(Part 1)

Blissfully oblivious of Mama Viper's new round of games, the following day, Rashid cheerfully went off to fetch his bow, string and all, in order to begin his training with it. Dastra offered to accompany him, which was duly accepted.

"Gotta admit," Rashid related, "I was surprised when you told us last night that you wanted to learn the trade of the spear, little brother. It's not like you'd actually be in the front lines, you know."

Dastra tilted his head at this. "How can you be so sure 'bout that, Big Bro? I am a prince too, no different than you and Akhi. A kid I may be, but I'm not seekin' to disgrace myself in battle should the occasion ever arise. Pray that shall not be the case as often as ya will, but still--wouldn't hurt to prepare. 'Side from that and the experience with this weapon bein' offered, I do wanna get to know n' get along with our master-at-arms a little better."

"I'm not heading to see Narvis," Rashid reminded him, "rather, to fetch my bow from a simple artisan."

The other prince shrugged playfully. "My word. I had hoped you would not have needed a reminder on this, but... kingdoms are nothing without such people, Big Bro. If this artisan could craft a bow to yer satisfaction, why shouldn't he spare me a tip or two on bein' a decent spearman, hmm? Akhi would gladly have allowed it."

Rashid, who had in truth only meant for his earlier remark to serve as bait, to test out his so-long-sidelined youngest brother's insights, was quietly impressed and mentally allowed the boy to tag along... instead wondering how Vaarsan would have responded to such a deft argument.

"Be that as it may," this prince went on, mostly to himself, "the thought of a prince personally leading his men in battles is... somewhat strange to me. See, the same men would still value said prince's insights and directions more than his actual battlefield presence, would they not?"

"In that regard, Big Bro Rashid," Dastra put in, "I can't say much yet; you see, neither of us had had the chance to command real armies afield, quite unlike Akhi... but, yes, much as the men would have appreciated their commanders' bright ideas n' all like you said, pray remember that not all of the rank-and-file would be seasoned veterans. We have many more greenhorns and some of these might also learn a thing or two about his bein' around to lift hearts and rally minds when things should start going south. His being nearer the front also means it should be easier for the men to see whom to rally to despite the risks... or despite the pay, in case of sell-swords."

To such darn-convincing points Rashid could only blink and whistle. "What keen observation! And you learned to know all that from those military books, hmm?"

"Not all," Dastra admitted, scratching his own nape. "Between my tutorial hours I had time to reflect and take notes of my own, also owing to general assumptions of our elder siblings--you included--that I was nothin' more than some loony but dutiful freak; hence the quiet. On top of that, our table talks could prove to be excellent materials if one knows how to benefit from 'em."

"I'm sure. Ah, now, here we are--Vaarsan's place."

Like most other days, now too this artisan was all smiles as he worked--something Rashid liked about this man, barely above the almost-constant workflow--as he was--of helping to craft tools to kill, wound or maim.

"My word," he gushed, "to have the honor of becoming hosts to two princes in a single day! Welcome, sirs--which one is on business again?"

Dastra playfully jerked his head to the other prince. "Feel like taggin' along, for my part."

"Very good, sir; do have a seat. Prince Rashid--as promised, here I have your stringed bow and that special belt."

That got Das's attention. "Special how?"

In place of responding directly, Rashid showed the belt: how it contained a row of daggers that, bearing the size in mind, might only be effective if thrown. As Rashid was finishing his explanations, Dastra rubbed his own chin.

"Not entirely inconspicuous," he remarked. "Any man with half a brain would still see the belt, and that alone might have him pause to make guesses as to what might be behind it. With luck you would not have to use the daggers at all-"

"Exactly the same words as Vaarsan's," came the reply. "Of that I'm perfectly aware, and yet... it's the only sort of weapon that I could think of, that might cater to my fears--and this artisan had been kind enough to take the trouble to craft it aside from the bow."

Again Das tilted his head. "And just what sort of fears would that amount to, Big Bro?"

In a few sentences Dastra was let in on the unfortunate occurrence that had taken place during the night three years previously, when an attempt against young Mustafa had been made; as well as Rashid's involuntary role in it.

"I see." The youngest Husnirid scion nodded to himself. "I was a tad too young to understand what really happened, but I could still recall Big Sis Zalea not having been too fond of that either. So then, you would try and train with this bow and belt... I still think the belt ain't gonna be the most congruous piece you could bring to our dinners, though."

"I value my safety more," Rashid asserted. "You should too, and not just because your mom's holding all the strings for now. While we're at it, you might wanna get a tip or two from Vaarsan here about the use of spears."

