Kingdom of Qays

07| chapter seven

the lion does not
look back when
a dog barks

          – proverb

HUSSAM STRODE ACROSS THE TRAINING grounds with purpose, a limping Aabid right on his heels.

With his left hand fisted at his side, the other rests on the hilt of his sword. A blank expression sets about his face as he hastens past the royal guards to make out a seething Bakr. His knights who were no longer sparring had assembled in protest. Meanwhile, Bakr confrontsed not the unrest but who caused it.

Hussam reaches the forefront to stand beside his brother. Much to his ire, he notes not one, but two messengers on their grounds where his men trained. Chaos spreads as the once jovial air of brotherhood shifts to scorn at the foreigners disgracing Qaysi soil. The sacred sands upon which his knights shed their blood. They were hostile and inclined to attack. It did not help that his men, still fresh from battle, now grew agitated under the sweltering desert heat.

    A swift glance to his side, Hussam notes Bakr's waist is bare of his sword with brows clashed into a severe scowl as he stared ahead, unblinking. The veins in his thick neck pulsed and his chest heaved with silent rage. It was unlike him to be unarmed—to appear ruffled. Only his brash actions had the desired effect on their unwelcome guests.

   They were nothing to fear.

   At the sight of its leader, nature cowered. A flock of birds nesting in the hollow of an old oak tree flee while the insects scurry in numbers. Frightened winds stirred, drifting in every direction to take cover in the shadows of the palm leaves. They realized as the Qaysi knights that something had piqued their prince.

Hussam stood guard as the two men dismount their horses. The shorter of the two remained rooted beside his beast as the taller man stepped forth. The leader, Hussam noted. He possessed the courage only a superior could wield. A mark of pride meant to honor the people and tribes they had sworn to protect.

Their guests weren't keen on any form of pleasantries if the menacing look on the Qaysi men were any warning.

   Bakr's gaze seared between them as he barked, "What brings you here?"

   The leader held out a weathered parchment. "We bring word from the Sultan."

    Bakr took the letter without a word as the man started, "One of your men led us here. He said we would find your leader."

Bakr arched a shaggy brow, far from convinced. "Our men do not father inglorious bastards, surely this man you speak of has a name."

    "He would not say as I did not care to ask." The superior forced through gritted teeth. "He merely claimed to be a shepherd."

"A shepherd?" Safwan, a promising scout, scoffed, a quiet but pensive Aabid still at his side. "Even a smell-blinded dog can scent your lies."

"It is the truth. I speak only of what I know."

And what did he know exactly?

The needless exchange between his men and their foreign intruders tired Hussam as he interjects, "You are Akbari emissaries."