Book 3. The Long Journey. Chapter 52. The One Who Brings Shaari.
Three hours after sunrise, at the port city of Kaen.
The Seal of Betrayals was in its calm period, the waves lazily washing over the hundreds of larger and smaller ships docked in the large port. The sailors, the fishermen, the men of the house of coin; everyone went about their own day.
On top of the lighthouse, a bored keeper gazed at the azure horizon where the sea and the sky connected with half-open eyes. He sipped some rum from the flask in his hand, ready for another day filled with nothing interesting to do. He yawned, his eyes watering slightly from the breeze coming from over the sea. “Hrm?” he perked up and hurriedly stood up, leaned against the railing and squinted his eyes as he tried to make out the small moving dots which began appearing on the horizon.
“It can’t be, they were supposed to arrive in three days!” the keeper grew excited and took out a hand telescope from his interspatial ring. He quickly put it to his eye and adjusted the focus. A smile emerged on his face when he saw the emblem of a roaring tiger on the sails of the dozens of grand warships; the Grand Yimar was coming! The highest representative of the Great Prophet was coming to claim the lands of infidels for Arkaria and for Rala!
The keeper put the telescope away and ran up to thick rope connected to the bell atop of the lighthouse. With a harrumph he pulled the rope, putting the huge bell into motion. The steady ringing was soon carried by the wind and began echoing throughout the whole port city.
“He’s here already?” Yimar Sharu wanted to curse. He had only just arrived with his men half an hour ago! They had had no time to make any preparations! How were they supposed to properly receive one of the three Grand Yimars when all their gifts were yet to arrive?! “What are you staring at?! Get moving! Now! You have half an hour to get everything ready unless you all want to be flogged!” he shouted at his men, refusing to accept being ashamed in front of a Grand Yimar.
Sharu’s direct subordinates were very much unhappy in their hearts, but none of them could voice any objections. They would do as much as they could… and they would hope not to be flogged or punished in some other way.
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“Grand Yimar, we will soon come ashore,” a servant reported with a respectful bow, standing at the wide doorstep to the Grand Yimar’s cabin.
“Leave,” the man wearing loose, white clothes that were decorated with a few golden armaments ordered calmly from atop of the small mound of pillows.
The servant retreated a few steps while keeping his head and torso low and only then straightened up and left.
When he was left alone, the man in white clothes frowned slightly and murmured angrily. “A month on this damned ship, sailing the Sea of Betrayals… we even got caught up in a strange whirlpool. Thank the God we were lucky to only be pushed forward by it. Had we sailed into the middle of that whirlpool, given how huge it was… we would have all been swallowed up by the sea.”
Just thinking about the needless danger they had been put in because of the Great Prophet’s ridiculous demand made his blood boil. They should have taken their time and sailed by the shore! What difference would it make by this point if they arrived a few months later? That warmonger Arakar, the ‘Sword of Rala’ of the Great Prophet’s had already screwed up their plan to absorb the whole Eulean Union all at once; did the Great Prophet really think this situation could be salvaged?
“I had told him not to send those warmongers and fanatics to Eulene, but he refused to wait another century,” the white-clothed man thought resignedly, the memory of the Holy Council meeting from half a century ago causing him to feel more frustrated than angered. He had long since given up on expecting reasonable things from the central and northern Arkaria, but he at least hoped they wouldn’t cause trouble for him and his people.
“I swear if they trespass my lands when I’m gone…” he clenched his fists, knowing fully well how bad of a relationship he had with the Grand Yimar Shashuur. Just imagining what could happen if that crazy man decided to invade his lands while he was gone under some ridiculous pretext caused him to feel extreme fury and made Qi seep out of his body. The Qi he unconsciously released would merge with the air, bringing forth strong gusts of the wind in the large cabin. The mighty aura of a martial master of the seventh rank soon filled the room and flooded the board of the ship through the open door, causing many of the white-clothed man’s subordinates to walk on the tips of their toes.
“Father?” a boy that looked to be five, perhaps six years old peeked out from behind the wall and into the cabin. “Are you angry at something…?” he asked, wondering if he chose a bad time to disturb his father.
