Author's Notes:
StellarLupine- Dimitri is crazy strong! His whole "one-man army" shtick hasn't always gone so well for him, though *crying*. He might need a bit more than that to get out of this mess. I'm looking forward to writing about all of that!
Chapter 36
Day 18 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1169 (Fódlan Calendar)
"And do you know what this one is?" Nousha asked as she and Khalid knelt beside a purple cluster of blossoms in one of the Dunya's gardens.
"I… I don't think it's in our book," Khalid answered as he flipped through pages of preserved flora.
"I don't think so, either," Nousha agreed as she plucked one of the flowers for its addition. Maybe they could try preserving it in resin if pressing it did not work well.
She explained, "It's called a hyacinth. They grow better in Shomal and Meteora, but we make sure everything comes to the palace to remind everyone who is in charge. They're pretty, right?"
"Yeah, I think so, too…"
Nousha's older siblings were off training with Khalid's brothers, but she was not particularly interested in joining them. She was happy to serve as a teacher to the youngest prince, who was two years younger than her. Khalid seemed to enjoy the learning opportunity, too.
Omar and Farideh were both convinced that Prince Shahid would be the next king, and they consequently dedicated more time to him. Shahid was, after all, the eldest. Still… Nousha was not so sure. Khalid was the queen's son, and His Majesty seemed so fond of him.
Nousha did not spend her time with the youngest prince with that in mind, however. She was not aiming to be his retainer. Perhaps she just had a soft spot for someone who was also the runt of their family.
She glanced at the book Khalid held and said, "Why don't you hold onto that one? It's almost full, so I think my mother will want to start a new one for us. That way, you'll remember which ones we already have without needing to double-check next time."
Khalid shook his head. "No, you should keep it. My brothers would make fun of me for having a flower book."
"That's because they're dumb and tasteless."
"But Abbas said-."
"Who cares what Abbas thinks? I don't, and you shouldn't, either," Nousha retorted.
It was a dangerous thing to say, but she did not regret it. It's not like her father would ever let any of those brutish princes touch her.
Khalid chuckled nervously but finally hugged the book to his chest. Nousha was about to tease him when someone unexpectedly jumped onto her back and covered her eyes.
"Got ya! You're dead, Nousha. You let your guard down," her sister's mischievous voice said. "I'll revive you so you'll have the chance to shake me off, though."
"Hey! You're going to crush my flower!" Nousha complained.
"Alright, alright. I'll let you go… this time," Farideh chuckled as she backed away. "I'm not so sure an enemy soldier is going to hold back for the sake of a flower, though. Father would give me so much grief if I tried that trick."
Farideh was not alone. Nousha's father had also arrived, as well as her brother Omar. Farideh and Omar had contrasting but complementary appearances. Farideh wore a toothy grin, and her hair had been sloppily hacked short with her own dagger. Omar stood alert with professional taciturnity, his hair cut cropped and even. Both were drenched in post-exercise sweat.
"Easy, Farideh," their father aided with crossed arms and a warm smile. "Flower or no flower, I don't want you scaring your little sister to death doing that."
"But-."
"Just because I taught you like that doesn't mean you have to do the same for her. You all have your own paths to follow."
"Wouldn't it be wise to ensure that all of us are fully prepared to take your place?" Omar asked in Farideh's defense. "You can never start too young."
Nader laughed as he patted his son's head. "Oh? You'd measure a successful life solely on your ability to match or surpass Nader the Undefeated? Now I'm fearing for all of your futures!"
Omar cracked a rare smile as the sisters laughed. "Well, when you put it that way…" He could not think of any witty response, so Omar instead faced Nousha and explained, "Anyways… we finished our session, so we came to collect you for some lunch. Mother gave me some insights into the menu, and I think you'll be pleased as I am."
"I was spying on them. Your keywords are lamb, stew, and pudding," Farideh added in a whisper.
Nousha's eyes lit up with excitement. First, though, she had to say her goodbyes to the prince.
"Take care of that book, Khalid. I'll have to send these two ruffians after you if you don't. You'd better keep a flower handy."
