Ptolomy looked at Alexander pleased as punch, with a smug look of complacency that seemed to congratulate himself for coming up with this brilliant plan.
The brilliant plan where he can just sit around and eat and shit, while Alexander worked himself to the bones wiping his butt.
Alexander did not bother to dignify that offer with a response.
In fact, he was having a hard time not retorting, ‘If I’m gonna do all the work, why would I need you?’
Instead, Alexander changed the topic, “Ahem, Your Majesty, tomorrow the peasants will know why you rebelled, but have you thought how to justify your rebellion to the nobles?”
“Isn’t it obvious that I rebelled because my brother was corrupt and because he lost heaven’s will?” Ptolomy gave the same hackneyed answer.
Alexander shook his head and informed, “That was before the drought. The nobles know that the drought ending and the crushing defeat of the Camtagenans occurred at the same time. I doubt they will buy that story.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Ptolomy had a slight frown on his face.
“We have a lot of money from the temple. Maybe some of the nobles can be bought off.” Alexander suggested.
“That is a good idea, Commander Alexander. But I don’t think any significant noble will take the bait. Not yet at least. They fear we will lose the battle against Amenheraft and then everything we pledge will be for naught. And not only that, but they also fear retribution from Amenheraft.” Ptolomy gave an unusually insightful answer.
‘Hmmm, did the queen mother put these thoughts in his head?’ Alexander wondered.
But regardless of the case, Alexander understood the reason, the nobles were afraid to take their side because they felt they were too weak and unreliable.
This was the same as if some random person gave you a hundred dollars to go hit a police officer.
No sane man would take the offer.
But if the person offering the same money was the police commissioner or the president, many would jump at the chance.
‘Welp! Looks like all negotiations will have to wait till we win at least the first battle,’ Alexander lampooned in his heart.
Then he moved onto, in his opinion the most important issue of the topic.
“Speaking of money,” Alexander sent an expectant look to Ptolomy, “We have yet to discuss the issue of payment.”
Ptolomy’s face visibly changed from a deep, remunerating facade, to a bit pale one hearing this, understanding that Alexander will likely skin him alive with the price tag.
“Hehe, commander Alexander, what are you talking about? Didn’t I already make you my prime minister?” Ptolomy almost had a toady smile on his face as he turned his head to Alexander.
But because he had never had to curry favor with anyone, this smile appeared cramped and unnatural.
“Hehe,” Alexander only chuckled and said, “Let’s go and see a map of Adhania. I want to look at where Amenheraft’s army is coming from.”
Then he got up and gestured to Ptolomy to lead.
‘*Sigh*, it seems the queen mother was right. He has no interest in serving me, but wants land.” Ptolomy sighed helplessly in his heart.
Then with great reluctance, he got up from the chair, making it look as if the chair was a giant magnet intent on keeping Ptolomy attached to it, and afterward proceeded to lead Alexander towards the royal study.
The duo flanked by Alexander’s five guards were quickly making their way across the luxurious palace whose marbled floors were covered by thick, lush, intricately patterned carpets, the walls of the hallways held many beautiful paintings and large windows at regular intervals let in the sweet, soft sunlight of early autumn.
As the group was getting near the study, a sudden rude voice interrupted Alexander who was thinking about how much meat he could cut off Ptolomy, “Hey you, don’t you know you are not allowed to carry swords in front of the king?”
The voice was young and brash and as Alexander’s translator translated the saying with an apologetic face, Alexander turned to see that the voice matched the face.
The boy was tall, with baby fat still hanging off his rosy dimples, and was dressed in spick and span armor, without the slightest of grease or dirt and certainly no dents in the golden, bronze cuirass.
He could certainly be described as handsome but this handsome, fair face currently was now twisted into a deep scowl as he looked at Alexander with fury in his eyes.
“Who are you?” Alexander raised rise eyebrow as he asked in a monotone voice, while simultaneously taking a hold of his sword pommel.
“I’m Fartaz and in the name of the king I command you to disarm yourself and surrender yourself for punishment.” The pompous boy shouted as he pointed his right hand towards Alexander.
“Commander Alexander, he is just a boy. Please excuse his rude behavior.” Ptolomy quickly stepped in, concerned and afraid that Alexander would lose his temper.
But it was already too late.
Alexander shouted, ” Guards, capture this traitor!”
“What! No, let go. Lowly peasants, do you know what..arghhh..” Fartaz shouted and struggled as two sturdy hands grabbed his arms and then to shut him up, landed a punch squarely on his solar plex.
” Commander, please, he was just following customs. He didn’t mean anything by it,” Ptolomy pleaded for Alexander to let this go. .𝘤𝑜𝑚
But the ‘fearless’ young noble showed no sign of contrition.
“My king, don’t debase yourself. This swine doesn’t dare to lay a finger on me,” Fartaz growled as his look changed from anger to malice and hatred.
Alexander gazed directly into the young pup’s eyes thinking, ‘Are these nobles really so stupid as not to realize the slightest bit of reality? Even if you can’t live under the same sky as me, at least have the awareness not to antagonize me all alone in a corridor with so many enemy guards.’
Alexander recalled Barzan had done it too, his status of nobility blinding him to reality.
In fact, most Adhanian nobles suffered from this idiosyncrasy where they considered themselves superior to all commoners and felt any and all things they uttered ought to be treated as gospel.
*Clang*, Alexnader directly pulled out his sword and pointedly asked the boy, “We are at war and there might be assassins hiding in the palace. So, tell me, why are you telling the commander of the army to not carry weapons for self-defense?”
Finished, he placed the sword tip right under the boy’s throat as he coldly pierced the boy’s gaze.
“That….it was …custom,” The boy stammered as his head finally cooled down and he began to understand the predicament he was in.
Alexander’s dark stare made the boy shiver in fear as he got the same feeling as he did when his grand-uncle would look at him.
“Heh, traitor, you just wanted to kill me and make the army rebel, didn’t you?” Alexander sarcastically sneered as he laid down a baseless accusation that made the boy’s eyes widen in terror and horror.
It was then instantly switched to burning fury as he lambasted, “Stray cur, how dare you! You are the traitor! You are the one who took the His Majesty hostage, And once my granduncle gets here he will chop off your hand!”
“Fartaz…shut up you stupid imbecile,” Ptolomy roared like an enraged lion, sending a look of utter fury at the pampered boy.
It didn’t take a genius to guess who this ‘granduncle’ the boy mentioned was and this reveal made Alexander want to kill the boy even more.
“Granduncle?” Oh, is your granduncle even more powerful than the king?” Alexander sniggered at the shaking boy.
“That..of course not,” The boy stuttered and then looked at Ptolomy for help.
Ptolomy only avoided the eye contact and instead turned to look at Alexander, a trace of curiosity swimming in his gaze.
“Then, why didn’t you say the king will save you? His Majesty Ptolomy has been right in front of you, pleading for you. Why didn’t you refer to him, but bought up Pasha Farzah?” Alexander by now was playfully hitting the boy’s throat with the sword blade, breaking the skin and causing a thin red trickle to color his steel sword.
The boy didn’t seem to react to the graze as he had much bigger concerns.
If he couldn’t answer properly, it might not end with just a little cut but with his entire neck cut off.
“That….of course….I never meant any ..disrespect to the king..I,” The boy only mumbled and spluttered as he felt Ptolomy’s warm gaze turn cold and hostile, making his body feel cold and unmoving.
“Let me tell you why you really bought up Pasha Farzah and not His Majesty Ptolomy,” Alexander now held his sword with both hands.
“It’s because you consciously or subconsciously think your granduncle is stronger than King Ptolomy. Right?”