“Arslan,” the white-clothed man restrained his aura and smiled at his son. “Come here,” he said merrily and raised his hand, encouraging Arslan to come over. Being angry was one thing, but he would never take his frustrations out on his son.
The five-year-old smiled brightly and ran up to his father, then jumped on his lap and rested against his chest. “Are we going to go sightseeing? I heard from everyone that Eulene is a lot greener than our Arkaria. I want to see the forests and the rivers and the fields!” he said excitedly, unable to wait how the foreign lands looked and if they matched the tales he had heard about them.
“We will go as soon as I clean up all the mess,” the white-clothed man promised and tousled his son’s short black hair.
“How long will it take?” Arslan asked, hoping that his father won’t bury himself in work and spend no time with him.
“Only a day or two at each of the three capitals and at the fortress Arakar occupies,” the white-clothed man reassured. “We will spend some nice time touring the Eulene meanwhile,” he added with a laugh, not planning to concern himself with the state of the southern Eulene too much. He would give out orders and expect them to be carried out; if they weren’t, he would have the disobedient ones executed and make sure everything worked as he wanted it to.
“So we will be going together?” Arslan inquired, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. His father told him they would spend four years in the Eulean Union, so he very much wished not to be left alone and bored while his father would work.
“Apart from the most important meetings, I’m planning to keep you close at all times,” the white-clothed man said with a laugh. “Just be sure to tell me if you will have grown tired of your father at any point,” he added, thinking that it would be good if his son made some friends his age too while touring the lands of Eulene. He didn’t want his son to grow up as a sheltered prince and having him interact with many common people on the daily routine was the best wait to ensure that.
“I won’t grow tired of you, father,” Arslan said while looking up into his father’s black eyes; ones that were identical to his own. “You won’t grow tired of me too, right?” he asked teasingly, surprising his father and causing him to laugh out loud.
“Who would get tired of you?” the white-clothed man said warmly and hugged his son tightly. “Come on, let’s go on the board and take a look at the city,” he encouraged, and didn’t need to say it twice as Arslan quickly got off of him and began urging him to hurry up.
The two of them walked out of the cabin and directly onto the board. The servants greeted them by lowering their heads, but they didn’t take the time to stop working and adjusting the course and speed of the warship and they got closer and closer to the port.
“Grand Yimar.”
“Greetings, Grand Yimar.”
“Good day, Beast General.”
The Grand Yimar chuckled when the golden-haired young man greeted him with the title he had obtained in his younger days. “You appear to be in a good mood,” he mentioned casually, looking at the golden-haired man and the rest of the present white-clothed warriors with a great sense of pride. He had put a lot of effort and resources into training his elite White Guard and the results weren’t disappointing in the least.
“Wow, what a big port city! It’s nearly as big as ours!” Arslan said loudly while hanging from the wooden taffrail and waving his legs playfully.
“The City of Kaen is the biggest port in the southern Eulene so it’s not a surprise for it to be big,” the golden-haired young man explained with a smile, used to protecting and chatting with the Grand Yimar’s son.
“Why are all those people gathering in the port?” Arslan asked curiously. They were still a few kilometers away from the port, but it wasn’t too hard to spot the tens of thousands of people that flooded the port and many, many times more who began gathering all around the city.
“To greet your father, naturally,” the golden-haired young man replied with a laugh. Wasn’t this much obvious enough?
“Why would they all stop working to greet father? Isn’t that a waste of time?” Arslan pointed out, failing to recall any time back in their hometown when everyone would stop whatever they were doing just to greet someone. Was his father’s arrival really such a big matter to everyone here for so many people to gather that he would have trouble counting them all?
The Grand Yimar and the golden-haired young man both laughed, quite amused by Arslan’s straightforward reasoning. Indeed it was rare for anyone back in the City of Makarash to gather to welcome someone’s arrival, but it still happened from time to time. As for the lands of southern Eulene… well, they had recently become a part of the Grand Yimarate and it was the first time a Grand Yimar was paying them a visit. For a few million believers to gather in the city, even on the notice as short as one week, wasn’t all that unexpected.