Khalid smiled and presented the tome to ensure his friend made a mental checklist of every current scratch. "Take a good look. I promise it's gonna look the same next time."
"Good. Until then!"
The others all said their goodbyes to Khalid, and then the family was on their way. Nousha held her father's hand as they walked while examining the intact flower in her other palm. She tugged on his hand to pull his ear down closer.
"Thanks for covering for me back there," she praised. "I'll make sure you get a special mention on this one's page- 'Hyacinth flower collected by Nousha, daughter of the ever-loyal Nader the Undefeated'!"
"Anything for my sweet little girl," her father whispered back with a chuckle.
Interlude: The Weight of Duty – Day 2 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1187 (Fódlan Calendar)
Back then, Nousha believed she was the most blessed girl in Almyra. The horrible plague had come and gone, and her family survived unscathed. Not even the royal household had been so lucky.
How wrong she was. Within two years of picking that hyacinth, Omar and Farideh were both gone. Then it was her mother. Then it was her father.
Nousha now lay on a rug in her temporary room in Saba with her feet propped up against the wall, blankly staring at the ceiling. It was a small and unornate space, but it had been furnished comfortably. Emira Maysun had presumably redecorated the palace after finding it beneath her standards upon her relocation to Saba's capital of Al-Amal. The weather was hot but thankfully not quite blistering yet.
Nousha felt out of her element in Al-Amal from the very outset. The Sabaeans spoke in a dialect she struggled to understand, and very few of them could speak either the Elamite or Meteoran tongue. A fight had nearly broken out when her wyvern corps arrived at the palace before a translator arrived.
Why was she even here? Because her father had commanded it, of course, but she still did not fully understand his reasoning. He said something about an opportunity for rest, but even though she was doing essentially nothing, she wouldn't exactly call it rest. The palace was more akin to a prison than a retreat for her. Their arrival in Al-Amal went unannounced to prevent any public uproar about a breach in neutrality. Consequently, the refugees from the vanquished army were not permitted to leave the palace grounds in order to keep a lid on the story.
"Agha Nousha?" a voice asked from outside the door.
Nousha did not bother moving before answering, "That's me. At least, unless you've received a letter from the queen confirming my discharge."
"I… No. I was ordered to escort you to the emir and emira. They would like your audience."
Nousha considered another sly comment but ultimately chose to only sigh and reply, "Very well."
She acknowledged the guard after opening the door and stepping outside, but she otherwise remained quiet during the walk across the palace of Qasr Al'asl. The Qasr Al'asl was not a particularly beautiful construct when compared to the Dunya. As was the case with the Palace of Astane, the center of power in Saba originated as a fortress. Since this citadel lacked advantageous terrain, it compensated by fully committing to its high walls and complex defenses. The builders were equally concerned about combating the oppressive heat of the desert, which left beauty serving as the bottom priority. Despite Maysun's best efforts, there was only so much that could be done to correct the palace's harsh feature. The former harem was allegedly easier on the eyes, but it remained prohibited to everyone outside of Saba's royal family.
Nousha and the guard were joined by another set of sentries as they entered a chamber that was likely built as a throne room but now primarily served as a reception hall. The room was mostly empty excepting the royal divan at the far end. The space could be quickly repurposed for feasts, meetings, or any other needs demanded of it.
The emir and emira made an odd impression on their guest. Dizhwar was a gangly, somewhat sickly man who seemed too nervous to ever sit still. He tried to compensate for his dwindling hair with a mediocre beard. Maysun was heavyset, motionless, and clearly in command of the room. She wore a head covering but seemed to do so with deliberate slovenliness.
Nousha had briefly interacted with the Sabaean royals in the past and had already met with them once during this visit to explain why she and her allies had come. Even so, she still found it surprising how plain they dressed compared to the other prominent families of Almyra. Their color schemes were simple, and they declined to wear jewelry. She did not know whether to interpret that as the result of conservative social norms, voluntary modesty, or something else.
"Thank you for coming, Agha Nousha," Dizhwar said after their guest gave a quick bow. "I hope you are having a fine day so far?"
