Screw me, I’m drunk. A sultan should not do that, ever, when in company. Especially not in her company. But she was cold and distant and that hurt; my control started slipping away, I started being afraid. Now her ashen face is growing damp with cold sweat and her breathing is raspy as she stares wide eyed down at the white hands clutching the cup of poisoned wine. A moment of madness, stupidity, utter fear and I slipped poison into her drink.
Her lips are so red that at first I don’t notice the drop of blood that slides out of her mouth. But then she starts coughing it out the blood stains her white dress and her white hands and my white carpet, the violent colour marring the pure, fragile white. Some of it falls on my own hands and I scream in terror, realising what I had done. I don’t want her dead, never, never, not her, how could I have done this, killing her is like killing myself, it’s giving up for good, that little spark that keeps me from becoming a monster, that keeps me from completely turning into what I pretend to be every day. The bleeding doesn’t stop and soon the room starts filling up with blood and it is getting everywhere, into my every pore, guilt seeping inside me and drowning me. I see red before my eyes, all around me crimson except for her scared, sad eyes. She’s not even accusing me and that kills me more than any curse she could have bestowed on me.
The fact that I am killing someone who is like I am, or was, or want to be. I try to reach her through the river of blood, but the room is drowning us both and my hands are fumbling, trying to grab her own, trying to save her, from myself. She lets out a soft cry of my name, a plea for help and I’m screaming apologies to her, screaming how I need her to be alive, because inside her I find all that I once thought was lost in the world and if she dies, then all that dies with her. Just as I feel my hands grab onto her, she screams, like I burned her and I wake up.
My servant is standing over me, a young boy, looking me over scared. As soon as he sees me wake, he drops to the ground and bows deeply, muttering words of respect before he does the annuvs. How I hate that protocol, because it makes me feel so lonely. I look at the boy, feeling embarrassed that he saw me vulnerable like that, after a nightmare. I mutter something about tea and he rushes to get it at once. The boy reminds me a little of Cailan, my childhood friend. Cailan was a slave that was born in Cormyr, but ended up living in Chult with his mother when the slavers came. Calishites changed his name to Haim and he was gifted to my father along with his mother to serve the nobility of Calimport. Father did not lack in servants, and it is thought that slaves are possessions that should never be wasted, so he gifted them to me, his only son, for my 8th birthday.
Cailan was of fair complexion and with hair the colour of hay, his arms and legs always seemed too long for his own body. He looked so very clumsy and confused all the time, but he was actually very skilled for his age of 12. I often wondered about his true ancestry, but the boy did not want to talk of it and I felt bad to keep pushing. His mother’s name was also changed, and from Irene, she became Latifah and was my first jhassina ever. Back then I wasn’t quite sure what a jhassina was and I thought of her as my nanny. I liked her and I liked Cailan and they became my friends. My father never allowed me to have many friends, he always said friends are just potential back stabbers and spies and there is really no such thing as friendship when you live in Calimport. Only alliances based on either mutual respect or mutual benefit.
My father sounds like a cruel, cold man, and he was, to most people. But never to my mother, nor me, at least at first. He had his jhassinas, but my mother was always first and father never listened to anyone else but her. When she died, he became even more closed up and distrustful of everyone, even me. I almost miss the times when he would try and teach me how to handle a falchion. I wasn’t very skilled, and I kept falling and bruising my knees, but father didn’t mind my lack of proper coordination much, he would just laugh and we’d try again enthusiastically. It’s odd to remember the times when I thought my father was a good person.
Up to a certain point, I had a good childhood. I remember my mother, a kind and mild woman who would always tickle me when I would pout about something. I’d try to resist it, but then I’d fail and just start squirming in her lap, laughing my head off. Then I’d get even more offended because they would not take me seriously and I’d simply refuse to talk to them for the whole five minutes. See how they like it. Evil parents. How they could look at my serious 8 year old pouty face and not get scared I’ll never find out. I may be joking now, but back then I was very, very offended until Cailan came and invited me to play.
