After the meeting concluded, Aza stormed through the palace corridors, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. His footsteps echoed down the marble halls, his fists clenched tightly as he tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Beside him, Bazzle walked with a more casual gait, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips as he watched his dear friend’s frustration unfold.
“This is outrageous,” Aza muttered, his voice low and venomous. “To think, I will have to kill a second person to secure my place as Sultan.” His eyes narrowed, flashing with anger. “And to lose my position to a peasant baker? A nobody?”
Bazzle raised a hand, his fingers twirling gracefully as he gestured for Aza to calm down. “Now, now, my friend,” he murmured, his voice a soothing melody tinged with mischief. “Don’t let this boy get under your skin. He’s likely to die on this fool’s errand long before he ever returns to challenge you. The Sword of Righteousness is no easy treasure to claim.”
Aza’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as he turned to Bazzle. “You underestimate him. He has the backing of The Origin. If that… divine entity is willing to intervene for him, who’s to say he won’t continue to protect him on his quest?”
Bazzle let out a soft chuckle, shrugging with a casual indifference. “The Origin only intervenes so much, my dear Aza. He got involved this time because his message was mocked. That’s the only reason the advisor was… transformed,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “As long as we don’t openly disrespect The Origin, it should be fair play. The boy is on his own out there, and many of The Origin’s servants have fallen before.”
Aza’s frown didn’t ease, his gaze drifting toward the grand window at the top of the palace. From here, he could see the city sprawled out below, the winding canals and bustling streets glistening under the midday sun. He took a deep breath, the familiar sight of the city he believed to be his birthright stirring a deep-seated desire for control, for power.
Bazzle noticed his friend’s continued doubt and let out a sigh, his six arms folding in various expressive poses that combined to create an air of thoughtful reassurance. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep a close eye on the boy,” he said, his tone soft but laced with intent. “If he begins to show any real progress, if he gets closer to success than we’d like… I’ll make sure his journey ends prematurely.”
Aza’s expression softened, a cruel smile slowly forming as he imagined Malin’s defeat. “See that you do,” he replied, his tone icy. “This city, this kingdom… It’s mine. The boy may think he has some divine backing, but in the end, I will be the one standing beside the Princess, wearing the crown.”
Bazzle nodded, his own smile growing wider as he followed Aza’s gaze out the window. “Indeed, my friend. And when that day comes, I’ll be there to ensure everything falls into place.”
They stood there for a moment in silence, looking out over the city, each lost in his own thoughts of power, ambition, and the lengths they were willing to go to secure their positions. Aza’s eyes glinted with a renewed determination as he imagined the kingdom under his rule, while Bazzle’s smirk lingered, already crafting plans within plans to manipulate events as they unfolded.
In the quiet of that shared vision, they both knew one thing for certain—no matter what divine force might stand in the way, they would not let a mere baker disrupt their path to power.
In the quiet comfort of Nahra’s chambers, she and Maya sat together, the tension of the recent events still hanging heavy in the air. Nahra leaned back, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of everything that had unfolded in the throne room. The audacity of Malin’s proclamation, the Sultan’s acceptance of his quest, and the sheer impossibility of it all left her feeling both anxious and strangely hopeful.
“I still can’t believe he actually showed up here,” Nahra murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “And that he would dare ask for my hand in exchange for finding the Sword of Righteousness. I didn’t even know he knew about that.”
Maya, sitting across from her, looked at Nahra with a hesitant smile. “Well, I may have… played a small role in helping him get here.”
Nahra’s eyebrows shot up, a mixture of annoyance and surprise flashing across her face. “You let him in? Maya, do you realize how risky that was? If Father or Aza had discovered your involvement—”
Maya held up her hands defensively, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “I know, I know! But look, he was desperate, Nahra. I could see it in his eyes. And besides, he wasn’t going to give up easily. If I hadn’t helped him, he might have tried something even more reckless.”
Nahra huffed, crossing her arms as she gave Maya a look of exasperation. “You’re lucky it turned out the way it did, or I’d never hear the end of it. You could’ve put us both in serious trouble.”
Maya chuckled, brushing off the reprimand with a casual wave of her hand. “I knew you’d forgive me. And, well… he did make quite the entrance, didn’t he?” She raised an eyebrow, her playful tone softening as she noticed the faint blush on Nahra’s cheeks.
Nahra sighed, her expression softening as she looked down, a small smile playing at her lips. “I suppose he did.” She hesitated, her gaze distant as she considered the implications of Malin’s quest. “I just… never expected him to do something so bold. He’s always been ambitious, but this?”
Maya’s gaze softened, and she placed a comforting hand on Nahra’s arm. “Hey, if nothing else, it shows how much he cares. He’s willing to risk everything for you, Nahra. I’ve never seen anyone so determined… or so hopelessly in love.”
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Nahra’s blush deepened, and she glanced away, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “It’s… overwhelming. The thought that he’d go to such lengths, even challenging Aza for the throne. Part of me wishes he hadn’t taken this path. It’s dangerous, and I fear what might happen to him.”
Maya nodded, her usual playful demeanor softened by genuine empathy. “I understand. But maybe, just maybe, this is a chance for something good. Maybe he’ll succeed, and you’ll finally have the choice you’ve been denied for so long.”