Nousha was too stunned to answer. The emir was clearly just trying to follow standard etiquette, but… how did he think she was doing? Was she supposed to make an obvious lie just to be polite?
Dizhwar at least had the self-awareness to realize his mistake. He quickly transferred his nominal power by asking, "Maysun… perhaps you would like to handle this?"
"That would be fine," Maysun said patiently. "I know you're a straightforward person, Nousha, so I won't beat around the bush. We hoped to speak with you first before you heard the news from anyone else. That would not seem appropriate."
"What news?" Nousha asked, despite having a good idea of what to expect.
Maysun answered, "We've received a report from the war. Meteoran leadership claims to have vanquished Grand Agha Nader's entire division. They took only the Tempest of Fódlan as a prisoner. The official statement excludes this detail, but the Meteorans apparently defiled one of their own basilicas in the process." The emira maintained a collected expression, but her voice sounded off when she clarified, "I can confirm that your father passed during the last stand you described. I'm very sorry."
Nousha's only reaction was a slight flinch. "And General Anthony?"
"I'm afraid he was executed at the basilica."
"A-and what happened after that?" Nousha asked as her voiced cracked.
"Not much that I'm aware of. The Meteoran army left the area with your allies in pursuit."
"… Thank you for telling me," Nousha replied after pausing to ensure her voice would be steady that time.
"There's one more thing you should know. Dizhwar will be holding council with his ministers in the next few hours. Perhaps it is presumptuous to say, but I predict the final decision is that you and your corps must leave this city tomorrow morning. I would recommend preparing for departure, but you are free to do as you please until then."
"I understand. I expected our stay to be brief regardless."
Nousha was not sure what to do next. There was going to be a feast that night in honor of those who had fallen in battle, and the event would likely be even more theatrical after these latest updates. She was not sure if she could stomach attending it…
Maysun said soothingly, "Listen, Nousha… if you would like to talk about it, I'd be happ-."
"I'd just like some time alone, please," Nousha interrupted. She winced when she immediately realized her breach of etiquette, but Maysun was unperturbed. She still clarified, "My apologies. To take up any more of your time would only compound my impudence. So please… I should be going. May both of you be granted divine blessings."
"And you as well," Dizhwar replied on their behalf.
Nousha maintained her composure as she walked back to her quarters, only a hitch in her step revealing her discomfort. She originally planned to repeat her former posture on the rug, but almost as soon as she closed the door behind her, her breathing rate suddenly surged. Her body shook as her chest tightened.
Everything felt claustrophobic, so Nousha opened the door and stumbled outside as her dizziness amplified. She ran up the nearest stairs to the outer wall facing the desert, collapsed against the crenellations, and leaned over the side. Each breath was a struggle as she felt on the verge of vomiting.
It eventually became clear that her stomach would hold strong, so her next priority became a search for privacy. Several sentries were already staring at her. She did not want to stray too far from the wall in case her stomach changed its mind, so she walked along the battlements until arriving at a tower. No one was inside at that level, so she found a corner of the hallway to hide within. She briefly began to hyperventilate again before reminding herself that this room had plenty of open doorways and windows. Deep breaths. Plenty of fresh air.
Nousha was just… tired. Tired of fear, tired of anger, tired of loneliness. Tired of everything. She hugged her knees to her chest and lost all sense of time until a voice spoke.
"Agha Nousha? I… someone said you were up here," Satiah stated a bit nervously.
Nousha reluctantly lifted her head to acknowledge her visitor. "I think I really will vomit this time if I hear that stupid title again. Just call me Nousha."
"Very well, Nousha." Satiah slumped against the wall next to her commander without a clear invitation. "I heard about your father. He was both a great man and a great warrior. Too few of our leaders have met that ideal. I'm very sorry."
Nousha tapped her foot anxiously as she thought. "Thanks, though I was honestly well-prepared for the news. But to know that almost everyone else died, too? That's what really makes me sick. My father would have felt the same. It was my suggestion that Anthony join the strike force, you know. I need to apologize to his family, but I'm not sure if I could look those little kids in the eye."