I had this teacher, who I learned to call a lady, and she came all the way from Turia, because my father hired her. That’s what nobles did here, they would hire a foreigner along with a Calimshan native to teach their children so they would become educated about different cultures. Calishite teacher was called Ibrahim, and the Turian lady was Nerissa. The two of them would always bicker and argue, so very often I would sneak out and play with Cailan while they tried to convince each other who was right.
At one point, I managed to convince lady Nerissa to teach Cailan as well, so the classes instantly started becoming more appealing and I found myself very interested in the culture my teacher was talking about. I wasn’t really the type to study all day, but I was good at school nonetheless and I enjoyed reading books. Cailan, however, was hardworking and absolutely in love with school and studying so much that even my father allowed him to carry on with it when he found out lady Nerissa was actually teaching both of us. I used to tease him, but it was good natured and we were still best friends.
My father kept pouting and frowning at me being a friend with a servant, but I never thought of Cailan as my servant, only my friend, and father eventually gave in and just let us have our way at the insistence of my mother that it’s good for me to have someone close. It didn’t matter that much that he was older. It just made me realise some things faster, and his friendship made me happy.
Cailan talked to me a lot about other slaves he would meet when he went out to the market or if he would sneak off to the Shackles ward. I felt bad and I remembered lady Narissa telling us how there was no slavery in her land and that she thought it wrong to enslave someone. Cailan’s mother also seemed to despise slavery, but she never said it openly, in fear for her own son. She was a fierce woman, but she never let her pride get in the way of her taking care of her son and ensuring his safety. However, both of them refused to accept the names Calishites had given them and they kept the names they were given at birth.
One time, I begged Cailan to take me with him next time he sneaks out, and so he did. We went out in the middle of the night, our skinny boyish forms barely noticeable in the pitch dark night as Cailan showed me through the secret entrance and took me through endless twisted streets before we arrived at the Shackles ward and the hospital, Ilmater temple.
What I saw there, I will never forget. Rows, and rows of ill people, injured, starving, crying. Some were begging for a cure, others were begging for a swift death. Many priests were rushing about, but they all seemed exhausted, like none of them slept in days. The patients were dirty and their wounds stank of rot. The place seemed so gray and wrecked with diseases that I could not name. Desperate screams filled the night air and I remember one patient grabbing my arm and pleading that I kill him, because the pain was too much. I started crying, I was 10 years old then, but Cailan squeezed my hand.
I stayed with the patients for an hour and met the priests, and they all told me about the conditions patients were in. There was no money and they couldn’t buy any food, nor potions, not even bandages and basic medical equipment. All they had were their spells, but they weren’t enough, so patients suffered. Most of them were slaves. When I asked one priest why no one gave money to them, the priest replied that it’s because no one cares about the slaves and everyone sees them as expendable.
Later when we snuck back to the palace, I found myself determined and excited. I had a purpose, the little 10 year old me, to make things better. As soon as I woke up the next morning, I rushed to talk to father and ask him what he knew of slavery. I told him all about last night, but I left out Cailan out of the story. I was so certain father would be outraged by the injustice and that he would take me with him to go and help those people and feed them and give them medicine. Instead, I got the beating of my life and was forbidden to leave my room for the next two weeks for sneaking out of the palace at night. I couldn’t even see Cailan during that time. So what I did was read and plot. If no one would help the slaves, then I would do it together with Cailan, and it would be a mighty adventure, just like from the books lady Nerissa sometimes read to us.
For six years, Cailan and I kept finding various ways to smuggle all sorts of things to the temple. I would sometimes steal food from my own plate and take it to the slaves. It was only a minor thing at first, our operation, but soon it grew, and we started smuggling more and more things to the temple. It was getting hard to lie to my parents and avoid the guards, but we got a few servants in on the mission and we developed an entire system, thanks to me. I had a real knack with people, and I was good at making up excuses and thinking ways out of tricky situations on spot. Cailan was good with long term planning and together we were unbeatable.
