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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tw0_qHNRAEA&list=PLGVWAdsKpuG9NLskBcs2S8fjsPKW_QpTw
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''The wet grass of the midnight rain in the morning is one of the most pleasing, soothing things for the heart and mind. It's a fragrance for the senses and a medicine for the turmoil of the soul," says the dark, olive-skinned man, touching tenderly the grass beneath his seemingly steady feet. "I swear to the holy name of Allah that this very thing kept me sane in the most violent of times when I knew nothing yet about life. I was only seventeen when I held my first ''talwar'' in the Mulghal-Safavid war decades ago. My proud Indian father, as you know, with that great military legacy behind him, was the first to send me there before even the state said so, despite my mother's cries. He thought I was ''too much of a scholar for him'' always reading about History and Botanics. But the irony is that being a military man made me love my flowers more. No flower will shed your blood unless you touch it. It's pretty clear and pretty fair. And that's what I love.''
Looking idly at the shy, pinkish dawn, the horseback man behind him turns to see his friend of almost two decades. His hate towards that dawn has simmered, but he's still hesitant. And he still doesn't know the reason why.
''I'm happy for you, Nadir, that you still stop and smell the roses or just the grass, but we have to go. It's far safer if we have arrived before sunrise, and you know it.''
''I do, Erik. I didn't become a "daroga" back in India for nothing."
"Despite his difficult state back in Delhi, I still can't understand why Mahdi chose to stay here in Persia with his family when his brother is an officer of an adversary country like India'' says Erik, concerned.
Nadir sighs in sadness ''It's the nearest country. And my younger brother is a merchant by nature. If the hat he hangs is made of gold, it means more than just his home for him. To each their own. One of the few things that we do have in common with Mahdi is that we both don't give a damn about politics. We just care for our people.''
''But your mindset of caring is always disinterested, even selfless,'' Erik points out intentionally, making the two men exchange glances. ''You never asked Mahdi to lie for you, but you constantly lie to your state about his whereabouts; otherwise, they would even exile him.''
Then Nadir stands up and heads to his somewhat sleepy horse, and as he's riding, it responds to his opinionated friend ''You may be right. But in such a case, I should stop protecting you both, don't you think?''.
''I never asked to ''protect''me Nadir. I'm not a person who drags others down in his affairs. You could leave anytime you wished. I would understand and respect that.''
''So, you're implying I'm a fool for being your friend.''
''Perhaps'' and continue their steady pace with their horses when an owl starts to follow them, annoying Erik to the bone for some weird reason.
''You're not only arrogant as I initially thought; you're ungrateful too,'' says Nadir, surprisingly unimpressed ''You're an assassin and torture machine inventor for the Safavids since you were twenty-five and a spy for the Mughals for two years. Suleiman's son keeps his eye on you like a hawk, along with the whole court, demanding from him your head on a plate and His Majesty's Alamgir court to hand you to the Authorities as a traitor. Many believe that your ''delayed execution'' could bridge the rift between both Empires, at least seem like a ''gesture of goodwill'', while explaining themselves to the Persian Court as ''deceived by you that Persia would eliminate all of its rivals across Asia and will drown their nations in their blood'' through an ''immense, classified scheme since the era of Abbas the Second'' which was a curse for both ''Allah's children and their holy and cordial symbiosis.''
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~''MALLEUS AMICORUM-The Hammer Of The Ones Who Loved''~
أدب تاريخي✝~''When a young and hopeful, but still traumatized mermaid gets captured by a former, horribly deformed assassin with an angelic voice, raising by himself an orphan boy, as an act of redemption for his bloody past, while being lost between his lust...
