stare in utter shock and horror at Baltor. Especially from that scream that sounded just like ten people had been screaming simultaneously.

Still sobbing uncontrollably, Baltor stood back onto his feet, turned around and began to walk—his chest plate was covered in his own blood.

After walking for about thirty feet, he collapsed onto his knees and continued to sob on both hands and knees. It took him nearly ten minutes to regain a control over his grief-stricken emotions. This was one of the two worst days in his life, the first being when his parents had been murdered when he was just a little boy.

Once he had finally regained control over his emotions, he began to wipe all the blood off his face with the sleeves of his shirt.

He then stood back onto his feet, turned back around, and walked back toward his companions, who he saw were still kneeling close to Humonus's body and quietly whispering to each other. They stopped whispering upon seeing Baltor nearing their location.

Without a word, Baltor gently picked his best friend's body off the ground, and walked over to the male hawk.

After arriving at his destination, he turned just his head around and asked, "Would you gentlemen please help me buckle him into the backseat?"

"As you command, my Sultan," both men gulped, just before they rushed on over. Together, they strapped him into the rear saddle.

Once this task was over, only thirty seconds later, Baltor ordered, "Say nothing of what you just saw to anyone, regarding my bloody tears. Just so you gentlemen know, within these very jungles many years ago when I was just a young man, I contracted a mysterious illness—ever since, whenever I cry, which is very-very-very seldom, blood flows out my eyes. But trust me, I am very human. Be silent of what I just told you—okay?"

"I'm sorry to hear about your illness, my Sultan," Traes sincerely replied. "As you command..."

"I agree with Traes, my Sultan," Darius added. "Yet I'm also very sorry about Ruling-General Humonus. Just so you know, my Sultan, he fought most valiantly against the dragon, while I must confess that I was so petrified that I peed my trousers when we—him, the hawk, and myself—played chicken with it!"

After revealing the gist of "Humonus's heroic battle," he concluded with a sigh, "Shortly after the dragon had landed on the ground with the lance still stuck in the wing, it pulled the lance out and that wing magically healed! It was about to even eat the Ruling General, but suddenly it stopped and sat there for awhile. Minutes that felt like centuries later, it changed its mind, took off into the air, and flew southeast! Only minutes before your arrival, in fact."

Baltor said, "Well, the time has come for us to move, before the dragon or her army has the opportunity to come back, so let's go. Traes and Darius, you men ride on Leshava."

"Yes, my Sultan," both men cried, just before all three men climbed into their saddles and buckled themselves in. Once so, about twenty seconds later, they launched into the air, heading northwest.

Upon reaching a thousand feet in altitude, Baltor began to gaze all around, even through the darkness of night.

Even though he discovered that the skies were mostly clear in almost all directions, the entire northern horizon was already filled up with dozens of storm clouds filled with rain, thunder, and lightning.

Due to the strong winds also blowing in from that direction, as well the smell of rain, Baltor strongly suspected that this night would contain a tropical thunderstorm—his binocular-vision took effect, and his suspicions were immediately confirmed that the storm clouds were fast coming their way, perhaps within the hour.

A few moments later, Baltor drew forth a picture of Cheo in his mind's eye before he drew a forth a picture of the world map.

The very second Cheo's location was known upon the map, but a few of them later, Baltor telepathically asked Praetor, _Can you please fly a little bit more to the northwest and add quite a bit more speed, Praetor? There's a nasty-looking storm coming our way, my friend._

He heard in his mind, "Yes, my Master," just before Praetor rapidly increased their altitude by a few more thousand feet—Leshava naturally followed right behind her brother.

Once they had risen to a grand height of four thousand feet, both hawks angled their flight pattern so that though they would be descending at a slow rate, while their speed significantly increased so that they would arrive at their army even quicker.

## CHAPTER XVIII

In a different part of the Galgaa Jungle, where the cavalry and the giants were camped...40 minutes later.

One of posted guards near the command tent spotted—for about three good seconds—two black specks maneuvering their way around the large storm clouds and toward the encampment.

There were two contributing reasons why this was the one and only guard who saw the specks at all—if one of these two following reasons had not been there, he would have also remained completely oblivious.

One, a large and lengthy bolt of lightning had just zigzagged its way across the southeastern skies, which lit up that entire horizon for eight seconds. Two, the rain that had started thirty minutes ago had just stopped thirty seconds prior.

That guard immediately looked over at his fellow guards, whistled to draw their attention, and stated, "Look—over there in the sky to the southeast! There are two creatures flying our way...don't know what they are though."

Standing ten feet away was a female guard, whose uniform revealed her rank as a captain. She asked, "Where, Private Xayen?"

While pointing, Xayen replied, "I don't see them anymore, Captain Nova, but if you'll look that way and stare hard, maybe there'll be another flash of lightning. I wonder why there's no more lightning right now?"

"I don't know, but I hope that you're—" Nova answered, just before her mouth cut itself off in mid-sentence as she clearly saw two giant hawks, each bearing two riders perched on the ground about forty feet away from the command tent.

Because she had been told to expect at any time the arrival of one giant hawk but not two—she called out to the guards around her, "Surround them with weapons drawn!"

Approximately two dozen guards that were in the immediate area did as ordered. Many more were on the way.

Once both hawks had been surrounded, they observed that there was a bandaged-up rider slumped forward in the rear saddle unconscious, which body looked shockingly like Humonus—even more shocking was that the front rider looked like Baltor.

On the other hawk they saw and recognized Darius, but not the other man...nobody had tried to unbuckle their straps, yet.

Nova called out, "Halt! Who goes there?"

Baltor answered, "I'm your Sultan."

Just to be on the safe side, especially because of the optical illusions she remembered seeing before, she asked, "How do I know that you're really the Sultan? How do I know that you all aren't another ploy by the dark gnomes who are using an optical illusion to deceive our eyes, and then to attack us blindly and kill us all?"

"Very good questions, captain. Though I know not your name."

"My name is Captain Nova."

"Nice to meet you, captain...yes, I am indeed Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth."

Two seconds later, Nova replied, "If you are the Sultan, then I sincerely apologize—okay? But, I do need to know for sure that you are who you say you are, first."

Baltor replied, "Even if I was to show you the insignia ring upon my left index finger, bearing the Symbol of the Sharia Empire, you would probably still suspect me as an optical illusion."

Just then, Ray silently arrived in the area, along with sixty more guards following right behind him. Strangely, however, Cheo had not woken up from the alarm.

Ray, who had just stopped in his tracks, extended his left gloved fist up straight up into the air, which stopped the guards in their tracks, and then they began to listen, while also fully assessing this "most unexpected situation."

All the while, Baltor continued to say, "Even if I were to reveal both of my swords, which are currently located upon my back, and then crossing those swords high over my head, which is the very Symbol of the Sharia Empire, you just might still remain suspicious...right?"

"Possibly," Nova answered.

"So what can I say or do to prove to you that I am who I say I am?" Baltor asked, revealing but a tiny fraction of the pain that he felt deep inside. "Would you like to feel the pain and grief that has torn my heart into pieces at the death of your Ruling General and my best friend this very night? If only I could show you my heart—then there'd no longer be the doubts or suspicions, would there?"

During the course of Baltor's last series of questions, Nova's sword-bearing arm had dropped to her side.

Once Baltor made a lengthy pause, Nova dropped onto her knees in the mud, bowed her head, and answered just above a whisper, "No, my Sultan. I am so sorry for doubting you... Please forgive me!"

Ray was the next one to speak as he hesitantly asked, "My Sultan, what would you like to do regarding Captain Nova's doubts and suspicions regarding your identity? Have her flogged?"

"No," Baltor replied evenly, "I want Captain Nova promoted to major, effective immediately. She did an outstanding job!"

Immediately, Nova's eyes shot up with shock and disbelief.

"Yes, my Sultan," Ray responded. "Major Nova, command all the guards to return to their posts, and then take charge!"

After rising back to her feet, and wiping off a bit of the mud that had accumulated on her knees, she said with a whole lot of pride in her voice, "Yes sir! Guards, make it so."

All the guards but Ray headed back to their posts. Meanwhile, he delivered his sharpest salute, stating, "Welcome, my Sultan...I am so sorry to hear about Ruling-General Humonus."

"Me too," Baltor huffed out with a slightly crackling voice, as he quickly threw his gaze over at the safety straps holding him in place on the hawk, so that he could unbuckle them and keep his grieving emotions under control by thinking about something else. Darius and Traes followed suit by unbuckling theirs.

Because Baltor was busy with this task, he was unaware of the fact that a single teardrop had just formed at the corner of Ray's right eye. As soon as that teardrop had gotten large enough that it actually cascaded down his cheek, he quickly rubbed away the remnants of moisture with his right hand.

Ray said with a whole lot of pride only a moment later, "Just like you, my Sultan, the Ruling-General Humonus will forever be remembered as an honorable warrior and leader!"

More mournful emotions surfaced in Baltor's mind, but there wasn't a single bloody tear that formed. He couldn't lose control of himself now, not in front of his men, even though it was hard...very, very, very hard.

Once he had finally regained a mental control over himself, about ten seconds later, he cocked his head over to Humonus's body behind him, and said, "Please, General Ray, ensure that King Cheo, Yaush, Salami, and all the rest of my forces become aware of my arrival, as soon as possible. Please, however, don't tell them about the Ruling-General's condition—leave that up to me. Understood?"

Despite the fact that Ray had been field-promoted since they had left Pavelus, now bearing the rank of Major-General, his only empathetic response was, "Yes, my Sultan!"

By this time, Darius and Traes now stood on their feet, each holding onto the reins of a hawk—Baltor climbed down to the ground, and began to unbuckle Humonus's straps.

All the while, Ray briskly walked over to the command tent, where two of the posted guards were stationed.

He first looked to the male guard on the left and said, "Politely wake up Yaush and Salami, and have them come here on the double. Use finger pointing and frantic hand-waving gestures, as neither speak Pavelian."

That guard replied, "Yes, Major-General Ray!" He then departed to carry out his orders.

To the female guard on the right, which he saw and recognized was Mena, and noticed that she had been crying, Ray said, "Retrieve Commanding-General Stormea and anyone else you see along the way, Sergeant Mena...please, say nothing about the Ruling-General's condition to anybody."

"Yes, Major-General Ray," she replied, just before she headed over to Stormea's tent while wiping her tears away.

Ray entered the command tent, walked over to Cheo's sleeping position in bed, and lightly wiggled the man's toes until he awoke, while calling out all the while, "King Cheo...Oh King Cheo..."

Once he saw Cheo's eyes open, he said, "Your Majesty...it is important that you come outside immediately—the Sultan has arrived!"

He watched as Cheo excitedly hopped out of bed with an ear-to-ear smile on his face, threw on his pair of pants, and booked for the tent flaps at top speed without socks or shoes on.

By the time Mena had arrived with Stormea, they saw that "the news" was rapidly spreading through the camp, as most of the troops were now coming out of their tents with just their trousers and boots on if they were male, or if they were female, shirts, trousers and boots.

Most of the first arrivers observed that Humonus was the only man who had not gotten out of the saddle of his own willpower—and that Baltor now carried their ruling-general's limp body in his arms, while standing in place.

Twenty seconds later, Salami and Yaush had just squeezed their way to the inner circle, consisting of nearly ten thousand troops. Many more were on the way.

The second Baltor saw Yaush and Salami enter the circle, he called out, "Forces of the Sharia Empire—today we have suffered an incredible loss!"

Salami interpreted.

Baltor continued, "Humonus—my teacher, one of my best friends, and my Ruling-General—has sacrificed his life for us all while fighting valiantly against the dragon this very day, which dragon does in fact exist, let there be no doubt...

"Not only just for the Sharia Empire did my brother sacrifice his life, but the entire world!"

Salami interpreted.

A few seconds after the interpretation was complete, Baltor continued, "When we finally face the dragon's dark gnome army that not only outnumbers us astronomically, yet utilizes audio and visual hallucinations as one of their major weapons, as well weapons of magic, we must never forget Ruling-General Humonus's most-honorable sacrifice. Do you all hear and understand me, Forces of the Sharia Empire?"

With a single zealous voice that boomed out for miles, the troops answered in unison, "Yes, my Sultan!"

Salami translated what Baltor had said to Yaush. In turn, Yaush nodded his head, while his eyes began to shed tears.

Salami asked in Valakanese, "Why are you crying, Yaush?"

"I am crying," Yaush whispered back, "because I know that Baltor cannot!"

Baltor had not heard Yaush's words or he would have burst into tears himself yet again, which certainly wouldn't have been a good thing.

Because he had not heard it, he ordered aloud, "I need several of you soldiers that are skilled in making coffins to do so for your Ruling-General, immediately. We shall give him a funeral and bury him in front of his wife upon our return to Pavelus—with honor and glory! Also, from now on, we will use authentication passwords that will change daily."

"Yes, my Sultan!"

Two soldiers carefully took Humonus's body from Baltor's hands, while several more volunteered to get the proper tools and supplies in order to make that coffin.

While the making of the coffin was going on, the soldiers still around began to quietly mumble words to each other. Upon every last face was "an estranged look" ranging between shock, sadness, and grief.

Stormea was the only individual who remained silent throughout, bearing his own total look of disbelief that his ruling-general was gone. Seconds later the soldiers began to mumble amongst one another.

The second Baltor began to speak, everyone became silenced—he said, "Forces of the Sharia Empire, give me your attention now."

As everyone listened, Baltor crisply commanded, "Commanding-General Stormea—front and center!"

Instantly Stormea ran over to his Sultan; and once there, he snapped to the position of attention while snapping a salute.

Without delay, word, or emotion, Baltor drew his right sword with his left hand in one quick movement—in the next quick movement that sword lightly caressed the bottom-right-side of Stormea's neck.

Meanwhile, though Stormea moved not a single muscle, his mind had wondered if he had somehow accidentally ticked off his Sultan, and was about to have his head cut off in punishment without even having heard the crime—hey, he'd seen it happen quite a few times before.

Instead of punishing however, Baltor commended, "Commanding-General Stormea, for your outstanding service and leadership skills, you are hereby field-promoted to the rank of Ruling-General. Do your best in everything that you do, for the glory of the Sharia Empire!"

Instantly Baltor's sword was back in its sheath—in turn, Stormea snapped the sharpest salute he had ever done before, while declaring, "Yes my Sultan!"

The soldiers all around snapped their sharpest salutes out of respect for all their leaders. Baltor returned a crisp salute of his own.

He did not release that salute, until after he had concluded, "Ruling-General, take charge with ensuring that we are ready for travel in the next hour. We ride to war! We ride to glory!"

"Yes, my Sultan!" Stormea said before he dropped his salute. He then did an about face, and ordered, "You heard the Sultan—let's begin by getting dressed, eating a quick breakfast, and then unsetting camp within the hour. Carry on."

"Yes, Ruling-General Stormea," the troops boomed out, just before they began to fulfill their new ruling-general's orders.

"King Cheo," Baltor said.

Cheo signed, "Yes, my friend?"

"I'm going to need you to scout out the best routes along with Darius during the day, and lead the army...and I shall do the same at night with Traes. Other than taking a break here and there, and of course breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we are going to continue until we arrive at our destination—day and night. Is that okay with you, my friend?"

Cheo with a smile, answered, "Yes, Sultan Baltor, it is."

"Thank you, King Cheo."

"By the way, Humonus died bravely. I'm sure his spirit dwells in one of the seven Planes of Heaven! This morning's most-colorful sunrise proved that to me."

"Me too..."

Without delay, Cheo gave Baltor a really tight hug—again Baltor fought back his grief-stricken emotions, but this time it was a bit easier because he had his other best friend there for support...

In an hour's time, everyone proceeded eastbound. Cheo and Darius went to sleep in the back of a bunk wagon. Stormea led the procession. Traes rode on the female hawk, and Baltor rode on his hawk. The only other difference with this formation was that Yaush and the giants followed in between the assault and the support teams.

Come morning, and during the next day, Baltor and Traes slept in the back of a bunk wagon, while Darius and Cheo scouted ahead. The army continued to ride southeast.

Like always, Cheo was able to relay his navigational commands to the army by writing the directions in Pavelian and dropping the message to Stormea below—thanks to all of Humonus's teaching Cheo how to read and write—and that is the route that the army went.

The following night, Traes scouted ahead, while Baltor flew his hawk close to his army and assisted with navigating.

The next morning, the army continued on like the day prior. Surprisingly, no one had ever gotten tired—most were still angry that Humonus was dead. The only person who slept was Baltor, who rode in the back of one of the bunk wagons.

That evening, twenty minutes before a colorful sunset, Darius was scouting ahead, spotting something far ahead in the distance directly to the east, which vast area looked to be burnt-up tree stumps.

After pulling out the scope and looking up, Darius's right eye first observed a large field of brown mud that spanned five miles in length and forty miles in width—lying beyond this field was a sandy beach, filled with tens of millions of moving black ants.

Having no doubt that these ants were dark gnomes, Darius immediately yanked hard the reins of his hawk until she face northwest. He estimated that the armies were only about an hour away from each other, being six miles apart.

Fifteen minutes later, he saw Cheo flying just above the level of the trees, and once he had arrived, he signaled for the king to follow him down to Stormea's position.

Stormea, having seen the hawks coming, called out, "Forces—halt!"

They did.

The second they were perched on the ground, Darius briefed, "I spotted the dark gnome army six miles southeast from here at the beach, Ruling General."

Stormea asked, "What's today's password, Darius?"

Darius answered, "Homlick, sir."

"Correct—good job, Darius. The Sultan has not yet awoken, but he should be up any minute now," Stormea reported.

Meanwhile, Cheo had been fervently writing something on a piece of parchment—upon completion, he handed it to Stormea.

Stormea read, "I will report this good news of the dark gnome army to the Sultan myself—King Cheo."

"Yes, your Highness," Stormea replied with a bow.

While Darius and Cheo unbuckled their seat belts, Stormea turned around and called out, "Forces—strap on the plows to our chariots. Once done with this task, go ahead and take a thirty-minute break. Understood?"

"Yes, Ruling-General," the soldiers snapped.

"Carry on."

Darius, in this same moment, had just taken the reins of Cheo's hawk as well his own.

As Cheo was one of the very few to know exactly which "top secret" bunk wagon Baltor slept in, he entered that wagon, closing the door behind him. True enough, Baltor was still soundly sleeping.

About two minutes later and only a second after the sun had set, Cheo observed the man abruptly sit up in his bunk, just before he pulled off the hat and the visor.

Upon seeing the peculiar expression upon Cheo's face, Baltor's eyes squinted slightly as he asked in the Chao-chu-sha-maen language, "So, my friend, evident by the expression on your face—the dark gnome army and the dragon has been spotted?"

Cheo signed, "Yes, by Darius. He said he saw the gnomes on the beach, but not the dragon, but neither did he stick around."

Baltor asked two questions, back to back, "Where are they? Are they on the move toward us?"

Cheo signed, "About six miles to our southeast, my friend... No, I don't think they're on the move, but I'm not for sure about that answer, either."

Just then, there was a knocking on the door—swords out and ready for combat, Baltor called out in Pavelian the new authentication code that begun after sunset, "Bolinsky!"

On the other side, they heard the response, "Ale."

"Correct...enter," Baltor replied as he set the swords onto his bed and rose to his feet.

Entering one after the other was Stormea, Yaush, Salami, and Ray. Ray closed the door behind him, before walking over to his seat.

Once everyone was seated, Baltor's right eyebrow rose just before he said, "We can dispense with all the cordialities and get down to business. I think it's only fair to assume that the dark gnome army has known all along where all our divisions of forces have been located all across the map, and that they wanted us to find them only now. Agreed?"

Cheo cocked his head from side to side one time to indicate the affirmative, while Stormea and Ray immediately snapped, "Yes, my Sultan!"

Once Salami had finished interpreting to Yaush what Baltor had just said, Yaush deeply boomed out in the language of Pavelian, "I agee, my friend."

With surprise etched all over Baltor's face, he looked over at Yaush—after all, his ears had never before heard Yaush use any other language than Valakanese.

Because Salami caught the look, he explained in Valakanese, which Baltor clearly understood, "Baltor, my friend—I mean, my Sultan—the very day after you left us, after your last way-too-short visit in Valakan, Yaush asked me to teach him this language, and I agreed. Ever since we left Valakan, Humonus had begun trying to teach him Pavelian whenever he had the time as well, which wasn't a lot."

Baltor didn't know which language he used when he asked his next one-worded question, "Really?"

Salami said, "Yes—even though it has been nearly a year since we started, and I have done my very best in trying to teach him this language because you and I speak it fluently, Yaush has had a very difficult time learning and remembering the words and phrases..."

After taking a deep breath through his nose, he added, "To date, he can only name about a dozen different types of objects, and say a half-dozen very-short phrases, or so...

"Jimnee, however, has proven herself to be a quick learner—wait till you learn what she'll probably be able to say when next you talk to her back in Pavelus, especially with Jimnee being best friends with Brishava!"

Three of those six men bore looks of happiness and pride upon their faces—Yaush, Salami, and Baltor.

However, the other three men—Cheo, Stormea, and Ray—had total looks of confusion as to what was being said, as none could speak or understand Valakanese.

After chuckling for a second, Baltor explained in Pavelian, "We were just recalling how well Yaush's wife and my own got along. Now, let's get down to business...

"Let's make camp here tonight with five times the normal guards on duty. Tomorrow morning I also want to sleep in a random regular soldier's tent, which will essentially be my command tent. Have only two guards posted around this tent, as well the surrounding eight tents—tomorrow night, one hour after sunset, we ride the remaining six miles until we reach the dragon's army—and destroy them once and for all! Have all our men on yellow alert, ready for combat at any given second...just in case they decide to come to us."

While Stormea, Cheo, and Salami simply nodded their heads up and down, Ray was the only to broadcast aloud, "Good idea, my Sultan!"

Salami interpreted to Yaush—in turn, Yaush said in Pavelian, "Yes."

"So this'll be the plan we'll brief our troops in thirty minutes," Baltor concluded.

Without so much as a single encounter with the dark gnomes or the dragon the entire time that night or the following day, that evening just after sunset, Baltor awoke in the bunk of a four-man-tent, but this time he was alone.

After he had bathed in his bathtub of heated water that several soldiers had dropped off prior to sunset, he dried off with a towel and walked over to the large, steel chest sitting next to his bunk. He opened it.

This chest had two different compartments—the side on the left contained six shelves of grooming and primping tools; i.e., a comb, hair and body lotions, razors and razorblades, scissors, etc, etc. The side on the right contained his "sparkling" battle armor and boots, which a soldier must have graciously volunteered his or her time to clean and polish.

Without delay he began the process of strapping on his armor on his own, and once comfortably secured to his body ten minutes later, he finally attached the sheaths on his back, which contained his sharpened/polished swords.

In order to ensure that his armor fit perfectly for the "upcoming battle," which would most likely start this very evening, Baltor walked toward the mirror.

For the next ten minutes or so and with weapons in hand, he practiced all of his defensive blocks and rolls, offensive strikes and kicks, and/or acrobatic maneuvers like somersaults, cartwheels, flips, etc. On occasion, he stopped in order to inspect his armor for anything that needed to be tightened or corrected ... when such was the case, he fixed what needed fixing.

Just after he had finished launching a defensive roll to the front and getting back on his feet, his eyes spotted through the mirror an unrecognizable soldier entering through the main flap of his tent—she was carrying a steaming tray in her hands.

After throwing a quick nod, of which nod was returned, Baltor's eyes instantly focused themselves on his own armor, for its final inspection. He sheathed his swords.

Yet only a second later, he found himself once again staring at the girl—whose uniform identified her as a corporal and whose beauty was nearly unmatched.

She had already arrived at the steel chest and kneeled down, so that she could shut the lid of the chest while still holding onto the steamy food tray, evident by the delicious food smells protruding throughout the tent.

Once she had shut the lid of the chest, the corporal set the tray down, put her right hand on the lid, but did not open it. Instead, she cast her gaze over her shoulder to look at Baltor and smiled.

In a second's glance, his mind had already memorized her incredibly beautiful features: thick and wavy brown hair, penetrating-brown eyes, button-shaped nose, voluptuous lips. Last but not least, a very-nicely-rounded body frame. Truly, this girl was "a beauty queen amongst beauty queens."

In order to get his mind refocused, as it should be because he was a "happily married man" and he had "a most-important battle to think about," he cleared his throat and greeted, "Good evening, Corporal."

While still looking his way, yet without having moved her sexy body a single inch, the corporal greeted back with a very soft and pretty voice, "Good evening to you, my Sultan."

A second later, she cast her gaze back at the tray before she removed the lid, which caused rising steam to envelope everything like a thick cloud above her neckline for approximately six seconds.

Once that timeframe had passed, and there was only a fractional portion of the steam still left, he first saw that there was a juicy steak, delicately surrounded by a surprisingly large serving of spicy-rice ... reddish in color.

A second later, the corporal stood straight up before she turned her whole body to face Baltor—this woman's hair, face, and neck were slightly damp with perspiration.

Due to the intoxicating smells of food, his stomach grumbled hungrily and loudly. In response to that rather loud noise, his mouth unexpectedly found itself beginning to chuckle—strangely enough. Even stranger to his mind was the fact that she began to giggle back.

Once she had stopped giggling, about a dozen seconds later, she suggested with a slightly mischievous look in her eyes, "My Sultan, if there's ever anything—and I do mean anything—that I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask. To introduce myself, my name is Corporal Jewel."

While his right eyebrow rose, his left eyebrow squinted for a couple of seconds in contemplation—before his mind had the time to comprehend what she might also be suggesting, his mouth had answered of its own accord, "Thanks for the food, Corporal Jewel. Nice to meet you."

After extending both arms and hands straight out in front of her for emphasis, she declared with a very soft and sexy voice, "And you are so welcome, Sultan Elysian. I must confess, however, that I wasn't the one who prepared your meal, but only delivered it for Your Majesty's enjoyment and pleasure! It smells blissfully delicious...doesn't it?"

Without intending to, Baltor found his mouth chuckling for just a couple times before he was able to squash his laughter with a short sigh, and then answer, "Yes—it does..."

Jewel dropped her arms to her sides, and said, "Well, I must be getting—I still have a few more missions to accomplish, my Sultan."