"Someone else would have eventually recommended him had you not. That's not the sort of thing you can rake yourself over the coals for during a war. It will drive you mad."
"So I don't have the temperament for leadership?"
"I didn't sa-."
"It's not only a temperament issue. I apparently lack the intellect, too. I should have known to send more messengers the first time. Maybe some of them would have gotten through, and so much of this could have been avoided... father, Anthony, all of them. I'm sure I'll be told by anyone that still tolerates me how it's not my fault and that everyone had a hand in the outcome, but pity isn't going to make me feel any better."
When Satiah failed to put together a reply, Nousha continued, "I never wanted any of this. I thought I could have a normal life. Get a proper education, become some kind of official, maybe start a family… But how could I worry about any of that after what happened?"
Nousha assumed she would have to explain the deaths of Omar and Farideh, but Satiah's silence indicated she already knew. Khalid or one of his friends must have mentioned it.
After a pensive delay, Satiah asked, "Ignoring whatever the title of grand agha meant to your father or your siblings… does it mean anything to you?"
Nousha nodded. "Sure. It's an important task, and my family has fulfilled the role for over a hundred years. That experience and knowledge is passed on to each new generation. Any sharp mind can rise to the rank of general, but to be the grand agha is to be the personal sword of the sovereign. We've built trust with the royal family that an outsider will struggle to replicate. The straightforward succession from one generation to the next also limits the risk of power struggles with other families hoping to snatch the title.
"I don't think I can completely ignore the familial influence, though. The honor of the title has been our identity; we don't even have a family name. I want to continue that legacy, and not just because they died."
"But…?" Satiah prompted.
Nousha sighed, "But I've been reminded by people who knew me- by my father, even by Khalid- that I used to be different. I wasn't interested in any of it. My father told me to live for myself when we last spoke. So… by continuing down this path, am I failing his final command?"
Satiah frowned thoughtfully. "I think I can relate. You… probably didn't know my brother Khabash. He died at Sous River. Our mother is Dagdan, and though Shomal has opened up a lot under Sardar Soraya, that didn't mean everyone suddenly treated outsiders equally. Khabash thought he could use his heritage to help change that. I didn't make it a priority, though. Do you know why?" When Nousha shook her head, Satiah explained, "It wasn't because I didn't believe in the cause; it was because I thought he was better equipped to achieve it. He could be excessive at times, but he had charisma, spontaneity, amiability, and so much more. I had… well, none of that. But now that's he's gone, who else is supposed to see that dream through if not me? I don't know what that's going to look like for someone with my personality, but I'll sure try."
Nousha could see how Satiah might struggle some with her social skills. They were perfectly safe hundreds of miles from the war, but the young warrior remained stiffly dressed in armor as if she was about to be whisked away into battle at any moment. Nousha could not laugh about it, though, since she was just as bad. She instead mumbled, "So it's not you that's changed, just the circumstances."
"That's how I see it. It's the same for you, right?"
"I… think it could have been had I done better," Nousha answered hesitatingly.
Satiah's story paralleled her own, but Nousha had clearly let life do more than shift her priorities- she let it warp her heart. She sighed and then chuckled softly. "Satiah… this is going to sound childish, but… I haven't had a friend in a long time. The people I invested my time in either died or moved on, so I told myself it was a waste of effort. I'm… starting to realize that was a terrible mistake."
Satiah's eyes widened in surprise, but she soon smiled awkwardly and reached out a hand. "I don't have many friends to my name, either. I have to warn you, though… I do spend some time in Prince Khalid's company. I didn't get the impression you were his greatest admirer."
That was unintentional confirmation that the prince spoke poorly of Nousha behind her back, even if it was done in his typical jocular tenor. She still had grievances with him that required resolution, but… well, there was no use worrying about any of that at the moment.
Nousha accepted her companion's hand. "Spending time with Khalid? Well, I suppose everyone has sacrifices to make. I… hope he's handling this okay, actually."
"He will. I don't think he's ever down for too long."
That was true. Khalid would never have survived his brothers otherwise. … Or for being abandoned by his only friend.