“The customs of our homeland are a bit different,” the Grand Yimar explained briefly, intending to let his son see how the world was different rather than to merely explain it with words. The Makarash Yimarate he ruled over was pretty unique, so it was important for Arslan to learn how the darker parts of the world looked and on what rules they operated.
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“Huuuuh.” Arslan puffed his lips, thinking that people here were really easygoing and rich if they could afford to waste so much time.
“Reian, do me a favor and bring me and my son our horses,” the Grand Yimar mentioned when more and more of the men of his White Guard began heading below the board to retrieve their mounts.
“Yes, Lord Mustafa.” Reian put his hand to his heart and bowed slightly, a calm smile present on his face.
“Will you be trying to mention all my names and titles by the end of the day?” Mustafa asked with a laugh and shook his head resignedly.
“It would take more than one day to mention all the formal and informal titles of yours, my lord,” Reian responded with a wry smile. “And I’m pretty sure I’d be sent to clean the stables for a few years if I mentioned half of the informal ones, and get flogged for the second half,” he added with a laugh, bowed again and went to fetch the horses.
“This guy,” Mustafa chuckled, wondering how did that cute and meek child he had bought out of slavery grow up into such a fine, but maybe a bit too playful young man.
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The moment the flag warship with the Grand Yimar docked in the port and the white-clothed man himself appeared before the devout believers, all the four million Ikarians fell to the ground and prostrated themselves. Yimar Sharu bowed deeply, while the experts accompanying him kneeled. For a moment, only the cries of the seagulls and the sound of the waves could be heard despite the presence of such a huge amount of people.
Mustafa suppressed a sigh. “Rise!” he said loudly, his voice carrying far and wide thanks to the Qi it had been imbued in. He glanced at Arslan who joined him at his side and suppressed another sigh, knowing what was going to happen next.
“Namar Shaari!” Yimar Sharu shouted first, then more and more people began repeating the yell in waves. The roaring was truly ear-deafening as the four million people shouted all at once, celebrating the arrival of the Grand Yimar. The ground shook and the windows in the city’s buildings trembled; were it not for the ban of using Qi to shout, the cries alone would have been enough to cause a fair amount of damage in the area and cause thousands of weaker people to turn deaf.
‘Namar Shaari’, or in the common language, the one who brings Shaari. This kind of greeting should have caused Mustafa and his men to feel great, but anyone who looked could see the emotionless or sometimes even cold looks on their faces. This sight worried Yimar Sharu greatly; was the Grand Yimar not satisfied with the number of people that showed up? They had been informed of his arrival only one week ago and moreover, the Grand Yimar arrived sooner than they were told he would. Four million people arriving was already very good as far as Yimar Sharu was concerned… but apparently, it was not good enough to satisfy the Grand Yimar.
“If he doesn’t like the gifts I prepared for him I will be in great trouble,” Yimar Sharu through nervously. He knew that with a Grand Yimar’s authority Mustafa could remove him from his post at any time, or he could even kill him and no one would bat an eye. Only Yimar Maar who watched over the Guode Federation to the north and Sword of Rala, Arakar, could be sure to keep their positions regardless of the Grand Yimar Mustafa’s opinion. He and Yimar Tarkar, on the other hand, needed to work hard to satisfy Mustafa or else they would face the consequences.
“Make the space! Get out of the port!” Mustafa shouted over the unending chant of ‘Namar Shaari’, not planning to stand here until everyone’s throats got so sore they couldn’t cough out another word. There was a very clear sign of annoyance in his voice, what caused Yimar Sharu and his subordinates to start sweating like pigs that were about to be butchered.
The people were used to Yimar’s displaying an overbearing attitude though, so unlike those directly affected by Mustafa’s mood they began obediently retreating and were even mindful enough to clear the way through the main street just in case. For them it would have been stranger if a Grand Yimar turned out to be a sissy like those men from Eulene; thus instead of getting angry at the harsh way Mustafa treated them, they were actually very happy and content. That was what a man with power should be!