Just after she had lightly snapped a girly salute, he crisply returned a quick salute while replying, "Carry on..."

After releasing her salute, Jewel began to near his location, in order to make her way out of the tent. Just as she was about to pass right on by, however, her left foot mysteriously tripped against some "invisible force" and she began to fall toward the ground.

Baltor's cat-like reflexes instantly took over, and before he knew it, he had both arms lightly wrapped around her waist, which stopped her from hitting the ground—not even a second later, Jewel breathed out, "Tha—thank you, my Sultan!"

"Umm...you're welcome," Baltor answered with a slightly cracking voice, just before he found himself clearing his throat again. He was only a second away from helping her to get back onto her feet, but before he could do this, he felt both of her hands clasping around the back of his head, and firmly guiding his lips toward hers.

Before he knew it, their lips were intertwining with a light, yet very pleasing, kiss—all the while, both pairs of eyes remained steadfastly open, except of course to occasionally blink.

Her lips slowly but surely began to suck harder and harder, as she was rapidly getting caught up in the moment of ecstasy, and only seconds later, she closed her eyes. Baltor, also caught in the moment, closed his own eyes.

Despite the incredible amount of passionate pleasure his lips and even his whole body now felt, eleven seconds later, Brishava's face popped in his mind's eye.

Instantly, he pulled his head away from hers, but he could not let her go or she fall. He stammered, "I—we can't do this! I'm happily married to Sultaness Brishava. If I wasn't married, it'd be a different story, Jewel, trust me on that, but it's not...I'm sorry!"

Jewel rose to her feet of her own accord and with a very flushed look to her cheeks. She apologetically said, "No—I'm the one who's sorry for letting myself get out of control, my Sultan. It's just that you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my whole life!

"The truth is...I've fantasized about you so often since I first saw you standing on the palace's balcony taking charge over the Sharia Empire, and now, I allowed my fantasy to take control over my reality. Again, I'm sorry, my Sultan!"

"It's okay," Baltor said after taking a deep breath. "Carry on, Corporal Jewel."

"Yes, my Sultan," Jewel said just before she bowed and hastily exited the tent.

Baltor's stomach once again growled angrily, and so he picked up his fork with one hand and his plate with the other, sat down on the bunk, sprinkled his seasoning on his food, and ate his delicious dinner alone—all the while, the troops and the giants had nearly finished unsetting camp and the temporary stables.

By the time he had exited the command tent, five minutes later, he saw that the camp was completely unset, and that the forces were already in battle formation. Looking and sounding greatly impressed, Baltor called out in a commanding tone, "Forces—attention!" He did not need a megaphone to be heard.

The entire army assumed the position of attention on their mounts or chariots or wagons—meanwhile, the giants who had been casually standing around, instantly assumed their own battle formation of the pyramid with their shields facing outwards.

Not even two seconds later, the hawks landed on the ground about twenty feet away from Baltor's position—after turning around, he saw Traes sitting in the backseat of Praetor, firmly holding the reins with one hand and a scope with the other.

Sitting in the front seat of the other hawk was Cheo who held the reins. In the backseat was Darius, equipped with his own scope.

Baltor walked over until he was standing right in front of his hawk. Once there, only a few seconds later, he gazed deep into his hawk's eyes—eyes that were staring right back—and pet his feathery cheeks while telepathically asking, _Are you ready for battle, my most-beautiful hawk, Praetor?_

Inside his mind, he clearly heard Praetor say, _Yes I am, my master! I have learned very well how to maneuver by your telepathic commands alone over these last few weeks. Whatever you want me to do—just let me know...your wish is my command!_

Baltor replied, _Thank you, my friend!_

One more thing I'd like to say, my master.

Yes, Praetor?

If I don't come out of this alive, I'd like to say it's been an honor to die at your side, my master!

After nodding his head a couple of times, Baltor sucked in a deep breath before answering, _And let me say that it's been an honor, my friend, to have lived by yours_ ...

Though hawks cannot physically smile, Baltor could totally feel the smiles he and his beloved hawk shared for a few more seconds, before he climbed into the saddle and buckled up—upon seeing his Sultan complete that task, Traes immediately handed over the reins without a word spoken.

_Ready, Praetor?_ Baltor asked telepathically, as he tied the reins around the front pommel on the saddle.

Yes, my master! I know we will win now...

Launch!

Praetor launched straight up into the air—at fifty feet in altitude, he heard Baltor telepathically say, _Level out now_ ...

The hawk did as ordered—meanwhile, his sister hawk Leshava followed right behind, thanks to Cheo's expert directional steering using the reins.

The second Baltor's eyes saw that the army and the giants were ready to travel, he called out from above through his megaphone, "Forward—ride!"

They, including both hawks, did.

An hour and a half later upon this very dark night—mostly cloudy without either moon visible—the army finally arrived at the western borders of the barren field that Darius had earlier scouted out the dark gnome army, which army had obviously never left.

Everyone, not just Baltor, could clearly see tens of millions of dark gnomes—some were on the ground and others were flying in the air—all were clearly visible because of the tens of thousands of magically-glowing red orbs that also floated ten feet up in the air. They wanted to be seen.

Both males and females wore the same exact black attire, from the boots on their feet, to the chain mail armored vest, to a cape with hood that covered their face and bodies. Their impressive variety of weapons was the only thing that distinguished anything about them at all.

In that next moment, Baltor's superhuman senses revealed that there weren't actually tens of millions, but only a little more than a million dark gnomes waiting—odds that made it fifty-to-one against his own forces. Still astronomical in the odds of winning, in is unspoken opinion, but not impossible.

After all, he had a little more than twenty thousand cavalry forces, and several hundred giants. Unfortunately, the bulk of his forces (hundreds of thousands) were still more than six weeks away. This battle would be long over by then...

Despite the horrible odds, Baltor refused to get fazed or scared. Once his assault-team had reached the one-mile-marker from the enemy, he confidently issued the command from above, "Halt!"

The forces did.

Because Baltor could now sense the incredible nervousness and fears in all his troops, especially because of the odds not being stacked in their favor, he began to fly his hawk back and forth in front of his troops.

All the while, he called out through the megaphone he unstrapped from Praetor's saddle, "Forces! I can sense the fear that is in your hearts and your minds! It is okay to be afraid, but if you let fear govern, and you flee like a coward, then know that this evil army and their dragon leader has one singular purpose—too destroy our beloved world, including our friends, our family, and our Sharia Empire!

"Do not let their numbers, which are 'mostly an illusion,' scare you. Actually, they only have a little over a million dark gnomes! So once I have dispensed with the dragon, I shall jump right into the middle of their swarms and help you all out! I promise..."

After a very short pause, Baltor added, "For the Sharia Empire!"

For a few moments, most of the troops remained gloomily silent. Only the highest-ranking officers were the very few to emphatically respond.

At the top of his voice, Baltor called out yet again, " _For the Sharia Empire!_ "

This time, hundreds of troops responded, though most sounded weak, "For the Sharia Empire!"

After sucking in a really deep breath, Baltor roared aloud, " _For the Sharia Empire!!_ "

This time, tens of thousands of troops responded emphatically, " _For the Sharia Empire!!_ "

While drawing his swords and holding them crossed over his head, Baltor sucked in yet another breath, just before he roared like a dragon, " _For the Sharia Empire!!!_ "

The entire troops and even the giants responded with such zeal that even the dark gnomes, all the way on the other side of the battlefield, became just a bit startled. A few strangely became afraid.

Feeling satisfied by their last response, Baltor sheathed back his swords, and said through his megaphone, "Excellent! King Cheo and I shall now ride out to meet the enemies' leader for the pre-combat meeting. Be patient. We shall return shortly! Ruling-General Stormea, you're in charge while we're gone."

"Yes, my Sultan," Stormea called back from below, of whom was riding on Baltor's black stallion, Grasha. At the same time, Baltor and Cheo made their way on the hawks to the center of the battlefield.

Upon seeing the two hawks and their four riders coming their way, the dragon who was on the ground in the very middle of all her gnomes, launched herself into the air, and flew out alone to meet them.

Once they had all arrived in the very middle of the battlefield, approximately two minutes later, they landed upon the ground, facing each other at a distance of thirty feet.

With a menacing grin that included her forked tongue slithering out between her teeth for a second, the dragon began, "Nice speech, Baltor, but hopeless—"

Without an ounce of fear, Baltor interrupted, "That is your opinion of the situation, Dreeak. Hope is only dead once dismissed by the heart and mind."

"The situation," Dreeak countered, "is that the bulk of your forces cannot help you, and you'll all be long dead by the time they arrive, and then they too will die, as will this whole world. However, if you surrender your life and your soul to me now, we can avert this unnecessary war! You are the one I really want, and the reason we have come...yes!"

Baltor asked, "Really? If I am the one you really want, then let it be just you and I who fight to the death—right here and right now. If I win, you have your forces return to the world with which they came—"

The dragon interrupted, "And when I win?"

After chuckling for a second, Baltor answered, "Then you'll have what you came for—my life and my soul! But regardless of who wins, your forces depart to the world where they originated. Hell, most likely."

Dreeak replied, "My forces have told me they like this world—they want to stay! How about this counterproposal, Baltor? If you win by killing me, then my forces will return to their world—if you lose by me killing you, then all the humans on this world shall become our obedient slaves forever!"

"I honestly cannot speak for all the humans in this world, dragon," Baltor calmly answered. "Yet I'm confident that not a single one of my people will allow themselves to become slaves to anyone, even if I should happen to lose in this one-on-one duel with you. We are all free men and women here!"

"Then I suppose that war is unavoidable, fool," Dreeak answered a few seconds later, just before her image dissipated into nothingness.

"Yes, I suppose that it is..." Baltor said mostly to himself, just before he launched his hawk straight up into the air—Cheo followed right behind.

Halfway back to their army, the dark gnomes on the other side began to maniacally scream in high-pitched tones, beat their weapons into their chests, and, if on the ground, stomp their boots.

The second Baltor and Cheo had landed, thirty noisy seconds later; everyone on the entire battlefield clearly heard the dragon roar at the top of her lungs, " _ATTACK!!!_ "

Still screaming, the gnomes rushed in—not surprisingly, ninety-nine percent of the battlefield became magically enshrouded in "utter dark clouds," including Baltor's army's location.

In the darkness that only he could see through, Baltor commanded through his megaphone, "Present arms!"

His soldiers simultaneously withdrew their weapons, which action made a loud, ringing noise—at the same time, the pyramid of giants slammed his shield into armored chest-plate one time, which caused an equally loud crashing noise.

After kicking his feet into his hawk's stirrups, which caused his hawk to launch straight up into the air, Baltor called out, "Launch, King Cheo!"

Once both hawks had reached the altitude of sixty feet, which was forty feet above the tallest black cloud, Baltor roared at the top of his lungs, " _For the survival of the world—charge!!!_ "

Fearlessly the cavalry soldiers and the giants rushed forward into the cloudy battlefield, all the while howling like madmen and madwomen. At the same time, joining this sound—on a slightly lesser scale volume-wise—were the sounds of thousands upon thousands upon thousands of galloping hooves and rolling wheels.

It only took a grand total of fifteen seconds to pass before the first sounds of combat commenced—swords clanking against other swords or shields, and of course, the sounds of death screams coming from both sides of the fence.

All the while, Baltor continued to telepathically navigate his hawk over the battlefield, while seeking out the whereabouts of the dragon, both physically and/or psychically. So far, he had been unsuccessful in locating his nemesis.

At the same time, Cheo adroitly flew Leshava, and Darius rode in back—not only did they both seek out the dragon with scopes, yet Darius occasionally shouted out "words of encouragement" to the troops.

Several minutes had passed since the battle had begun, and still nobody had located the "cowardly dragon"—therefore, not wanting to waste any more time with cowards, Baltor shifted his mind, heart, and soul to his forces fighting for their very lives below.

Right away he began to yell out encouraging words through his megaphone—lungs that would never grow tired or sore—to his men and women swinging every type of weapon imaginable. Below, in the darkness, his blind-fighting troops clearly heard every word that he said and they became even more "fired up!"

Only minutes after that, yet another "good idea" popped in Baltor's mind, and so he intermittently began to offer "tips, suggestions, directions and orders" to his troops, especially because he could see through that utter darkness below.

Thanks to all of his assistance, the battle remained unbelievably successful so far...very few friendly forces had been killed, despite being severely outnumbered, outmatched, and continuously surrounded by the enemy-gnome forces.

And yes, even without Baltor's encouraging help, his army would still have been "quite successful," for these three additional militarily-oriented reasons:

The first was because the troops—including the giants—now trusted and utilized all their senses, including their sixth sense, instead of just relying upon the senses of sight and sound. Thanks, in great part, to all the "exceptional blind-fighting training" delivered by Humonus prior to his death.

The second reason was the hundreds of deadly plows, which had been stored in the back of hundreds of wagons until an hour before camp had been broken. Now they were securely mounted onto the front part of the chariots, or wagons—the front part of the plow extended fifteen feet beyond the length of the horses. Finally, these plows proved to be quite lethal weapons as they literally mowed through the non-ending ranks of dark gnomes.

The third and final reason this army could not even be slowed down whatsoever, was due to their "strategic battle formation."

Leading the pack in ranks of four was the assault-cavalry—ten thousand men and women blindly charged forth upon their horses, or in horse-drawn chariots with attached plows, while furiously swinging whatever weapon he or she happened to possess every direction.

Following behind them were the stomping giants, who never gave up their pyramid-shaped formation, and continuously obliterated the disarrayed and damaged gnomes not killed through the initial charge from the assault-cavalry.

Following behind them were eight thousand of the support-cavalry, either on foot, horses, or wagons. They had two missions to perform by order of importance.

One, kill any remaining enemies still alive. Two, rescue any wounded soldiers or giants by taking them in the back of a wagon to the rear, so that the two thousand medics stationed there could patch up the wounded.

Statistically speaking, during these first five minutes of combat that passed, the dark gnomes had successfully killed eight cavalry soldiers and wounded twelve; not a single giant however was killed or even remotely wounded.

As for the numbers of enemies slain—nine thousand, three hundred and ten were killed...fifteen thousand, eight hundred and two became wounded, ranging from light to mortal.

Yet another five minutes of incredibly fierce battling waged between the two opposing armies, yet only a fractional portion of the assault-cavalry had been stopped in their ferocious charge—eighty-six wounded, and twenty-eight dead. One giant was slain, and two were seriously wounded.

On the other side of the fence—twelve thousand and twenty-six additional dark gnomes became slaughtered...while twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and six were wounded.

Despite the massive amount of casualties amongst the gnomes, ninety-eight percent of this bloody-battlefield still remained enshrouded in utter darkness...

All the while, a miniscule-sized Dreeak continued to hide away in one of the underground tunnels below...tunnels that her gnomes had strategically dug out this last week, spreading all around the entire battlefield.

Once the gnomes had finished this task, she shrunk herself down until she was no bigger than five feet in length, width, and height, and then entered the tunnels. Once she and ten human prisoners were safely inside, the gnomes purposefully caused a cave-in at the entrance, filled it up with dirt, and finally camouflaged it.

Since the battle had begun, she remained "enormously busy" using three of her magical powers simultaneously and continuously.

First, she had used her power of "conjuration" to summon a three-dimensional, holographic and rectangular-shaped game-board that not only floated in the middle of the air, yet actually contained moving game-pieces so that she could observe the entire battle as it transpired.

Second, she utilized her power of "telepathy" to command her forty-eight divisions of game-pieces/forces all around on the game-board.

Third, she utilized her "teleportation" ability to maneuver around her divisions, strategically, so that they were always outflanking the enemy. Or, teleporting the wounded and/or fatigued back to the rear, so that they could get rest, and/or healed by the priestesses, whose divine power directly came from Tiamat—the dragon goddess.

After the first second of the tenth minute had passed, since the "game of war" begun, Dreeak tabulated that her pieces still astronomically outnumbered the enemy's pieces by forty-nine-to-one, though it had originally been fifty-to-one at the very beginning...

The following second, most unexpectedly, Mitanium's voice popped inside Dreeak's mind, but he didn't sound happy at all as he telepathically reported, _Your Unholy Greatness...we have problems!_

Even though Dreeak had never stopped magically gazing, directing, and teleporting her troops upon the battlefield, her throat emitted a low growling sound just before she growled out angrily, "What?"

Throughout the tunnels, her voice echoed this word for dozens of times...

Through the chaos, he answered, _Because Your Unholy Greatness has been utilizing her magical powers, in order to strategically observe and manipulate all the game pieces on this board, I know that you are already fully aware of Baltor's words of encouragement, and directions, to his game pieces_ ...

After a short pause, Dreeak lightly hissed out the word, "So?"

He continued, _So, you may not be consciously aware of the fact that your enemy has also been magically casting a "zeal spell," which has transformed all of his forces into a "freaking demolition derby" on ours, for lack of a better term!_

For the first time since the battle started, Dreeak took her eyes off the game-board by shutting her eyelids, so that she could mentally glare with outrage at Mitanium.

Once so a second later, Dreeak observed that he now bore a terribly worried expression upon his face, which was an expression she had never before seen. Not once.

A few seconds later, her physical mouth angrily howled out the word, "How??"

Dozens and dozens of echoes reverberated through the tunnels.

Through the echoes, he answered, _Simply put, Your Unholy Greatness, though it is not a simple matter at all—no matter what word, phrase, or sentence that comes out of Baltor's mouth, he has been super-consciously stressing seemingly random syllables into each and every sentence. But by combining these syllables together, they form the arcane words of the "zeal spell" using the ancient Dragonic-tongue...perhaps he has been feasting on humans, secretly?_

Now truly outraged, Dreeak barked out the word, "What?!?"

This time, there were hundreds of very loud echoes that continued for minutes to come.

Through the echoes, he answered, _As I know that Your Unholy Greatness heard my answer, but is asking this question regarding how this is all possible, I don't know. All I know is that our game pieces are getting mowed, slashed, or smashed to bits, even though we have surrounded their forces three times since the battle began twelve minutes ago! In other words, they all should be dead by now, but the reality of the situation is that our numbers are the ones dying in mass quantities_.

A look of shock and disbelief instantly crossed Dreeak's face upon hearing this news.

After a ten second pause, he added, _Even worse—Your Unholy Greatness's army may not even last until sunrise, and then he will find you and kill you, before you can implement "The Plan" tomorrow morning during the time of the two new moons on the other side of the planet!_

Dreeak physically screamed at the top of her lungs, "Well, what in the hell do you suggest we do? _Alter the plan? Retreat? What???_ "

Utter chaos erupted, as every single word that she had screamed reverberated thousands of times throughout the tunnels for dozens minutes to come.

Shortly after the chaos began, Mitanium answered, _Please calm down and trust me now more than ever, as I—your super-consciousness—have been at the beck and call of Your Unholy Greatness over the course of these last three hundred fifty-three years since you were still in the egg—remember?_

Dreeak nodded her head affirmatively one time, though she was still very-very-very ticked off.

Mitanium said, _Instead of going through a detailed history lesson, which history should seriously be written as a book in the nearby future, here's my idea! Skip "The Plan" altogether, eat all your human prisoners now, transform into the vompareus, and kill Baltor. When his master comes, Your Unholy Greatness should be more than strong enough to take him out...okay?_

Though Dreeak trusted Mitanium, she had also made a deal, and to her, a deal was a deal.

Therefore, she telepathically said, _Hold on, Mitanium. Vompareus—hear me! Are you guys freaking watching this stupid game? I hope you are. After all, my forces are fast becoming quickly annihilated out there, despite my best efforts! We might not only lose this battle, but the entire war, if I do not stop Baltor at midnight, and his master right after. I know that this wasn't a part of" the plan," but let's alter it_.

Inside Dreeak's mind, she heard a male voice and a female voice scream at the same time, which voices both belonged to her one Vompareus Creator, _No—don't you dare! Look—I know that you bear sentiment toward the Noman'stia Gnomes, especially since you were the one to diligently train them since we first gave you the recipe to make clones three and a half centuries ago, but the time has not come for you to take Baltor out of the equation, just yet. Wait until after sunrise, Dreeak!_

You must allow the decimation of your army to continue—trust us—the tides will soon turn once Baltor's forces get so tired that they can no longer lift their swords. This will happen just after sunrise when he goes to sleep for the day in his command tent!

And that is when you use the tunnels until you're right under his bed, teleport a dark gnome into his tent, and have him or her assassinate Baltor in his sleep...

Trendon Harrn will have no choice but to try and rescue his apprentice, and there you'll be, popping out of the ground right behind Trendon, stealing the Rod of Ro'shain from out of his grasp, and releasing us from the Realm of Darkness we have been trapped in for the last 9,000 years!

Only together can we destroy and kill Trendon Harrn...and together, we—dragonkind, the vompareus and the arch devils—will equally rule. That's the plan...stick with it.

Finally, we know that hundreds of thousands of your forces will die throughout the night, but who cares, as they are just pawns in this game... We, however, have made you a Queen amongst all the races, including the Master Races!

"Fine, but realize the possibility that your plan may backfire." Dreeak snapped back. She then reopened the window that allowed her to see and manipulate around the battlefield...

Only minutes before midnight, Mitanium popped inside of her mind; he then reported, _As I warned you, Your Unholy Greatness, there is no sign of that spell stopping, despite the fact that Baltor has returned to the rear. Already you have lost more than two hundred fifty thousand, while the enemy has lost no more than two hundred thirty..._

By tomorrow morning, you will no longer have any forces whatsoever. Perhaps this may even be my last message to you, if you don't act as soon as you see him back on the battlefield, Your Unholy Greatness!

_It is Tiamat's divine will that you destroy the Rod of Ro'shain... not free the Vompareus. I know we did not tell you this before, but if the Vompareus suspected that you would betray them, they would not have made Your Unholy Greatness into a vompareus at all_ ...

The dragon pondered her super-consciousness' warning. After eating all ten of her human meals, and her body had begun to change into the vompareus-dragon, Dreeak finally freaked.

After literally smashing open a new hole through the ground, she launched herself high up into the air. Only a second later, she saw two hawks bearing four riders flying low over the battlefield—the nearest was two miles away and the furthest was two-in-a-quarter miles away.

Her dragon ears instantly heard and recognized the voice of the driver of the nearest hawk continuously shouting encouraging words to the Forces of the Sharia Empire below. It was for this hawk that the dragon flew, which dragon not only multiplied in size with every passing second, yet would take no more than twenty seconds to arrive.

Two seconds later, Baltor saw the incoming dragon and yelled out, "Cheo, I'm going to personally destroy this _thing_ , once and for all. Continue to man your post and supervise!"

Cheo cocked his head from side to side, indicating the affirmative.

Baltor veered his hawk's flight path directly toward the dragon. Once so, only three seconds later, he observed that even though the monster was still two hundred eighty feet away, she was flying twice as fast as the speed of shadow. She was also twice her normal size.

After sucking in a very deep and thunderous breath that lasted four seconds, Dreeak blew furious gusts of dark clouds and fireballs out her mouth, aimed directly for her arch nemeses—fortunately, all the fireballs barely missed, as Baltor had already ordered his hawk to veer sharply up and to the right.

While continuing to blow a few extra bolts out of her mouth, the dragon switched her aim toward the path they were going, but they were already too far away.

The second Baltor heard the thunder stop, about three seconds later, he ordered his hawk to do a quick U-turn—now facing the other way, he saw that they were currently about four hundred fifty feet away from the vompareus dragon that was now triple its normal size, and rapidly closing in.

Without delay Baltor pulled out the two last acid bombs...and after they had gotten to twenty-five feet from each other, he threw them both straight at the dragon's face.

Two seconds later, they exploded. _BOOOOOM!!!_

The dragon instantly screamed out her pain and outrage as the acid not only exploded deep into both her eyes, which completely blinded her, yet melted away seventy percent of her face-plate armor.

At the same time, Baltor had already released his seatbelt, secured his feet into the saddle, leapt off the hawk, and flew through the air straight for Dreeak.

A second later, both hands clutched firmly onto one of the eight large horns located on the very tip of the dragon's tail. Though her damaged face and blinded eyes were a quarter of the way done healing, she could still feel her enemy slowly climbing his way up her tail like how one would climb a steep cliff, using all her horns as hand and footholds.

While Dreeak's wings remained fully extended, so that her flight path continued forward at the same altitude, she wildly began to flail her tail all about in order to throw her opponent off—but this action again proved futile, as Baltor had arrived at the lowest part of her back, and was still scaling his way up toward her neck.

Even though the dragon was still totally blind, she abruptly switched the positioning of her wings, which caused her whole body to begin rolling laterally through the skies, in order to try and throw her enemy off that way—yet again this action proved futile, as Baltor had made it halfway, and was still climbing up.

The dragon had switched tactics yet again, as she began to try and bite him—nearly a dozen times did those vicious teeth miss by mere inches, but only because he had successfully evaded every time.

Once Baltor had made it to the top of the dragon's head, about two minutes later, he firmly braced one arm—and both legs—around Dreeak's horned ornaments, and with his free hand, he drew his sword and stabbed it deep into the dragon's nearly-healed eye.

With a blackish-colored blood pouring out her now-blinded eye, the beastly creature screamed out in pain as she began flying directly toward the ground.

Still holding on for dear life, Baltor drew out his other sword, and stabbed it to the hilt in Dreeak's other eye!

No longer was there a single scream from the dragon...only four seconds later, they crashed hard into the ground, crushing and/or killing about ninety-five dark gnomes, and wounding another thirty. For now, anyways, the dragon did not move...

Even though Baltor had been thrown clear upon impacting the ground, he still managed to roll back onto his feet after landing and with swords ready to strike.

Instantly all the black clouds that covered the entire field dissipated, and everyone could see; there were eight thousand, nine hundred fifty-six cavalry, and a hundred thirty giants, yet still nearly six hundred fifty thousand dark gnomes—corpses were littering the ground absolutely everywhere.

Despite the fact that the gnomes still had the astronomical odds, they realized not only that they had lost their magical powers yet Baltor had slain their leader and mother, so they began to hastily retreat into different directions.

Before the last gnome retreated, another forty thousand had been killed by Baltor's forces who had never stopped charging.

All the while the man himself remained steadfastly busy as he ripped off every last piece of armor at the dragon's neck. And once done about six minutes after he had begun, he removed a sword from the dragon's eye, and began to slice the head from the body, which took about a dozen swipes, as the neck area was quite huge.