The two women continued to converse for nearly an hour about nothing of great importance. It was a good skill building exercise for both of them, Nousha especially. She could not remember the last time she let herself relax like that.
Eventually, though, Nousha needed to turn her attention elsewhere. She stood and wiped the dust off her clothes. "Thanks, Satiah. This helped clear my head."
"Where are you going?"
"Beginning the campaign to correct my mistakes. It's time to start with the easiest. I'll see you at the feast tonight, okay?"
"Umm… okay. See you," Satiah replied, obviously rather confused by this explanation. Clarification would be in order once Nousha actually knew what the emira wanted to speak with her about.
Nousha returned to the hall where she met with the royals and informed a sentry standing outside that she wished to speak with Emira Maysun. After a short wait, the guard surprisingly returned with the emira herself.
"I thought you might stop by," Maysun observed. She turned to the guards and motioned for them to stand down. "Please leave us be. We still have a few hours before the feast, so follow me, Nousha."
The emira entered another door and led her guest down a pair of winding corridors before reaching a staircase. As they climbed, Nousha asked, "Have you heard anything from the emir's council yet?"
"No. I thoroughly prepared Dizhwar on what to say, though, so I don't expect any surprises."
Nousha was welcomed through an entryway at the very top. After closing the door behind them, Maysun quickly tossed her head covering aside to reveal her long, gray hair.
Not surprisingly, this was the best decorated room Nousha had encountered yet in Saba. There were countless rugs and cushions, but there were also shelves full of art, aging books, and historical relics. Maysun was clearly an avid collector. Nousha walked up and studied a piece of relief that she suspected came from the old palace at the Mirza's Citadel.
"This is my personal space. You can find nicer rooms in the harem, but I spent too much of my childhood in one to want to dally there," Maysun explained. She pointed towards another doorway and said, "The balcony wraps around the tower. Take a look around while I get things set out for us."
Nousha silently complied and stepped out into the sunlight. The terrace ringed the lone tower that reached above the citadel's walls, offering views both into the city and out towards the desert.
The city of Al-Amal, which was almost as old as recorded history itself, was just as severe in appearance as the palace. Dusty desert winds had sapped the walls of any colors they may have started with. The city would probably seem more animated if she could walk its streets, but Nousha's understanding was that the public sphere was usually sleepy until the sun went down.
Despite the vast reach of Saba, the city still looked overly dense. The buildings seemed to clamber over each other for a closer position along the river that gave them life- the Nahr al-Masdar. Almost all of Saba's cities were either located on the coasts or along the thin band of green provided by this long river. Nousha knew a large portion of the population lived nomadically in the desert, though she struggled to imagine what such a life looked like.
It was common in western Almyra to mock Saba as a futureless backwater, but Nousha had a certain respect for the people who subsisted there. Ancient civilization had come and gone in the Tabarzin, but the Sabaean culture somehow always found a way to survive. Rather than stew with bitter dreams of restoring former glory like the Meteorans, the Sabaeans had accepted the times. The few Sabaeans she met over the years seemed to lead simpler lives, with a better understanding of just how precious and fragile existence can be. If the leaders in Istakhr, Astane, and Metanoiapolis spent more time focusing on the basics instead of court politics, perhaps they would not have been so eager to leap into a war.
Nousha could see how Maysun might feel at home in such a place. With a great view of the city in one direction and the natural expanse in the other, it simultaneously replicated the environment provided by Istakhr Citadel and the Dunya.
"Saba isn't so different from Elam, is it?" Maysun noted as she joined her guest. "Trade the steppe grass out for some sand, but we humans still throng to whatever resource we can find like moths to a flame. People tend to judge the desert harshly, but I think it's an honest place. Open steppe looks more welcoming, but you can still walk days in one direction and find nothing."
"The contrast between the desert and the life along the river is much more striking, too," Nousha added.
Maysun smiled. "Very true. This desert stretches almost endlessly to the east, but at the far reaches of Almyra, a tired traveler will suddenly find themselves entering lush pine forests as they hike up into the mountains. One could never fully appreciate the beauty of such a place without also knowing the opposite, less forgiving side of nature." She waved Nousha back inside where bowls of chickpeas and green almonds were now prominently arranged. "Sorry if the food options aren't to your liking. I don't care much for exercise, so I'm trying to eat healthier."
