It was a night full mist, fog, and playful shadows in the city of Pundranagar. The corridor of the rightmost side of the castle of Ahmarkilla was quiet, just as any corridors at these late hours of the night. But the decorations of the wall and the firelights of the torches hanging, were whispering, as is they were listening to the arguments happening behind this, large door. The silver moon was taking a night off, the torches and lanterns were not enough to reveal the sleeping crows in the tree hiding amongst the leaves, if only the light could reach beyond the fences, towards the large wall of bricks, it would have revealed them.
A middle-aged man, tall, his beard was trimmed, wearing silk kurta and a large robe, decorated with silver-crafted laces, came out of an arch gate, angered like a coal full of fiery conspiracy, but contained. He slammed the door shut. His name was Usban Yeasid, a High Megis of the Yeasid Sultanate.
The decorated limestone floor felt his anger, as he strode past the corridors towards the stair. His footsteps exerted frustration, as he thudded the floors with his shoes. Usban crept out of the Palace through the staircase, as they crossed the main arena, a garden full of Sun Dahlias and Blood Nargis. Past the garden, there was the inner arch gate, to the left, there was a row of cabins for staff to stay, to right, the royal stable, that is where he was headed. He giddied up his horse, signaled the Sepoy guarding the door. Standing at the gate, he took a glance at Pundranagar, the heart of the Great Bay.
As the horse steadied its hooves, the gentle tail swished and snorted of the air, he kicked gently with his boots on the horse, and the iron hooves clip-clopped on the stone paths of the Palace gate, moving forward, down the municipal district road. The road was a bit muddy, it had rained in the morning, the misty fog was not helping either, Clip-clop of the horses soon transitioned into muffled drums of hoofbeats.
Like every morning, this area was filled with people, tajirs were busy with trades and business, traders from Amer Gul, or even far-lands coming to buy spices, grains of the finest quality, could even see wajirs and sailors filling up requests for lending from the treasuries, with recommendations from tajirs, for their next harvest, land purchase or ship repairing. Now at night, the place looked empty, hollowed, and fatigued, with occasional yowling of street cats, lurking behind the alleys. Beyond the guard's office, one with a black dome on the roof, the municipal district ended, and the path diverged in two different ways.
Usban subtly kicked the horse, it trotted forward, faster. He turned his horse and paced towards Vinodpur gate. High Megis Tarban must be waiting. Left to Municipal District, up to the gate of Vinodpur, it is mostly residential, most people who live here were councilmen, high officials & traders, the two-storied houses here were better looking, well decorated, most of the houses have domes above the roof, its a sign of prestige and honor. He went past the prayer hall, he saw the first gate to Vinodpur standing in front, the gates, as usual, opened for him as he nodded the sepoy.
The difference of the landscape was clearly visible once out of the gate. This district in fact was part of Pundranagar, but only outside the city wall, the city outgrew itself as people kept coming from the villages, looking for more work, especially during the offseason, when all the crops had already been harvested. That is why vinodpur had countless Inns, rentals. One could even hire wagons or horses, even find work offshore for a short spell of time.
Fidnat Inn was close by, Usban only needed to look for a short time to find it out, he usually did not come to these Inns, so he would not know. It was supposed to be on the right side of the Kotoali Office. the buildings were ragged, not tidy enough, people lived here for a short period of time, so the owners, most of them, did not care enough.
He trotted a bit further down the road to look for it. Fidnat Inn, of course, was among the better looking, High Megis Tarban, who mentored him in his young days, was a man of better taste. After tying up the horse on the stand, he pushed the door. The squeaking door caught the attention of the man wearing white kurta standing behind the counter.
"We are closed –makamdar spoke before looking–
Oh, High Megis Usban! Salambad! My apologies." The person excused himself. "High Megis Tarban is waiting for you, he is at the upper floor, 1st room from the right."
"Keep an eye on my horse, Makamdar."
"Anything you order, Megis" the makamdar replied humbly.
*****
The piquant fragrance of Sharab had thickened the air.
Usban turned out another roll of tabag from the pocket of his silk kurta, putting the tabag in mouth, He flicked the Flintlighter open, clinked the round golden notch, the head of the tabag ignited with a small fiery flare, the rich benignant smoke went down my throat as he inhaled it. Eyes closed on its own, to take a short break, one moment of stressless-ness. He puffed out rings of smoke which pranced the air for a moment, all the stress of the world was residing inside, weighing him down, started waving goodbye, calmly. Usban noticed tarban was a bit annoyed, reading his expression, smoking a foreign tobacco.
"Quiet powerful, the smell of your tabag", he laughed, "it's suffocating me, Usban", Megis Tarban spoke, sitting on the other side of the two-person table beside the window, with porcelain cups and vases, amused and annoyed.
