Last King of Kings

Chapter 13: To be a ruler

Chapter 13: To be a ruler

When Jabalah arrived in Jabiyah, his capital city, he didn't get a warm welcome. Instead, reports of military movements south, in Arabia, came to him. Right now, he was glad that Persians won't, hopefully, be Roman enemies. He promised his Basileus to arrange an envoy to the Persian Shahanshah. It seems Basileus's spy network was functioning well, as they revealed the current Shahanshah's seat of power isn't in Ctesiphon, but rather in Istakhr. And, after all, Istakhr wasn't very as far away from Jabiyah as it was from Constantinople. He immediately got into work, as he employed about two dozen of men for this envoy, including himself. In a private conversation he held with Basileus, he was given the documents containing the "offer of cooperation." Also, he was appointed as the leader of the envoy and diplomat for this mission simultaneously. And now, he also had the Arabian matter to deal with. He had to start preparing uppermost defenses, so even if the reports are invalid, they are ready.

After he rewrote the reports into a suitable form, both easy to read and understand, he had them sealed with a seal, which meant this letter is for Basileus' eyes only. After he gave the letter to the messenger, he wanted to make sure that proper defense is ready and that his commanders and officers know what to do. He knew that if the Arabs don't attack in a few weeks, two months at most, they most likely won't attack. At least for a while. So his defensive preparations counted just with that.

Day and a half passed, Jabalah was sitting in his living room, quietly drinking wine, which was mixed with honey, as he liked it. It helped him relieve the stress this job was putting on him. As a king of most likely the last Arab Christian kingdom, everyone had great expectations on him, which only made him suffer under more pressure. And to cope with that, he indulged himself in alcoholism, drinking many kinds of liquors and drinks, before finally settling down with honeyed wine. And he wasn't the only one who dealt with the pressure and stress similarly. For example, Yazdegerd was also fond of drinking wine, although diluted with water. Heraclius was currently enjoying a company of both wine and women alike. And Abu Bakr? He was an ambitious man, but not for himself, but for his people. And so, his main way of coping with stress was praying. Praying about the mightiness and ambitions he had in mind for his people. Everyone coped with their pressure similarly – by pleasure, but not identically. And Jabalah wasn't an exception.

And so wasn't Yazdegerd, currently drinking his water diluted wine, sitting in his comfortable chair covered with silk. Plate with his dinner, containing roasted lamb, eggplants, onions, and other vegetables, was placed on the table before him. But he didn't have the appetite. Currently, his mind was full of thoughts, both dark and light, both depressing and joyful. That was his life currently, swinging between moods to accommodate the expectations of others, never having the chance to show his actual self. In front of his generals, he had to act with an iron fist, in front of his administrators, he had to think rationally and clearly, but in front of all his subjects, he had to act like a Shahanshah. He circled with the wine inside his cup, looking at it with distaste. He had no idea what to do from now on. He had to think, come up with some sort of plan, but his brain wasn't responding to his wishes, not coming up with anything that would even pass as a plan. After around half an hour, having his wine drunk and his head heavy and messy, he leaned against the palm of his hand, sighing.

"Why I am so... imperfect?"

---

Heraclius was lying in his gardens, surrounded by wine, fruit and women. Although his body was in something very similar to paradise, his head wasn't. He had this uneasy feeling in his head. Nicetas and Philippicus were seen together very often last month. Both of them were against Basileus' decision to befriend Persia and cooperate with them. Instead, they wanted revenge. Revenge for the war and chaos Persians plunged Romans into. He was a bit paranoid about them, but he trusted Nicetas, his cousin, and even to some point Philippicus, his magister militum. But this uneasy feeling, he couldn't get it out from his head. After a while, he began feeling frustration with his own way of thinking, so he had servant bring him some strong wine. Then, he sat up and drank the whole cup of wine in few gulps. He wanted to relieve himself, the frustration that was pent up in him. He then threw the cup on the ground, only to watch the cup fall down and roll on the ground. Then he frowned.

"What do you think, dear Phocas. Do I rule better?"

---

Abu Bakr was currently conducting his daily prayer. As he was praying, his mind eventually wandered off into the land of his fantasy. There, he saw mighty armies marching, fighting hard battles, outnumbered and outmatched, only to emerge victorious in the end. That was the ambition he had for his nation. He had perfect religion, now he needed a perfect way of spreading it. And what is more perfect, than forceful conversion, raids and plunders, all in the name of a perfect religion, conducted by a perfect army. He had it all in his grasp, a perfect opportunity. His neighbours weak, with him stronger than ever. He didn't see any danger in it. All he saw was perfection. Even his successors were perfect, at least those who had chance of overtaking his office. He was blinded by the perfection he himself created, refusing to see that this perfect army of his was poorly paid and equipped. He refused to see the flaws of the religion he deemed to be perfect. And, he also refused to see the flaws of this so-called "perfect" opportunity. After he finished his prayer, he stood up and went on the balcony, to be on fresh air for a while.

"Such a perfect world we live in."