Mustafa allowed himself to sigh a little and began walking the wooden footbridge leading from his warship down to the docks. Arslan followed suit and made sure not to fall behind. After the two of them, the golden-haired young man, Reian, began coming down with three exquisite light-brown Hisan horses that boasted unrivaled swiftness and agility among the various breeds of the continent.
“Rala Salar.” Yimar Sharu bowed deeply. “Your lowly servant greets you, Grand Yimar Mustafa the Humble, the Ferocious Tiger General, the Lord of Makarash, the One Who Brings Shaari,” he said respectfully and submissively, the whole time not daring to raise his head. “My name is Sharu and I’m the one overseeing the Faren lands. I’m in your service, Grand Yimar,” he finished in the most polite words he knew and waited for Mustafa to allow him to straighten up.
“Rala Salar,” Mustafa said calmly and only then did Sharu stop bowing before him. “Lend us a guide and follow behind with your men,” he ordered briefly, holding Yimar Sharu and pretty much all the Ikarian leaders from the Euleanian lands in contempt. If his position in the mainland had been more secure, he would have loved to execute all those blind fanatics including the Great Prophet’s Sword of Rala, but regrettably, he couldn’t afford to do something like that.
“Great Yimar, I had some gifts prepared for you…” Yimar Sharu brought up hurriedly, his face draining of color under Mustafa’s ice-cold attitude.
“Don’t need them, make the way for my men,” Mustafa dismissed the suggestion without a second thought and gestured for Sharu and his followers to get out of the way and make space for his White Guard and their horses.
Yimar Sharu bowed repeatedly and walked backward at the same time, doing just as he was told. At the same time, as the pressure of Mustafa’s on his body lessened, he realized what kind of terrifying aura those hundreds of white-clothed men were giving off. “Is that the famed White Guard of the Great Yimar Mustafa’s?” he asked himself, feeling really tempted to release his aura and scan the cultivation bases of those men, but knowing better than to do something so disrespectful and pretty much suicidal.
If rumors were to be believed, Mustafa’s elite armies were superior even to the Great Prophet’s; they were said to be the absolutely strongest force in the entire Arkaria! People were still telling the story of a wandering expert, a martial master of the sixth rank, who had challenged the White Guard General of Mustafa’s to a duel and got killed by one stroke of the old man’s saber! Although the White Guards accompanying Mustafa appeared to be only ten hundred in numbers, Yimar Sharu didn’t doubt they would be able to easily cut their way through the entire garrison of the City of Palee. His sixteen thousand ‘experts’ in the Realm of Heroes would be like sheep in face of a pack of wolves; they would be mowed down mercilessly and one-sidedly.
“You don’t like that man, father?” Arslan inquired as he and his father approached their horses.
“I don’t,” Mustafa admitted straightforwardly. “I have my reasons. You will learn about them in time too as we tour those lands,” he added before his son could ask another question.
Arslan looked like he really wanted to get his father to explain everything, but he somehow managed to restrain himself and only nodded in understanding.
“Can you get your horse ready on your own?” Reian asked as he left Arslan’s horse by the boy’s side.
“I can!” Arslan said with a renewed excitement and gave his father an eager look. Mustafa laughed and left saddling his horse for later, waiting for his son to show him what he wanted.
Arslan smiled and bent his knees, then jumped two meters high into the air, directly over his horse’s back. He pushed his right hand down in a very practiced manner and just before he fell, he managed to take out the saddle from his interspatial ring and place it precisely on his horse. Then, when he sat down, he leaned forward and put the bridle on his horse’s head and finally grabbed the reins. With a slightly flushed face and with a bright smile, he turned his head and looked at his father, waiting impatiently for him to say something.
“Really good job,” Mustafa praised with a smile. “I certainly wasn’t capable of doing that when I was your age. You are both talented and you work very hard. I couldn’t be more proud of you,” he said honestly, aware of how much work his son was putting into bettering himself every day. It already was a display of monstrous talent for him to have reached the second mortal realm in his martial practice at the age of five, but the control over his body and Qi he displayed was no less than of many well-trained twelve or thirteen-year-olds; and not to mention that he had already learned how to read and write very well! He really couldn’t have wished for a better son than that.