There was never a time that I felt as good as I did then. I felt like a hero, so alive, like I was doing the right thing and nothing would make me more giddy with happiness as a smile of a patient after I put a piece of bread in his hands. We weren’t actually doing much, but we did all we can, and to us, it made all the difference. Both Cailan and I made friends there, with priests and patients both, but we made sure never to tell anyone who we were. They thought we were just some kids that had rich parents. I remember a priest, Dolmas, who gave me an amulet to wear and told me it will protect me and he said only heroes like I am are allowed to wear it. I think I started jumping from happiness at that point.
Cailan’s and mine friendship grew as well, and we became like brothers. Even my own mother started thinking of Cailan as her own child. She always wanted to have more children, but never managed and it was torturing her. She was sure a curse was upon her, and as years passed without pregnancy, she started praying more and more often, absolutely certain she did something terribly wrong. Father was always with her and he made her feel better, but I don’t think she ever got over the fact that she couldn’t have another baby, so she kept praying.
And then, when I was 17, a miracle happened and she got pregnant again. She was so happy, both father and she, and so preoccupied with the child on the way that they barely paid attention to us and our smuggling operation was running more smooth than ever. My mother was glowing in her pregnancy and she asked me if I wanted a brother or a sister. I said I wanted a sister, because I already had a brother, and his name was Cailan.
And so my wish came true, and a baby girl was born, but my mother died in birth and the baby soon after her, from lack of proper care. Everyone was devastated, even the servants. But especially father and me. He just went into his office and locked himself in for days. No one could get him to go out for more than five minutes. He refused any meal and just sat in his office, burying himself in work. I heard him cry once, when he thought everyone was asleep, and I was just sneaking out to go to the temple. I never heard him cry before and so I went to him and we cried together. That was the last moment of closeness I had with him, because after that, everything fell apart one day.
Our smuggling operation ceased for two weeks, because of mother’s death, but then we got back to it and I lost myself in it. I became reckless and I spent more and more time helping the injured and the sick there, barely paying attention to anything else. Of course, the recklessness cost me a lot and my father found out. But this time he found out about Cailan as well.
Rage was a very understated way of describing how father felt when he found out. Already pained by my mother’s death, he went berserk when he found out that not only had his son been lying to him for years, but a meager servant as well, and a servant who wasn’t even treated as such, who almost had the status of a free man. Father felt like he had been fooled, and there was nothing he hated more than being fooled. He ordered that Cailan should be executed and no amount of begging from my side or Irene’s side was enough to persuade him otherwise. Cailan was brought in front of me and they made me watch it as they cut his head off. Never have I felt fear and pain as deep as I did then. My own father betrayed me like that and ruined my life, killed a man who I thought as a brother. Irene jumped on him and tried to claw his face off, so they killed her too.
After that everything was different. I was all alone in the world and deep depression was threatening to take over me. I would not eat or sleep and they kept a watchful eye on me so I could not even visit the temple. I was never a religious man, but that night I prayed to Ilmater, who never answered my prayers.
At one point, father decided it was quite enough of my moping around and he started making me study the way of the politics. He brought a jhassina before me and said it was high time I became a man. So the jhassina let me take her and then she taught me the pleasures of the flesh and the skills of seduction. I think I might have loved her, but they took her away as soon as she taught me what she could, just so I wouldn’t grow close to a woman. It was considered harmful for a man. Women, they said, were there to relieve the needs of men and to take care of his children and household. Even father started saying that. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to stop thinking of his dead wife, by degrading her in his mind.
There was no one I could turn to anymore. Father kicked out lady Nerissa after he found out she was the one who put the idea of slavery being bad into my head, so I didn’t even have her. I turned to studying and developing a few skills. The more I learned about politics, the more I realised how ruthless it is and how much you must distance yourself if you want to survive. I was struggling to take it all in at first; I didn’t want to give up the memory of my brother. But I realised soon that I would never survive that way, so I started changing myself.
