Let them hate us as long as they fear us
- Caligula
Chapter 1
King Ashurbanipal was lying on his bed. He coughed weakly and turned towards the golden double doors that opened as his secret police force’s leader, Aram-Ashur strode in.
He knelled before the sick king, who looked upon Aram with calm eyes.
"You called me my lord," Aram said, keeping his hand on his chest; it always paid to show respect to your superiors, was one of Aram's many philosophies
Ashurbanipal nodded "You may rise Aram-Ashur son of my cousin, Domara-dinkha."
Aram rose from his knees and faced his lord. The king also sat upright, and he placed his shaking hands on his knees before he started talking in a overly dramatic voice; which was one of his many customs.
"I am growing sick," he said letting the grim remark fill the room, until silence took its place inside the hollow space once again.
"I know it. You know it. We all know it," he continued, his eyes still calm.
Aram stayed silent. He knew better than to interrupt the king when he was talking.
"I need an heir.”
Aram looked to the ground, as if to find the right words, which he already had found days ago and had practised for this precise situation. A few moments later he spoke up, “If it is not too bold to say… Cannot I be the heir?” He raised his head, his ambitions gleaming from his eyes; which were almost bulging out of their sockets thanks to the anticipation growing inside him. He continued “I have shown both valor in battles and I have worked as your eyes and ears for more than ten new seasons.” He raised his head and spread his hands like a mighty eagle would spread its wings in the sky.
“No!” Ashurbanipal’s voice boomed around the great bedroom.
Aram fell silent and stared at the floor yet again. It would take more than just that little speach to win the king over.
The king could be a stubborn person. Aram though when recalling an incident where the king had got only three full chests of gold instead of the three-and-a-half, that he had requested from Nabopolazar. The governor hadn't walked straight for weeks.
“I want Ilani to take my place,” the king said as he laid his head back to his pillow.
Aram looked upon the king in horror, “Ashur-Etil-Ilani? In the name of Es, please my lord tell me this is a joke?” He begged and stepped closer, horror played across his face making him grimace. “He will destroy the empire! All that you have created,” he could still remember when he had last fought besides Ilani; Ilani was a coward and relied totally on his advisers, he knew nothing of real governing.
The king had a content smile upon his face, “Perhaps so.”
Aram looked shocked; he took a chair from his left side and sat on it.
There was silence yet again as darkness of the night swept the room from its many windows.
"You could have chosen Sinsharishkun,"
"I could have," Ashurbanipal nodded, and Aram sighed.
A slave came into the room, she was holding a silver plate, with a jug of wine. The servant took a wooden and breathtakingly carved table and put the plate on it. The she filled two glasses with wine. Aram lifted his own glass, and looked at the wine before he drank it in one sip.
“My son, this argument is futile. It defeats the purpose of my summon.” The king rose once again, this time he turned around on his purple bed and placed his fragile old hand on Aram’s shoulder, “Not everything goes as you planned.”
“Yes but they seem to go as you have planned.” Aram snapped. Anger was now clearly in his eyes, although his face stayed cold and unmoving.
“So it seems.”
Aram rose from the chair and took a step away from the king, “What do you wish me to do?”
“I wish that you will protect Ilani, from all harm that may come his way.” The king said simply.
“What makes you think that I will not kill him myself?” Aram turned his back at the king.
The king rose- clutching on a wooden cane that he had taken from the corner of the bed, he tied his royal cape around him, “Because I know you will honor my wish.”
Aram sighed solemnly, “As always.”
The king nodded.
"This means I will have to fight my own cousins to keep Ilani safe,"
"And you are telling me that you wouldn't have even if I would have not asked?" He gave Aram a purposefully questioning glare.
“Was that all?” Aram asked in an ill mood.
“You are dismissed.”
Aram strode out of the room, leaving only the king, who watched Aram leave with sad eyes, and the slave, waiting for the doors to close.
“He is still young,” the slave said.
“I know, I know. But…”
The slave stayed silent.