"I don't mind. I try to do the same," Nousha said as she gathered some of the offerings into a bowl and sat down. "So, umm… what did you wish to speak with me about, Your Highness?"
"Hm. I have plenty of ideas, but to answer your question properly, I'd need to know what burdens your mind. Take your time to think if you need to. Nader always said you were a bit reticent lately."
"Did my father speak of me often when he came here?" Nousha asked softly.
Maysun nodded. "He mentioned a couple times that he was worried he was failing as a father when his mouth got ahead of himself. He was always very clear that he loved you, though. He struggled to understand you, but he was certain you'd find your way."
"I see," Nousha uttered. That certainly sounded like her father. Like herself, Maysun seemed to value truth over consoling fibs. Perhaps this was a chance to learn even more…
"If I might ask, what's the real reason you and the emir weren't willing to commit to this war?" Nousha probed.
Maysun's lips curled with amusement as she reached for another chickpea. "I'm sure you've been told that Ghalib was a conniving extremist that planned to destroy Almyra. But to me, he'll always be my baby brother."
"But-."
"In fact, Ghalib was much more gracious in his request for support than Faruq was."
"That's because the mirza never expected your aid! He was tickled pleased to just keep Saba neutral!" Nousha retorted.
"That may be true, but his restraint was still a display of maturity. Faruq had the more creative mind; Ghalib, though, was always the more rational and levelheaded brother."
Nousha frowned. "I'm starting to think you aren't too fond of His Majesty. Did he do anything better than the mirza?"
"I already said he was more creative, which I consider a virtue. Besides that… well, Faruq was always more generous. Ghalib made plenty of donations, but I'm certain that was only towards some aim. Faruq was not only generous with his resources, but also with his time. He'd always seek me out to lift my spirits if he noticed I wasn't my normal self. Ghalib was usually too busy living in his own little fantasy to do that."
Maysun chuckled upon noticing that Nousha was still not exactly swayed. She set her bowl down after having her fill. "Here's the truth of the matter, Nousha. Yes… Dizhwar and I were both more sympathetic with Faruq's cause. I'd regretfully believe Ghalib ordered that assassination before I'd believe it was Prince Khalid. Still… going to war is a doomed cause if the people don't feel the same. Ghalib was a master at publicity. He once walked through Al-Amal as a conqueror, and within twenty years, the majority of the people here treated him as our savior from Fódlan's aggression. But most of all, the Sabaeans just didn't see it as their problem. They fought their war before, and it cost them. This time, they just saw two men asking for them to risk their lives for nothing in return. That's not even mentioning that you've now violated our neutrality twice. So, do you think Saba would be a particularly committed ally on the battlefield? The only direction they might point their weapons at with enthusiasm in such a scenario would be towards Dizhwar and me."
"Are they really so naïve to think it's not their problem? How would they feel when Ghalib started conscripting your people for an invasion of Fódlan?"
"You aren't wrong, but humans are shortsighted creatures, Nousha."
Nousha inadvertently squished an almond between her fingers. "Shortsighted? They'd have to be outright blind! The war has already come to them. If you'd shown us some loyalty, you wouldn't have been left to fend alone against these Sreng raids. Just how bad has the situation gotten up north?"
"Rather severe, I'll grant. Agha Ridwan and most of our forces are pinned under siege after trying to relieve the garrison at Maddaban. Sreng put together a brilliant trap this time, and our ability to do anything about it is sadly limited. The invaders notified us of their terms for a withdraw, and they're trying to extort us for all we're worth. But what you see as the price of disloyalty, the Sabaeans see as evidence of Faruq's abdication of leadership. As far as they're concerned, Elam cares only for itself, just as it always has."
Nousha's temper abated some. "I… agree, actually. Even if we were upset with your inaction, we had a duty to defend the Almyran people. It seems like some of our leaders forgot that when they saw an opportune moment to spite you. They justified the choice on the grounds of limited resources, but they gave up rather quickly after proposing exactly zero workarounds. I'm sorry."