I realised that most people cannot be trusted, so I started spending time with horses. My father taught me how to ride and I always loved them. I used to go riding with Cailan, and now I became even more invested in my animal friends. They still often seem closer to me than any human I know.
My skills grew, and the talent with people I already had started developing. I became an excellent liar, and a great public speaker. I studied people and their ways and found what ticks them off, what makes them work and how to find out what is it exactly what they want and how to manipulate them. I was angry, and bitter and lonely. If life would take away my happiness, then I would not stand still and give in. I was going to learn how to play the game.
I realised that if I wanted to get successful, I was going to have to charm the syl sultan, my uncle. I found out that he liked history and then I spent time studying it. I went to him and we talked of it, discussed it, and soon he started liking my keen mind. I would often go to him and I worked on our relationship slowly, until it was time to take over my father’s sultan position. But the problem was… my father was alive still.
It didn’t take much to make a decision. I hated him so much by that point and I learned that any connections you have are more often a weakness then strength. My father had no idea I hated him, I kept it hidden. He started becoming proud of how I learned to handle myself. All I could think about was revenge for my dead brother. So I worked slowly, patiently. I researched poisons and I found one that take a while to work and is untraceable. They all watched him rot away as a disease wrecked his body and no one could suspect me. I made sure that his trusted cleric was on my side and kept reporting that the sultan could not be healed.
It was easy to win people over as my father had become a bitter old man who turned to drinking and jhassinas more and more often. He became insufferable, but when he died, I used that story to improve my status among the people and to prove myself in pasha’s eyes. So I became a sultan and here I am. Pasha’s favourite. Silver tongued, handsome and irresistible.
One thing that I never read in my books or noticed about other people is how jaded they are, all the politicians. I feel so numb at times. For the longest of time, I used to go riding or call a jhassina to shake me from that. I love women and the way they are made, seemingly just to make you feel perfect. As a sultan, I find that everything is at my reach now. I can have anything I want. That’s good, but it also becomes boring a lot of times. So I search anything that can give me the thrill. Be it a woman, or a new prize horse, or something that has become my big passion in the last couple of years – gambling.
I just love the way it makes me feel, the butterflies it gives me, to watch the dice roll, to play the perfect straight face at cards and expect my opponent’s moves. I have become an addict for anything that gives me any feeling other than numbness and the feel of self loathing and guilt. And that’s why I want rafayar Taeri Martell, the woman who makes me feel so many mixed emotions at the same time.
When Tahyr came to see me the other day, I thought he wants the usual advice about how to charm a woman. I’m an expert at it, because I enjoy doing it. But no, he proposed something else, a marriage. I laughed at first, thinking he finally found a sense of humour. But after his face remained straight, I raised my eyebrow and gave him a look. I never thought that Tahyr, of all people, would suggest a person that’s interesting, but when he said her name, I was left breathless at the amount of feelings and thoughts that swarmed my head. Taeri Martell. A smile lit up my face and I found my heart beating from excitement. I said I needed to think, but I already decided right then.
And now I called her to dinner, and this is why my servant woke me up initially. She’s coming and I let myself fall asleep.
I jump up and start getting ready fast, feeling excitement fill me like a drug already. She will be here so soon. I shout for my servants to bathe me and find me my black and gold silken garments, as I wish to look good for her. The servants lead me to a bath and they scrub my body gently then wash my hair and put scented oils in the pleasantly cool water. As I wait for them to finish, I think of her and wonder if she knows yet about Tahyr’s plans. What will she think of them? Surely she won’t object marrying a sultan… And then fear rushes through me. What if she refuses me? I cannot let that happen. If I don’t get her, someone else will, like Uarel. Are the rumours that they are lovers true? They can’t be. But if they are…
When I get out of the bath and the servants towel me, I stare at my reflection in the mirror for the longest time. My eyes run over my face and I see my pupils dilated. I shake off the feeling of insecurity at her being Uarel’s lover. I put on my turban, but I will take it off after we are alone, and I can’t wait until we are.