As for Arslan, he was so happy with his father’s praise that his face reddened all the way up to his ears. He really had been training and studying day and night long each and every day without slacking off in the slightest; for all this hard work to pay off was the best feeling ever! “I’m going to reach the third rank before I turn six and I will get better at everything else too! You will be super amazed, father!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, ready to keep doing his best just like he always had.
“I’m sure I will be,” Mustafa agreed with a laugh and finished preparing his own horse in a flash. He mounted the horse and sent his son an amused glance. “Want to do the honors?” he asked and chuckled a little when his son’s eyes lit up in response.
Arslan perked up, totally overjoyed. He turned his horse to the side and took a deep breath, then shouted with the aid of his Qi. “Form the ranks, form the ranks!”
Reian and the one thousand White Guards all showed smiles on their faces. The White Guards began orderly and quickly forming into one hundred man units. The road before them was wide, so they placed themselves ten riders in one row. Alas, there wasn’t quite enough space in the port so the second half of them didn’t hurry and began forming up only when Mustafa, Arslan and Reian rode forward with the first units.
“Go with them, hurry,” Yimar Sharu ordered one of his men, one who knew the area well and knew how to behave to join the Grand Yimar as a guide that had been requested.
Watching the thousand White Guards of Mustafa’s, Yimar Sharu was beginning to feel worse and worse. He could tell that his own men were only following him because of the sense of duty and the benefits they gained from doing so. However, those White Guards… they seemed to be genuinely happy to serve and follow the Grand Yimar and his son. A force like that would remain loyal and fight to the very end no matter what happened; much unlike the army of the Faren Yimarate which he commanded.
“This is bad… this is really bad,” Yimar Sharu worried to no end. At the rate everything was going he could already see himself being exchanged for someone else; if that happened, then his head would almost certainly roll. He needed to find something to court favor with Mustafa as soon as possible, else it would be the end of him.
“How far away from the capital are we?” Mustafa asked when the man sent by Sharu joined them at the head of the column.
“A little more than one thousand kilometers, Grand Yimar,” the man responded without delay. “The road is wide and well maintained the whole way,” he went out of his way to add, but almost had a heart attack when he remembered he shouldn’t have been saying anything he wasn’t specifically asked about. Yet, he breathed with relief when the Grand Yimar nodded and didn’t reprimand him for his mistake.
“How about it Arslan, are you up to the challenge?” Mustafa asked with a smile. “If you lead us to the capital in under five hours, I will do one thing you ask of me,” he proposed, seeing the time frame of five hours as a hard, but manageable goal to achieve.
“Really? I can ask for anything?” Arslan asked in response and after receiving a nod of confirmation from his father, he smiled wryly. “I’m so going to make it! Let’s go!” he called out excitedly. Horse riding was one of his favorite things; as long as this guide could keep up well and knew how to show the way, he would absolutely live up to his father’s expectations!
“Whoa, don’t forget to give out the orders,” Mustafa reminded with a laugh, causing his son to reveal a little blush of embarrassment.
“We gallop to the capital!” Arslan turned around and shouted with his Qi. “Get ready and follow!” he added and was met with an instant and loud response.
“Huoh!”
Although he was a bit overwhelmed when one thousand White Guards all responded in one voice, he collected himself quickly enough and glanced at his father, at Reian and finally at their guide. He smiled nervously, but also excitedly; he would be the one leading those one thousand elite men! He kicked the sides of his horse and made him go into a gallop.
The guide followed slightly behind Arslan, while Mustafa and Reian stayed further behind. The ten units of one hundred White Guard riders sped up consistently, without breaking the ranks in the slightest. As they picked up the pace the rumbling of the many horses’ hooves intensified, soon turning into an avalanche-like steady rumbling.
Hearing the incredible sound coming from behind his back, Arslan could feel his heart beat wildly inside his chest. It was his first time leading a unit so large, and it was most definitely an awesome experience.