Once separated, Baltor jabbed the sword back into the dragon's eye, as he began to notice that the dragon's head was starting to regenerate.

It was only then that "strange and colorful vapors" began to pour out the dragon's mouth, which vapors inevitably made their way up until they reached Baltor's nostrils. In less than a second's time, he learned all the runic spells that Dreeak had ever known, including teleportation and telepathy and illusions.

With a ventriloquism-command that was heard all the way across the battlefield, Baltor called his soldiers to regroup, and they heard and obeyed.

Once gathered together near the center of the battlefield, both the soldiers and the giants cheered, "Sultan! Sultan! Sultan!"

Baltor, humble as always, simply nodded his head in acknowledgement as he looked all around at his forces.

Once the cheering had subsided, a few minutes later, he declared quite seriously, "The war is not yet over, though soon it will be. The remaining gnomes must be annihilated, so that they will not pose any further threats to our way of life—I shall have the bulk of my forces destroy them upon their arrival!"

After taking a deep breath, Baltor continued, "As for our next mission, we will need to re-group all friendly troops that have been slain, bury them here with honors, and burn the bodies of the gnomes! Only once everything is cleaned up can we then return back to our homes and families—for the Sharia Empire!"

The troops hailed, "For the Sharia Empire!"

After drawing a magical rune in the air, a rune that magically glowed a bluish color in the air, Baltor explained, "Just so you all know, as you can now clearly see, the magic and the power that the dragon once held is now mine! I have just created a magical barrier that will prevent the gnomes from getting far...

"Last but not least, do not—under any circumstances—remove the swords from the dragon's eyes until we have had its innards completely removed and stuffed as a trophy... Is that understood, Forces?"

The troops responded, "Yes, my Sultan!"

Baltor concluded, "Two more things. First, Major-General Ray, you here hereby promoted to Commanding-General."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Second, Ruling-General Stormea, please ensure the troops set up base camp on the western side of the battlefield."

"Yes, my Sultan!" Stormea declared, before looking and nodding his head once at Ray.

Ray turned his horse to face the scattered troops on their horses or in their chariots, and then he called out through his megaphone, "Form ranks."

Once the troops had formed ranks, soon after, Ray guided them to the western side of the battlefield in order to begin the process of setting up camp and chow.

Ten seconds later, Darius and Traes launched their hawks into the air, so that they could fly to the western side of the field, and take care of the hawks need to feed.

Meanwhile, the giants stood idly by, as did Cheo. Stormea sat upon his horse.

Baltor first looked at Yaush, and asked in Valakanese, "Would you, my friend, do the honors of transforming the dragon's head into a stuffed trophy once we have returned to Pavelus? I know you're good at it."

In Pavelian, Yaush emphatically responded, "Of course, my friend!"

Looking around through all the giants, Baltor asked in Valakanese, "Where is Salami?"

Yaush called out to the giants, "Anyone know where Salami is?"

Most began looking around at each other first, before looking around the battlefield, all for Salami. There was only one giant amongst the entire bunch—eight feet tall, three hundred pounds and without an ounce of fat—who continued to stare at the ground while nodding his head affirmatively—this forty-two-year-old giant's name was Gnar.

Within moments, everyone's eyes and attention had focused on Gnar, yet still he had not spoken a word, nor looked up from the ground...

Ten hold-your-breath seconds later, in which everyone began getting increasingly nervous at the news they were about to hear, Gnar finally looked up and around at everyone else, before saying, "I do not know exactly where Salami's body is at this time, but I do know where his soul is..."

After taking a deep breath, he added, "He is now in Elysium, drinking a hearty mug of ale in front of a large bonfire in the middle of the Great Hall, along with a new battalion of all our fallen comrades, including your Ruling-General Humonus. They all have certainly earned that mug, each having died 'a warrior's death!'"

Suddenly, the joyous look that was upon both Baltor's and Yaush's face instantaneously transformed to sadness and grief because they would both be greatly missing some of their closest lifelong friends in the world—tears began to steadily pour out of Yaush's eyes.

After purposefully taking a few deep breaths through just his nose, in order to keep his own grieving under control, Baltor was the first to ask with great concern, "Should we bury Salami, along with all my soldiers who also heroically died upon the battlefield, Yaush? Or...would you like him, as well all the martyred giants for that matter, to be buried in Valakan? Or what?"

With an occasional tear flowing out of one of Yaush's eyes, he answered, "Shortly after we arrived to this very battlefield— _sniff sniff_ —and we were facing the gnomes face to face, Salami whispered to me that if he was to die in this war— _sniff sniff_ —he wanted to be buried here amongst both men and giants..."

After blowing out all the mucous clogging his nose into the clean part of a slightly dirty handkerchief he had kept in his pocket, Yaush continued, "I replied to him that I wanted the same thing, as I want Jimnee to always remember me how I was during my final stages of life...as 'a man of honor.' Therefore, we should lay Salami to rest upon this battlefield. Later down the road when we come back to pay homage, we can bring a life-size statue and place it over his gravesite. As for my other fallen brethren, my surviving brethren and I will need to decide this privately..."

Throughout Yaush's answer, Baltor fought unbelievably hard to keep his own saddened emotions under control, especially because he was really missing and grieving for Humonus. After all, Baltor knew Salami pretty well for the last few years and definitely missed this gentle giant, but with Humonus, he knew this man for most of his life—a man who taught Baltor nearly every bit of martial arts he knew.

Once the emotions were finally under control, nearly a dozen seconds later, he cleared his throat and said, "Very well, Yaush. Go take all the time you need, as you have all done enough. My army will be quite busy. As for me, I need to go retrieve the bulk of my troops still in the Vispano Province."

Yaush, as well all the giants, silently nodded their heads.

Baltor then asked in Pavelian, "Ruling-General Stormea, your next mission is to directly oversee the construction of the base camp, please? Oh, be ready to see a portal open up sometime soon, and the bulk of my army arrive."

Stormea replied, "Yes, my Sultan!" He next began galloping his horse for the army.

Meanwhile, Cheo signed, "How are you going to be getting there?"

Baltor said in the language of Pavelian, "I need to teleport to the bulk of my forces, brief them on the situation about the war that is nearly over, and then teleport back here with them. From having killed the dragon, I've acquired all her magical powers. While I am gone, will you take charge of the army, King Cheo? You know what to do."

With a smile, Cheo signed back, "Of course, my friend."

After a nod, Baltor concluded, "I will be back shortly."

Closing his eyes, he next mentally began to draw the picture of Petrol's face upon the world map inside his head. Once the man's current location was revealed, which location was a thousand miles to the northwest between the Bospa Mountains and the Galgaa Jungles, Baltor drew a rune into the air using just his index finger. A moment later, a diamond-shaped portal just big enough for him opened—in the middle of the air.

He waved one final time to everyone still present, before walking through the portal and appearing forty feet in front of the bulk of his army with Petrol and Thorn in the lead—they were currently marching southeast. The second after he had completely stepped through, the portal instantly disappeared.

Of course Petrol, Thorn, as well the rest of the troops had become "incredibly alarmed" at seeing a magical portal pop out of nowhere for the very first time in their lives—all suspiciously had weapons drawn, quickly surrounding this man who appeared to be their Sultan, but could be another dark gnome magic trick.

Extending both hands out peacefully in front of him, Baltor greeted, "Greetings generals—it is indeed I, your Sultan! The war is nearly over, but not quite. The dragon has been slain, and the bulk of the dark gnomes, which still number in the hundreds of thousands, have fled, but these escapees will soon find that there is no escape..."

"We nearly won? How do I—or we—know that it's really you?" Thorn was the first to ask.

Baltor answered the question with another question, "Remember our important conversation that we shared back in the command tent shortly before the victory at Lasparus?"

"It is you, my Sultan—welcome back!"

"Good to be back, Commanding-General."

By this time, Travail had arrived on horseback, and now bore a smile on his face. "My Sultan...how fares the war?"

At this point, Baltor briefed them, "Very good...almost over but not quite. What I'm about to do, gentlemen, as hard as it may be for you to believe, is to teleport all our forces deep into the middle of the Galgaa Jungles, and there we shall destroy the remnants of the gnome army, which should only take a couple weeks, so that we can all go home. To explain how this is possible in a nutshell, it is because I killed the dragon, and acquired her magical runic powers, that I can now teleport entire armies."

Simultaneously, both Thorn and Travail replied completely in awe, "Hmmm..."

Just before Baltor did a one-eighty degree turn, he said, "If you gentlemen will just give me a minute, the portal will be ready. Inform the men to be ready to march."

"Yes, my Sultan!" both men cried.

After focusing on the image of Stormea, and receiving an image of his location on the world map inside his mind, a rune appeared in his mind. Immediately he drew it out.

A second later, a rectangular ten-foot-tall by fifty-foot wide portal opened up in front of him—though slightly weary from all the energy spent, Baltor stepped to the side of the portal, and said, "Call your men to march through by columns of ten, Commanding-Generals Petrol and Thorn. Once they are through, Senior-Commanding-Knight Travail, call your men through...same formation."

"You heard the Sultan! By columns of ten—forward, march!" Petrol ordered.

With Petrol and Thorn in the lead, the troops began to march or ride through the portal—after stepping through the portal they immediately discover with awe and shock that they were now in the center of the battlefield in the Galgaa Jungles. Joining them, inevitably, were Travail and the Vispano Knights.

About three hours later, which was the very moment after Baltor became the last person to walk through the portal, it closed. Immediately he collapsed to the ground—completely unconscious.

Within a few minutes time or so, he was revived and okay ... just totally drained and exhausted. Baltor's final orders, before he headed for the command tent and laid to rest for the night, was that Petrol, Travail, and Thorn become briefed by King Cheo and Ruling General Stormea on whatever needed to be done.

The next night, after Baltor had awoken, he observed that a hot bath was ready, so he took a quick bath, dried himself off, put on his undergarments—of course his two assistants helped him into his armor.

Once all was said and done, about twenty minutes later, Baltor observed four soldiers entering his tent, each bearing a large silver tray with cover—but none of these soldiers was Jewel.

Following behind the servers, in order, were Cheo, Thorn, Petrol, and Travail.

Baltor greeted, "Evening gentlemen."

"Evening, my Sultan," they responded.

"Where's Corporal Jewel?" Baltor asked one soldier who had set the tray down in front of him, and removed the lid. Steam, as well a very delicious smell, poured out from inside. Once that steam had cleared, only seconds later, what became revealed was a juicy prime rib with spicy potato-fries and green beans.

The soldier answered, "My Sultan, she's not feeling well today, so she was given the day off, sir."

"Okay, no problem, thanks," Baltor said just before he began to eat prime rib with spicy potatoes and green beans.

"You're welcome, my Sultan!"

While everyone ate, Baltor only occasionally took a small bite here and there. Mainly, he discussed the "battle plan" with his men.

Near the end of dinner, Cheo delivered the "wonderful news," which Baltor translated—fifty villagers had been rescued in a cave not too far away. Of course, he happily added that he greatly hoped there would be more survivors.

Once dinner was over, twenty minutes or so later, they exited the command tent. Baltor noted that everything was now clean on the battlefield, except for the massive piles of burning gnome corpses burning in fire pits, yet the troops were already in formation.

"Forces of the Sharia Empire—attention!" Baltor called out, not needing the megaphone to be heard by everyone.

They snapped to attention.

"This war is not quite over. There are still dark gnomes out there, and we must kill as many of them as possible, so that we will not have to deal with them in numbers again—trust me that they cannot repopulate. So our army will spread out in all directions like a circle, but always keep sight of the man to your left and to your right. Base camp is here. All your superior officers have been briefed on the rest of the game plan, so listen well to their orders and we will all come out of this alive. Understand?"

"Yes, my Sultan," the soldiers cried.

"Execute!"

Within the next three weeks time, most of the gnomes were killed, yet a few dozen managed to escape deep underground in caves—throughout this timeframe, the bulk of the support team and the giants worked hard on burying all their fallen comrades upon the battlefield. Humonus's body was the only body to be taken back to Pavelus, out of respect for his wife, Chelsea. There, he would be given his funeral rites.

Once everything was cleaned up and completed, which included the breaking of camp, Baltor drew the portal rune into the air nearing two o'clock in the morning. Of course the troops stood by in their brand-new marching formation, which were in columns of twenty. Every soldier standing on the outside column carried a lit torch.

Once drawn, only moments later, a three hundred-foot length by twenty-foot tall prismatic portal magically opened up in the middle of the air just next to Baltor's position.

With Cheo, Yaush, Stormea, Petrol, Thorn, and the guide-on bearer in the lead, the entire army began the march, or the ride, through the portal.

Once on the other side, they observed that they were only about a half mile away from the exterior three-hundred-foot-tall walls of Pavelus, and that the sun was only now about to set below the western horizon beyond the Sea of Albusina.

Of course, all the guards standing on the top of the walls panicked by the abrupt appearance of a prismatic portal opening up a half-mile in front of the city gates—only seconds later, the major-general was gazing at the portal through a scope.

While gazing, he said, "Be ready to shut the doors, men, upon my command."

"Yes, sir!"

Nearly a minute after the portal had first opened, the general finally saw the first humans on horseback exiting the portal...flying high in the front of the ranks was the Flag of the Sharia Empire.

"I'm not one hundred percent certain," this general said, "but they look to be our boys are returning home. However, because of my uncertainty, shut all the gates of the city, and put us on red alert...

"Also, send one of our fastest riders to Commanding-General Runa, and another to the Sultaness immediately, so they can be briefed of the situation."

"Yes, Major-General Lockheart!"

Nearly three hours later, Baltor was the last soldier to step through the portal, which was an hour after sunset—the second he arrived on the other side, he passed out from exhaustion yet again. This time, he could not be revived...

## CHAPTER XIX

Only a few seconds earlier, Brishava had just arrived at the top of the defensive walls, in order to see what was going on for herself.

After Lockheart had given her the scope, she observed the portal for only a split-second before it vanished back into thin air. Never before had she seen such anything like it, nor would she ever forget.

As her right eye scanned through the scope all the way up to the front ranks, a few minutes later, she at last saw the Flag of the Sharia Empire, as well Cheo, Yaush, Stormea, Petrol, and Thorn. Even at three hundred feet up in the air, she still observed that though the people she recognized all bore smiles upon their faces, their eyes all tried not to show sadness and grief. Unfortunately, she did not see Baltor or Humonus anywhere—this worried her greatly.

"King Cheo," she called out through a megaphone the general had just handed her, "Is that you?"

With a smile, Cheo cocked his head from side to side, indicating the affirmative.

Brishava looked over at Lockheart, and ordered, "Major-General, open the front gates. I'm going to ride out personally on my horse."

Lockheart, on the other hand wasn't convinced, and so he asked, "Are you sure that's wise, your majesty? We don't know one hundred percent that it's them. It could be a tri—"

"I know it is them. I feel it in my heart, mind and soul."

"Yes, your majesty," he replied. Looking over at the soldier who stood next to the drawbridge lever, he barked, "Make her command so!"

That soldier replied, "Yes sir!"

While the front gates slowly opened, Brishava hurried down the stairs of the lookout tower; and once on horseback only seconds later, she rode out to the army—her entourage of guards followed.

Once she had neared to a distance of ten feet away, a few minutes later, she stopped her horse before saying with a delighted smile on her face, "Greetings King Cheo, Yaush, and everybody! How are you, my friends?"

Returning the smile, everyone said or signed back, "Good!"

Brishava asked, "Where is my husband?"

"He is currently passed out in the back of a bunk wagon," Cheo signed back.

Confused, Brishava asked, "Why? It's nighttime."

"That's a very long story, which I would rather have him tell you all about when he wakes up," Cheo signed. "For now, will you please command all your troops to set up camp outside the city? I don't think there's enough room for everyone to fit comfortably inside the city. Is there?"

"We'll just have to make the room for everyone, even if we're all a little cramped," Brishava said.

Looking over at Stormea, she smiled and said, "Commanding-General Stormea, nice to see you again!"

Even though he recognized that she had used his old rank, he still happily said, "Thank you, my Sultaness. As always, it is definitely a pleasure to see you, and to see home, too!"

He purposefully had not said anything about his new rank, because then she would easily figure out that something happened with Humonus ... after all, there had always only been one Ruling-General of the Sharia Empire, since this empire had been established five centuries ago.

She ordered, "In one minute's time, command the Forces into the city. Meanwhile, I'm going to spend some time with my man alone—even if he is sleeping."

With a bow, Stormea replied, "Yes, my Sultaness. His wagon is on its way up here now as we speak—a few minutes longer tops is all you will have to wait."

"Oh, by the way, where is Ruling-General Humonus?"

"Umm, that is another question best answered by your husband."

"Okay..." she said hesitantly, while her eyebrows slightly furled.

Once the bunk wagon had arrived, soon after, Brishava hopped off her horse and hurried on over. Climbing inside, she saw her husband Baltor soundly sleeping on the bottom right bunk.

Despite the fact that he was unconscious, she still laid her body next to his, wrapping her arms lightly around her husband's waist, while kissing him all over his neck and face—Baltor did not wake up at all...

One minute after the kisses had begun, but not yet stopped, she heard Stormea call out, "Forces of the Sharia Empire—forward, march!"

After Brishava had her fill of kisses, about two minutes and a hundred-or-so kisses later, she cradled her head upon Baltor's chest, patiently waiting for the driver of the wagon to take them to the palace.

Once they had arrived in the courtyard of the palace, forty minutes later, the guards carried their Sultan into his bedroom, and laid him into his bed.

It wasn't until the following night that Baltor finally awoke. Upon opening his eyes, he saw that Brishava had her head comfortably lying upon his stomach.

With a happy smile that instantly grew upon his face from ear to ear, Baltor happily exclaimed, "Brishava! How are you, baby?"

"I'm very good my husband, especially now that you are back," Brishava cooed with her own smile.

Using his right hand, Baltor ever so gently grabbed the back of his wife's head, and just as gently pulled that head closer to his own. For nearly an hour or so, passionate bliss erupted between both husband and wife...

Once that "quality time" had passed, Brishava—very sweaty and out of breath—gave one final deep kiss upon the lips of her husband who was lying right beneath her. She then climbed off, threw on her robe, and assumed a seated position with her legs crossed and her elbows leaning upon her knees.

"Whew..." Brishava sighed. Still slightly out of breath, she asked in between those short pants, "So, I should have thought to ask you before, but where is Ruling-General Humonus?"

After sliding a silky sheet halfway up his body, a look of deep sadness quickly began to cross Baltor's eyes and face. A few seconds later, he breathed deeply before answering sadly, "He—he died valiantly fighting against the dragon single-handedly."

"No..." Brishava whispered, just before she turned her head to look at empty space. A few seconds later, teardrops began to pour out her eye-sockets and down her grief-stricken face.

Fighting back his own tears, Baltor somewhat changed the subject as he asked, "Where is Chelsea?"

After wiping away much of the tears with both of her hands, as well sniffing back all the accumulated mucous in her nostrils, which combined actions took nearly a minute, Brishava answered, "I sent her to Thorium several months ago with a two-fold mission. One, establish our new territorial boundaries with Queen Calitta's help; and two, warn all the Thoriumites about the dragon and its army. So, it is safe to assume that the war is totally over by your return? No one would tell me anything."

Baltor answered, "Three weeks ago, I killed the dragon myself. As for the gnome army, a few of them did manage to escape far too deep underground, but most were easily outflanked and killed—fortunately they can't procreate!"

After a look of remembrance crossed her face, Brishava informed, "Chelsea's pregnant."

With shock in his voice, Baltor sat up in bed and asked, "What?"

"Yes..." Brishava sighed, as more tears began to pour from her eyes. Through the tears, she answered, "She will be very sad when she learns of Humonus's death."

Still shocked, Baltor stammered, "I—I didn't know she was pregnant..."

She had once again begun to wipe away even more tears that sprouted, while answering, "None of us knew until several weeks after you guys left. It was going to be a surprise!"

Due to the gravity of the situation, Baltor could no longer control the bloody tears that had begun to pour out of his eyes, down his cheeks, and drop onto the white silky bed sheets.

Only a few seconds later, he cried, "This is still such an unbelievably hard thing for me to deal with—my mentor and my best friend's loss. I was so close to saving him, and yet not close enough!"

As Brishava was fully aware of her husband's mysterious illness, she simply placed her right hand on his right shoulder, answering, "I know how much you loved him—we shall build a statue of him in commemoration and memory, and place it in the very middle of Pavelus! He's a hero..."

Looking over at his wife, he sadly sniffed, "Yes..."

With the corner of the cotton sheet that was now completely ruined anyway, she began gingerly dabbing away the blood off Baltor's face. All the while, she sighed aloud, "Yes...and you know what else? I personally believe Humonus is in heaven, as he was a very good and noble man throughout this whole life!"

After a five-second pause, she added, "True I'm sure he made his fair share of mistakes, as we all do...but it's how we learn. Yet we must also know that death is a part of life, as we shall all die one day, including you and I. So, we must treasure every precious moment we have. Right?"

"Right, my love," Baltor said with a small smile. Glancing over to the mirror, he observed that she had gotten every last drop of blood off his face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, giving him a quick kiss on his lips. With that smile still on her face, she asked, "So, I must know...how did you get the Vispano Knights to rally to our cause?"

Nodding his head affirmatively, he answered, "Well, I'd really like to answer that question, as well the question of how the entire Province now belongs to the Sharia Empire, at the victory celebration, whenever that is...if that's okay."

Though very shocked to hear this news, she answered with a question, "Are you serious?"

"Yup..."

"Well, we have the celebration scheduled tomorrow night at nine p.m., as there is a ton of food that needs to be made," Brishava answered with a smile of her own.

"Perfect!"

Brishava said, "I have a question that can't wait until the victory celebration—I saw you guys traveling through a magical portal, even if it was but for a second as I had arrived just in the nick of time... Yet King Cheo said that you alone should answer this question of how teleporting came to be?"

"Well," Baltor said, "simply put—the moment I slayed the dragon, I acquired all her magical powers. One of those powers happens to be teleportation, as well telepathy, though there are dozens of others to be sure."

Squinting her eyes ever so slightly, Brishava said, "Hmmm..."

Seeing the strange look upon his wife's face, Baltor countered, "It's true!"

"I believe you, Baltor, but it's still very shocking to me that magic actually exists—even after having heard about from enough people, and seeing with my own eyes, this teleportation portal. After all, all I've ever been told about magic since I was a little girl is that it's a myth and not real."

Well, it is very real and definitely no myth. I have become an extremely powerful magic user!

It was only because Brishava had been looking directly at Baltor's face that her mind realized that he had been speaking telepathically. Once shock had been overcome, perhaps thirty seconds later, she finally exclaimed, "Wow!"

"Don't worry, Hun," he said verbally. "I'm not going to probe into people's thoughts, including yours, unless they want me to, or I have to for some emergency situation."

"Okay," she said.

"By the way, I'm planning on teleporting to retrieve Chelsea later tonight."

"Why is that?"

"So that I can relay the news, as well so she can be a part of the Humonus's funeral, as well the victory celebration. Well, on second thought, maybe she won't want to celebrate very much?"

"You really are a very thoughtful person, aren't you, my husband?"

Baltor cocked his head to the side as he said, "I try to be."

"Well," she replied, "as she is also our ambassador, she must doubly know. Moreover, who better is there to comfort her when you tell her about your mentor, your ruling general, and your best friend?"

"You're right."

"So are you ready to take a bath, so that the servants can get you dressed? I need to take one, as well."

"Is there any blood on my face?"

"Nope."

Baltor nodded his head, and said, "Okay, but once I'm ready, I'm going to immediately go retrieve Chelsea. I shouldn't be gone too long. I love you!"

"I love you too, but I might not be around as I have tons and tons of affairs that need my attention for tonight," Brishava said, just before she gave her husband one final kiss, and entered the pool to bathe. He followed after her.

Once their baths were over, she exited the room in her shower robe, so that her handmaidens could dress her in her dressing room.

Meanwhile, Baltor, who had just finished putting on his underwear, walked in front of the mirror, and called out, "Assistants—you may enter."

His six assistants entered the room from the walk-in closet, while pushing the portable closet on wheels. After a bow, they began the process of grooming and dressing their Sultan into comfortable-yet-elegant attire that consisted of a sky-blue suit and boots that all had thick, gold-laced trimming, as well putting on his Sultan's crown and rings.

Once the assistants had left, Baltor mentally conjured up the image of Chelsea upon the world map. The second he got her location, he drew the teleportation rune into the air, which caused a portal to open up in front of him—he walked through the portal.

Chelsea, who was just about to enter her bedroom in order to retrieve a book, almost had a heart attack upon seeing the prismatic portal.

As soon as she saw Baltor walking through, her nerves quickly abated as she greeted, "Hi Baltor—I mean, my Sultan! How on earth did you make that happen?"

Baltor smiled as the portal closed behind him. He next said, "Hi Chelsea—long story I'll tell you about in a bit. Let me first say that you are definitely looking pregnant!"

"Yes, I still have quite a few more months to go though."

"Really?"

"Yes—Humonus will be so surprised when he finds out himself. Where is he?"

"Well," Baltor said with a pause. "I think you should sit down when I tell you this."

Chelsea gulped, but took a seat in her room. After Baltor closed the door, he said, "Humonus did an outstanding job as the ruling general of my army. Most sadly, he was forced to sacrifice his life in order to save everyone else's. He died a hero death fighting against the dragon. I'm sorry! There was no way we could save him, though I tried."

Chelsea asked in shock, "What?"

Tears began to pour down her face, while Baltor fought back his own tears. A moment later, her body collapsed—she would have crashed onto the floor, but he had caught her and held securely on.

Baltor said, "I'm sorry Chelsea, I really am!"

With tears continuously pouring out of her eyes, she stammered, "I—I can't believe it!"

Baltor explained, "You must Chelsea...it's true! His last words to me were to tell me that he loves you! I was there when he died."

For a long while, Chelsea cried ... Baltor remained patient and continued to hold her.

When the crying finally abated, nearly thirty minutes later, Chelsea looked up into Baltor's face, with tears still running down her eyes. She asked, "So is this the reason you have come here tonight? To tell me that he died?"