As I wait for her, I survey the carpet in the room. My pure, white carpet, so lush and soft, just like in the dream. Only there is no blood. The thought of that dream makes a shudder run down my spine.
Soon enough, I hear the familiar click of heels and the thud of many boots and she walks in along with two of my djawals and her own guards following her. She dismisses them with a quick glance and then goes to me, doing a small bow of her head and the annuvs.
“My dear sultan, so good to see you again.” Her smile is soft and kind and I bow and do the annuvs for her. Gods above, she looks beautiful. All in red, her dress is loose but does little to hide her body shape and the softness of her curves. Her creamy skin is barely hinted at the cleavage and her white neck but I have to stop myself from licking my lips.
“Rafayar Taeri, welcome again. Please, take a seat.” As we sit, she lets out a soft sigh, something she seems to do often and smiles at me again. I smile back, my most charming of smiles and lean in to pour her some wine myself. Her mouth part slightly and I can sense her shiver a little, but she hides it quickly. She hides a lot of things, my dear Taeri Martell, but some things I can sense strongly. And if nothing else, I sense that we have chemistry. While I pour her wine, I can smell her perfume and I find her smelling of apples again. Always apples.
“Thank you, rafayam, you are kind. I received your note yesterday, it sounded like you need to discuss something serious?”
I chew on my lower lip while she brings the wine cup to her lips, fearing irrationally that she will poison herself, like in my dream. She doesn’t, however, just looks at me curiously. I glance at her lips as I reply, “The matter is serious, but… of a pleasant nature, I assure you.” I grin and send my servants away, and we’re left all alone with our wine and our fine food.
She arches her eyebrow and waits expectantly for me to explain. I don’t, at first, I make her wait and wonder, keep her in suspense and pretend I need to finish chewing an olive I popped into my mouth. I can see her face keep the mask of perfect composure. I smirk a little, knowing that I’ll see that mask crumble in a matter of moments.
“You see, darling… Sultan Tahyr came to see me here and he had a most wondrous offer for me. An offer I decided to accept after some thinking.” I love calling her darling. Calishites rarely use that word, but I always enjoyed the way it sounds. She’s the only one I call darling. I smile and she purses her lips a little. “Sultan Tahyr offered me you, to marry.” I wait and after a moment, I get the desired effect. She seems utterly stunned and stares at me. I can see the fire awaken in her eyes and she frowns.
“I do not belong to sultan Tahyr so I am not his to give away.” Her hands clutch at the strange cylinder hanging by her belt and her eyes flash heat and anger and passionate disapproval. It’s so terribly arousing to see her like this, untamable.
“Still. I urge you to think about it. You know it would benefit us both. Marrying a sultan, a syl pasha’s favourite one at that, would bring you many benefits here.” I wait and I stare at her eyes, wanting to tell something about this being more than a political pairing, but afraid to do so. I must not show that weakness. Let her think that I just want the benefit of having a powerful wife behind me, and someone to keep as a trophy from everyone to see and be envious of. She just stares and her hands tremble, she seems so lost. She knows she can’t truly refuse, not a sultan, not without making a lot of trouble for herself. She’s powerful and no one can hurt her physically. But politically? She knows I could destroy her. So I observe her carefully and then I drink.
Her eyes close and I finally see her break and lose her control for the first time. Before I know it, she is rushing out, calling for her guards and muttering something about an emergency, making apologies and doing only half the annuvs for me.
I close my eyes and smile a little. I don’t know how I know it, but I do know that she won’t refuse it and I will have her. The ultimate prize, the woman all other sultans want. She and I will be unbeatable. An archmage with a power to burn cities to the ground with a flick of her wrist and me, the greatest liar Calimshan has seen. Not that she lacks her own charm and skills of manipulation. But the hunt is not over and marriage does not mean victory. She still didn’t fall to my charms, so I need to work more. The thought leaves me excited and for the first time that night, I don’t go gambling, but instead remain in my palace, letting myself dream like I used to when I was a boy, only this time I dream of a woman.
Subject: Player creativity 