Chapter 21 #2
Aza nearly chokes on her water at that number.
Her kingdom has maybe ten thousand soldiers.
There had been peace for so long that Baba did not think their kingdom needed a very large military, but Aza still thought they were being generous with the amount they had.
All the castle guards were trained as soldiers first, and then could transfer to become royal guards.
Some soldiers took part-time jobs to supplement time as they still had an influx.
King Abasi had nearly five times as many as her kingdom.
“Why would you need so many soldiers?” The bluntness of the question makes Aza go cold. “I just mean I have never heard of such a vast military, especially given that there are no wars currently or talks of any for that matter.”
“The tides can change very quickly, Princess. A good king must always be prepared even in times of so-called peace.”
“Yes… of course.” She nods. “You draft your men here, right?”
"Where did you hear that?”
“I heard someone in passing say that their son had been drafted.”
“We draft our young men to begin training for the military. It is there that we see if they have what it takes to be a soldier. If they do not, they are placed… elsewhere.” Aza doesn’t like the break in his sentence.
“Where else do they go?”
Abasi looks like he is calculating before he answers, “I have a chef now who failed as a soldier but proved excellent in the kitchens instead.”
“Ah, I see. I do enjoy the kitchens in my kingdom.” Aza glances to the left to look at Jahar quickly.
“The kitchens are not a place for such a ravishing princess. You need to stay where you belong.”
Aza can see Jahar’s hands clench at Abasi’s words. Aza distracts her gaze from Jahar by picking up her wine, swirling it, then tasting.
“If you were to become queen here, your duties would be far different than the freedom you seem to have back home. You would be expected to be my public face for the Empire, the woman at my side, but not seen without me. You would also be expected to produce me an heir and other sons. But don’t fret, you would be surrounded by immense wealth, and you could have the most beautiful dresses, jewelry, and items; you would still be fulfilled here as my wife. ”
Aza wanted to gag. Not a single thing he said to her was alluring.
She did not want to just be a pretty face and body that was hidden away until she was needed.
Nor did she want to have this man or his children inside of her.
She didn’t care about the valuables he had to offer.
That sort of stuff had never been important to her.
Did she like the things she had and appreciate them?
Yes. But far more than that, she loved her family, friends, and people.
She loved her flowers and the nature around her.
She loved music and the freedom in the dance.
Here, she would be a prisoner. A symbol, not a person.
She would be nothing more; she could wish for nothing more.
And she knew with certainty that Jahar would not be allowed to accompany her here.
And not to mention that if the King ever found out she was broken, unstable, she would probably be locked away forever. She couldn’t ruin his perfect image.
She had to collect the right information to present to Baba, to convince him, first and foremost, not to accept a marriage alliance with King Abasi, and also to find out what dark and disturbing things were actually going on here.
What she has so far feels damning, but she didn’t know if it would be enough.
She didn’t know what else to ask the King that wouldn’t set him off.
Stuck in her thoughts and unable to think of something to say, Aza sighs in relief when the kitchen staff brings out dinner and sets it in front of them.
On her plate is a large bird, lathered in a slick liquid and many herbs and spices.
Potatoes and vegetables, glossy with herbs and butter surrounding the meat.
Aza's mouth begins to water. She begins to wonder how the various people eat. Do the rich cities have feasts like this? What is left for the poorer citizens to eat? Aza does get to enjoy wonderful food at home, but she makes sure regularly that none of her citizens are hungry or without. Neither she nor Baba would ever take food from their people’s mouths to gorge themselves.
“Do you ever have feasts with your people? In my kingdom, I love nights with wine, ale, dancing and everyone together.”
“I don’t wish to disappoint you, but the only feasts we have are our quarterly ones, where we discuss things such as crop yield, resources, and goods.
But only the top few elites and nobles come to that, and it is not a setting quite befitting the queen.
But you and I could feast like this every night if that is what you desire.
However, I must say, for someone who loves food so much, I am surprised you are able to stay so small and well-defined.
That is something you should consider monitoring.
We want you to stay beautiful, do we not? ”
Aza has to bite back a disgusted look and retort to his comment.
She swears she can hear a faint growl coming from her left, but she does not entertain it in fear of Abasi’s retaliation.
But how dare he have the nerve to tell her what she should and should not do and how she must remain beautiful?
There is only a mere potential for a marriage alliance, and he is acting as if he already owns her.
No wonder this man is still in search of a wife.
Arrogant, conceited asshole.
Aza holds her tongue and instead begins eating her food. It makes her angry that it's so flavorful and delicious.
Aza turns to a servant who asks if she would like anything else and says, “Give my thanks to the chef for this wonderful meal.”
The servant nods and exits the room. Abasi’s muscles seem to tense, and his eyebrow raises, but he says nothing and continues eating his meal. They eat the rest of their meal in utter silence.