After a sigh, Baltor answered, "I wasn't going to tell you until tonight, but because you asked, I had no choice but to answer. The reason I actually came here was to bring you back to Pavelus with me, so that you can attend his funeral and burial tomorrow morning, as well be a part of the victory celebration tomorrow night. After all, had it not been for Humonus, we would not have won this war! He is a hero."

"How can I celebrate? My husband's dead, and my unborn child is without a father!"

"Chelsea, I know just how much of a hard time you're going through right now. I know that I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again...

"When I was but a young child, both of my parents were murdered. I heard them die and barely did I escape with my life. Soon after, Humonus came along and taught me everything I know—he made me into the man that I am today!

"I promise you that I will do my best to help godfather your child—that is, if you'll allow me the honor..."

"Baltor," Chelsea said with a crackling voice. As her left hand gently caressed his cheek, she added, "Humonus respected and loved you so very much! He bragged about you so often to me—I know that you felt the same way about him. Yes, I will allow you to be the godfather of my child, and Brishava can be the godmother."

Fighting back his bloody tears once again, Baltor softly replied, "Thank you."

Not fighting her tears whatsoever, Chelsea wept, "No, thank you, Baltor!"

"Will you come back with me to Pavelus?"

Upon regaining a control of her emotions, nearly a minute later, Chelsea replied, "Yes. However, I must first let Queen Calitta know that I will be departing. Will you allow her to come with us to Pavelus as well, if she can?"

After delivering a very warm smile, Baltor answered, "Of course, Ambassador Chelsea, Queen Calitta is most welcome to come along."

Chelsea rose to her feet, and asked, "Will you come with me? I'm pretty sure that she'd like to meet you, although she has no clue that you're here."

"Sure."

With Chelsea in the lead, the two exited the bedroom, and began walking down the hallway.

A few hallways down, they came across a guard who was standing against the wall—she asked that guard, "Will you please let Queen Calitta know that I need to speak with her as soon as possible? It's very important!"

The guard answered, "Yes, Ambassador Chelsea."

He escorted Chelsea and Baltor down several more hallways until they reached the entryway leading to Calitta's bedroom. There stood eight more guards outside the double doors.

The guard who had done the escorting, said, "Major Balski, Ambassador Chelsea said that she needs to see the Queen. Is she perchance still awake?"

With a very suspicious look upon his face, Balski asked, "Who in the hell is that standing with the Ambassador, Corporal?"

The corporal, feeling quite stupid for not having asked that question earlier, looked back at Chelsea and Baltor.

Just before the guard could ask the question, however, Baltor answered in the language of Thorium, "I am Sultan Baltor Elysian of the Sharia Empire."

Though Chelsea fervently nodded her head in the affirmative, every last guard continued to look suspicious.

A few seconds later, Balski was the first one to ask, "How did you get past all our security? And where is your escort? And why did you come unannounced? And how do we know you're not imposters—the both of you?"

Baltor answered with a nonchalant wave of his hand, "You must trust me. I bring great tidings! The dragon and the army of dark gnomes have all been destroyed. Our shared continent is now at peace."

Again, Chelsea fervently nodded her head in the affirmative.

Now looking convinced, Balski pointed his index finger up into the air, and said, "Hold one minute, and I'll see if she's still awake." He turned around and knocked on the door.

A moment later, he heard the queen's slightly muffled voice ask from inside, "Yes?"

"Your majesty, Ambassador Chelsea and her Sultan of the Sharia Empire, who has just unexpectedly arrived, wish to speak with you. They're right out here in the hallway with me...with us. Are you still sleeping?"

"No, send them in immediately."

Balski said, "Yes, your Highness." He opened the door, and allowed the two to enter.

Baltor and Chelsea walked into the room. They saw Calitta sitting at the far end of the royal bedroom behind a desk—a book was lying open before her.

Looking up from the book, Calitta said with a friendly smile, "Greetings to you both, and most especially to you, Sultan Baltor Elysian."

Bowing his head respectfully, Baltor replied, "Greetings Queen Calitta. Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure is just as much mine... So, what can I do for you?"

Baltor answered, "I came to bring great tidings! The war against the gnome army and the dragon is over—we are victorious! The main reason I have come here is because I'd like to invite you to our victory celebration in Pavelus."

With a thoughtful look on her face, Calitta said, "I was wondering why my lands were attacked only once by the dark gnomes...congratulations!"

With a bow, Baltor simply replied, "Thank you."

Chelsea added, "Your Highness, I should let you know that my husband Humonus died while valiantly fighting against the dragon. Sultan Baltor Elysian informed me that we are also to have a memorial service for my husband tomorrow morning before sunrise. Would you like to attend?"

Looking real sad herself, Calitta answered, "I'm so sorry to hear about your loss! Humonus was a good and honorable man who literally saved my life many years ago. Of course I will attend, but how in the hell are we going to get to Pavelus by tomorrow morning?"

Baltor's mind had been thinking about her second statement, and so he didn't answer her question. Instead, he snapped his fingers just before said, "That's right! Humonus once told me long, long ago when I was but a child on how he saved the life of a princess...but I did not realize that the princess was you until just now, Queen Calitta!"

"Many years ago when I was a young girl—he did," Calitta replied. "Nevertheless, I'll never forget him! Of course, I will come to the funeral and the victory ceremony, but you never did answer my question how we're going to get to Pavelus by morning."

"Well, Queen Calitta, as a result of my slaying the dragon, I have acquired magical powers. It will only take us a few minutes to get back to Pavelus through a magical portal I will create."

With a whole lot of shock, Calitta asked, "Really? No way!"

"Yes way," Baltor answered with a nod. "I promise you on my word of honor all I have told you is nothing but the truth."

"Well then," Calitta said, "I'll have to have my servants prepare my luggage, and also my armed escort. Will that be okay that I bring them along?"

Baltor answered, "You can bring as many people as you wish, Queen Calitta."

"Say two hours?"

"Two hours it is then. Meet us in your throne room, and from there, we'll depart?"

"Sound perfect," Calitta said.

"Very well."

Baltor and Chelsea headed back to her room. There she began to pack all her belongings.

Two hours later, a dozen-armed escort, six personal servants, and the queen were ready in the throne room—Baltor and Chelsea joined them there at that time.

There, Baltor visualized his bedroom in his mind's eye, and traced the runes he saw into the air. Instantly a portal opened up, causing just about everyone to become slightly alarmed.

With Chelsea in the lead, the group suspiciously walked through the portal entering his bedroom back in Pavelus. Once Baltor had stepped through, the portal shut.

Without delay, he called aloud, "Guards, enter."

The guards opened up the bedroom doors, and their mouths dropped open in shock to see the large group of people standing around.

The guard-in-charge asked, "What's going on, my Sultan?"

Baltor answered, "Long story that I don't feel like getting into right now, soldier. For now, I want you to have our servants prepare the royal guest bedroom for Queen Calitta of the Kingdom of Thorium, as well another adjacent bedroom for her servants. Understood?"

The guard snapped, "Yes, my Sultan!" He then hastily retrieved the servants, who then began to prep the guest bedrooms.

Meanwhile, Baltor turned to face Calitta and asked, "Are you hungry, Queen Calitta? If you are, we can arrange for a late night snack."

Calitta thought about his question for a couple seconds before replying, "No thank you, Sultan Baltor. Would it be possible for us to get a tour of your city tomorrow morning?"

"Absolutely," Baltor answered with a wink of his left eye. "Most likely it will be my wife, Brishava, who will give you the tour, as I sleep during the day. Speaking of my wife, I'd really like you to meet her."

"Yes," Calitta said with a pleased smile upon her face, "I've heard so much about both her and you from Ambassador Chelsea."

"Well, let's go see if we can find her."

Calitta said, "Splendid."

"Your guards won't be needed within the palace. I can assure you that you'll be quite safe here. Would you like me to have a room arranged for them?" Baltor asked.

"Sure."

Baltor walked over to the door of his bedroom, and opened it.

One of the guards on the other side of the door asked, "Yes, my Sultan?"

Baltor said, "I want you to locate the servants and have them prepare another room for Queen Calitta's guards. But before you go, do you know where the Sultaness is?"

"No my Sultan, I do not know where she is at the moment, but I can find out after I have informed the servants of your first command," the guard answered.

"Don't worry about it—just ensure that the room is prepared for the queen's guards," Baltor said. Turning to look back at Calitta, he asked, "Queen Calitta, would you like a tour of the palace right now?"

Calitta answered, "Sure!"

With a hand gesture toward the doors, Baltor said with a smile, "Let's go."

Along with Chelsea, Baltor gave Calitta a sightseeing tour of the palace—over the next hour, he showed the queen the throne room, the dining hall, the courtyard, and finally, the lush and beautiful gardens outside. Of course, Calitta enjoyed every second of it.

It was while they were traversing the gardens that Brishava first received the report that Baltor, Chelsea, and Calitta were currently strolling through the gardens looking for her.

Immediately after ordering another servant to set up a late night snack, she headed out to the gardens, saw the group walking the opposite direction, and hurriedly began to approach.

As she neared them, Brishava called out, "Hey Baltor and Chelsea—this must be Queen Calitta—hi guys!"

The group turned around to look over at Brishava.

Chelsea was the first to greet with a bow, "Greetings, my Sultaness."

Chelsea and Brishava gave each other a light hug.

Once they had released from the hug, Baltor then said with a smile, "Hey."

He then introduced the other two women to each other, "Queen Calitta, this is my wife, Sultaness Brishava."

With a bow of her head, Calitta said excitedly, "Greetings, Sultaness Brishava. It is a pleasure to meet you, especially after all the wonderful things I heard about you from Ambassador Chelsea! She's become like the sister I never had."

Just as excitedly, Brishava replied, "And it is a wonderful pleasure to meet you, Queen Calitta! The ambassador is like my sister also. So, do you like the palace?"

Calitta replied, "It is simply breathtaking."

Brishava said, "Thank you! Are you guys hungry? I've already arranged a late night snack."

"After all this walking," Calitta sighed, "I am actually a bit hungry now."

Brishava said, "Great—follow me!"

She then led the way back to the royal dining hall, where plates, silverware, goblets, and trays of food had already been set up and neatly arranged—recently, this room had been remodeled and perfected by Jamar.

Inside this square-shaped room, whose length and width both bore one hundred feet with a forty-foot high ceiling, the floors, walls, and ceiling had been entirely constructed of "grade A" mahogany. Covering three-quarters of the floor was a beautiful white rug, which had embroidered into it golden-colored flowers; covering about a third of these walls and ceiling were abstractly-sized-and-shaped, yet very strategically placed, mirrors.

Located in the very center of this room was a thirty-foot round table, which had a tablecloth on it that perfectly matched the carpet; on the far side of this room near the lit-up fireplace, there were four large plushy couches, whose material perfectly matched the tablecloth.

Over the course of the next half an hour, they shared a very pleasant snack, as well an even more pleasant conversation.

Though there were many topics of discussion, one of the most important came from Brishava as she relayed the information that Humonus's funeral would be performed precisely an hour before sunrise the following morning, and that Baltor would personally deliver the eulogy. She also mentioned that the whole of the city would be in attendance.

Following conversation, they escorted Calitta to her room. Chelsea headed to her room, and Brishava and Baltor finally went to theirs.

Other than Baltor, everyone else fell fast asleep. He spent most of the night preparing the eulogy he would deliver.

## CHAPTER XX

An hour before sunrise, and with the whole of the city in attendance—royalty, nobles, troops, and citizens—Humonus was given his "funeral rites" outside the city walls, which rites began with a twenty-one sword salute.

By the hardcore-vocalized commands of Stormea, seven soldiers simultaneously drew his or her sword from his or her sheath three times, which caused a "loud ringing noise" to occur each and every time.

Following, two trumpeters began blowing a sad ballad, while four other soldiers crisply took the flag of the Sharia Empire off the coffin and neatly folded it up. Once it was folded up into a small triangle, one of those soldiers immediately marched over—with flag in hand—to his Sultan's position and handed it over.

As soon as Baltor held the flag in both of his hands, he did an about face, marched over to Chelsea, went to the position of attention, handed her the flag, and snapped his sharpest salute, all the while Humonus's coffin was ever-so-slowly lowered into the ground.

After the trumpeters had completed and silence reigned in the area, nearly a minute later, Baltor finally released his salute, did another about face to face the crowds and the coffin, which was now completely in the hole.

He declared loudly to all, "I am not a man of many words, so I shall make my eulogy of Ruling-General Humonus brief. I have known this great and noble man since I was a young boy of twelve. Not only did he teach me all the martial arts I know, and not only did he teach me how to be the man I am today, yet, most especially, he taught me how to be a great leader and a caring friend! For the rest of my life, I shall miss him greatly until I join him in death...that is all I have to say."

With a single tear that flowed unabashedly out her right eye and down her cheek, Brishava—who was standing right next to her husband—added right away with both pride and love, "Ruling-General Humonus is a man who will be never forgotten for his valiant sacrifice to the Sharia Empire, as well the world! No doubt that he is one of the greatest warriors ever."

After taking a deep breath through her nose, she added, "It took great courage to single handedly battle it out against a dragon the size of a mountain and almost winning, per the reports and firsthand accounts I've heard, and know to be true with my heart, mind, and soul!

"And one more thing I need to say about Humonus: all that knew this man...loved him. Therefore, we shall build a statue to commemorate in the very center of the city, so that he will be remembered for all time to come."

Almost right away two trumpeters began to blow out another short and sad ballad. Chelsea continued to sob quietly, while tightly clutching the flag in between her arms and chest.

For support, Calitta and Cheo sat on a chair on each side of her, and Yaush and Jimnee stood right behind. All had their hands gently resting on her shoulders or hands, comforting the new widow.

The trumpeters finished blowing their tune about thirty seconds later. Baltor next called out, "Attention!"

The troops instantaneously snapped to the position of attention. Out of respect, most of the nobles and citizens did as well, although many were clumsy and/or slow in assuming this position. Of course, Chelsea and her closest companions remained where they were and did not move.

Thirty-or-so seconds later, Baltor next called out, "Present arms!"

Those soldiers who possessed a weapon drew it out of his or her sheath and beat it against the chest plate of his or her armor—those soldiers not possessing a weapon snapped his or her sharpest salute. Again, the nobles and citizens did their best to imitate the salutes.

A minute later, Baltor called out, "Forces, Nobles, and Citizens of the Sharia Empire—dismissed."

Most of the troops, nobles, and citizens began to slowly-but-surely disperse back into the city. Baltor and Brishava, on the other hand, joined up with Chelsea, Calitta, Cheo, Yaush, and Jimnee.

The group of seven shared a tight hug that lasted for many-a-minutes—spent in complete silence.

Once that hug had been released, they just as silently entered their royal carriages, which chauffeurs snapped the reins of their horses, so they could trot their way back to the palace. One battalion of guards led and another followed.

Once inside the palace itself, nearly twenty minutes later, Baltor quickly bid his farewells to everyone, and headed off to bed ... sunrise was only minutes away.

Once night had arrived, and Baltor woken up and bathed, assistants dressed and prepared he and Brishava for "the victory celebration," once again in separate rooms.

Tonight, he was dressed in a pair of silky white pants, a violet colored tunic bearing the golden emblem of the Sharia Empire sewn into the front, and of course, his Sultan's crown—in his unspoken opinion, he looked "sharp as a blade!"

It was only when he was having his white leathery boots slid on his feet that he observed—through the mirror—the doors open, and in walked Cheo.

Baltor instantly noticed that his kingly friend's attire was a black and red tunic, red cotton pants, black boots, and a golden crown imbedded with tiny jewels of all colors—the king looked "royally stylish" in Baltor's opinion.

Cheo, with a warm smile upon his face, signed, "Greetings Baltor!"

With a nod, Baltor replied just as enthusiastically, "Greetings Cheo!"

"Where is your beautiful wife, Brishava?"

"She's still getting dressed in the other room, I'm sure...you know women," Baltor said with a laugh.

Cheo laughed in return, and then he signed, "Yes, I do."

At that moment, the assistants finished, and so they bowed—the lead asked, "Are you pleased with the way you look today, my Sultan?"

"Yes," Baltor answered, "Thank you very much. Have a great night, gentlemen."

"You are most welcome, my Sultan," the lead assistant replied with a smile. After another bow, he and his other assistants left the room with the closet on wheels.

Baltor turned around. With a serious look now on his face, he asked, "I'm not sure about how you want to go about it, but what can we do to reestablish the Kingdom of Chao-chu-sha-maen?"

Cheo sighed, and then signed, "One day soon but not sure when just now, the villagers and I will head back home—and start over."

Baltor asked, "Just you and the other survivors?"

"Well, what other ways are there?"

Baltor answered the question with another question, "What if I was to send a division of my soldiers with you, as well two thousand stonemasons to help you design a new city with fortified walls, and then you'll at least have a lot more protection than if you go alone?"

With a very surprised look on his face, Cheo asked, "You'd do all that for me?"

"Without hesitation, my brother," Baltor replied with a smile.

"I'll agree to your suggestion, if the new city of Chao-chu-sha-maen falls under the banners of the Sharia Empire," Cheo answered.

Baltor countered, "I don't want you to serve under me, King Cheo—you're royalty and you're family—you're my brother-brother!

"Trust me that I never forgot about that time when we were in your palace, shortly before I left for the tower, and we exchanged a single teardrop with each other, which meant by your culture that we were now 'official brothers!' And thus, I was forever after a Prince of the Chao-chu-sha-maen nation!

"That in itself was what really gave me the confidence and the royal lineage to become who I am now...the Sultan of the Sharia Empire."

"Just like my father and mother," Cheo fervently signed, "you are truly a great and wise leader, my brother! It'd be an honor and a privilege to serve alongside you, Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth!

"I shall be your King yet you shall be my Sultan—equals we shall be! Whenever you need me, I shall be at your beck and call...and vice-versa. How about that?"

Still looking a little unconvinced, Baltor asked, "Are you sure you don't want your nation to remain independent from mine?"

"Without hesitation, our two nations are now one, my brother," Cheo signed.

Baltor smiled, nodded his head, and extended his right hand out—Cheo immediately grabbed it with his own hands...and the men warmly shook hands.

Only seconds later, the exterior guards unexpectedly opened the doors to the bedroom. Brishava, Calitta, and Chelsea walked into the room.

Brishava was now wearing a pink and white evening gown that shimmered with ruby quartz crystals sprinkled all over, as well a tiny platinum crown filled with more ruby quartzes. Her hair was wrapped up into a tight bun behind her head.

Her mouth—which was painted with shimmering pink lipstick—literally dropped open as soon as her eyes gazed at the two most-handsome men standing there.

As for Calitta, she wore a beautiful black evening gown, filled with dazzling diamonds spread throughout, as well her royal crown. Her blonde hair draped down halfway down her back—and of course, she had a happy smile upon her soft and beautiful face.

Chelsea looked just as stunning as the two other ladies—she now wore an elegant green dress with a large emerald carefully sewn into the front. As for her flaming red hair, it was braided behind her back and interwoven with green ivy plants.

Both Baltor and Cheo silently looked on in utter amazement at the wondrous beauties that all three ladies possessed.

Nearly a silence-filled minute later, Brishava was the first to say, "You boys look amazing!"

Cheo was the next to say something, as he signed, "Thanks—as do all you ladies! I can't pick which woman my eyes want to look at most...just kidding! I know you're a married woman and all, Sultaness Brishava."

Although Baltor, Brishava, and Chelsea laughed aloud at "Cheo's joke," Calitta looked totally confused as she didn't know the sign language—she asked, "What did he say?"

Still chuckling, Baltor answered, "King Cheo said, 'Thanks—as do all you ladies!'"

Calitta said, "Oh—please tell King Cheo that I said 'thank you.'"

"This king understands our language, but cannot speak it."

Nodding her head up and down, Calitta answered with an understanding smile, "Ooooh...thank you, King Cheo!"

With a smile, Cheo nodded his head up and down one time.

After lightly clapping his hands together, Baltor asked, "Sooo, is everybody to head for the victory celebration?"

"Yes," Brishava answered, "the carriage awaits outside in the courtyard...and we ladies are all ready. How about you men?"

"Yup, we are," Baltor answered, "So let's go."

As a group, they and their guards next made their way for the courtyard, where two royal carriages awaited.

Additionally, a battalion-sized element of cavalry troops escorted the group to "the packed" coliseum, where the nobles, citizens, troops, the Valakanese, the Chao-chu-sha-maen, and the Vispano Knights, were already engaged in celebration—drinking and conversing heartily away.

As soon as the group of friends had arrived at the royalty section, everyone became silenced as two trumpeters blew out a two-toned tune. Ruksha, who had eagerly been waiting to make the announcements, raised his arms out to the crowds.

Once silence reigned, he announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor and privilege to first introduce to you King Cheo of Chao-chu-sha-maen."

Two trumpeters began to blow out a melodious tune.

Immediately everyone in the coliseum bowed, until Cheo had gone to the furthest of four thrones and taken his seat, where Brishava had earlier directed him to go. Once he had sat and the tune had stopped, the crowds rose from their bow.

A few seconds later, Ruksha continued, "Now it is now my honor and privilege to introduce Queen Calitta Dumont of Thorium."

Again, everyone bowed ... and the same trumpeters played another little tune. Calitta curtly took a seat at the nearest of the thrones.

Once the tune had stopped, Ruksha next said, "And now it is my honor and privilege to introduce the rulers of the Sharia Empire—Sultan Baltor Elysian and his wife Sultaness Brishava!"

Everyone in the coliseum bowed deep and low, while the trumpeters blew out the national anthem. The Sultan and Sultaness made their way for their thrones, and once there, sat down.

As soon as the anthem was over, nearly three minutes later, everyone rose from the bowing position.

Two servants next came out from the side area. One servant held in both hands a golden tray that had four golden goblets and a large bottle of wine sitting on it.

Once the other servant had tested the wine with a glass he had brought with him, and a full thirty seconds had passed without sickness or death, the golden goblets were next filled with the wine, and passed to the four royals.

Baltor rose to his feet. He lifted his goblet into the air, and declared, "The one and only toast that I would like to make goes to one of my best friends in the world, a man who valiantly sacrificed his life for the whole world! Without his leadership abilities, we would not have been glorious, and in fact, we might not even be alive. Here is to Ruling-General Humonus!"

"To Ruling-General Humonus," everyone declared emphatically back.

In unison, everyone took a swig of his or her beverage.

Baltor took his seat.

Brishava stood up, and raised her goblet high into the air. She declared, "My toast goes out to all those who valiantly sacrificed his or her life during this war, so that our world's future sees only peace and prosperity. Cheers!"

She took a drink of her goblet, and everyone followed suit—Brishava then took her seat.

Cheo stood up, and raised his goblet high into the air. After setting it down upon the armrest of the throne, he signed something for a couple of minutes.

Once he had retaken his goblet and raised it back into the air, Brishava happily interpreted, "King Cheo says that his toast goes out to the ruler of the Sharia Empire, Sultan Baltor Elysian!

"The king said that he was one of the few people to witness firsthand the destruction of the dragon by our Sultan. And that it was absolutely amazing the way that he leapt off his hawk in midair, landed on the dragon's tail, climbed his way to the top of the head, and stabbed both swords into its eyes, which instantly killed the beast and caused the gnome army to scatter like cowardly ants..."

After sucking in a really deep breath, she added, "If the dragon hadn't been annihilated so quickly, none of us would be alive to make these toasts of celebration! King Cheo concluded his toast by saying, 'To Sultan Baltor Elysian!'"

Cheo took his goblet still held high in the air, brought it to his mouth, and drank—once the goblet was completely empty, he sat back down. A servant ran over to fill his goblet.

"To Sultan Baltor Elysian," everyone but Baltor declared. They took a long drink of their beverage, as well ... draining their glasses completely before slamming them down on their tables.

Baltor, after a short pause, nodded his head humbly, but only took a tiny swig of his own drink.

Calitta next stood to her feet. She raised her goblet high into the air, and said in Pavelian, "I would also like to make a toast—to the continuing peace between the Sharia Empire and the Kingdom of Thorium!"

After taking a deep breath, she added, "The Kingdom of Thorium would also like to personally thank the Sharia Empire, as well the Vispano Knights, as well the Valakanese, and finally the people of Chao-chu-sha-maen, for all the valiant sacrifices you guys made for the world. Thank you all very much. Here, here!"

"Here, here!" Everyone said, just before taking a long swig.

After Calitta had retaken her seat, Baltor then rose to feet, and said, "Let us all enjoy our victory celebration this evening!"

He next clapped his hands twice.

Immediately the musicians began to play the music; the sheik dancers began to dance on the dance floor; the servants began to serve the food and/or drinks; and the guests began to make conversations, friendships and/or alliances.

Nearly an hour after the celebration had started, the musicians and the exotic dancers took a fifteen-minute break...evident by the music and the dancers stopping and bowing.

The guests, who had been thoroughly enjoying themselves watching "the dance of dances," instantly began to robustly applaud and cheer in appreciation.

Once the applause had abated and the people began to converse with each other, nearly a minute later, Chelsea got out of her seat at the main table and began to approach the thrones.

Upon arriving, twenty-or-so seconds later, she immediately bowed. After rising five seconds later, she smiled, and said, "I would like to thank you, my Sultan and Sultaness, for the ceremony and the toast you made for my husband, Humonus! I know that he's smiling down upon us from one of the heavens above... I can feel it."

Returning the smile, Baltor said, "I have no doubt that he is smiling from heaven, Chelsea!"

Brishava added with a wink of her right eye, "You are most welcome, Ambassador Chelsea. Yes, yes he is."

A few seconds later, Calitta looked over at Baltor, cleared her throat that drew everyone in the group's attention, and then she said, "Sultan Baltor, I must be heading home tomorrow, as I have a whole kingdom to run. Would it be possible for you to teleport me back tomorrow night?"

"Of course," Baltor said with a smile and a nod to his head.

Calitta next looked over at Chelsea, whom she saw was currently looking and smiling at Cheo. After she lightly cleared her throat in order to acquire her attention, which worked, Calitta asked, "Ambassador Chelsea, are you coming back with me to Politesse?"

Chelsea answered, "Actually, my Queen and Friend, I've decided to stay here in Pavelus; that is, until I've had my baby. As soon as the baby is ready for travel, I promise you that I will come back and visit."

"Completely understandable," Calitta responded with a nonchalant wave to her hand, though there was a slightly wistful look to her face because she had grown very fond of Chelsea's company.

