Fortune Favors the Cursed
the-reticent-seer
diverselit
diverselit
1.3K5
An orphan girl with questionable morals. A scarred prince with two lives. One relic to change their world.
* * *
Badriya As-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and ...Chapter 46
For his first day as the unofficial Sultan of Zecaj, Ayaz bin Shahrayar threw out the obnoxiously large chair from the throne room.
The throne had always been a symbol of the Sultan's ascension from citizen to ruler. It gave the idea that he was superior among his people, and that he should be worshiped and feared lest suffer the consequences.
Ayaz wanted to change that. He knew there were other ways to earn his people's trust and respect. And, if needed be, there were other ways to show that he should not be messed with.
Besides, he never liked the chair. He didn't see himself sitting comfortably in it, only getting nothing but a vicious pain in the back. Instead, he opted for a chair with no embellishments and placed it at the base of the pedestal.
After the minor redecoration, Ayaz started to receive people in the palace. He could simply assign the palace's advisors and scribes to do it, but he knew hearing the citizens' complaints and wishes directly would make a whole difference. His experience of saving people from near slavery taught him that creating a connection was vital to make sure a person knew that he was alright, that he was being taken care of. He didn't want his people to see their leader as someone distant and untouchable. He wanted them to know he would always be by their side.
With that said, his days as a slave hunter were finally over, and although the job had its good times, Ayaz was glad to finally make the change necessary to abolish the slave trade in Zecaj. It wouldn't all happen overnight; becoming the Sultan himself was the first step to achieving it.
Ayaz spent the entire day in the old throne room, catering to every person who got himself inside. It was expected that people would crowd into the palace once they heard about him accepting petitions, so it was only thanks to Khalil's guidance to the guards that they limited the number of people entering the palace.
Regardless, the day went as smoothly as Ayaz anticipated. Khalil al-Makhtoom, his Grand Vizier, and the most senior advisors and scribes formed the people's audience as they listened to their needs.
More food imports from Soom, more water wells and storage around the city, more jobs for those who cannot find one—those were some of the complaints Ayaz had heard. He had the scribes take note of those as priority.
The petitions went on well until sunset. When the last of the petitioners left, so did the advisors and scribes. Ayaz had the latter dismissed so they could discuss among themselves the best course of action for each petition before reporting to Ayaz. That left Khalil and Ayaz alone in the room.
Ayaz leaned his head against the back of his chair, exhaling in relief. Even though all he did was sit all day while listening to people talk, he had to admit that there were times boredom and sleepiness almost got to him, but he made sure they didn't show.
"Today was an interesting day," he said, breaking the silence. "Tiring, but interesting."
Khalil, who stood beside him, nodded in agreement. "Indeed, amiri—erm, sultani." He smiled sheepishly. "I will have to get used to calling you that now."
Ayaz chuckled. "I don't mind you calling me that still. Only when it's just the two of us, of course."
"Of course." Khalil held his hands behind his back. "I don't remember the time when the old Sultan held court like this. It must have been since. . ."
"Never?" Ayaz supplied.
Khalil laughed. "Oh, I don't know about that. It's been years, that's for certain. But did you see the other advisors? They've never looked so glad to finally be doing their actual duties. And I thought they did nothing but slack around and fill their pockets the easy way. Turns out someone had to give them something to do."