Longing For Paradise

Chapter 16

Don't refuse and don't complain.
Don't ask and don't give your opinion.
Don't talk and don't make yourself seen.
Just don't.
When will it end, O fellow sisters?
When will our plight end?
The men take up arms and go to war.
When they come back, they are heroes.
When does our war end?
When will be held up as heroes for staying alive this long?

~ Makhawi al Layl

Malik swallowed his yawn as he held up the gold embroidered shawl to put around Akeem.

It had been a while since he had shut himself off in his bedroom, at least that is what everyone was told. Malik, of course, knew better. He knew the door of that room being shut off meant only one thing: Akeem had left the palace grounds.

He knew from the indents around Akeem's eyebrows that the boy had a lot weighing on his mind. What's more, the news of the Hasem clan pledging their allegiance to the Dukedom meant that the tributary state no longer had to stay as such. It would mean that their small state retained its own right in its political affairs and in its economy.

The knee pledge on streets was something that inspired the state's citizens, each revelling in their own freedom and cursing on the rebels even more. The poets, scholars, businessmen, and noblemen alike took to the streets and relished in wine and music, with underground parlours becoming lax with their security as most of their patrons turned out to be soldiers. In one incident a nobleman threw open a keg of wine on the streets and announced that even beggars deserved to celebrate. In another incident, a poet publicly sang of freedom so sweetly it earned him a kiss from a passerby. These incidents weren't isolated and each story grew wild.

What grew wilder were the poems being published. Malik had read some of them and he could affirm that truly inspired words of patriotism so deeply one had no choice but to take to the streets and join the soldiers at the front line. The new-money nobles were one with the opinions of the common people.

The old-money nobles, on the other hand, were and entirely different story.

With lax policing on all vices, erotica were much more rampant, the drawings much more detailed and the stories so much more descriptive. What was worse was the stolen official documents. With Akeem "shut off" behind closed doors, the daily briefings had come to a halt, but the government was up and running. In each dealing, Malik had carefully sealed and labelled each issue for Akeem to be briefed on in his bedroom while he was "shut off". He made sure that no other palace staff could get their hands on such documents, yet it was still a wonder how the documents were still published to the public, the official issues with explanations attached. It must be someone from the ministers' side who had a hand in leaking the documents. Malik was sure that that was where Akeem needed to start if he wanted to catch that treasonist.

Yet as he draped the shawl on Akeem's shoulders, his mind was miles away than the usual place. Malik eyed the once warm glass of safron milk and cloud cake on the breakfast tray. What had happened while he was out, Malik wondered.

The curtains were drawn and the court was in session. The ministers were in full attendance on account of it being the first day after Akeem's return from seclusion and because they were anxious of the rumours on the streets.

The Hasem clan had pledged its allegiance and the state was no longer a tributary one, but now it was that much easier to ruin it to bits. If the Eastern domain doesn't remain neutral and joins the central region, the state would be finished and the Al Hakeem clan but a whispered name in the wind. They needed to know if they will have to prepare for riches in their store room or if they will have to go home and pack to run away in the night. It all depended on the Emir.

Looking down upon his subjects, Akeem sat straight on the royal throne of his family. Since birth, this was what he was trained for, this was his destiny. He couldn't have time for petty feelings.

"Your Eminence, if I may?" One minister spoke up. He was on the left hand side of Akeem and his grey hairs reflected the number of ministers he influenced in court. Akeem nodded for him to continue. "With your permission. It is with my greatest sincerity that I welcome you back, Your Eminence, if even the sky fell down it would this humble servant of yours still waiting for you." Akeem had heard this mean speak in the same way to his father. "While in patient waiting, this humble servant of yours discovered that the streets are abuzz with rumours, none of which I might get myself to believe for they are truly the exercise of the frivolous and small-minded, but I must remind you of the people's opinions and how it wields the sharpest sword."

Whispers would've burst out immediately if weren't for fear of their Emir. The old man was truly as bold as they said and revealed his intentions in one sweep.

"Your Eminence, if I may?" The right hand side minister spoke up and Akeem nodded. "What Lord Premier brings up is one that this court wholeheartedly agrees with, for it is truly only Your Eminence's well-being that these humble servants of yours care for. Unfortunately, the Premier had neglected to bring out the true word of the streets, and this humble servant of yours believes a celebration is due for we have identified the treasonist publishing banned books and official government documents."

Fear could not hold a flame to curiosity and surprise as the court burst into whispers. Akeem furrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward. He gestured for the minister to continue.

"With your permission, I will read this publication from this morning." He drew in his breath before he began. "To my dear and loyal readers: My heart is at the moment a boiling pit of anger and mistrust yet I must still write my truth. If it was poetry you were expecting, then depending on my fate, you might be expecting for a while.

"I have a confession to make, a confession that might make some of love me and a lot of you hate me. The last time I took a stance against the Emir, the people on the streets paid the price. Let us not forget what happened on the streets more than a week ago, and let us not forget what would've happened a few days ago. The Emir remains ruthless against the poets and scholars, the very people who make his rule a bearable and beautiful one. The Emir remains stubborn against the common people gaining knowledge of the government's dealings and cogs without promoting active transparency between his government and his subject stands a wall of mistrust which he himself grew.

"But that, my dear readers, is not why I write with such a heavy heart. It is in my identity in which my conviction lies. The past year, a hero has been distributing pamphlets among the common citizens to spread awareness of the government's actions and ugly truths it hides. That, my dear and loyal readers, happens to be me. It is I, Makhami al Layl who distributed those packets of information to you all in hopes of promoting a state that is transparent in its dealings with its own citizens and with it foreign counterparts.

"If I must evoke my last opinion piece: While we struggle to make ends meet, the nobility and the gentry collude with foreign states to ensure our subservience and it helps them if we remain ignorant and ill-informed. However, the might of the pen is greater than cruelty of a vain ruler, and I, Makhawi al Layl, will fight to the death for the right of free education, for the right of being informed citizens, and for complete government transparency. That is my pledge of allegiance. That is I will kneel to! Signed, Makhawi al Layl."

Akeem's eyes were ablaze.

"Bring me his head."

📜📜📜

End of Part 1