In order to keep her emotions, tears, and makeup "in check," Calitta's head turned to look away from her friend. She quickly scanned from left to right in the massive coliseum, observing and noting all the clusters of guests, whose numbers totaled more than three hundred thousand people.

She was about to look to her far left, but suddenly her eyes spotted a ten-foot, blond-haired, and really gorgeous man weaving his way through the crowds toward the thrones. Her gaze was locked on him now.

Every few seconds or so, Calitta saw this giant occasionally raise his left hand above the head level of the crowds, which hand possessed a giant-sized mug that was lifted up to his mouth, and tilted back.

Though Calitta's eyes remained locked onto this giant, of whom she found herself getting strangely attracted to, her ears heard Chelsea ask, "Is that okay with you, Queen Calitta?"

After casting her gaze back at Chelsea, Calitta delivered a very warm smile. She then answered loudly so everyone nearby could hear what she had to say, "Your plan sounds splendidly perfect! And just you know, the Kingdom of Thorium certainly appreciates all the valuable assistance you've already provided, Ambassador Chelsea...

"In fact, we are not only very appreciative, yet indebted to the Sharia Empire for the destruction of the millions of dark gnomes and their dragon leader—you, Sultan Baltor Elysian, truly are a hero amongst heroes!"

After delivering a nonchalant wave with his hand, which drew everyone in the group's attention instantly to him, Baltor said, "No, the Kingdom of Thorium is not indebted to us—Queen Calitta. As for being called 'a hero amongst heroes,' thank you very much from the bottom of my heart for the compliment, but I was just honestly doing my duty for order and justice for all! That's all."

Calitta sighed aloud, "You are so humble, Sultan Baltor, and yet at the very same time, so very powerful! I wish we had more men like you on this planet."

Unconsciously, her eyes gazed back to her right. Now she saw that the giant had finally broken through the last of the crowd. It was only then and there that she saw that his right hand was holding the hand of a blonde-haired girl that was only a little over half his size ... perhaps his daughter, Calitta's mind semi-hoped?

As she took a closer gaze at this extremely beautiful girl wearing a semi-revealing, black-and-silver-striped evening dress, Calitta realized that this girl was a full-grown woman—obvious by her athletic bust and body that poked out in all the right areas.

And evident by the way this woman hovered herself upon this giant, nearly thirty seconds later, especially as soon as the pair had stopped in their tracks just before the thrones, Calitta came to disappointingly realize that this woman was at least this giant's girlfriend, or wife.

Coming out of her enamored trance immediately, her ears hear Baltor jubilantly say something in a language she did not understand. She immediately looked over at him, noting that he was speaking to the giant.

Without pause, Baltor used the same exact tone of voice that he had just used, but this time he spoke in Pavelian, "Greetings Yaush and Jimnee! Are you guys having a great time at our victory celebration?"

After delivering a grandiose bow, the giant responded back in Pavelian, though he bore a very strong accent, as well a slightly drunken slur to his words, "Sultan Baltor and Sultaness Brishava! Yesss, Jimnee and I have a great time at the...uh, cerebration!"

Though everyone, too include Baltor, chuckled at Yaush's response, Baltor added, "Yes—great celebration!"

"Yes—great celebration... _**ha ha**_ Great friends... _**ha ha**_ Great ales! _**Ha ha ha ha ha!!!**_ " Yaush said through his own booming and drunken laughter.

Everyone in the group found themselves begin to cheerfully laugh as well, which quickly drew the attention of the surrounding crowds that had just grown silent.

Once Yaush had finally regained a control over his laughter, though there was still a beaming smile upon his face that also beheld reddish-colored eyes, he lifted his giant-sized mug high into the air toward Baltor.

In response, Baltor's left hand reached out for the full goblet of wine that had been resting on his own throne's conveniently located drink holder—once he firmly held the goblet, he raised it up.

In response, everyone—humans and giants—those that still had drinks in his or her glass or mug raised them high as well—those who didn't have anything in their cup hurriedly filled them up with wines or ales.

Fifteen seconds later, Yaush loudly toasted in Pavelian, "Here's to Valakan and the Sharia Empire—great friends and...uh...all—" Instantly he looked at his wife.

She finished, "Allies..."

After looking all around for a few seconds, Yaush finished his toast, "Yes—great friends and allies!" He next tilted the half-filled mug of ale toward his mouth, and killed the rest of his drink.

In response, Baltor said with chipper, "Here—here!" He then chugged the entire contents from his goblet—everyone else, but Brishava, followed suit. She only took a small sip of her red wine, as she was already feeling buzzed.

Once this toast was complete, Jimnee raised her mug high into the air, and added with a smile in Pavelian, "And we can't forget to mention the really delicious Pavelian foods!"

Returning the smile, Brishava raised her own goblet and replied, "Thank you, Jimnee. Our home is your home. Have whatever you want—eat whatever you want."

The smile upon Jimnee's face disappeared, just before she informed seriously, "My husband and I've already talked things over with our Valakanese comrades. We have all decided that we would like the city of Valakan to begin trade with the Sharia Empire, as soon as possible! After all, we have many things that would interest you, as you have many things that interest us. Is this okay?"

Brishava enthusiastically replied, "Of course!"

Yaush said something in Valakanese to Jimnee.

Even though Baltor and Brishava had been nodding their heads affirmatively and heartily, Jimnee still interpreted, "Yaush also said that he and his buddies have already begun the process of transforming the dragon's head into a wall-mounted plaque. He said it'll take several more weeks of time to complete it, especially how big it is, but once they're done, we'll all need to head back home...okay? So far, they have had to keep Baltor's swords in them, otherwise it starts to grow back."

In Valakanese, Baltor answered with a nonchalant wave of the hand, "No problem. I can teleport you guys back home whenever you're ready, and we can handsomely pay for the taxidermist services."

With a wave of his mug-holding hand, Yaush said in Pavelian, "Ah, it gift...from us to you...my friend! After all, you—all of you—saved our nation of Valakan. Thank you!"

"And thank you," Baltor responded back in the same language. A few in the group responded similarly, but most nodded their heads and smiled.

A few seconds later, Jimnee delivered a quick bow just before she said, "If you'll please excuse my husband and myself, we need to talk privately to my brother-in-law, Barquoth. It's literally been a decade since these two brothers have last talked!"

Surprisingly, Baltor rose out of his throne, walked over to Jimnee, and gave her a hug. While in the tight embrace, he said, "By the way, before you two go, I must compliment you on how well how well you speak Pavelian, Jimnee!"

"Thank you, Sultan Baltor Elysian," Jimnee answered with a very proud smile. "Your wife is a great teacher...no matter what it is she teaches."

Baltor gave Jimnee a quick kiss on the left cheek, just before he released the embrace, and then turned to face Yaush. Both friends clasped each other warmly, though Yaush was careful not to crush his little friend.

During this lengthy hug that turned even lengthier, as the rest of this group couldn't help but join in the hug, it had become as solid as a small mountain. Even though the remainder of the population would have gladly joined in, none did because they could clearly sense that this was an "exclusive group hug."

Once this mountain had finally broken up into individual rocks, about a minute later, the men began to exchange back, shoulder, arm, and even hand clasps with each other, while the women exchanged hugs and/or kisses with both genders.

Nearly a minute later, Yaush and Jimnee delivered one final farewell wave of the hand to the group, and then they walked over to Barquoth's location in the coliseum, which was at the far left side, where sat, stood, ate, or drank most of the Vispano Knights.

Once these three—Yaush, Jimnee, and Barquoth—had finally reacquainted themselves, about ten minutes after having left the throne area, they filled up their mugs with ale, before exiting the coliseum and stepping out into the desert.

While gazing up at the thousands of stars in the night sky, as only one quarter moon was present, the three talked well through the night. As for everyone else, much more drinking and celebrating transpired until well after sunrise.

Baltor and Brishava departed, making their merry way back to the palace, at two in the morning, by route of one of the royal carriages.

Back in their royal bedroom, the two had their own "private victory celebration" that lasted until dawn's first light.

## CHAPTER XXI

Only minutes before sunrise, Baltor was only now lying comfortably in bed, for the very first time that night. Even though he had stuffed quite a few soft pillows under his back and head for support, he still used his hands to clasp and support the back of his head even further, so that he could better look down at his wife. Equally silent and comfortable, Brishava's head continued to lie on top of his belly, as her eyes deeply stared into his.

That is, until she could no longer hold herself back as she squealed aloud, "I love you so much, baby doll! You have no idea on how bad I missed you while you were gone, and now, you're back, and I'm so, so, so happy! Make sure you dream of me after you fall asleep."

"I love you too, my Breeze! And I wi—"

At that moment, his eyes instantly closed, while his hands, arms, body, neck, and head slowly dropped onto the pillows—already he was deep in slumber, as the sun had just risen.

For about the next twenty minutes or so, she contentedly stayed where she was without looking away for even a second. Once this timeframe had passed, however, she sat up in bed.

She next reached for the silky bathrobe that had been earlier tossed to the far end of the bed, donned it, and then slipped both feet into her pair of plush slippers resting upon the marble floor.

After she had risen to her feet, she pulled the silky bed sheets all the way up his neckline, and then she began to walk toward the double doors. Only once she had begun to near this entryway did she call out, "Guards, open the doors for me. Thank you."

Simultaneously, the exterior guards opened their respective doors, and then they—one male and one female—bowed their heads for a second; once their heads had risen, they observed that their Sultaness had already exited the room, and so each closed their door. There were four additional guards standing in the hallway.

Once Brishava had reached the very middle of the hallway, she crisply turned to the right, and continued to walk down the hallway to her personal dressing room, along with her entourage.

Two rooms to the left, which took about a minute of walking, she stood in front of the closed double doors that led into this room, which had another pair of guards, so she crisply turned left, and walked toward the entryway.

Five seconds later, after the palace guards stationed here had opened these double doors and bowed, she entered alone—once inside the room, those same two guards closed the doors.

Inside this bathing/dressing room made entirely of black and white marble and bearing the dimensions of thirty-foot length by fifty-foot width by twenty-five-foot height, there was a ten-foot squared bathing pool in the room's center, which heated waters continuously pushed out steam.

Hanging on the wall on the far side of the pool was a large, ovular-shaped mirror. To her left, there was an entryway that was large enough for a large portable closet on wheels to traverse through, and which entrance led into another smaller room filled with tons of her boots and shoes, outfits and dresses, hats, scarves, jewelry—what she referred to as her "royal goodies."

To her right, there stood not only a large portable closet on wheels, yet her six handmaidens currently in a bowing position, ready to perform all their morning missions—lotion, dress, groom, apply her make-up, and finally, don the crown upon their Sultaness.

Because of Brishava's earlier-delivered requests to her handmaidens the night before, these handmaidens had already selected very comfortable, yet snazzy, traveling attire: a pair of silvery boots, golden breeches, and a silvery shirt that was partially concealed by a silky cape with gold-and-silver stripes.

Once the handmaidens had completed with this mission, an hour later, the lead girl that had jet-black hair and dark-brown eyes said, "We believe that we are done, my Sultaness. What do you think?"

Brishava, who continued to gaze at herself for yet another minute, especially at her hair to ensure that there were no loose or chaotic strands in her pulled-back-above-the-crown ponytail, finally said with a chipper smile, "Wonderful, Lara!"

Lara responded, "Thank you, my Sultaness."

"Thank you very much, girls—perfect as always!"

"Thank you, my Sultaness," all the handmaidens responded back.

A few seconds later, Brishava's smile slowly faded as she began to brief, "Tonight at seven o'clock, I shall be back here and ready to be prepared for bed, as I didn't get any sleep at all last night."

Even though she didn't intend to pause at this point in her briefing, the handmaidens interrupted by giggling like little girls—in turn, Brishava began to giggle back as her mind began to reminisce, but only for a few seconds.

Once those seconds had passed, Brishava lightly cleared her throat, in order to regain a control of both her laughter and mind, just before she concluded this conversation by asking, "Please have my favorite set of black silky pajamas ready for me tonight?"

Even though three of the six handmaidens were still occasionally giggling, the other three that were more serious and mature immediately responded, "Yes, my Sultaness."

Not even a second later, the older three crisply looked over at the younger three to calm their laughter and to respond—those younger three said almost at the same time, "Yes, my Sultaness."

Still smiling, Brishava performed a ninety-degree pivot to the left, saying with a final smile, "That will be all, girls—have a lovely day!"

"Yes, my Sultaness," they all said, just before they bowed.

Brishava walked the straight line toward the door. Ten seconds before her arrival, she called out, "Guards, please open the doors."

A second later, the exterior guards opened them simultaneously, and then they bowed—the same four guards stood nearby.

After Brishava had exited the room, the door was closed. Once she had reached the middle of the hallway, she pivoted ninety-degrees to the left—the two guards at the door closed them and the other four guards followed her as she made her way to the royal dining hall.

Nearly a minute and a half later, once the group had all arrived at this set of double doors, the pair of exterior guards stationed there opened them simultaneously, and then they bowed as their Sultaness passed.

Brishava alone entered the royal dining hall, and the doors were closed right behind her. Already had her eyes observed and noted that besides the two-posted interior guards, which had risen from their bowing position, there were seven other occupants.

Currently, everyone was happily socializing with each other over at the couches—Calitta, Cheo, Chelsea, Travail, Barquoth, Yaush, and Jimnee.

"Good morning, my friends," Brishava greeted to everyone with a very chipper tone as she lightly clapped her hands together one time.

In turn, half of the group replied back with an equally-chipper "good morning," while the other half respectfully added the two words to either the front, or the back, of his or her reply, "my Sultaness."

Still looking all around, Brishava asked with a laugh, "Anyone suffering from a hangover from too much alcohol at last night's celebration?"

Most in the group shook their head negatively—after Jimnee had interpreted to Yaush, he raised his hand high into the air.

Brishava replied with another light laugh, "Me too, Yaush. Ready to eat guys? Saho mao yar?"

Everyone nodded affirmatively, especially Yaush.

After eating a delicious, intercontinental breakfast that was cooked up by a team of expert chefs, Brishava spent just about the entire day giving "the extended tour" of Pavelus to her friends.

They traveled via two horse-drawn royal carriages with a driver and a rider, as well a company-sized element of guards all riding horseback—half rode in front and the other half rode behind the carriages. Even though Chelsea and Jimnee had long ago been given the tour, they were more than happy to come along for the ride and enjoy the many sites a second time.

Of course, everyone was delighted and amazed to see everything that they did with twelve scheduled stops along the way, including an hour lunch at a five-star restaurant—stops containing historic statues, monuments, museums, and buildings dating back seven centuries, per Brishava who delivered the city's presentation like a "professional tour guide."

A little after six p.m., they arrived back in the palace courtyard—after everyone had exited the carriages, and stood around in a loose group, Brishava asked everyone in both of languages, "So, what do you all think of Pavelus? Did I do a good job in cleaning up and helping the poor neighborhoods, especially the ones around the docks?"

A wide range of very positive responses came flooding back from everyone, ranging from the words "amazing" to "spectacular!"

"Thank you so much," Brishava said with a proud smile. After cocking her head toward the palace, she suggested, "Well, guys... Want to play some board games in the recreation room until it's dinnertime?"

After Jimnee had interpreted to Yaush, everyone answered affirmatively—that is what they did for the next couple of hours, having "a good ole time."

That evening, after the sun had set, Baltor woke up from sleep. Upon opening his eyes, he saw that there was a note resting upon his chest.

After picking up the note, he read:

' _Good evening, Baltor, my love of loves!_

Dinner with Queen Calitta, King Cheo, Ambassador Chelsea, Ruling-General Stormea, Commanding-Knight Travail, all our Commanding-Generals, even Commander Barquoth, Yaush, and Jimnee will be at nine p.m. in the royal dining hall.

_Love you, Brishava_.'

Baltor got out of bed, standing to his feet. He then walked into the pool, bathed, dried himself off, put on his drawers, and then commanded, "Assistants."

The six assistants entered from the walk-in closet; the last two pushed the portable closet on wheels. Once they arrived, they bowed, and then opened the closet.

They dressed him into his royal attire of the day—consisting of a red, furled long-sleeve shirt that had thick silver thread embroidered along all the seams, a pair of black breeches, and a pair of shiny black-and-red-striped boots.

Once dressed, the assistants manicured Baltor's fingernails, and then they put on his pinky rings and royal emblem ring. Upon completion of these tasks, they next combed his hair and put it into a ponytail with his favorite gold hoop holding it together, put on a little eyeliner around his eyes, and put his crown upon his head.

Upon completion of these tasks, they performed one final check to make sure everything about their Sultan looked "perfect," and as they found this to be the case, they bowed—the lead assistant immediately asked, "Well, my Sultan?"

"Excellent as always. Thank you, gentlemen. See you tonight after the festivities are over."

"Thank you, my Sultan," they said before they rose from their bow and left the room.

For a few minutes longer, Baltor gazed at himself before he headed for the exit while calling out, "Guards—open the doors."

They did—with the four guards posted outside in tow, he and they made their way to the dining hall; and once there, the two guards posted there opened the doors and bowed. Baltor entered.

Comfortably sitting round this large round mahogany table, already set for dinner, were all of his guests, as well his wife.

As Baltor drew near the table, he gestured with his hands for them to remain seated, while greeting with a very warm smile, "Good evening to you all!" He then repeated his statement in Valakanese.

"Good evening, Sultan Baltor," all greeted back with warm smiles upon their faces.

As soon as Baltor had taken his seat and clapped his hands twice, dozens of servants immediately came into the room, each bearing a large tray of food or drinks. They then began the process of politely offering whatever they possessed to each of the guests. The guests, in turn, took what he or she wanted.

Soon after the course of eating dinner had begun, Calitta began, "Sultan Baltor, I must say that I have thoroughly enjoyed myself today, as Sultaness Brishava gave me such a wonderful tour of your beautiful city!"

Baltor replied with an appreciative nod and smile, "Thank you very much, Queen Calitta. You know that you are most welcome to come back anytime!"

"I would love to stay longer," Calitta sang, "but I have much business at home that needs tending to. Though I am a queen, and our country is now at peace thanks to you all, it's that time of the month when bills have to be paid."

"I see," Baltor said thoughtfully. "Well if you ever need the Sharia Empire's help with anything, feel free to ask."

"Again, thank you, Sultan Baltor," Calitta said with a very pleased smile upon her face. She then picked her fork up off the table with her left hand, poked it into another piece of lemon-peppery seasoned shark filet on her plate, and took another delicious bite.

"You are most welcome, Queen Calitta," Baltor replied with a very sincere nod to his head. Still holding his fork, he plucked it into a piece of melon on his plate, which had been seasoned with his red spice, and used his teeth to slide off the piece off the fork and into his mouth. _Delicious!_

For most of dinner, everyone continued to eat in silence—until about ten minutes later, Travail finally set his fork on his plate as he could eat no more, swallowed the last of the spicy rice still in his mouth, and then said, "Sultan Baltor, I have an important question. What is your plan for the Vispano Forces?"

Looking right over, Baltor answered, "I will be sending you guys back home within the next several days. However, I would like at least a company-sized element of the Vispano Knights to volunteer to come back with me right away, so that we can start a new branch here in Pavelus. I really like your 'knightly code' of honor and ethics, just so you know."

"That is a most excellent idea, my Sultan!" Travail replied with a surprised-yet-appreciative nod. After all, now their Order would be spreading to another major city, something he had not considered as a possibility.

"Thank you, Senior-Commanding Knight Travail," Baltor said right away. "Additionally, I am going to need a new governor to assist me with ruling Parthway, and other governors to rule all the other major cities within the Vispano Province."

"Do you have anyone in mind, my Sultan?" Travail asked.

"As for Parthway, yes I do—you," Baltor answered. "As for governors to rule the second and third major cities, Sultaness Brishava and I have pre-selected Commanding-Knight Valiante and Commander Barquoth. Her other cousins will govern the lesser cities. Basically, we want people that we implicitly trust."

"Very good, my Sultan and Sultaness."

Baltor continued, "Tomorrow, we shall teleport for Parthway. This of course includes all the Knights and our cousins. We shall then have an official ceremony to inaugurate my wife and I as the imperial rulers of the Vispano Province, yet in the very same ceremony—all the other governors."

As he was giving his explanation, servants came in bringing trays filled with desserts. They began the process of circling around the table, and offering their particular dessert to each of the guests.

Meanwhile, Travail nodded his head, and said, "As you wish, my Sultan."

Upon completion of dessert, as well a ton of pleasant conversation that lasted for many more hours to come until midnight, the fond farewells for the night were finally exchanged. Only minutes later, the queen's servants and soldiers entered the room, and prepared to go back to their home.

After the last of the farewells had been concluded, nearly ten minutes later, Baltor drew the rune into the air, opened the portal, and gestured for Calitta, and her entourage of servants and guards to go through first—they did. Baltor followed behind, but he did not close the portal on the other side.

Once again they were in Chelsea's old room in Calitta's palace. It was then and there that Baltor delivered his quick farewell to the queen, which included a light hug, before he walked back through the portal.

After the portal had shut, Baltor excused himself from his group of friends still standing near the door and talking—Brishava revealed that she would be joining her husband in about an hour's time.

With his entourage of guards, Baltor headed back to his bedroom—once alone inside, he sat at his desk, and began the process of drawing a valiant-looking image upon paper of Humonus.

An hour after he had begun, Brishava joined him in the bedroom, but watched in silence as he continuously drew. Two hours later, not only had he completed the sketch, yet also the listed instructions and materials needed to build the statue, especially five tons of bronze—once all was said and done, he asked, "So...what do you think, love?"

"I love it! I really do!"

"Thanks," Baltor said with a satisfied smile of his own. "Me too, Babes."

She planted a firm kiss on his cheek.

"Guards," he called out a second later, while rolling it all up and putting it in a scroll case.

The doors opened and in walked two male guards—the leader said, "Yes, my Sultan?"

"Please put this in Jamar's work bin for me."

"Yes, my Sultan," that guard replied—after he had taken it, he and his fellow soldier bowed, exited the room, closed the doors, and then he put the scroll case where it belonged, which bin was located near the staircase.

Only seconds later, just as Baltor and his wife were about to start kissing at the desk, a knocking could be heard on the door.

"Enter," Brishava said.

The guards opened the door, and Lara entered.

"Yes?" Brishava asked.

"My Sultaness? I'm sorry to bother you. The girls and I were waiting for you at seven tonight, as you ordered. It is all right that you did not show, but are you now ready to get the make-up off your face and settled for the night? Also, the Sultan's assistants have said they are ready for him whenever he is ready."

"Yes, I am ready, Lara," Brishava answered. Looking over at her husband, she added, "I'll be back soon, honey."

"Okay, love," Baltor said, right after he had given her a kiss on the cheek.

Only seconds after Brishava had exited the room with Lara, the male assistants came in, and helped their leader out of his wardrobe and into his pajamas. Nearly thirty minutes later, they completed their tasks, so they bowed and left.

Baltor picked up a book on sleight-of-hand magic tricks, and began to read. Nearly an hour later, Brishava returned, and some hanky-panky went on...

The following morning, after breakfast was served in their bedroom, the two slept together the whole day. Shortly after a lovely dinner that night spent with all their friends, Baltor, Brishava, Travail, Barquoth, and Brishava's three cousins, headed by the royal carriages to the coliseum—the Vispano Knights followed behind.

There, Travail called for formation, and they assembled.

After Baltor had pondered Valiante's position on the world-map inside his head, and getting an innate answer that he was outside inspecting the exterior walls of Parthway, as well getting a rune, Baltor drew it into the air with his left index finger.

Immediately after the portal opened, he ordered the Vispano Knights to travel through it, with Travail and Brishava in the very lead.

Once Baltor had traveled through, the portal disappeared—by the time he was on the other side, everything was already cleared up with the initially alarmed knights in Parthway.

That night the intricate transfer-of-power ritual was carried out. Baltor and Brishava became the Vispano Province's rulers, and all the promoted-governors promised to continuously serve the Sharia Empire.

Upon completion, as well the following victory celebration, Baltor and Brishava then decided to stay in Parthway for two weeks before returning home with a company-sized element of Vispano Knights, who enthusiastically volunteered to start a branch in Pavelus.

Two weeks after Baltor and Brishava's return, Yaush and his buddies revealed that they had finally finished creating a wall-mounted plaque out of the dragon's head—the head was already mounted on the wall directly behind the thrones in the throne room. So far, they happily reported, the skull of the dragon never regenerated again.

It was in the throne room that Yaush gave Baltor's swords back to him—of course, both Baltor and Brishava were quite impressed by the outstanding work.

After many more fond farewells became exchanged, Baltor teleported Yaush, Jimnee, and the remainder of the Valakanese back to their home. Once there, he and his wife stayed in Valakan for an additional two weeks, before going back home.

The very day after their return to Pavelus, Jamar revealed the information to the Sultan and the Sultaness that the fifty-foot-tall bronze statue of Humonus was finished in the Town Square; ready to be unveiled two hours after sunset. Following the unveiling, there would be a small commemoration party.

On this day, Baltor and Brishava went to bed and slept together. That evening, while eating dinner in the royal dining hall by themselves, the guards opened up the door, and in walked Darius and Traes.

Both men had a very proud smile on his face. Darius began, "Guess what, my Sultan and Sultaness?"

Traes continued, "Leshava has just produced seven eggs!"

Darius added, "We should expect the hatchlings in twenty-eight to thirty-five days!"

"Most excellent news," Brishava exclaimed happily. "Are either of you gentlemen hungry? There's still plenty to eat."

"Sure," both Darius and Traes answered. With that, servants brought in two more chairs, and together, they all shared a very nice dinner.

For the next month or so to pass, both Baltor and Brishava remained unbelievably busy with domestic and foreign affairs in their empire—still, despite these hectic times, she soon after began to notice that Cheo and Chelsea were hanging out with each other more and more often.

Of course, Brishava privately mentioned this trivia to Baltor in their bedroom, but Baltor nonchalantly replied that very few people, other than the remaining Chao-chu-sha-maen villagers living in one single lavish home in Pavelus, knew the sign language. Each villager had been offered his or her own place, but they preferred to live together.

Three non-exciting weeks later, Chelsea finally began to experience labor pains during dinner she shared just with Brishava—Baltor, Cheo, and Cheo's people were out on the town.

