It had been a month since he sent the proposal, and Alfred had little time to rest. The vassal wars in the Argon Duchy had weakened the land, and although he could hold off his more powerful vassals from seizing the land he owned them, his control of the previous vassals of the Duke was weak. Alfred had moved across the entire nation numerous times to sort out militarization, but in the past month, he had concluded that the military was weak.
First coming to this world, Alfred had expected his nation to be like that of Rome, prepared with legions of highly trained soldiers, but after his small tour of the nation, he realised how wrong he was. Those who were professionally trained and belonged to the crown barely made up a thousand men, the rest being conscripted levies. He could request men from his vassals, but he knew it would be challenging. Those who were trained were a large investment, and his vassals would be hard-pressed to allow them to leave. Even requesting more levies would be hard. His vassals already had the bare minimum to provide, and requesting more than the minimum would require him to provide favours.
The entire military situation was getting to Alfred. It was too inconvenient for numerous reasons. He wanted the entire nation's fighting force under his lone control, not split between numerous vassals who had their best interests at heart. Although creating a professional army would create a new domestic power, he hoped that its creation would allow for a stalemate in the nation between the crown, army and nobles. Adding to that the high costs, Alfred knew he had to find more sources of income.
Alfred sat in his office, drawing up his plans. Although he would want to implement them before war broke out, he knew that luxury didn't exist. His tours around the nation had proved useful in getting support. Although he now owed a couple of favours, it was better than losing the war.
A knock at the door caught Alfred's attention. "My Liege. Princess Isra has arrived." Alfred waved away his servant, releasing a sigh. He couldn't believe that he was nervous to meet her. He wondered if his original body's age influenced him or his own morality. Although he felt a sense of disgust with the whole ordeal, he understood that right now, he was a twelve-year-old boy. He couldn't marry a middle-aged woman. No arrangement was desirable for him. He had to get married, and he needed the alliance.
Carefully putting his documents away, Alfred went to the side room as his servants quickly got him dressed into clothes that wouldn't shame the nation. As he walked to the throne room, he pushed all the doubts and annoyance about the situation to the back of his mind.
"Now entering, his Highness King Alfred." All those present bowed as Alfred walked in. He was dressed elegantly, wearing a set of black and gold clothing, the colours of the Ammary Kingdom. Sitting on the throne, he looked at the thirteen-year-old girl kneeling. He squinted his eyes in suspicion.
"You may all rise." Alfred's calm voice spread throughout the room as everyone lifted their head to look at him. Looking into Isra's eyes intrigued him. They were nothing like a girl her age, instead holding a deep calmness in them. The aura around her was strange as well. Although she appeared to be a young, naive girl, Alfred saw deeper. A small smile spread from his mouth. "Princess Isra. I'm sure you must be tired from your journey. How about some tea?" He walked slowly down the steps, offering his hand out to her.
Alfred sat down, waving away all the servants after they had been served. Alfred turned to Chris as well, signalling for him to leave. Before he could protest about the decisions, a small hand reached out and touched the hilt of his sword. Chris swallowed his words and left, leaving the two alone.
Alfred looked at the girl opposite him. She was a beautiful, tanned girl who would surely become a model in his old world when she became an adult. He had some information about her that his spies picked up. Despite being his youngest daughter, the Sultan shunned her due to her behaviour, with few believing her to be a witch. She would spend her free time messing around with random herbs and weapons, but despite this, she did seem to be intelligent. Most reports summed her up to be a troublemaker who had been abandoned. Alfred Smiled, thinking about the report as the girl in front didn't seem like that.
"I'm sure you understand why you are here. It's safe to assume that the Sultan agrees to the marriage then?" Alfred took a sip of his tea as he waited for a response. Although he knew the answer just by the girl sitting before him, he needed to hear why.
