Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 312: Rise and fall

Chapter 312: Rise and fall

The Sultan of Azania departed his capital in grandeur and purpose, leading the full might of his army southward to confront the marauding horse lords who had dared to raid and besiege his towns and cities. His banners, adorned with gilded edges, fluttered in the arid winds as the rhythmic cadence of drums announced the march. The Sultan himself rode at the head of the formation, mounted on a magnificent white stallion draped in rich silks, his armor gleaming under the harsh sunlight. Behind him followed a disciplined array of soldiers—archers, spearmen, cavalry and camel's riders ready to confront the enemy in the souther part of the sultanate.

The decision to leave the capital had not been taken lightly, but the Sultan understood the urgency. The horse lords had grown bolder, their actions no longer simple raids but instead occupations. To allow such affronts to go unanswered was an insult to his honor and a threat to his reign. Thus, resolutely, he took command of his forces, leaving the palace and its delicate politics behind.

As was customary in Azania during military campaigns, the governance of the capital was entrusted to the eunuchs. Deprived of the ability to sire heirs, they were considered loyal and unambitious—ideal stewards in the Sultan's absence, as they posed no threat of establishing a dynasty. Among them, the one who wielded the greatest authority was Arkarth, an aged eunuch who had served the Sultan since his boyhood, a bit like a tutor. His years of unwavering service had earned him the ruler's trust, making him the natural choice to oversee the palace and manage the affairs of state while the Sultan led his army to war.

The palace was in an uproar, its usual calm shattered by the frantic movements of servants, midwives, and guards rushing through its grand halls. The cause of the commotion was none other than the High Priestess Shuaa, revered as both spiritual guide and mother of the Sultan's unborn son, who was now deep into her labor. Her chambers, an ornate sanctuary adorned with silken tapestries and golden lamps, had been transformed into the places where she would sire that latest son or daughter of the sultan

The air was thick with incense and the hushed murmurs of prayers, as attendants darted in and out with basins of water, linens, and medicinal herbs. Outside her chambers, a growing crowd of courtiers, eunuchs, and advisors gathered anxiously, their faces a mixture of excitement and concern. Whispers of the child's importance—a potential heir to the throne—buzzed through the palace like an electric current. Arkarth, the trusted head eunuch, stood at the forefront of the gathering, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos with his usual calmness