After a messenger was sent to retrieve at least Baltor and Cheo, Brishava and her handmaidens assisted with Chelsea in delivering the baby in Chelsea's bedroom.

Once the two men had returned, as well all the other villagers, they all excitedly waited in the hallway.

It was then that Baltor turned to his friend and asked with a little smile, "I'm just curious, but is something going on between you and Chelsea?"

With a slightly strange look upon his face, Cheo signed, "What do you mean?"

Baltor answered, "Well, Brishava mentioned to me several weeks ago that the two of you were hanging out more and more often, yet only now am I really curious if there is something going on between the two of you."

"Well, she and I like each other very much, but there's been no talk of a romantic relationship, if that's what you mean," Cheo answered with an innocent smile.

"I see," Baltor said. He said nothing more about it.

Instead, "casual conversation" occurred between the large group of friends...until, about two hours later, the sounds of a baby crying erupted in the bedroom.

A moment later, the interior guards opened the doors, and Brishava called from within, "Come on in guys—it's a beautiful baby boy!"

As Baltor and Cheo excitedly ran into the room, as well everyone else, they heard Brishava ask, "What are you going to name him?"

Though Chelsea looked extremely exhausted, she breathed out, "Humonus Jr..."

Right away, more servants came in bearing cigars—but anyone that wanted to smoke had to go back out in the hallway, per the handmaidens' orders.

A month later, during the course of dinner, which Baltor and Brishava shared with Cheo and Chelsea, the latter two delivered the "official word" that they were now engaged to be married in a year's time. Of course, the first two offered their support and blessings, Brishava even offering to help pay for all the expensive wedding costs.

And so, after a hectic-but-successful-year for the empire, Chelsea and Cheo became married. Right away they departed on their honeymoon to a secluded cabin in the mountains of Thorium. Though Humonus Jr. remained behind in Pavelus, he was always under the protective and loving care of Baltor or Brishava.

After the newlyweds had returned from the honeymoon two months later, Baltor teleported them, Humonus Jr., the masons, the soldiers, and the remainder of the tribe back home, but this time much closer to the eastern sea called Prolusina.

Two weeks later, Baltor and Brishava returned for home...

## CHAPTER XXII

Nearly a decade passed, and peace and prosperity continued to prevail throughout the lands of the Sharia Empire, spreading from one side of the continent to the other. Only a few other small-to-midsized countries remained on this continent.

Throughout all these years, Baltor and/or Brishava, teleported often to all of their cities, and most especially to Chao-chu-sha-maen, which was fast becoming a successful trade city that had fortifications similar to Mauritia—portable thirty-foot-tall blocks of stone that surrounded the inland city shaped like a circle.

To date, there were more than six thousand people who had immigrated there from other cities, lands, and continents, and became citizens.

Moreover, only six months prior, Chelsea and Cheo just had their own first child—a baby girl named Rhea. Her half-brother, Humonus Jr., was ten years old and remarkably looked and acted just like his father. Baltor, of course, promised Jr. that when the boy turned twelve, he would teach the martial arts he had learned from Jr.'s father.

Additionally, by this time, Yaush and Jimnee had two boys of their own—their oldest boy named Thar was eight years old, and he had blonde hair and blue eyes. The younger boy's name was Rex—he was six years old with flaming-red hair.

Yet, despite all the progress in the Sharia Empire, problems slowly began to develop between Baltor and Brishava—mainly because she hadn't gotten pregnant, despite all their best efforts that happened almost every day.

Brishava was increasingly becoming distraught over this fact, though she always bit her tongue and never spoke about what was really bothering her—she really-really wanted her own child and an heir to the throne. Most likely because of this, Brishava was increasingly becoming upset about the way that Baltor just "casually ruled."

After all, Brishava was all about dotting the "i" and crossing the "t" with absolutely everything, while Baltor didn't seem very concerned with politics at all anymore.

On the contrary, he preferred to spend his focus and time upon the training and the progress of the army—regular, shadow forces, and knights—or reading all the books he could find upon the subject of magic, which information nearly always proved false.

Baltor had, only two years earlier, developed two dozen permanent magical teleportation mirrors, which was what allowed them all to instantly teleport supplies, troops, and/or themselves between their cities.

Teleportation mirrors had also been distributed out not only between all their cities, yet between all friendly nations, including the Kingdom of Thorium and Valakan.

One particular night just after sunset, Baltor awoke to see Brishava sitting at the edge of the bed—the look on her face clearly revealed that she was pissed.

With a concerned look in his eyes, Baltor sat up in bed while asking, "What's the matter, honey?"

Brishava cast "the look" over to Baltor, before asking, "You want to know what the matter is? You didn't write that new trading contract I asked you to do yesterday, did you? "

Baltor nonchalantly replied with a shrug of his shoulders, "No—I got tied up with the army all night long, honey. I'll do it tonight!"

"I figured as I looked around for it everywhere, but couldn't find it anywhere. I need it in an hour! At that time, merchants from all over the world will be assembled in the throne room, and they will need to not only to listen to our proposed tax law, but to sign upon the official document if they want to do business in the Sharia Empire!" Brishava exclaimed.

"If it's so important, why didn't you do it today?" Baltor asked.

"Because..." Brishava seethed out angrily, "like I told you yesterday, I had to tend to political diplomacies all day long today with the Ambassador to Larius to ensure the peace between our two countries! That is why I asked you to do it for me."

Baltor casually said, "Fine—I'll start right now."

"Even if you start now, you're not going to be able to have it looking official and proper by the time they arrive," Brishava snapped.

For the first time in a very long time, Baltor's face contorted angrily. Pointing a finger menacingly at Brishava, he was about to say something nasty, but changed his mind.

Instead, he got out of bed, and sighed, "Get me Jamar—he'll help me make the contract, and make it look official and proper by the time they arrive, okay, Hun?"

"Fine—but from here on out, when I ask you to do something and you agree to it, you better do it! After all, what kind of a Sultan will you look like to our people if you can't produce your words?" Brishava asked.

Baltor's face once again contorted to that of anger—this time he did not hold back as he yelled, "What the hell does this have to do with our people? This matter is between me and you!"

After Brishava had stood up, she exclaimed, "Everything—you and I are the figureheads to the Sharia Empire! When you and I don't have effective communication, the Empire does not have effective communication!"

Baltor yelled, "Just get me Jamar and shut the hell up!"

Angrily, Brishava stormed out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Jamar arrived in the room with parchment. He immediately noticed that Baltor was still in his sleeping robes, and still looking quite upset—just like his Sultaness had only minutes earlier.

After nervously clearing his throat, Jamar sat at the desk, picked up a feather pen, dipped it into the ink, cleared his throat yet again, and then asked, "Are you ready, my Sultan?"

"Yes. Okay, write this," Baltor said, just before he spoke the edict—Jamar wrote it. Fifty minutes later, after Jamar read it aloud, the edict was finished.

Baltor then ordered, "Jamar, the Sultaness should now be in the throne room with the merchants. Please deliver the edict to her. As you can clearly see, I'm not dressed for the occasion."

After delivering a low bow, Jamar said, "Yes, my Sultan." He then exited the room.

Baltor took a nice bath, dried off, dressed into his undergarments, and then called out, "Assistants, dress me in my battle attire."

The servants came in, and did so.

Once completed, and the assistants had left, Baltor donned the black cape, moved the drapes to the side, nodded to the two guards posted on the balcony, hopped off, stealthily departed the palace grounds while climbing over the eighty-foot high wall, and headed over to the Shadow Forces Guild. For most of the night, he oversaw training.

Arriving back at the palace approximately a half hour before sunrise, he stealthily arrived back into his royal bedroom, squeezed between the very thick curtain and the wall, and observed that Brishava was sleeping in bed. After he had released the straps holding his armor in place, he quietly set the armor onto the floor, walked over to bed, climbed in, and went straight to sleep.

The next day, just nearing two in the afternoon, Baltor had been blissfully sleeping away in his royal bedchambers, as usual; that is, until _something_ forced him to wake up, though he did not know what that _something_ was. In fact, this was the very first time he had woken up before sunset...ever since having become a vompareus.

Because it was daytime, he felt much weaker than normal. Still, as he always relied more upon his skill, speed, and dexterity than upon any power, he tiptoed to the part of the wall where he knew his swords were stored in their sheaths during his sleeping hours.

After drawing the swords, his body set itself into a position of defense, while his mind attempted to ascertain what his instincts had just set into motion.

From somewhere within the pitch-black chamber, a voice whispered only a second later, "My, you are as quick as they say—though a little too slow. I could have killed you already."

Baltor immediately twisted his body around, until he and his swords faced the direction where the voice generated.

It was only then that he realized that what had awoken him from slumber was a slight stinging sensation across his neck—though he no longer felt any pain at all.

'Was I cut?' Baltor thought to himself with a bit of shock, as he cautiously checked his throat with the back of his sword-bearing fist.

Even though there was no longer any evidence of blood or pain, he still wondered for a moment if this unscheduled visitor had actually cut his throat.

Before the next moment had even passed, Baltor realized that he or she must not only be very good to have been able to slip past all the defenses of the guarded palace, perhaps even the guards posted outside on the balcony, but extremely good to have been able to slip past his own personal defenses.

He therefore decided, as the palace guards couldn't stop her, he would handle the matter himself, and so he rose to his feet standing in his bed.

In order to learn the current position of his visitor's whereabouts from where he was, he growled in a low tone of voice, "Who are you?"

From across the room, a woman's voice quietly spoke, "Doesn't much matter who I am. But I will say that I came to kill you, my Sultan, which I could have already done."

Without so much as a sound, Baltor had already drawn close to the spot where he believed the voice had last been.

Using ventriloquism that he had learned from Cheo, Baltor cast his voice back to the approximate location of his bed. He asked, "Would you please give me one good reason why I should not alert my guards to your presence, and have you immediately sentenced to death for the plot to assassinate your Sultan?"

From a completely different location from somewhere far off to his left, the woman answered, "Because they will find two assassins in here—not one."

Despite the fact that Baltor realized that he would never be able to find this woman in the dark with her short answers, he decided to continue casting his voice into other parts of the room, so she wouldn't know his whereabouts.

That is, he thought, unless he could goad her into a lengthy explanation, or maybe even get close enough to take her out in this cat-and-mouse game. Doing just that, he asked, "So you're with someone else?"

About fifteen seconds later, from somewhere behind him, the woman answered, "Yeah... Within this room are the two best assassins in the land, actually. Me and you!"

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Baltor accidentally asked from his current whereabouts.

The woman answered, "There is a very good reason I did not make the final cut into the first orphaned boy in history to become a master thief _and_ an authentic Sultan—even though my dagger is still quite warm from the blood that now tarnishes its steely surface! Something inside of me stopped me."

Baltor could have made the "final cut" after she had uttered the word "orphaned," but his curiosity stayed his hand. Throwing his voice into a different location, he asked, "So you've been sent by a remnant of the Thieves' Guild to assassinate me, eh?"

She answered, "Yes. However, there's much more to it than just that—I am, in fact, the Secret Chief to the Thieves' Guild of Pavelus. Yes, I have been watching you for decades, though I have never before seen you in this light, until today..."

After clearing her throat, she asked, "Will you allow me to light a candle so that you can see my face? I promise that the light will be nowhere near to your position, but it is very crucial that you see me as I give you the full explanation with proof, my Sultan."

"You better have proof, or I will finish you off myself," Baltor promised from his new location.

"If you're not satisfied with my proof, then I will allow you to plunge your swords into me, my Sultan," the woman countered evenly.

"Go ahead," Baltor said.

A few seconds later, his eyes observed as this woman lit a candle several inches below her neck, revealing a young face that not only was very soft and beautiful with gorgeous green eyes—surrounded by soft, brown hair that was long and curly. He would have remembered this stunning woman had he seen her before.

A few more seconds passed before she explained, "Baltor, I have been very wary of you ever since the day that you returned from your quest for the Guild—more than fifteen years ago!

"Yes, I was there in an adjacent room to the throne room watching you through a tiny peephole. I listened as you not only revealed a fractional portion of information regarding your journey to find the rod, which you said did not exist, but your 'noble intention' to assassinate Sultan Brishavus Helenus and free the people of Pavelus from tyranny."

She asked, "Yet instead of you fulfilling your intentions, what do you do after arriving at the palace? You end up stealing his very own beloved daughter, the very heiress to the Sharia Empire! And where do you two lovebirds go first?"

Answering her own question, she said, "Directly violating the oaths that you swore to upon entry into the Guild when you were a wee lad, you bring the princess back to my headquarters. With of course the assistance of Mistress Lydia, who was very confused about the situation and most especially did not know that the woman you brought with you was the princess, she still helped you hide away in one of my underground tunnels."

Even though the woman had delivered a lengthy pause that lasted about twenty seconds, Baltor remained silent as he could tell by her facial expression that she had much more to say ... she did.

After taking a deep breath through her nose, she added, "While the two of you slept throughout the day, word rapidly spread throughout the entire city of Pavelus that 'the princess had been kidnapped,' and that there was a 'five million parsec reward' for her safe return!"

She purposefully cleared her throat twice, before stating, "Early the next evening, the High Council convened. It wasn't hard for us to add one plus one, figuring out that you were the one who stole her. We immediately informed Mistress Lydia that she needed to go retrieve the two of you, along with six escort thieves in case you were unwilling to come along, so that you could explain yourself to us—they did...

"But, instead of abiding by our summons, what do you do, Baltor?"

Without waiting for an answer from Baltor, she answered for him, "Not only do you kill a Ruling-Mistress, yet kill three more of my thieves, shortly before you accomplished your miraculous escape with the princess!

"I kid you not—hundreds of Guild members and I spent years and money trying to track you down. We even combed several times through the Galgaa Jungles, but found no traces of you or human civilization! A few dozen of my thieves died ... from quicksand, or lions, or mosquito bites, or ants, or crocodiles, etc.

"And while we're all off in another continent searching for you, you and the princess return to Pavelus, but instead of patiently waiting for your turn to rule like every other good princess and prince, during the first family reunion, the princess murders her own father."

Baltor's mouth slightly dropped open in shock that this woman was aware of that most-top-secret truth.

Finally, the woman continued with a smug smile on her face, "And only several days later, without even so much as a funeral for the dead Sultan, you two inherit the empire—very impressive for an orphaned thief!"

Baltor could tell that this woman still had more to say, so he remained silent.

About three seconds later, the woman continued, "I must admit, however, that I was even more impressed that you didn't immediately send your troops to the Thieves' Guild, and try to annihilate us all! Instead what do you do?"

Answering her own question yet again, the woman continued, "You go alone without Humonus, beat nine of my thieves in combat without killing a single one by your own hands, and ultimately manage to convert my entire Guild to your own Special Forces Guild—most impressive."

A few moments later, Baltor finally responded, "So, the reason why you waited more than a decade to assassinate me was because I stole your Guild?"

The woman chuckled out her nose before answering, "No, that's not the reason, because I kind of like what you did, even though I lost a lost millions and millions of parsecs in the process. First allow me to tell you the reasons I was going to assassinate you, before I tell you the reason I changed my mind in the end."

Baltor said, "Okay."

"My name is Maline. Even though I only look eighteen years old, I am actually six hundred and thirty-two years old. I have recently begun to wonder if I may be an immortal, as I have never aged a day since my eighteenth birthday."

Baltor looked on with disbelief, but he remained silent.

After a five-second pause, Maline continued, "The first four years of my life were spent with my parents. I still have relatively strong images of what they looked like, both young and attractive, that they loved me very much, and that things were vastly different than the way things are here on this world."

Baltor remained silent.

Maline took a deep breath of air through her mouth, before continuing, "However, this was not to last. One day in particular, I remember that I had just finished eating a tasty lunch that had been stored in a metallic can, and that my mother let me go outside so that I could play with my dolls in the sandbox. While sitting and playing, all of a sudden, I found myself getting very sleepy, and before I knew it, I even conked out in the seated position."

After taking another deep breath, she said, "When I awoke from my nap, I was no longer dry and comfortable in a sandbox, but very wet and cold because I was lying on my back and floating in a puddle of water; upon opening my eyes, I saw clear blue skies all around me...

"Even stranger was the fact that after I sat up, I saw that I was sitting in the middle of a flooded farm field with no signs of civilization. It was only after I stood to my feet and looked around that I saw a dry dirt road nearby. Alone, wet, and scared, I walked over to the road, but still, there was no one in sight. As I didn't know what to do next, I began to cry."

Baltor was about to ask Maline where she was going with her story, but he didn't get a chance as she stated, "Next thing you know, I look up, and there's both an oriental man and woman dressed in peasant attire standing before me, and a strange-looking horse-drawn wagon behind them. This may surprise you to hear, Baltor, but where I had originally come from, people drove machines that ran off the power of electrical batteries—in other words, I am not from your planet!"

Now totally in disbelief, Baltor said his first word with sarcasm, "Right..."

Maline shrugged her shoulders, just before she said, "I don't expect you to believe me just yet, but keep listening to my history—please. Anyway, this oriental man began to ask me some questions in some foreign language, but as I didn't understand their language one smidgen, I said nothing—only continued to sob even harder. The woman said something to the man in that foreign language of theirs, and then she began to speak to me in very soothing tones."

After releasing a deep sigh, she added, "The tone of her voice is what calmed me down, and after I was calm, the woman gestured for me to enter into the back of their wagon. I did, and they took me to their straw hut that was on the far northern end of that farm field, which was only a few miles to the southeast of an oriental seaside village."

Baltor was confused as to why he was getting all this history of this woman who claimed to be over six hundred years old. He was even more confused as to how this all related to him, except for possibly the immortal part. He really didn't know what to say yet, so he continued to remain silent.

A few seconds later, Maline continued, "That very first night in my new strange-looking home, I realized that something had also changed within me—even with no light at all, I could completely see like a dog or a cat!

"Ever since, I have been able to see this way. Even in the pitch-blackness of your bedchambers, I watched you as you threw your voice into different parts of the room, and I assuredly stayed as far away from your two lethal blades as possible. This is but one of the many abilities which have made me into the _supreme-master thief_ I am today." She had whispered those three emphasized words.

Baltor was shocked.

Maline obviously wasn't done with her story as she revealed, "Anyway, to keep with my history, despite the many months that passed, as my new parents spent in search of my biological parents, I quickly picked up the language. Moreover, I began to learn the skills of sewing, cooking, and cleaning from my mother, and fishing, hunting, and martial arts from my father. Shortly before my sixteenth birthday, my mother died; only a year-in-a-half later, my father joined her in death..."

After releasing a sad sigh, she said, "I decided that the time had finally come to try to find my biological parents, so I spent the next thirty-four years traveling across the lands and the oceans in search. Dozens upon dozens of adventures occurred throughout this timeframe, which I will not get into right now, as it will literally take months of explaining...

"To keep with how this relates to you, it was only when I had come across an imperial city, controlled by a tyrannical Sultan Horas Helenus the Second that I decided to temporarily stop the search for my parents...

"Right away, I found a couple of volunteers to join my special thieves guild, in order to give the poor a chance to become rich, as well to help me track down magical artifacts. To get to the point, I am the original founder of the Thieves' Guild of Pavelus—more than five hundred years ago!"

Baltor asked, "So how does this all relate to why you tried to assassinate me, but didn't?"

Maline answered, "I was just coming to that. Even though I have carefully planned more than a decade to assassinate you, which shortly began after I arrived back at Pavelus, which timeframe was only about six months after the 'Dark Gnome Wars' had ended, something inside me happened tonight as I held the dagger against your throat."

After a short pause, she next said tenderly, "As I watched your peaceful face in slumber, I must confess that I have instantly fallen in love with you—you are, by far, the most beautiful and soulful man I've ever seen...

"You are also an immortal, as you haven't aged a day in the last fifteen years, and I was thinking—when I held the dagger against your throat—that you and I could maybe travel the world and explore it together forever—maybe even other worlds. Yes, yes I am most certainly in love with you, my Sultan!"

Baltor was actually a bit shocked by this woman's unusual reason why she didn't murder him. Still, in order to ensure that she fully understood his position in the matter, he revealed, "I hate to tell you, but I'm a happily married man with a woman that I'm deeply in love with—despite our marital problems, she is my soul mate!"

No longer sounding in love, but upset, Maline said, "I see..."

Baltor added, "Last but not least, I promise that I will compensate you for your losses with the Guild, no matter the cost—also, I will let you go, but you must promise never to come back!"

"If you will not join me, then," Maline snarled while dropping the candle to the floor and drawing her sword. She concluded, by howling like a banshee, "You must die!"

Baltor yelled out, "Guards! Assassin!"

Already the front doors to his chambers had been kicked open by booted feet, thus allowing light (fortunately not sunlight) from the hallway to enter the room, and in ran two guards with swords drawn. More guards were already on the way, while yelling out, "Assassin in the Sultan's bedroom!"

Even though Maline attempted to bolt for the curtains, in order to make her escape—Baltor had already blocked her way to those curtains with both swords drawn.

Maline turned around to face the guards.

A fierce battle was waged between the losing-guards and the winning-Maline, while Baltor stood in the defensive position in front of the curtains.

Within the next few minutes, more than eight guards had already died by Maline's short sword.

The second Baltor realized that she was too skilled a warrior for any of the guards to handle, he finally called out, "Guards—back off! I will battle this assassin myself!"

Dozens of guards backed off. Dozens more guards had arrived but had to wait outside the bedroom, as more guards blocked the entryway.

Maline turned to face Baltor, and said, "Every last martial arts trick you know originally came from me—soon enough, you will die by my hands!"

"Perhaps you're right," Baltor replied, "but I cannot allow you to live so long as you're a threat!"

Maline leapt forward into a cartwheel, and while coming out of her cartwheel, she aimed her short sword down at Baltor—he rolled to the side and avoided the impact of the short sword.

For the next ten minutes, Baltor and Maline battled it out, all the while using cartwheels, somersaults, attacks, and defenses quicker than the guards' eyes could see—neither individual could score an attack on the other. The dozens of guards that watched the battle watched in utter awe.

Seven minutes after the battle had begun, Brishava, who was in the throne room, heard the report about the assassin from a guard, and so she rose from her throne and rushed over to the bedroom as fast as she could.

Back in the bedroom, Maline finally arrived at the area that she wanted, and without warning, she turned around toward the curtains that she had earlier intrinsically cut, and leapt high into the air.

After delivering a vertical slash of her short sword, a large section of the curtains dropped to the floor and sunlight penetrated into the room...and directly onto Baltor's exposed face, neck, torso, hands, and feet!

In that same moment, Baltor expected to instantly die from the sunlight exposure, as did Maline because she too strongly suspected that his weakness lay with the sun, but "death" strangely did not come.

Even though Maline was in the process of turning around so she could watch Baltor die, the sword in his right hand sliced off Maline's head, which head rolled upon the ground several feet until it stopped.

As soon as Brishava had pushed her way passed all the guards and entered the bedroom, Baltor observed that she bore a terrified look on her face as she looked at Maline's headless body lying upon the ground.

She looked over at her husband, noting with surprise and shock that the sunlight from outside continued to stream upon her husband, which sunlight gave him an angelic appearance. He glowed.

"My Baltor, you're alive!" Brishava exclaimed for two major reasons—the assassin and the sunlight.

"Yes, my love, I am," Baltor said, while nodding his head.

Brishava hurried over, and through her tears, she began to hug and to kiss Baltor.

Two of the guards, knowing that their Sultan was okay, removed the head and the body from the bedroom. Another guard ran to get a servant to clean up the mess. The rest began to disperse back to their assigned posts.

Once the kisses had abated, Brishava finally confessed while holding onto her husband in a tight embrace, "I'm sorry for the way I've been treating you—I've just been quite frustrated because...because I—"

Baltor interrupted, "Because you're not pregnant, despite all our best efforts—I know. I'm truly sorry—one day when the time is right, we'll have our child."

Brishava pulled back from the hug so that she could look into her husband's sorrow-filled face, and once so, she replied, "It's not your fault, Baltor. I'm just glad to know you're alive—by the way, you, you can tolerate the sun after all. I'm just as glad to know this, so we can take walks during the day from now on."

At that moment, Baltor's peripherals noticed that several servants had arrived with tons of rags in their hands in order to clean the mess lying on the floor.

With a whole lot of surprise to his voice, he said, "I guess I can, after all."

Brishava replied, "That's wonderful news!"

"By the way," Baltor said confidently, "I know that we haven't had a child yet, but let's never give up the belief that if Destiny, Fate, and God decree it—it will happen!"

"Yes, my love. You're right!" Brishava said just before she kissed her husband long and hard upon the lips.

## CHAPTER XXIII

As the "days of peace and prosperity" turned to weeks, which inevitably turned into months, Baltor came to discover that he didn't ever need to sleep, though he occasionally did choose to sleep at least once or twice a week, just so he could escape from reality and/or be alone with his wife.

During the times he was awake, he either trained with the troops, studied books in every subject imaginable, visited with family, friends, ambassadors, or leaders of other countries, created artistic paintings or sculptures.

Finally yet just as importantly, he took an active role as a lawmaker alongside his Sultaness, which imperial laws they co-created were based on the concept of "peace, honor, and glory for all," regardless of color or ethnicity.

One such law was the abolishment of slavery of any kind in any of the lands or seas of the Sharia Empire. Another important law was that any and all street gangs were now illegal. Still another law was to stop animal cruelty. Violators of any law would minimally serve a one-year maximum-security prison sentence on the Isle of Thricka ... not a nice place to be imprisoned for even a day.

Two months and one afternoon after the incident with Maline, a messenger unexpectedly arrived through the portal at the palace, after of course he had proved his authenticity to the watch-commander, evident by the scroll he carried bearing the wax-sealed image that he was indeed from the Kingdom of Thorium.

Upon being escorted into the throne room by the commander himself and a dozen guards, the messenger bowed deep and low before Baltor and Brishava, of who were both currently sitting in their thrones.

After the messenger's bow was complete, nearly thirty seconds later, he again pulled out the scroll, pointed to the authentic seal to prove its legitimacy, broke the seal, unrolled the scroll, and began to read aloud,

"'Greetings Sultan Baltor and Sultaness Brishava of the Sharia Empire—thank you for spending your valuable time to listen to my dutiful messenger, of whom brings a message directly from me, Queen Calitta Dumont of the Kingdom of Thorium.