A lamp has been lit on the suspended lampshade, on the other side of the room. The wooden walls of the room were crafted with patterns, which Usban thought has been made from breaking down a foreign ship in Bulstan Alley, a shipwrecking town by the outskirts of Pundranagar, he guessed.
"Stop complaining, this place stenches of your self-invented Sharab," –Usban blurted– "it's disgusting."
"Preposterous!
You have traveled in the gulf for 2 years, and just imported this tabag, and this?"–He raised his cup full of sharab and mocked me– "this made me rich."
"I have brought more than just that!" Usban revolted. And I went way beyond the Great Bay, he thought.
"Okay! Master of Trades! Tell me, how is your grand homecoming going?" laughing at Usban as he sipped on his sharab. Usban could not out-maneuver him for once in his young age. Not in Talwarbaji, definitely not in conversation.
"Why do I always come back to the same old place, mentor?" Usban asked with a deeper tone, completely ignoring his mentor's banter.
"What do you mean?"
"We are the richest country in the gulf, and I see no ambition, our people economy is growing, where do we spend this wealth?" he was being passive, hoping so Tarban could be understood.
"Domination does not bring peace, Usban, look what we did in the last 25 years."
"Correct, the progress was there, then it stopped. We make heaps of money from our trades, our grains, our looms, we accomplished my brother's, Sultan Fiqr's dream, the Sultanate is the heart of the Great Gulf, one of the most important trading port of the world." –Usban questioned because he had seemed ambitious–
What now?"
"We live in peace" Tarban claimed.
"Only moving forward is peace, Tarban, we will be at peace if we continue to grow"
"and how do you suggest we do that?" Tarban raised his eyebrows.
We have to gain control of the entire Great Gulf. That is what Usban wanted to say.
"We wanted attention, the world gave us their attention," Usban countered with another question. "What do you think the other countries will see us as?
a hell full of treasure, ready to be taken", he took a pause, as he said it.
Usban took another puff from his Tabag. The leaves catching on fire crackled inside the roll, he could almost hear it. It appeared Tarban is starting to understand his point. He became very quiet, Usban could see that. He had Tarban's full attention. His chair squeaked as Tarban moved a bit forward.
"Listen, Usban, I understand your point, you want to take a defensive measure, If you are asking me to vote in your favor in the High Council, you have it, because it makes sense to me," –he added– "although I must tell you, I am a little offended, I understand the Council is full of conservative people, who value tradition and finds a strong sense of morality in it. I thought you understood me well enough to know that I am above those mediocrities, I am in fact, have a very realistic approach towards politics." Tarban took another sip of his Sharab.
Damn it, did not want to offend you old man. Talking to you is hard.
"I would never want to offend you, you are my mentor, you know that, Tarban, you know me more than I know myself", Usban tried to make up to him. He seeks Tarban's opinion about his future exploits.
I wanted to justify that my recent ambitions, for my country, no matter how dubious it can be, have a meaning, have a necessity.
It's a tough thing to ask from Tarban, being the kind of person, He is even tougher with Usban's obscurity. This is my way of getting his blessing. Usban thought.
"How far would you go for this Sultanate?" Usban asked him, He is worried he might offend him again.
Tarban chuckled.
"H-ha-ha-hah!" Tarban smiled as he caressed his silk-silver beard with his fingers, "Its a question I chased for a long time, and I think you must understand three things to truly know the answer to this, there exists commitment, then there is devotion, where your commitment becomes sacred" –Tarban gulped the last bit of Sharab from the cup, after putting on the table, he continued– "and then, sometimes, your sacred devotion, goes even far beyond, you become so steel hardened resolute, that you could dare the devil, even trade a place in the depths of hell."
To the depths of hell.
"Would you?" Usban asked. "Would you go to the depths of hell?" He wanted to have some form of assurance.
"I don't know, Usban, I have spent more of my youth in the Municipal District than with my wife, I don't think that counts as going to the depths of hell, you amuse me." Tarban burst out in laughter, his voices are becoming slurry.
You are getting drunk, old man.
"Stop drinking Sharab, Tarban." Usban insisted. You are going drunk," –He took the Sharab from the table and put in on the shelf, left to the door– "I need you on your senses."
"Yeah, put away my Sharab, don't let the old man relax for a while." Tarban shooed him with his hand.
Usban poured a cup with water from the vase, sitting on the bedside small table, then sat back at the chair. He leaned towards the window, peeked through the window, It was a moonless-dark, foggy night outside–
As still as dead men.
I hope he is okay out there, in the fog. Maybe I should have made him stay at his quarters. Usban thought.
"Checking if someone stole your horse? traveling for 2 years made you forget Yeasid Sultanate is a land of civilized culture and riches, this is not a land of savages," –Tarban slurred with sincere concern about Usban's perception– "no one will take your horse, even in Vinodpur."