Isra looked at the tea before her, taking a small sip. Just like Alfred was analysing her, she was doing the same. Despite his age, she couldn't help but be a little shocked by him. She could tell he saw through the facade she created in the palace. His blue eyes held a deepness to them that rivalled the scholars at home. She had heard a little about him since his crowning. She hadn't believed them before but knew them to be true now. She smiled. It wasn't her fake one she would show but one that truly came from her. It was exciting for her to find someone like Alfred.
"The north has begun moving. He needs to protect his rear while dealing with the Grand Prince. He has a proposal. Only if you agree to it will he allow the betrothal." She reached into her cloak, pulling out a letter with a red seal on it. Alfred only glanced at the seal to know it was truly the Sultan's. He took it, reading the contents as Isra continued. "The betrothal will only last until I am an adult. Just before that happens, it will be broken."
Alfred read the letter. It was brief, not explaining anything. "Why? You wouldn't even be here now if it were due to religious reasons, so it has to be something else." He had many theories, but it seems they would have all been easier if the Sultan had outright refused from the get-go instead of imposing a condition like this.
"In the past twenty years, the tribes in the west have finally united under a single Chieftan. Despite being a so-called pagan, the Grand prince quickly married his daughter to the Chieftan's only son." Her tone was one full of self-mockery at the whole situation. "My father has the resources to defend the two fronts for a couple of years, but if a third were to open, then.." Her sentence trailed, but Alfred understood.
"And so he will cancel our betrothal at the last minute to either end the war by marrying you off or getting a new ally, one that can't be ignored?" Isra nodded as she took a drink. Alfred looked at her. There wasn't even a slither of nervousness in her; she spoke and acted about the whole situation as if it was a chess board and she was one of the pieces. He couldn't help but feel sad about the situation. "What do you want?"
He didn't know why he asked the question. Out of pity or intrigue, surprise appeared on Isra's face. She went to speak, but nothing came out of her mouth. It had been a long time since she thought about what she wanted to do, having discarded that a few years ago. Alfred watched the changes going on in her face with great interest as the confusion in her eyes turned nostalgic. "I think I want to fight." The nostalgic look was instantly replaced with a burning ambition. It was only a second, but Alfred saw it. He squinted his eyes suspiciously.
"Wh- Who are you? Not Isra Safrid, but," He grabbed his mouth and looked down to the floor before looking back up, "No, it should be. Who were you?" They locked eyes. The temperature in the room seemed to freeze as they looked at one another. Alfred's eyes were full of intrigue and suspicion whilst Isra's went cold. Alfred saw the coldness on her face. Her previous mannerisms had been replaced with that of a warrior. Her eyes scanned the table in front of her as she kept track of Alfred's movements.
He sighed. He knew he had one chance. Isra watched Alfred as he closed his eyes and changed his sitting position. Opening them again, Alfred, who was King, was completely replaced. His aura was that of a seasoned scholar. His eyes were those of someone who had lived a long life. Slowly, they changed once again. Alfred took his experiences from his short time in this world. The once-deep eyes turn empty as his attachment to life left.
Isra watched all these changes occur, with Alfred closing his eyes again and returning to his previous state. She didn't realise she had goosebumps, and her mouth had spread into a wide smile. She was excited.
Realising she still hadn't answered the question, she looked at Alfred. "In my last life, I was a warrior," She looked down, reminiscing about the past. "I led battles and had the world's respect, and now what am I, just a princess with no power? I can't even decide something like my own marriage." Her eyes turn sad. Alfred wanted to tell her that she could leave or take matters into her own hands. But he stopped himself. It was selfish, but he needed her for his country to survive. Exhaling, he got up.
"If that's the case, then I will give you that opportunity. Whether you take it, that's up to you." He knew he couldn't let her leave. All he could do was use his power as a king to provide what she wanted. Isra looked at Alfred and smiled. She knew what he was doing, but it wasn't as if she had much of a choice with how things were going.
"Wait!" Alfred stopped as Isra ran next to him. "Never tell anyone about us. If they find out, we're both dead." It was a whisper in his ear. Alfred pulled back and looked at her. The seriousness that was easily readable on her face told of first-hand experience. He gave a small nod, leaving the room.