'Now the reason for this message is because we have been in a very nasty war with the barbaric Kamanites for a little over six weeks now. Perhaps you've heard about these blood-thirsty and savage people before, whose numbers rank between ten and twenty thousand, but if you haven't, let me first say that we think that they originate from the Swamps of Florima. This area exists a little over two hundred miles to the northeast of my kingdom's forestland borders...

'One town at a time at random the Kamanites would attack with all their numbers using guerilla warfare, and in the middle of the night; before morning arrived, they murdered everyone, guards and peaceful nobles and citizens. Instead of advancing any further, they would set that town or city on fire, and then retreat back to their swamps, where my arriving forces couldn't penetrate due to their own sophisticatedly nasty defenses. Overall, I've lost more than ten thousand soldiers and eight thousand citizens.

'We thought we had these murderous pests under control; that is, until about two hours ago when we realized how wrong we were. Right before sunrise, they launched a sneak attack upon my capital city of Politesse, and now we are completely surrounded. I only have twenty-five hundred soldiers left, and five thousand citizens, to defend. Thankfully you have one of your magical portals here, or we would have all been dead by the time my messenger would have made it to your city by ship...

'So I must ask. Is your offer still good in that you will assist us militarily?

'We are seriously in dire need your help—please and thank you. Queen Calitta Dumont of the Kingdom of Thorium.'"

After briefly looking at her husband, Brishava was the first to nod her head and say, "I think we should help her out. What do you think, my Sultan?"

He looked over and said, "I agree, my Sultaness. I will go to Thorium, talk things over with Queen Calitta, and then come back, so I should be back shortly."

Just after having risen to his feet, he asked, "So would you like to come too, honey?"

Brishava rose to her feet, walked over to her husband, gave him a hug and a kiss, and then said, "No, I trust that you'll handle the situation just fine—love you, babe!"

While still in the embrace, Baltor kissed her on the lips, and after the kiss was over a few seconds later, he caressed her cheek with his hand, while saying, "Love you too."

He exited with the messenger out of the throne room, as well those dozen guards. They all went to the room with the teleportation mirror in it, but it was only he, the messenger, and the commander who walked through that portal.

Once the three were in the capital city's palace, a split-second later, the messenger immediately escorted Baltor toward Calitta's throne room.

Upon entering, a few minutes later, Baltor saw that Calitta was sitting upon her throne—even though her facial expressions appeared quite serene, his mind still sensed that she was worried sick.

Surprisingly, Calitta sounded almost happy as she sang, "Greetings, Sultan Elysian."

Baltor bowed his head respectfully, and after looking back up, he said, "Greetings to you, Queen Calitta. So, what can the Sharia Empire do for you?"

Now revealing a very worried expression upon her face and eyes, Calitta began, "Whatever it takes to stop these pests...whatever it takes."

"Okay," Baltor replied calmly.

"If you are successful, then Kingdom of Thorium shall fall under the banners of the Sharia Empire. Yet, just like how you arranged it with King Cheo and Queen Chelsea, I wish to retain my title of Queen, and my rule, until my death. I have no heirs to the kingdom, nor will I, as I am now too old to bear children."

Baltor looked shocked at Calitta's proposal, yet he managed to ask, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Calitta smiled, and said, "After having given it much thought, my answer is yes. Although I have had many suitors during my adult life, there hasn't been a single man I've found honorable enough to be king. If you weren't married, however, that would have been a completely different story long ago."

"I see," Baltor said. Changing the subject real quickly, he added, "We have a deal, Queen Calitta. I shall immediately have approximately two thousand, five hundred of my elite soldiers dispatched here, so we can quickly dispense with the enemy before sunset, which is what...in about nine hours from now?"

"Yes," she answered. "But is that it? Two thousand, five hundred soldiers?"

Baltor laughed out his nose, and answered, "And myself—trust me, my Queen. That's all we'll need. General Tar."

"Yes sir!"

"Go find Ruling-General Stormea and tell him to report to Pavelus's throne room at once. Tell him to ready the Shadow Force for action."

"Sir, what Shadow Force?"

Without having cast his eyes away from Calitta for one second, he answered patiently, "Just tell him...he'll know what I'm talking about."

"Yes sir," Tar snapped, just before he exited the palace's throne room to head for the portal room.

Baltor bowed his head for a second. In the next, he looked back up and added, "Queen Calitta, it is really not necessary to hand over your kingdom to the Sharia Empire for our help. After all, you are our good trading partners, allies, and most especially, friendly neighbors."

"Sultan Baltor," Calitta said, "As I already said, I am too old to bear any heirs to the throne. Once I am gone, who will justly rule the Kingdom of Thorium after me?"

Baltor sighed. After cocking his head to the side, he asked, "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you? You only look but thirty-five or thirty-six years of age!"

Calitta laughed as she answered, "Ah, thank you! But I am actually forty-five."

"Wow," Baltor said with a whole lot of shock.

"Thank you," Calitta smiled. She then asked, "So how is your lovely wife?"

"She's doing well," Baltor answered. "Busy as usual tending to all the diplomatic affairs of the Empire—I typically handle the military affairs."

"That's good to hear, Sultan Elysian," she chimed. "I love it when a man and woman share their power equally."

"Me too," he replied with a smile and a nod to his head. After delivering one short bow, he did an about face—the messenger led him back to the portal room.

This time, Baltor walked through the portal alone.

Once back in the throne room, nearly two minutes later, he saw that his wife wasn't busy at the moment, and so he said aloud, "My Sultaness, we have agreed to assist the Kingdom of Thorium in their time of need...

"In return, Queen Calitta said of her own accord that her kingdom would join under the banners of the Sharia Empire once the Kamanite enemies are vanquished. She, having heard the deal between King Cheo and us, wanted the same deal for herself. I, having figured you would agree as well, did agree."

Brishava returned the smile, and said, "Very well done, my Sultan!"

"Thank you!"

By this time, Stormea and Tar arrived in the throne room...both men were nearly out of breath.

After saluting, Stormea asked, "Shadow Force, my Sultan? What in the world are you talking about?"

Baltor laughed, and said, "Shortly after I began my reign, myself, the Sultaness, and Ruling-General Humonus established a 'top secret special forces unit,' otherwise known as Shadow Force.

"Because I now implicitly trust both you and General Tar, I feel the time has finally come to show you, my Ruling-General Stormea. Therefore, prepare an armed escort to accompany us to the Shadow Forces Guild, of which only myself and your Sultaness know the location only a short distance away, and then you'll see."

"Yes, my Sultan!" Stormea answered.

Within five minutes time, Baltor, Brishava, Stormea, Tar, and a battalion of palace guards arrived at Rolsch's palace, which palace also contained the former thieves guild. Rolsch had, nine years ago, accepted the invitation to become the ambassador to the country of Linsa, and was currently in their land on a diplomatic mission.

After they had all descended into the basement, Stormea's mouth dropped open upon seeing all the black-uniformed troops training through the obstacle courses.

Hundreds of troops of varying ages from young to middle-aged...even a few elderly were out there as well, he saw with quite a bit of shock.

Tricia, who happened to be overseeing the training, recognized Baltor, and immediately she began to approach. After arriving near his location, she bowed, and sang happily, "Greetings, my Sultan and Sultaness. How fare you this evening?"

"Very well, Commanding-General Tricia," Baltor said with a smile. "Yourself?"

"Great, my Sultan!"

Getting immediately down to business, Baltor declared, "The time has finally come for us to use the Shadow Force! How many fully trained soldiers do we have that are ready for combat?"

"We have exactly two thousand, five hundred fifty-four, my Sultan," Tricia proudly stated. "Additionally, we have four hundred twenty-three students, and an assigned instructor for each of them. None of these students or instructors shall be coming with us."

"Excellent," Baltor said with a pleased smile. "Have Shadow Force ready for deployment here within one hour's time. Understand?"

"Yes, my Sultan! I can speak for everyone when I say that we have all been eagerly awaiting this news, in that we shall finally have the opportunity to utilize our supreme battle skills," Tricia said with a smile.

"Thank you, General Tricia. Last but not least, please give Ruling-General Stormea a tour of the place. Will you, please?" Baltor asked with hope.

"Yes, my Sultan, with pride!" Tricia stated. She then bowed, looked over at Stormea, snapped her salute, and asked, "Are you ready, Ruling-General?"

Stormea returned the salute, while nodding his head and saying, "Yes, Commanding-General Tricia. I am."

"Very well, please follow me. I'm sure you'll be quite surprised to see just how enormous these training grounds are!"

Stormea replied, "I already am!"

The two then went their way.

Brishava gave Baltor a kiss on the cheek and said, "I know you're going to get ready here, so I'll just head back to the palace. I've got some business of my own to tend to."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Baltor," she said, just before giving him a kiss and leaving with the entourage of troops.

By himself, he entered the wall-locker room, and saw several assistants already getting his battle armor and helmet out of his wall locker—he had two sets of battle armor.

An hour later, once Baltor was ready, Stormea and Tricia entered the room.

After saluting, Stormea said with amazement in his voice, "That was simply amazing! They fight almost as well as you, my Sultan!"

Baltor smiled, and said, "This is where I learned my martial arts skills, Ruling-General Stormea. And I learned all mine from Ruling-General Humonus. Now, to keep with business—Commanding-General Tricia, have the remainder of my Shadow Forces arrived yet?"

"Yes, my Sultan," was her crisp response.

The three then walked back out into the training area, noting that it was completely filled with people also donning armor similar to their Sultan's. The one thing they were equipped with, which Baltor was not, was a shield strapped to his or her left or right forearm.

Baltor began his speech, "Shadow Forces of the Sharia Empire! We are going to war, yet again. This time, we shall be fighting against the barbaric Kamanites, whom fight and kill without honor or compassion...

"Our battle plan is simple: to join with the Thorium Forces inside their capital city through a teleportation spell I will cast when I am done with this briefing. Once we have all arrived at our destination, take a break. After all, it will take some time to get everyone through.

"Yet once we are all there and I give the word, shortly before sunset, we will head in a pyramid formation to the city's walls at the front gates, which is the only thing keeping the Kamanites out. While they try to rush in, we—as a single unit—will move our position onto the bridge. Do not worry about the few Kamanites that get passed us, as they will be taken care of by the soldiers of Thorium. I shall personally be leading the assault! Is that understood, Shadow Forces?"

"Yes, my Sultan!" the troops declared with passion and excitement.

"Good..." Baltor said. He turned around, drew a teleport sigil into the air, and a large portal opened up. Looking back over his shoulder, he called out, "Forces—follow the ruling general in columns of three. Ruling-General Stormea, order the soldiers to 'march."

Without another word, Baltor opened the portal.

"Forward, march!"

With Stormea and Tricia in the lead, the troops followed in columns of three.

All arrived inside the courtyard within Politesse over the course of the next thirty minutes, four-in-a-half hours before sunset.

Baltor ordered the troops, "Shadow Forces, continue to remain at ease. We assume battle formation following mine and Ruling-General Stormea's return."

The soldiers relaxed—the next thing Baltor ordered was, "In case anything happens while I'm gone, Commanding-General Tricia is in charge. Understood?"

"Yes, my Sultan!"

"Ruling-General," Baltor said, "Follow me."

After responding, Stormea did as ordered, following his leader into the throne room of Calitta's palace, which took twelve minutes of time to get there.

"Greetings, Queen Calitta," Baltor said.

Calitta replied, "Greetings to you, Sultan Baltor."

Baltor declared, "In about an hour or so, I'm going to need the city gates opened. I will let you know when I am ready. I want to welcome the enemy, of who will most certainly plunge in with all they have! They won't be expecting my Shadow Forces to be waiting inside the courtyard and coming out onto your drawbridge, however. The few Kamanites that get through, have your forces decimate, and we shall have a quick and easy victory, Queen Calitta!"

"Very well, Sultan Baltor," Calitta responded.

With one final smile, Baltor and Stormea exited for the courtyard, which took twelve minutes longer.

"Commanding-General Tricia," Baltor called out. "Assemble Shadow Force behind me in pyramid formation. We march for the city gates now. Ruling-General Stormea, I would suggest you stay in the rear of the formation, watch, listen, and learn."

"Yes my Sultan!" they yelled in turn. Tricia assumed her place right behind and to the left of Baltor.

"Soldiers, forward march!"

Within twenty minutes, they arrived at the city gates. Baltor next called out, "Open the city gates!"

As the gates began to slowly rumble open, the highly surprised looks on the faces of the Kamanites could clearly be seen on the other side. All were five-to-eight-foot tall, donning dirty beards and dirty furs for clothes. All were armed with sharp swords, axes and/or bow-and-arrows. Within seconds, tons of animal horns began to blow outside the city gates.

After drawing out both swords and holding them in the shape of an "x" over his head, Baltor called out, "Remember your training and we shall win, no matter the numbers."

"Yes, my Sultan!"

The Kamanites, seeing their window of opportunity, began rushing in...even though that shiny and reflecting "x" began to plague their minds! Despite their suspicious fears, within thirty seconds time, battle was engaged!

Wave after wave of Kamanite forces smashed against the Shadow Forces shields and swords—and leading the assault was Baltor himself, whose swords expertly spun in every direction possible, taking three or four Kamanites every single second.

Once the war was finally over, within five hours time, and thirty percent of the Kamanite forces had fled, Baltor had Tricia count out his own losses—one hundred thirty-five of his own troops had died and four hundred injured—the Kamanites had lost more than twelve thousand. Dead bodies were everywhere.

"Victory," Baltor yelled out.

"Victory!" everyone else cried back, including every last Thoriumite.

For the next several days, Baltor and his forces stayed and celebrated in Politesse—of course, Brishava was able to arrive within the first hour, so they could all celebrate together. Once the celebrating was over, every one of his or her own accord was allowed to utilize the portal on his or her own this one time.

Baltor and Brishava were the first two to return home two days later, after Calitta had given them "a wonderful tour of their equally-shared kingdom."

Two months later, even Valakan united with the Sharia Empire with Yaush as the governor—so only one last independent nation remained upon the entire continent, which was called the Fiefdom of Gargon. This nation was located at the southeastern corner of the continent, and consisted of three minor towns, and one major capital city.

When Lord-General Thorax Nimbi, the ruler of Gargon, had heard word about the rebuilding of Chao-chu-sha-maen five hundred miles to the north of his northernmost borders, he immediately sent an ambassadorial convoy north to discuss peace and trade between the two nations.

Cheo and Chelsea, who spoke on behalf of the Sharia Empire, easily established that peace and trade.

From travelers near and far, Nimbi quickly began to learn all about the legendary Sultan Baltor Elysian, and the staggering reports that he had more than five hundred thousand soldiers under his command...

Five years after the Kamanite War, Gargon peacefully united with the Sharia Empire, and Nimbi's title willfully changed to governor.

Moreover, the Sharia Empire had additionally created and fortified three brand new cities spread throughout the continent, so that travel between all the cities became much easier for all.

## CHAPTER XXIV

A year to the day later, the ambassador from Valakan paid a visit to Pavelus, most unexpectedly, via one of the dozen portal-mirrors. As soon as the guards had authenticated him—they did this with everybody but their Sultan and Sultaness—a couple of them escorted him to the throne room.

After entering, the ambassador noticed—with a whole lot of surprise—that even though Baltor was nearing his forty-fifth year of life, he still remarkably looked in his early twenties, and had all of his powerful muscles.

As for Brishava, who the ambassador knew was four years younger than her husband, the contours in her face had definitely matured like a fine wine, but overall, her appearance was still quite youthful and very-very-very beautiful.

Despite his surprise, the ambassador gracefully bowed, rose from the bow, and declared with sadness in his voice, "My Sultan and Sultaness—it is with great sadness that I must inform you that something is seriously wrong with Governor Yaush—he may be dying."

The smiling faces of Baltor and Brishava instantly contorted to looking both shocked and scared. A second later, he looked over at his wife, and said with a whole lot of concern, "Honey, I think we should make a trip to visit Yaush as soon as possible. What do you think?"

"Yes, I totally agree, my love," she answered with a nod. Looking over at a few servants also standing nearby, she ordered, "Servants, pack our belongings for two week's time. We depart for Valakan in one hour."

The servants bowed, and said, "Yes, my Sultaness." They then left the throne room and headed to their rulers' dressing rooms, so that they could pack.

One hour later, the ambassador, Baltor, Brishava, the dozen assistants, and a platoon of guards all walked through the portal, instantly arriving in a recently-built cabin in Valakan.

This pleasant-looking cabin's sole purpose was to house a dozen portal-mirrors, the barracks for twelve guards, and of course, the guards themselves.

After the posted guard at the door had opened it, which revealed a warm summery night outside, the ambassador escorted his Sultan, Sultaness, and the platoon of guards down the gravel road to Yaush and Jimnee's home.

Meanwhile, the servants—with luggage in tow—made their way for still another cabin that was Baltor and Brishava's "home away from home."

About five minutes later, the ambassador knocked upon the front door—as for the guards, they had already begun to spread out and surround the cabin itself, in order to dutifully protect its occupants.

Yaush's eldest boy Thar opened the door—now aged nineteen. Currently he stood at nine-feet-tall, and weighed four hundred and seventy pounds.

On this giant's good-looking face, looking just like his father's, there was clearly a worried expression—still he had his wits to deeply boom out in Pavelian, "Uncle Baltor and Aunt Brishava! Nice to see you—I wish it wasn't under these circumstances, but come on in..."

"Thank you," both said simultaneously with warm smiles.

While the ambassador departed back for his Sultan's cabin, along with two of his guards, so as to ensure the servants had done their job, Baltor and Brishava entered Yaush's cabin, and Thar closed the door.

Currently, they saw that Jimnee was sitting on the bed next to Yaush, while Barquoth and Rex were sitting at the dinner table, eating a steaming bowl of stew—Rex was identical to his elder brother in every way, except for the fact that this seventeen-year-old had flaming-red hair and freckles.

With a respectful nod, Barquoth greeted, "Greetings, my Sultan and Sultaness."

Brishava replied, "Greetings, Governor Barquoth. How fare you?"

"Excellent," he replied. A frown crossed his face as he added, "Except for this."

Rex, who had just finished swallowing the stew in his mouth, boomed out in Pavelian, "How are you, my uncle and aunt?"

"Well, really good, until we heard this news," Baltor answered. "How is your father now?"

Jimnee was the first to answer the question as she said, "When Yaush was last conscious about an hour ago—he said that he was still feeling horribly weak and nauseous..."

After releasing a deep sigh, she added, "It all started this morning, right after breakfast, when he was once again clutching his left shoulder, sweating profusely, and complaining of feeling real dizzy. This is like the third time he has exhibited these symptoms—but this is the first time that he has been too weak to move the rest of the day. Something serious must be wrong with him this time, but I don't know what to do, nor does our city doctor..."

Baltor asked, "Can we talk to him?"

"Well, if you can get him to wake up," Jimnee answered, "By all means."

He and Brishava walked over, and in turn, each gave Jimnee a hug.

Even though Yaush continued to remain sleeping under the thick fur blanket, his face was white as a ghost—Baltor, for the first time ever, noticed that his friend's thick and wavy hair was now white, instead of blond.

Nearly a minute later, Yaush unexpectedly squinted open his eyes, looked over at Baltor, and delivered a small smile. With a weak voice, he said, "Baltor, tai visha jaosaim ..." (9)

Baltor sat next to Yaush, clasped his hand with both of his own, and replied back, "Yaush, tai visha jaosaim, mao sahu ruinam arigarata eutra vrisha—tai hart mit." (10)

By this time, the whole family stood or sat around the bed ... they silently listened.

Unexpectedly, Yaush switched his language to Pavelian as he said, "You're probably right, but I just don't feel very good right now...so very tired and weak I am today. But I'll be okay, my Sultan."

Baltor released a deep sigh, as well a laugh, before saying, "Yaush, you know you've never had to call me Sultan, except when we have had official ceremonies or speeches. Never have I ever let you forget that I couldn't have become a Sultan had you not saved my life, my friend and my brother...from the scarain!"

"Yes, I know, my friend and my brother," Yaush said. After taking a deep breath, he added, "I also know that you have hard-earned your title, which title few in this universe ever get a chance at. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Yaush said, a second before his eyes began to look around at the people surrounding his bed ... one person at a time.

Once done, he said real tiredly, "Wow...what a lucky man I am to have all my family here right now...but I must rest...yes. So very tired, I am..."

"Then sleep, my brother," Baltor said. "You'll be just fine..."

With that, all but Jimnee made their way toward the living room, sat down in the couches, and began to converse about other casual subjects in hushed tones...

Until, but a few minutes later, their conversation was most unexpectedly interrupted as another major spasm of pain crossed Yaush's face, just before he gripped his chest and delivered a scream of agony...the second that scream had stopped, so too did his breathing.

Baltor immediately rushed over, switching between pumping the giant's chest and trying mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but all his first-aid efforts failed...Yaush was dead.

Upon realization that his friend was gone forever, a few minutes later, his own eyes could not fight back the bloody tears—without pause, he jetted toward the front door, opened it, exited the cabin, closed the door, and ran off into the forest before any of the guards could follow.

Once he was sure he was alone, he collapsed to the ground, and began to sob...for at least an hour, bloody tears continuously soaked the grass.

When he finally had regained his composure, he headed back to the cabin while wiping all the blood off his face—every last guard still stationed around the door had a very worried expression on his or her face.

The female leader asked, "My Sultan, are you okay? We would have chased you down, but the Sultaness came out right after you left and told us to stay at our posts."

"Yes I'm fine now, major," Baltor said after releasing a deep sigh. "Just, please, open the door for me."

"Yes, my Sultan!"

Upon Baltor entering, and the door being closed behind him by the major, he saw that the whole group was sharing in a group hug, while consoling each other through their shared tears.

As Baltor fought back the tears once again, he said, "Sorry..."

Jimnee replied in Pavelian, "It's okay. Come here, Baltor—please, join us..."

Without hesitation, Baltor joined them in the group hug.

The following morning at sunrise, Yaush's body was burned on a funeral pyre, which was the Valakanese way—not only had the whole town showed up, but so had Cheo, Chelsea, and their two children.

Jimnee was the first to speak. As her tears freely flowed down her face, she proudly stated, "Yaush lived a full life of fifty-one years! Two days ago, when he was feeling healthy and wise, he coincidentally asked me if he had been a good and caring man...

"I tell you all now, as I already told him—Yaush was not only a great governor, yet he was a perfect husband and father. I know that he is smiling down upon us from Elysium, quite happy to know that all his family and friends are here to say their farewells...

"I—I love you, Yaush, my darling husband! I can't wait to see you in the next life..."

After Baltor had wrapped an arm around Jimnee's waist, he said aloud, "If it hadn't been for Yaush, I would not be here this day—he saved my life! He was one of the most honorable, courageous, and humorous men I have ever met! When we first met, after he saved my life from a scarain, his laughter fueled my heart and soul that shall last forever. Yaush, my friend and brother, farewell—see you in the next life!"

After he had finished, everyone else who had something to say spoke, once his or her turn had come. Chelsea didn't have to translate to Cheo what they said, as he now fluently understood the Valakan language, and also five other languages.

By noon, all the farewells had been concluded, and everyone headed to the inn to eat, drink and talk about Yaush's life, which life had been very good overall. That night, everyone headed back home, wherever his or her home was....

As the years began to pass, the Sharia Empire slowly began to expand into other continents. One by one, the territories, fiefdoms, provinces, kingdoms, and even other empires united under the Sharia Empire—mostly under peaceful terms.

Only two minor wars had transpired, in which Baltor and his empire had not been the aggressors, but they had been the victors.

Meanwhile, as those years passed, many more of Baltor and Brishava's friends died of various reasons, mainly of old age—of course, the Sultan and Sultaness attended each and every funeral.

Three years after Yaush's death, Travail died of cancer at the age of sixty-nine—surviving him were four children, and three grandchildren.

Then, only a year later, Calitta peacefully died in her sleep at the age of sixty-three—she had no children.

Two years later, Praetor—Baltor's hawk—had died from old age. One year later, Leshava died from the same cause. Overall, these two hawks had bred thirty-four hawks, which in turn had ninety-seven hawks, which in turn had two hundred twenty-eight hawks, which in turn had six hundred sixteen.

Every single hawk was used in still another of Baltor's brilliant schemes—create an "air force" of hawks, hawk riders, and hawk commanders. Half were used for scouting purposes...the other half were used for aerial combat. The names of these two small divisions were "Air Scouts" and "Air Assault."

Seven years later, Jimnee died in her sleep at the age of sixty-one...

Two years later, Rex tragically died at the young age of thirty-one. Unlike all the others who had died of old age, however, he had been killed while fighting hand-to-hand against a giant, white bear that had snuck up behind him when he was hunting. Rex had almost won the battle.

Not even a week after Rex's death, which was during Brishava's fifty-fifth year of life (though she still remarkably looked to be in her early forties), she unexpectedly fainted one morning while her handmaidens were in the process of dressing her for the day.

Within a month's time, things for her got progressively worse, as she began to experience severe dizzy and nauseous spells whenever even trying to get out of bed—at the same time, her face had already aged five years, especially because she never slept well anymore...

The following year to the date, Valiante died in his sleep at ninety—surviving him were four children, eight grandchildren, twelve great grandchildren and two great-great grandchildren.

A year and a half later, Chelsea died at the age of sixty from a stroke that instantly killed her.

Though Baltor attended and spoke at every funeral, Brishava was too weak and in too much pain to get out of bed to attend any anymore...

Over the course of the next six years to come, her appearance became skeletal, just like with her father and grandfather. Despite her ghastly appearance, Baltor's love for her never dwindled and he only saw her as "picture perfect."

One particular summery evening, after he had finished with his daily imperial tasks, he headed to his bedroom in order to feed Brishava her dinner—she was now sixty-three years old and he sixty-seven.

A servant followed behind, delivering a golden bowl that contained chicken noodle soup with a small piece of white bread—that and porridge were the only two types of food her stomach could tolerate. Everything else, she threw up.

Baltor was halfway through feeding her this soup, when she weakly asked, "My husband, I have a question for you."

"Yes, my love?"

"Actually," Brishava said, "I've been wanting to know the answer to this question for a very long time now, but until now, I haven't had the courage to ask it."

