Aram strode briskly into the empty hallway, seemingly outraged.
Ilani- how could the king choose a failure like that? Wasn’t he good enough?
Ilani was nothing more than a coward, a poor commander, a failuer.
For a person who didn't know Aram, which was quite rare inside the palace, it would have seemed as if Aram was just in slight rush. Aram was walking fast and with hard steps, almost stomping on his way. However, to a person who knew Aram; it looked like he was in a bad mood, and that you should stay away from him.
One of the new generals, yet to be accustomed to the habits of the palace, greeted Aram; whom in return glared at the general in the most distinguished way.
Aram slowed his pace, as he was now entering the more busy section of the palace; the hallways that were used by the servants and the slaves alike. He straightened his blood red tunic, which bore the mark of the nobles: The greatest god of the Assyrians, Anu.
Anu was a man with four wings. He was the father of the gods, and the king of the skies.
Aram’s tunic did not only bear the mark of the nobles, which was not extraordinary within the upper class. It also bore the mark of the secret police, which Ashurbanipal himself had created. The mark was an all seeing eye inside a pyramid.
And true to the symbol. The secret police saw everything that happened inside the empire.
No bit of information bypassed them. No spark of revolution had yet burst into a flame. No crimes were left unpunished, by the laws set by the gods and kings.
Aram was the keeper of it all, and yet the old man had not decided to give him the right to the throne.
He was having a hard time not to throw a fit in middle of all the slaves and servants. It would not do any good for his popularity amongst the other nobles, not to speak of the people.
Instead of letting out his anger, he decided to go to the temple of Es. To pray that the king would change his mind.
The hallways were made of stone, which had been painted white to keep the heat away. There were windows along the hallway every few meters or so. You could see a breathtaking view of lush palace gardens, with statues of the gods, and wall decorations which included various paintings and patterns; you could see the growing population of Nineveh, the capital of the Assyrian empire, and the prospering trade. That is if you were to decide to watch out off one of the windows. Aram didn't. Still angry, he restrained himself from looking out and kept walking.
He didn’t say a word on his way to the great doors that led out of the palace.
On one of his turns he was still stranded in his angry thoughts and didn't notice the person coming from the other direction. They bumped.
Feeling the impact, Aram glimpsed down only to see a servant girl sprawled on the ground.
She was breathing heavily from surprise, while she tried to get up. Aram stretched his hand for the woman to grab, but she picked herself up without sparing another glance at his offer. Aram was slightly offended; but also he was intrigued by the manner the servant had acted to his offer.
She is different. He thought silently somewhere in the back of his mind.
“Why didn’t you take the hand?” He asked, watching the girl sweep the dust from her clothes. She was young, about the same age as Aram himself. And she didn’t look half bad.
“Why should I have taken your hand?” She responded. She stopped brushing the dust away and turned her head to face Aram straight into his eyes. Her eyes were olive green, and they were cold. Confused, Aram took a step back. Never before had Aram-Ashur met a servant quite like this. Although he kept his calm on the outside, he was absolutely shocked how coldly this servant girl treated him.
“Would it not be a disgrace from your side not to take the hand,” He tilted his head to one side and permitted himself a small smile.
This girl seemed intriguing; it was as if his bad mood was drifting off, and making way for the debate to follow.
The servant stuck out her chin, in the most not-so-servant-like way, and looked up at him, since she couldn't look down; Aram was a tall person for his age.
“What if I were to say that I wish not to be mingling with the likes of you?” she snapped.
Aram, slyly, put his hand on his chest and acted as if he would have just been drastically offended.
“I would be deeply hurt,” the smile did not fade from his face. This was a very old method of terrifying an opponent in politics, but it also seemed to work in this kind of situations quite as well, if not better. Aram’s smile widened, that was information that he could use in future politics that he was going to conduct.
“I am very intrigued what you have against my kin? Are we too posh for your taste?” he continued in a casual tone, as if speaking to someone very close to him.
“What if I were to say yes?” she answered bluntly.
Aram did not answer he just smiled. The girls expression faltered under her hard face for just a second. Revealing confusion, but only for the tiniest second; but it was enough for Aram to see it, the smile was getting to her, bothering her.
That moment, Aram detected quick footsteps approaching them from behind the girl. He saw a man, presumed to be a guard, enter his line of sight and come to a halt beside the girl. He was shorter than the woman and seemingly shorter than Aram. When he spoke his voice was a tone of a very low bass: "Miss Ishtar, there you are." The guard greeted, full of relief.
“I have been conducting my own observations on our commoners and I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone,” she answered looking down at the guard, grimacing when she saw his greasy head, but the man’s expression did not waver.
“You are coming with me miss,” he said and took hold of her hand with an iron grip, and dragged her away from the stupefied Aram.
What had just happened? He wondered. Maybe she wasn’t just a servant girl after all.He liked her attitude. Ishtar, where was that name familiar, he had to go check a few things. The temple could wait.
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