Nahra looked up, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “Perhaps. But there’s so much at stake, for all of us. I only hope… I hope he knows what he’s doing.”
Maya squeezed her friend’s arm reassuringly. “He’s a smart one, that baker boy of yours. If anyone can surprise us, it’s him.”
They shared a quiet moment, both feeling the weight of Malin’s journey ahead and the dangerous path that had opened up before them.
Malin stood in the innermost courtyard with Sultan Amir Kalkan, the lush greenery and fragrant flowers providing a brief respite from the intensity of the palace halls. He still felt the lingering shock of the recent events but was surprised to find the Sultan’s demeanor unexpectedly kind, almost fatherly. The Sultan looked him over with a blend of curiosity and something close to relief.
“Well, Malin Osuninya,” the Sultan said, his voice carrying a tone of familiarity that took Malin by surprise. “I’m glad to see you’re still alive after such an audacious display in my throne room.”
Malin blinked, surprised to hear his full name from the Sultan’s lips. “You… know my name?”
The Sultan chuckled, nodding with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, I know more than just your name, young Malin. You didn’t think I’d let my daughter carry on speaking with a baker boy without knowing exactly who he was, did you?”
Malin felt his cheeks warm as he shifted awkwardly. “I… didn’t think anyone would notice,” he admitted sheepishly.
The Sultan raised an eyebrow, a wry smile playing at his lips. “As Sultan, I have eyes and ears throughout this entire city. There’s very little that goes unnoticed.” He leaned in, his tone softening. “And as for your family, your mother has already been informed of what transpired here today.”
Malin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Knowing that his mother was aware, that she wouldn’t be left wondering where he was, gave him a strange sense of comfort.
The Sultan noticed the relief on Malin’s face and offered him a reassuring smile. “I thought it only fair, given the danger you’ve willingly stepped into. She was, of course, deeply concerned, but she is a strong woman.” He paused, his eyes twinkling slightly. “After all, she raised a boy bold enough to challenge the royal court.”
Malin managed a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I suppose I get that stubbornness from her.”
The Sultan’s laughter echoed in the courtyard, a genuine sound that momentarily eased the tension in the air. “Indeed. You remind me of someone who doesn’t know when to back down. I must admit, I find your spirit refreshing.”
Malin gave a tentative smile, encouraged by the Sultan’s kind demeanor. “Thank you, Your Majesty. And, uh… thank you for not having me executed on the spot.”
The Sultan chuckled again, shaking his head. “You are quite the character, Malin Osuninya. It’s not every day I encounter someone willing to walk into a lion’s den for the sake of love.”
Malin felt a surge of courage, and before he could second-guess himself, he asked, “Your Majesty, if I’m being completely honest… I don’t even know where to start looking for the Sword of Righteousness. I don’t know its story, where it might be… nothing.”
The Sultan’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed heartily, the sound booming across the courtyard. “You mean to tell me that you boldly demanded the hand of my daughter and the right to the throne without knowing a single thing about the Sword you’re meant to retrieve?”
Malin grinned sheepishly, feeling the Sultan’s amusement rather than scorn. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose it sounds a bit ridiculous.”
“A bit?” The Sultan laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Young man, you declared your intent to recover a legendary relic with no knowledge of what it entails. That takes a special kind of bravery—or perhaps sheer foolishness.”
Malin shrugged, his own smile returning. “Maybe both.”
The Sultan regarded him for a moment, his amusement giving way to a more contemplative look. “Perhaps that is exactly what this kingdom needs,” he murmured, more to himself than to Malin. “Very well, then. You deserve to know what you’re up against.” He turned and gestured for Malin to follow. “Come with me. I will show you where this story begins.”
Malin followed the Sultan down a series of corridors, each one filled with intricate carvings and rich tapestries that hinted at the kingdom’s long and storied history. The scents of incense and aged stone lingered in the air, filling him with a sense of reverence as he realized just how much weight this palace carried within its walls.
As they walked, the Sultan spoke, his voice softer now, almost reflective. “The Sword of Righteousness is not just a weapon, Malin. It’s a symbol—a relic of our kingdom’s origin. It was wielded by my ancestors in the battle against the Nephilim, a conflict that forged the Kalkan Federation from the ashes of war and despair.”
Malin listened closely, absorbing every word. “And… only a true king can wield it?”
“Yes,” the Sultan replied. “Only one who is truly worthy of the throne. The sword is said to respond to the soul of its bearer, revealing their heart, their spirit. It is not a weapon for the faint of heart or the impure of spirit. Those who seek it for selfish reasons find it beyond their reach.”
They arrived at a quiet, secluded room at the far end of the palace. The Sultan pushed open a heavy wooden door, and Malin’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. The room was filled with relics of the past—ancient maps, manuscripts, artefacts from the founding days of the Kalkan Federation. At the center of the room stood a stone pedestal, old and worn, but exuding a sense of power and reverence.
The Sultan gestured for Malin to step inside. “Here, Malin, is where the history of the Sword of Righteousness resides. I will tell you all that I know. But remember, this journey is not merely about retrieving a lost relic. It’s about proving yourself—to Nahra, to the people, and, perhaps most importantly, to yourself.”
Malin took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon him. This was no mere quest. It was a test, a trial that would demand every ounce of his strength and courage. He looked at the Sultan, meeting his steady gaze, and nodded, ready to learn what lay ahead.