"You've never been afraid to ask me anything before—don't you know you can ask me anything?" he asked as he set the bowl upon the table next to the bed.

"Well, upon this one subject, I was afraid because of the 'strange rumors' I've heard about you over the years," she said.

With a curious look now upon his face, he asked, "What is your question?"

After a lengthy pause, she extended her skeletal hand up until it began to caress his face. Finally, she asked, "Why is it that you still look exactly the same as the very day I met you? You are, after all, a sixty-seven-year-old man."

It was Baltor's turn to pause ... finally, nearly a minute later, he confessed, "The truth of it all is that I am an immortal...I will never grow old, nor will I ever die. What other 'strange rumors' have you heard about me that you haven't ever revealed?"

Instead of answering his question, she asked, "How did your immortality come to be?"

"It has been this way since before we met," he answered evenly. "As for how it all happened, I cannot tell you, as I was sworn to secrecy by the one who made me into what I am..."

"I see," she sighed. "Perhaps this is the reason I was never able to get pregnant, yes?"

"Correct," he answered. As a guilty look suddenly crossed his face, he added, "I'm really sorry about that fact that you never got pregnant, despite the millions of times we tried. I know you wanted not only a child of your own, yet an heir to the throne."

"That's okay, my love," Brishava said with a small smile. "I've had a very happy and full life spent with you—you've taken such good care of me, especially these last eight years! And you've done such a wonderful job with our empire."

"I'm glad to know that, my beloved wife," Baltor said with a smile.

A few moments later, she sighed, "Soon, my love, I will be dying... I can feel the last of my strength waning."

"No," he argued. "Don't say that!"

"But it's true," she countered.

"I don't want you to go!" he yelled as a couple bloody tears squirted out his eyes and splashed onto the blanket. Once he had regained control of himself a second later, he finally asked, "Would—would you like to become an immortal too?"

"If you had asked me that question right before my sickness," she answered truthfully, "I would have immediately said 'yes,' so that we could literally spend eternity together. But look at me now—I cannot live forever the way that I look!"

"How do you know that you won't become young, healthy and beautiful again?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he added, "After all, I once had a bad scar on my forearm from an arrow until I 'became...'"

"Except for the medical fact that most scars fade away in time, but not all, I don't know the answer to your question. But I cannot afford to take that chance because I look like an ugly skeleton, so the answer is no," Brishava answered. "But promise me something, will you?"

"Anything, my love," Baltor sighed.

"After I die," she said, "and you find someone else, which I'm sure you will sooner or later, don't forget about me, okay?"

"I promise you that I'll never forget about my soul mate of soul mates—you!" he exclaimed. "And that ever since I've met you, forty-six years, seven months, and five days ago, I've never wanted or loved anyone else."

"Good to hear that, my love," said Brishava with a loving smile. "Good to hear that!"

"By the way, my wife, you didn't answer my earlier question."

"What question?"

"What 'strange rumors' have you heard about me?" he asked.

She said while looking away toward the wall, "Bah! Don't worry about them—I'm sure that they're not true..."

Realizing that he wasn't going to extract the answer to that question from her, as he had learned over the years that she had quite a few stubborn traits, he finally sighed, "As you wish."

After looking at the bowl of soup that was still sitting on the table, he asked a few seconds later, "Do you want any more soup?"

"No, thank you," Brishava answered. "For now, I need to get some sleep—I'm very tired. Oh...I love you very much, my Baltor. Give me a kiss before you go."

"Well, honey, I'm done with everything that's got to get done today, so I'm staying with you for the rest of the night."

"Okay...kiss me."

After the two shared an endearing kiss, she closed her eyes and fell right asleep.

Baltor kissed her on the forehead, before he replied, "I love you too, my Breeze..."

Instead of calling for his assistants, he dressed out of his daily attire and into his pajamas, and fell asleep right next to his wife in bed with his arm lightly wrapped around her.

The following morning, he awoke from sleep, now facing the other way in bed—but as he turned to look over at his wife, he saw with ever-growing shock and horror that she was no longer moving nor breathing...she had died sometime during the night!

Looking beyond the ceiling and up into the heavens, he sat up in bed, and a few minutes later, he finally broke down, quietly sobbing out with a hell of a lot of pain, anger, and grief, "Trendon—Trendon Harrn! Where are you? It is I, Baltor, and I have but one question for you. Why couldn't we have made Brishava an immortal long ago, like you and me? Where are you, damn it?"

No response is given from Trendon.

A few minutes later, Baltor screamed out, " _Damn you to hell, Trendon Harrn!!!_ "

Even though Trendon didn't respond, the guards outside heard their Sultan screaming with outrage, and immediately they did respond, kicking open the doors and running into the bedroom with weapons drawn.

After looking around the room for immanent threats, but seeing none, the guard-in-charge then looked over at Baltor, saw the blood all over his Sultan's face and pajamas, and asked, "What the—are you okay, my Sultan?"

While covering his face with both hands, Baltor sobbed, "No, I'm not...your Sultaness has died..."

"Wh—why is there bloo—blood all—all over you, sire?" the guard dared to ask, though his words obviously came out all stammered because his heart was distressed and hurting over this new piece of news.

Not looking up, Baltor hysterically replied, "Don't—don't worry about it—just leave us be for now. I'll let you know when to bring in the Sultaness' handmaidens, okay?"

The guard asked, "Are you sure you're okay, my Sultan?"

Baltor's voice cracked a bit, as he snapped, "Yes, I'm sure! Say nothing of what you saw to anyone, ever. Now leave..."

Without another word, the guards exited the bedroom, closing the doors behind them.

Once Baltor had regained a control over himself, an unknown amount of time later, he looked back down at his wife's body.

Gently he crossed her hands over her chest, and ever so softly he said, "Brishava, I am going to miss you so terribly much. Only now do I realize what I've lost now that you're gone—after all, you are everything to me..."

A few moments later, Baltor cleared his throat, before adding, "I've heard the proverb that 'time heals all wounds,' yet will the emptiness in my heart ever be filled again? Will I ever know joy and happiness as I've known with you, my beloved soul mate, since the day we met in this very palace nearly a half of a century ago? If this saying proves untrue, will the eternity of life I've been supposedly blessed with be spent damned?"

Angrily now, Baltor swore, "Damn it—why did I not think to make you an immortal when you were young and vibrant? Because Trendon Harrn warned me that he would destroy us both into oblivion the very second I made you into a vompareus? Now that I think about it, I should have ignored his warning, so that I could have spent oblivion with you. It would have been a far better existence for the both of us!"

After taking a deep breath through his nose, he said, "But then again, I didn't know you, when that once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity was given to me! When I made the choice, I did not consider for one single second the fact that I would meet you or all my wonderful friends that are dying one by one. Perhaps I hoped and believed that they would live forever like me?"

Perhaps a minute later, Baltor answered his own question, "Throughout the course of my sixty-seven years of life, even when I did see the signs of aging in my friends, I ignored them, thinking them like the common cold or flu... You know—something that would pass...and then, magically, they would become once again young and vibrant! I was wrong—so very wrong to think these types of thoughts... I'm sorry, my love of loves!"

Baltor began caressing both sides of Brishava's cheeks with his hands.

Consolingly, he said, "You know, my Breeze, it's too late to bring you back from the dead, but I will never forget the love that you and I shared...that will never ever die! I promise you that I will love only you forever, my beautiful wife...most likely, my only wife forever! I...I love you..."

Baltor slowly rose to his feet, walked into the pool in the center of the room, took off his robes, washed himself with soap and water, rinsed, retrieved a nearby towel, dried off, put on a set of clean robes, walked back over to his wife, and gave her one final kiss on the lips...

Once done, he loudly commanded, "Handmaidens! Prepare the Sultaness for the funeral tomorrow morning."

Brishava's personal handmaidens entered the room, all of who had been crying and sobbing outside the hallway upon having heard the news from the guards (also crying). Two of those six girls held a stretcher.

The other four girls delicately lifted Brishava's body off the bed, and put her onto the stretcher. They bowed to their Sultan and then departed the room with sniffling tears of their own.

Baltor walked to the curtains, pulled them to the side, walked out onto the balcony, leaned onto the railing, and stared out across the palace courtyard from sunrise to sunrise, thinking very deep and hard...

The following morning, besides the entire city that had showed up to attend Brishava's funeral, as well all the governors and nobles of the empire, Cheo, Thar, Humonus Jr., and his half-sister Rhea had also arrived ... thanks to the messengers dispatched all across the empire.

Once everyone was assembled around Brishava's gravesite outside the city, Baltor proclaimed, "Brishava will forever be my love, my wife, and my soul mate—our Sultaness. I know that you will all miss her, as will I—let us never forget all that she has done to make the Sharia Empire glorious. Right now, I have a song that I wrote last night, which I'd like to sing to you all now..."

After clearing his throat, Baltor began to sing with a baritone voice ... every syllable he purposefully stretched out.

" _The time is here,_

For us to hear,

Her love so shines,

Let's drink the wine...

She teased us best,

We laughed our jests,

Yet she taught us this,

Let's enjoy our bliss...

These truths she's shown,

We're not a-lone,

Love binds us all,

Within our halls...

Now that she's gone,

' _Cept in this song,_

Only now we see,

We must be free..."

Everyone that had attended became utterly surprised and amazed to hear Baltor's incredibly beautiful singing voice, as he had never before sung in public ... every last woman, and quite a few men, cried.

As Baltor finished singing the last word in the final stanza, however, even his voice slightly cracked ... it took him several more minutes before he finally regained his composure, while ever so forcibly fighting the urge to cry.

Cheo, now a venerable old man, gently placed his arm around Baltor's shoulder comfortingly for only a second ... suddenly tears began to spring from Cheo's face.

While the unabashed crying took place, Cheo signed out, and Humonus Jr. verbally interpreted in Pavelian, "I, King Cheo, readily cry because my brother, our Sultan, cannot. All who knew Brishava not only loved her, yet easily thought of her as a precious sister—never shall any of us forget just how warm and gracious she was to all of us, from our first encounter with her, to our last. Surely she is in heaven now in the 'colorful skies' smiling down on us!"

Once Humonus Jr. had taken a short pause to catch his breath, he concluded, "Finally, I would like to say that we of the Sharia Empire will continue to loyal serve you—our truly great and powerful leader. Hail, Sultan Baltor Elysian XVth!"

The crowds went into an uproar crying out, " _Hail Sultan Baltor Elysian the XVth!!!_ "

Looking back into the crowds, Baltor declared, "Thank you all..."

After taking a deep breath, he said, "I have a little confession I'd like to reveal to you now. You all may be wondering why I look so young for my age, even though I am sixty-seven years old. I will tell you the simple truth—as I told Sultaness Brishava prior to her death. I am an immortal!

"I will never get sick nor will I ever die. As you all know, I have built magical teleportation devices, and I have many other magical powers none of you know about, including the ability to read minds and to teleport entire armies. So if I was you, only think positive things from here on out."

Most people gasp upon hearing that proclamation, though it didn't surprise Cheo at all to hear that news—after all, he was all-too-aware that Baltor had never aged a day since they met, but never voiced his suspicions out of respect.

Baltor concluded, "One final thing that I'd like to add is that I will always be a just leader for you all—if you have a problem that cannot be reconciled with your neighbor, you can still talk to me about it on any Moonday. Thank you all for coming to my wife's funeral. Goodbye for now."

Following his words, Baltor, his friends, and his soldiers reentered the palace. As for the rest of the city of Pavelus, they spent the day in quiet reflection ... most of the women and children cried. Even many of the men shed tears, as everyone loved, respected, and now missed, Brishava.

Over the course of the next fifteen years, Baltor learned, one by one, about many more friends that died—mostly of old age.

King Cheo was the next to go—nearly a decade later—at the age of eighty-one ... he had died in his sleep in the middle of the night, yet on his "face of death" strangely remained a smile from ear to ear. Only hours earlier, during the twilight hours, he had commented to his son about just how colorful the skies had been at sunset.

Eight months later, Stormea died at the age of seventy, after having acquired pneumonia, which could not be cured.

Replacing him as the ruling-general was Mena, of whom had been commissioned to officer right after the "Dark Gnome Wars," and steadily promoted through the ranks until she had attained commanding-general only four years earlier...

Three years after Stormea's death, Humonus Jr. was the next to go at the age of sixty-eight, due to choking on a piece of meat while eating by himself one evening—surviving him were his two children, five grandchildren, and one great grandchild.

Following him in death six months later was Rhea, who died at the age of sixty in her sleep—surviving her were five children, eight grandchildren, and three great grandchildren.

The next to go was Thar, five months later at the age of fifty-seven, who died just like his father before him, of a violent heart attack that took his life later that same day—surviving him were one child, and three grandchildren.

Of course, hundreds more deaths occurred daily in Baltor's empire for all types of reasons, mostly peaceful. Yet each and every single death of a loved one or cherished friend became harder and harder for this "immortal Sultan" to deal with over the course of the next century....

## CHAPTER XXV

The day finally came when the last nation on the planet joined the Sharia Empire, still under the reign of Sultan Baltor Elysian the XVth.

Overall, it had taken this single man a grand total of one hundred fifty-eight years to make his "one world nation," most of which had been "very peaceful and prosperous years."

Baltor was now one hundred eighty-two years old, but strikingly looked no older than he was when he was twenty—whenever asked about his "fountain of youth," he always replied, "I am an immortal. I will never grow old nor will I ever die."

Three million elite soldiers of all ranks, as well a little more than forty-five thousand giant hawks, now served under his imperial command, many of whom he frequently trained with in his expert martial arts on a military fort that engulfed an entire small continent—complete with fortified walls, training grounds, barracks, mess halls, and command buildings. Every city in the world, of course, had its own military base.

He had personally designed this continent-sized fort seventy years ago, just in case of another massive dark-gnome army who teleported from another dimension with the goal to conquer his world. Thankfully, this event had not ever happened again, yet.

An equally impressive accomplishment for Baltor was the fact that thanks to his imperial laws of "peace, duty, honor, and glory for all," poverty, hunger, and slavery had been eradicated.

For, in every city and town all across the world, there were now free food and/or home shelters, which 24-hour shelters simultaneously schooled and/or job-trained, based on the desires and the skills of the individual—child or adult.

Besides all the qualified staff and teachers needed to run these shelters, which job positions quickly became filled, many more types of careers were available to choose from—artists, cooks, seamstresses, blacksmiths, carpenters, stonemasons, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, law-enforcers, and of course, military recruiters.

After all, it was also imperial law that by the age of twenty-four years old, every male and female must serve minimally one year as a soldier in the Sharia Empire—only those who had severe birth physical defects or mental disabilities were exempt. As an added bonus, anyone could become an "officer's candidate," if that individual attained the rank of "Journeyman" in his or her civilian-oriented profession. "Master" was the highest rank, which automatically meant the rank of "lieutenant."

Of course, everyone in the entire world—generation after generation—came to hear and learn for themselves, that their centuries-old Sultan was "an immortal"—statistically, only a really small percentage continued to suspiciously fear Baltor to be "an unnatural and evil creature," because most loved him.

Whether that news was ultimately true or not, about him being evil, he still took really good care of them all ... each and every Moonday he opened Pavelus's palace gates, and personally listened to the concerns of his people.

The very few who continued to hate their Sultan—no matter what he did for them—rarely ever voiced out his or her opinions, in fear of Baltor's other indisputable magical powers, including telepathy, clairvoyance, illusions, invisibility, and teleportation of entire armies.

Though none had a single doubt that his powers were true, none who ever tried could duplicate any of his runic magic could, no matter how intelligent he or she inevitably became through life until death.

Shortly after this world-unification came to be, and all major conflicts ended, only then did Baltor begin to inwardly wonder—with increasing agitation every single year—where in the hell his own maker, mentor, and master was: Trendon Harrn.

After all, not only had this individual been the one to make him immortal in the first place—one hundred sixty-two years ago—yet _the master_ had simultaneously promised that once Baltor had "mastered the entire world," _he_ would come back to take his apprentice to the other realms, in order to train him to be a "Watcher."

And, in Baltor's indisputable opinion, he now mastered this entire world indisputably ... no one dared challenge him.

Finally his answer came, thirty peaceful and prosperous years later, when he has "a very-very strange dream!"

In it, he saw himself slightly leaning against the wall in a megalithic obsidian chamber filled with glowing red magical runes inscribed upon the ceiling, the walls, and even the floor—sinister-looking runes that he did not recognize, despite all his centuries of study upon the subject of runic magic.

In the center of this chamber, a second later, a rectangular steel table unexpectedly popped out of nowhere. Yet lying on it was a man—wearing only a loincloth, strapped to the table by foot and handcuffs, and obviously having been severely beaten and whipped from head to toe.

As Baltor's gaze focused upon the face, he quickly observed that this unconscious man appeared to be _none other than the master_ —Trendon, which greatly surprised _the apprentice._

After quickly walking over to the table, he began to make a closer medical examination—though this man appeared to be mortally wounded, especially because of the abdominal tissues sliced open and hanging all out, he saw that this man's chest was slightly breathing, which meant that this man was still alive, at least for a few more moments...

Deciding to rescue this man right here and now, Baltor's hands had attempted to grasp the shackle holding this man's left foot, in order to rip the shackle from the table. Strangely, however, his hand only grasped thin air—as if the shackle was only a phantom...or the other way around!?

Looking back up at the man's face, Baltor became surprised to see this man's eyes unexpectedly bulge open, as if fully awake.

However, unlike the previous two encounters he had with Trendon Harrn, this man's brown eyes did not glow like a prismatic diamond. Suspiciously, Baltor asked, "Are you for real or are you an optical illusion?"

The man answered, "I am not an optical illusion, nor are you...but you are currently in 'a dream state.'

"Really? Why are you enslaved and ravaged to a pulp like this? Can you possibly be my master, _the_ Trendon Harrn?" Baltor asked.

The man answered with a hell of a lot of sorrow, "Yes, my apprentice, I am Trendon Harrn... Baltor, I am truly sorry I was not able to come to your aid before this time—I did mean to shortly after you first mastered your world. However, shortly before my arrival, as you can clearly see, I—your Master—fell into a diabolical trap! Even worse, the Vompareus now have possession and control over the Rod of Ro'shain!"

Though Trendon was about to go on, Baltor interrupted, "Before you continue, sir, I have an important question that must be answered right now, because all you ever gave to me were encrypted hints—is this rod just a teleporting device, or is it more?"

Trendon answered, "To answer your questions in order, no and yes, as the rod is a teleporting device, yet it is also the very key to the door to their Realm of Darkness, of which I made both key and door, and imprisoned the Vompareus there nine thousand years ago...

"That is, until I became captured and imprisoned thirty years ago by the Arch Devils, the rod taken from me, and given to the Vompareus. Now they are free and teleporting from world to world with the rod, killing almost every last person, absorbing their souls, and recruiting into their ranks the few remaining survivors—they're powers are multiplying every day. If they are not stopped soon, chaos and evil will rule over all the universal realms—they have already conquered three worlds! Finally, know this... It took me thirty years to finally conjure enough power to contact you this way—through your dream..."

Even though a million more questions flooded in Baltor's mind that he wanted to ask, the first question that came out of his mouth was, "So where are you, my Master?"

While raising his left eyebrow, Trendon painfully answered, "I am now in the ninth plane of hell."

After unconsciously gulping, Baltor shakily asked, "What...seriously?"

"Yes."

Almost immediately after Trendon had finished answering his question, Baltor's heart began to feel quite a bit guilty for damning him to hell that one day, because he had not shown up when Baltor's one and only beloved Wife and Sultaness had horribly died—Brishava.

The only reason Baltor had wanted Trendon to "show up" at all was to get the permission to make her into an immortal, like he and his master. But _the master_ never showed...anger, once again, began to sprout through Baltor's mind...

Having telepathically read all of Baltor's thoughts, Trendon interrupted compassionately, "Yes. Don't fret about any of that—it's not your fault I'm here. Nor is it my fault that I did not show on that particular date—I had a lesson to teach you about life and death, which includes losing a loved one who is mortal, of which lesson you've obviously learned... Obviously you did learn all your lessons, or you would not have mastered your world on your own! Finally, regarding Brishava, know that her spirit peacefully lives in the Seventh Plane of Heaven..."

After taking a deep breath that caused him even more pain, he continued, "Now please listen, Baltor, as we really don't have much time left. My devilish captors will soon be back to torture me more, as they have done religiously these last thirty years! If they see you, they will know where to find you, and then all hope will be lost! Only together, you and I, can we stop them for good..."

"How do I get to you?" Baltor asked.

"You must go through all nine planes of hell, in order of succession. Located on each plane is the ruling Arch-Devil—only he and/or she possess the key that will get you to the next plane..."

Baltor unconsciously gulped once again.

Trendon continued, "To give a brief explanation of how I got imprisoned here, thanks in part to Dreeak, the Vompareus recently struck a deal with the nine Arch Devils—even though they have been blood-thirsty enemies with each other since the Beginning of Time. Together, they diabolically planned a trap for me, of which I obviously fell into...

"Now the two enemies only became allies because the first group recently convinced the second group that when the very last world containing a soul is destroyed, thus will come the ultimate destruction of the heavens. However, just so you know, I still don't believe the heavens nor the Divine can ever be destroyed, which is why the rest of us are here!

"So now...go and wake up and then come and find me—my enemies have nearly returned—you must go now! Help the universal realms...help me! Help us all! Help yourself..."

A runic symbol appeared in Baltor's vision for only a single second—in the next, he awoke from his dream that obviously wasn't just a dream. For about the next four hours or so, he sat in his bed, meditating on what to do...

On one hand, Baltor considered the fact that he had worked so hard to master this realm—and now he truly was the master of this realm.

On the other hand, if he didn't do something to help Trendon, the Vompareus would come to this world, sooner or later, and most likely destroy everything and everybody.

Once he had finally made his decision, nearly an hour later, he immediately dispatched hundreds of messengers through the magical portals to each of the Provinces in the world. The message was strictly for the governors; that message was to come to Pavelus the following morning at nine a.m., and that the meeting was to be held at ten.

At nine in the morning, as the governors arrived, one by one, the guards began to respectfully escort them to the palace grounds outside. Meanwhile, Baltor was first dressed into his battle-armor and helmeted-crown by his assistants, and then equipped with his swords and sheaths...

Precisely one hour later, Baltor walked out onto the balcony, and then he declared, "The time has come for me to leave this world, as I have an urgent matter that must immediately be taken care of. Honestly, I do not know how long I will be gone, but I do know that I'm planning on coming back...

"Therefore, my last proclamation as your Sultan is this. The Sharia Empire shall, from here on out, be known as the Sharia Republic."

Many gasps of shock erupted throughout the crowds.

"I want each and every one of you equally-powerful governors to listen to the concerns of your people, for you to convene and discuss these issues amongst each other every quarter here in this palace, and finally, for you all to vote in the best interests of the Sharia Republic. You shall all be equal in your votes."

After taking a deep breath, Baltor added, "If I find out that a single one of you is abusing your power, I will come back and destroy you all in the next second—I promise that! So...does anybody have any final questions for me?"

The world leaders replied, "No, my Sultan!"

Without hesitation or another word, Baltor turned around and began to draw the rune he had seen in his dream into the air right in front of everyone, which action caused fire to magically appear wherever his fingers moved.

Once completed—a magical portal began to open, containing all these magnificent qualities: ovular-shaped, made entirely of fire, and quite blinding. Everyone, but Baltor, instantly became fearful, forced to not only close their eyes, yet cover those eyes with his or her hands...

While casting his gaze back over his shoulder and throwing a hearty wave of his right hand, he replied, "Farewell everyone!"

Baltor looked ahead, before stepping through the portal into HELL....

THE END

Of Book II

## VALAKANESE TRANSLATIONS

1) "Good morning, Yaush"

2) "Good morning, Humonus... Friend!"

3) "Friend, how are you?"

4) "Good, you?"

5) "Good...

6) "Chill here guys...I know this friend, though I don't understand why this army's here, which we'll get to the bottom of here. "

7) "Where are you, Salami?"

8) "Good morning to you, Salami..."

9) "So what should we do?"

10) "My good friend..."

11) "Yaush, my good friend, you are going to get better—I know it..."

## ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When the veteran/author, J. Eric Booker, is not creating his literary or musical masterpieces upon "cloud 9," which is seldom, he and Mason Meyer run their own mobile recording studio, called BluColla Inc. Despite the fact that J. Eric Booker hasn't attended a single day of college, it is in his belief that though an education is important, it is not the crux to writing or music—it is the imagination and the determination.

To learn more about the author, please check out his websites:

www.soundcloud.com/e-main-1

www.facebook.com/j.eric.booker

## ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, I'd like to thank my wonderful family! I'd also like to thank.

Brenton Wilson

Brian Kuhn

Dave Barr

Dave Jones

Dr. Joel Bolton

Dr. Masaaki Hatsumi (Soke)

Dr. T

Em Petrova – Copyeditor of this book & Spicy Romance Author

Eric Ondoy

Eric Smolich

General (retired) Patrick E. Rea

George Craig

Glen Woodsides

Griffin Kisner

Henry Miller

James Clausen

Jamie Caldwell

Janice Korzik

Jason Williams

Joliet James

JT, Geo and Jeanty Etienne

Margaret Weis (NYT Best Selling Author)

Marlene Hamilton

Marshane, Mandy, "Monkey" and Malachi Kitt

Mason, Liz, Alyssa, Connor and Trinity Meyer

Matt Jones

Mike, Deanna and Larry Behning

M n T Glenn

Mike Janzcak

Philip Leibelt

Randy Roberts

R.A. Salvatore (NYT Best Selling Author)

Raul Cuevas

Ray, Tracy, Hailey, Joey, Jaden and Rusty Fjeldheim

Raymayne Gray

Ryan and Kacey Stevenson

Shanna Caldwell – Asst. Editor of this book

Tracy and Laura Hickman (NYT Best Selling Authors)

Vuk Kostic (Artist who designed "Dragon Artwork")

## LITERARY WORKS

WRITTEN BY J. ERIC BOOKER

_THE Making_ © 2004—MYSTERY

"The Elysian Dynasty Trilogy" © 2008—FANTASY

BOOK I: _THE SWORDS OF THE SULTAN_

BOOK II: _THE REIGN OF THE SULTAN_

BOOK III: _THE WAR OF ALL WARS_