Maysun squinted curiously. "Nader was worried that you let the pursuit of your future get into your head, and I'd wager that you'd agree to an extent. Do you want my opinion on part of the problem?"
"I… suppose so," Nousha allowed, baffled by the change in subject.
"Well, I'm beginning to suspect that your frustration is partially driven by the feeling that you aren't receiving the due respect you're entitled to."
"Entitlement, huh?" Nousha muttered with disappointment. She hoped Maysun might have actual wisdom, but the emira was instead regurgitating the same tired criticism she had dealt with for years.
Maysun continued, "Let me clarify that. I don't mean you feel entitled to your position per se. Rather, I'm saying that because of your current position, you feel entitled to be treated a certain way. I'm sure you don't even realize it. You clearly believe in duty and responsibility. You have high expectations for yourself, your peers, and your superiors. You expect yourself to be a leader, and you expect to do it well. And frankly… I think you expect those below to follow well. Does that sound accurate?"
That gave Nousha some pause. "Well… perhaps. I mean, I am generally followed, so I'm not sure that's the right word. You might be able to say 'trust' or 'loyalty', though. The people who fought for my father didn't just follow him; they believed in him. I've never gotten the impression my soldiers feel the same about me. I could never have rallied anyone to make that last stand like he did. With him gone now, maybe our army will become as useless as those hypothetical Sabaean soldiers you described."
"Only a fool gives loyalty and respect freely. They aren't given; they're earned. You surely know that."
"I guess so, but I want… no… I need my title to command that kind of respect, because… I don't think I'm capable of achieving it on my own."
"And there it is," Maysun pronounced with disappointment. After an idea came to her, though, she noted, "You know… your father wasn't always the way you remember. He was also a bit timid as a child. I had to pester him to even get a couple words out."
"Wait… really?" Nousha asked hopefully.
Maysun folded over with amusement. "Ha! No, of course not! I was a just little curious to see if you'd believe me." She finally calmed after noticing that her guest was not sharing in the fun. "Listen, Nousha. It's possible to grow or adapt your personality, which can be good things, but you run a serious risk of coming across as a fraud. And more importantly, it's wrong to think that there's a singular vision for a what a successful leader should look like."
"Kind of like how you're running the show around here, even if your leadership looks different than my father's?"
Maysun grinned wider instead of commenting on the claim. "So, what about you? What do you think is your best trait?"
Nousha shrugged. "Well… I try to be honest."
"That's something you can work with! A great orator can convince an army to march into the inferno with promises of valor and glory, but an earnest leader can do the same by demonstrating that they relate to their soldiers' fears and are still willing to march alongside them. I'm sure Nader had more in his arsenal than just dramatic speeches."
Perhaps the emira had a point. It applied to Satiah's concerns, too. Even if Satiah lacked her brother's personality as she so claimed, Nousha already had a higher regard for Dagda after bonding with her and hearing stories about her mother's home. There was more than one way to do things.
Still…
Nousha complained, "This is nice and all, but we're veering towards platitudes about 'being oneself' that don't say much about what a leader actually looks like."
"There's only one trait common to all good leaders- they lead. … Obvious, I know, but leadership requires more just following rules and expectations- you have to be willing to go further at times. Even if the choices aren't always right, people will recognize and look up to that in a person," Maysun replied incisively. "I have no doubt that you face unique challenges that your father did not, but even Nader had to earn and maintain the respect of his subordinates. You know about the battle he fought in the Maranjab, right?"
"Mostly from other sources. He rarely spoke about that sort of thing with me," Nousha answered with a tinge of bitterness.
The story occurred during Elam's surprise march upon Astane in the last war. Nader was commanding a group of wyvern scouts during a reconnaissance mission. While on patrol, they spotted an unexpected enemy encampment in the distance.
Maysun continued, "You know the dilemma, then. One option was for Nader to immediately turn his scouts away and just tell Faruq to redirect the march. That would be fine if no one in the encampment saw them. If the wyverns were spotted, though, someone could have alerted the sardar, and the entire operation would be blown. The other option would be to attack the enemy detachment without authorization. Doing so would mean they'd have a chance of stopping any messengers, but it would also risk lives and ensure that they'd be seen. Maybe someone would escape the battle and make it to Astane first. So… what would you do in that situation?"