"I was thinking about Turan." Usban could not help but laugh at Tarban for being so wrong.
"High Megis Tarban, The Maker of Sultans," –Usban ridiculed him– "also a drunken old man, yelling nonsense."
You are not wrong though. Pundra is– fertile. Rich. Civil. A land ready to be plundered dry, my mentor. The mere thought of it frightens me. We do not stand a chance against what lies beyond The Great Bay. We must prepare.
"My bad, Usban." Turban felt a little embarrassed, "Misread you there, I am a little tipsy,
Do you want spiced tea? I can not roam around the municipal district with a heavy head like this." he pointed to the teapot in the table.
So now you remember you have state business tomorrow.
"Just puff some Tabag, it is better than your Spiced Tea in a Qingish porcelain cup" Usban bantered. He put out a tabag roll from his pocket and pushed it over to Tarban, across the table, followed by his flint lighter.
Two them smoked silently, did not took them long filling up the room with smoke, their eyes burned a little; Usban is used to this. But Tarban– he struggled.
"Oh! my eyes are burning, I can not take this anymore," –Tarban moved the curtains of the window, to let the thickened smoke out– "This is Preposterous! How is this supposed to be relaxing."
Usban smiled with denial, as Tarban criticized his newly found smoking habit.
"You were talking about loyalties and devotion earlier," Tarban asked. He was still rubbing his eyes, the smoke really irritated him.
Usban nodded in agreement "I wanted assurance that I am walking in the right direction."
"As long as it has the best interest of the sultanate, I can confidently vouch for it, otherwise my reputation for being a great mentor is not justified," –Tarban looked at Usban with a soothing gaze, he had
"By the way, how is Demir doing? he must be very happy to see you, how old is he now, 15?" Tarban asked.
"Yeah, he is excited, he is young and still have a lot to learn about his duties." Usban commented on his child's growth.
"You barely gave him anything to look up to you and have a sense of responsibility. You and your shrouded sorrows of losing Nadia made you forget you have child to look after as well, both of them needed you, still needs your attention." Tarban barbed at him.
I am not going to deny, I did abandon them and left on a voyage, I robbed their father from them, when all they ever wanted was to be with me.
"I guess," Usban felt remorse. "I am a bad parent."
I remember Nadya when I look at them, I can not stand this. Especially Feroze, she is the reason Nadya left the world. Usban thought.
"You speak of moving forward, yet you are holding on to your sorrows of the past. You are hurting, Usban" –Tarban consoled him– "get yourself together."
That comment really shook him. Tarban stopped talking, realizing that.
Damn it, old man. Give me a break. Usban thought as he felt aggrieved.
"I am telling you this because I care about your well being. Also, it is your responsibility, being your mentor, I can not let you walk away from that." Tarban said.
Usban could not say anything. Because he knew it was right. He rubbed his nose and mouth with his left hand, as he felt uncomfortable. Thousand different things popped up in his mind. He looked at the last bit of Tabag between his two fingers, the burning leaves were almost extinguished, burnt ash of tabag weighing down on its head, like his thoughts. He wishes if he could avoid feeling this pressure, he wondered if he will ever be able to face it.
He wished he could bury these feelings at the depths of the sea, forever.
The silence was broken by a cantering horse ridden by a sepoy, as it was approaching the Inn. Usban gazed outside the window hearing the hoofbeats, Tarban followed instinctively, turning is head leftward.
"What could have happened?" Tarban asked.
"Looks like one of my men," –Usban confirmed– Let's hear what he has to say." Why is he here? Usban Thought.
They downstair became noisy, probably the person at the counter would not let him come upstairs, in the quarters.
"...you can't barge in without any permission, they are busy!" the Inn master yelled at the Sepoy as he slammed open the door, and came inside.
"High Megis! I bring news from Raees Hashin!" The sepoy said, panting.
"Why are you here? My Instruction was clear." Usban yelled.
"My Sultan! It is about Prince Demir!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Usban felt irritated. What did he do now?
"There was an accident, we do not really understand what happened due to thick fog, he is currently unconscious since we recovered him, Raees took him to Ahmarkilla, He is also injured himself."
"Why did you send him to Moinottgat at this time of night?" Tarban was astounded by realizing the situation.
As a matter of fact, Usban was dumbfounded as well. It is not usual for him to miscalculate any possible scenario, For fuck's sake, this is going to cost me serious repercussion. He thought. I need to talk to Hashin.
"Megis Tarban, my apologies mentor, I have to leave, I will explain everything later," Usban spoke very formally. "Please do not worry, I will see you in the morning."
"This is going to bother me all night Usban, you must explain this to me in the morning, please take good care of you son" Tarban said as Usban stood up to take leave.