Longing For Paradise

Chapter 3

Mountains rage upon fire,
damsels dance around it.
You can track the night sky stars all you want,
But my heart will forever remain solid only for my life.

- Ghalbani Bid Dhar (Defeated by Forever)

There aren't many things in this world Akeem is afraid of, and those things aren't earthly. Raised in battle, with nerves as strong as the sword he wields and mind as sharp as the dagger he carries, there wasn't a single one of his men who didn't lower their heads in front of him out of sheer awe and respect. Yet what respect he gained on the battlefield, he struggles to control over his court. He wondered if it was because they sat at the same table that these men thought they were his equal, or was it because they didn't think he deserved his dukedom? What he should've wondered was if his embellishments allowed him to be the ruler he thought he was.

No one could question his dukedom, after all he was awarded it by the Sultan himself after he led the troops in battle against the Berbers in the south and won. Against the strong wishes of the other generals, Akeem acted according to Islamic battle rules and announced punishment for those who acted against his orders. For his acts of mercy, the people lauded him, he was more popular than ever. 

Akeem stared down at the requests on his desk. Sighing, he sat down on his chair and put his feet on top of the desk.

"Read them out to me, please," he asked Malik, his manservant.

"Yes, Your Grace. The tenant farmers ask for a raise."

"What do they actually say?" Akeem looked at his manservant. Malik chewed on his words.

"They say that the soldiers are getting richer but its them who have laboured away under the roasting sun hours after hours and yet get nothing." 

"And the soldiers?" 

"They want to stay home for now, even with a rebellion brewing in the south. They're exhausted." Akeem nodded.

"So am I. Tell the farmers they won't be getting a raise, and tell the soldiers to keep training. They're all doing this for themselves after all."

"Your Grace, perhaps you should spare some for the farmers, they're really in dire need." Malik knew he shouldn't have said anything as he looked down. 

A knock interrupted them and the door swung open to let in a man with a bundle of books in his hands, one of his eyes blackened.

"What happened to you?" The Emir asked him. Friend or foe, Akeem could not tell, but Count Kareem was always present, visiting him on any whim he could muster. 

"Nothing I didn't settle scores for," he said before dropping the bundle on Akeem's desk. "Look what I found on my visit to your marketplace," he grinned. "Apparently there are poets gathering in the Ba's area."

"And?"

"And you should put a stop to it. Didn't you hear of that thief that's been snooping around publishing government documents and distributing them to everyone? The erotica are fine, but copying selling published books and distributing them illegally is not. These books," he pointed to the upended Plato and Ibn Seena on the desk, "are the very things that separate us nobles from those on the streets."

"You really do add dimension to your name." Kareem clicked his tongue.

"I wish you could take this seriously, my friend. There was a riot on the streets every other day on which author wrote what and why it was wrong. Sects are being created and nightly gatherings are becoming common."

"So the people are becoming educated, what about it."

"What about it? What do you think is going to happen when the people realize that they want to come for you head?"