Nousha already knew the correct answer, but she chose honesty. She grumbled, "I'd… probably want a second opinion from a superior."
It was one of her worst traits. Being correct was nice and all, but being wrong was downright horrid. Even the thought of playing cards was a bit sickening since the probability of a defeat was too high. Maysun's scenario was on an entirely different level. Nousha would never want the burden of responsibility for such an uncertain decision weighing her shoulders.
"At least you're brave enough to admit it," Maysun said. "As you know, Nader chose to attack, and sure enough, the Shomali prisoners confirmed that they had spotted the scouts and would have alerted their superiors. Flying back to ask for Faruq or your grandfather's validation would have changed the course of history for the worse. So statements like 'trusting your instinct' and… what was it… 'being oneself' aren't always just appeals to not apply your intellect. They really are necessary skills."
Nousha sighed as she buried her head in her hands. None of this should have been news to her- she had already been berated for her lack of initiative by Her Majesty after Sous River. It seemed unfair at the time, but she was now ready concede that the queen had been right all along. 'Initiative' always seemed too reckless and dependent on luck, but the true reckless action was for Nousha to not change her ways after her methods were already proven failures. Did that mean she was the one acting on emotion all along, too stubborn to evolve, and that it was actually people like her father and Khalid that were-
"Nousha… I think I'm losing you again," Maysun interrupted with a hint of amusement.
"Sorry," the younger woman said as her cheeks flushed.
"There's no need to apologize. I'm sorry if I overwhelmed you when you've already got enough on your mind. You may stay here as long as you like, and I'll try not to do that again. I just get a bit bored around here, you see."
Maysun reached for a volume of poetry, but Nousha blurted, "What resources do you still have available that aren't trapped at Maddaban?"
The emira slowly drew her hand away from the book and answered, "One wyvern division and one camel division, neither of which are particularly substantial. We didn't start with much. Elam stripped Saba down to just a territorial defense after the war, and it's difficult to muster a new army when the population is so spread out."
"And what if my wyvern corps aided you? Would that be enough to lift the siege?"
Maysun's eyebrows rose. "Perhaps. I can't imagine Faruq and Tiana approving that, though."
That fear had plagued Nousha's mind, but she found herself suddenly no longer caring. She answered, "No, but they might feel differently if I got something in return. If we help you, could you promise to support Elam in the war? It's time for Saba to take a stand."
Maysun smiled sadly. "It's a clever bargain, and I'm a little disappointed that you're the first person to officially raise it. But I'm sorry… I can't make any promises. Like I told you, the Sabaeans are wary of war. They don't want to be on the wrong side again. They'd be happy for the help, obviously, but since they expected it to begin with, I don't think they'll be all that impressed with a bit of quid pro quo."
"You seem rather confident of the Sabaean worldview for someone who grew up in the Dunya, not Al-Amal. Should someone who only married into this place by right of conquest speak on their behalf with such authority?"
… Nousha direly needed to learn when to keep her thoughts to herself. Thankfully, it was challenging to genuinely offend the emira.
"Nader called you reticent, but perhaps 'passionate' is a more appropriate adjective. It has its uses if you can rein it in, but do be careful. Not everyone will be so understanding," Maysun gently warned. She shrugged and suggested, "Anways, you can ask any of the soldiers stationed here if you don't believe my interpretation, but they'll tell you the same thing."
The emira returned to her book when Nousha fell silent. The uncertain young general stood, crossed her arms, and walked back to the balcony.
This land… Nousha really did want to help it. But how could she ever reach the hearts of people she barely understood? She had not even earned the right to walk beyond the palace's walls.
"What would you do, father?" she asked under her breath, putting her hand on the cheek that his blood had stained.
No, he wouldn't like that question. A better choice, then- what would he want me to do?
That wasn't quite right, either. The correct question was the simplest of them all.
What will I do?