"Why, spears would be even less welcome at dinners, to be sure," Vaarsan remarked, only half jesting. "At the same time they are the simplest sort of weapon--stick with the pointy end, not much else to follow through. Methinks footwork shall play the crucial part, for any earnest learner... and unfortunately, most of our levies had not the chance to be informed of this latter part because--and here I'm being practical--what would that knowledge have served them anyway?"

"No plan survives contact with the enemy," Rashid offered.

"Some way to put it, sir."

"They could still have benefited from that bit of knowledge!" Dastra countered. "Deliberately skipping that part is not only unfair, it's unthinkable!"

"Big Sis Zalea might not have put this any more gently, but that's also perfectly reasonable," Rashid put in. "Put yourself in the boots of the trainer in charge, Das, and you might want to just let your men know what's essential and hope they'll pick up the rest with time... if at all. That way, more of these levies could be trained too, for all the purposes they'd serve."

"Still..." Dastra pressed, "if they were to know about the footwork bit, more of them could have survived such encounters-"

"And put fewer men afield in consequence, is that what you wanted to say?"

"Big Bro!"

"Now, now, sirs," Vaarsan mediated, "I am but an artisan, and am in no good position to command you what to do... but perhaps you might wish to seek the counsel of the princesses anyway? Far as I'm concerned, my part here is performed, I have other customers and would need to be ready for them in due time. Prince Rashid, sir--that would be three hundred risnas; half the price, as agreed."

"Fine," Dastra conceded through gritted teeth.

Rashid handed out the sum to the artisan. "Let's hope the performance shall merit it."

"You're very welcome to test that out, sir. Also, another piece of advice: if you're so interested, a naval career might well be an option. Our Amirate, as I hear, is also a naval power of note, with trade flowing through sea lanes that would need keeping close eyes on, on a regular basis. Prince Mustafa has more than proven himself on land; perhaps you, his brother, shall deign to venture where he has not the time to?"

"To lead others and have them trust me about it, especially in such a fickle field as safeguarding trade," Rashid rejoined, "I must first prove myself capable in my chosen trade, and this finished bow is a good start. Appreciated the idea, all the same."

(Part 2)

Even as Rashid started to busy himself with his new 'toy', as Dastra would have it, the latter prince went on to take up the artisan's advice. He went first to his true sister, whom he found was mulling over something about which she might not have found the proper answer to.

"Sis Zalea."

"Runt."

"Um... ya do know I plan to train with the spear, right?"

"So ya said. Good luck."

"You... don't wanna know why I picked that weapon in particular?"

Zalea huffed. "Amuse me."

The princeling permitted himself a slight smile, before relating what he regarded as Rashid's brash assessment of the spear-wielding levies.

"I mean," Dastra went on, "it's not right to throw in half-trained recruits to battles they could scarcely hope to prevail in without the proper skills, right? Now, should this footwork aspect be taught with just a tad more depth to it..."

"First off, runt," the sister asserted, "ya have to know just from what sorta background most o' said levies might've been comin' from. Peasants, mostly, who'd wish for nothin' loftier than have assured flows of grain for bread, day in n' out; and now ya're gonna tell 'em to keep in their sun-baked heads such complications as footwork, alongside which part of the opposition that they might wanna mangle next, standing jammed as they're soon gonna be before enemies just as eager to strike 'em? Fool's move, that. Rather have them know what shall matter most when push comes to shove n' be done with it, finesse be damned.

"Most battles are, after all," Zalea went on, "not 'bout right and wrong; victory decides what's right, just ask Dad. Or don't, and reflect on battles of old--did anyone bother to ask which side was righter before it won?"

"Even so," Dastra gasped, "that might result in huge casualties. Our people! I read about keeping one's own casualties at minimal levels bein' considered an 'art', somewhere..."

"Akhi might agree to that," this princess conceded after some thought. "All the same, know this: levies will most often be raised with time not on one's side, and then only as a last resort. Under such pressures, objectives will often have to be made as simple as possible: something on the lines of 'Thrust into the same direction, try not to get killed. Dig that?' Few things ya can do 'bout it, if ya ask me."

Dastra chewed his own lower lip. "Have you learned nothing from your time away from Mom? All those cold, calculating subtleties, had they no effect on you..?"

His sister took that hard, as ever, and she rose. "So what, ya gonna gloat of this bein' one the results of yer stickin' to that witch's side now?! Ya spoke nothing in my defense back then, heck, ya joined her and those maggots in ganging up on me... even when I begged ya not to, darn it! Now we're tryin' to make ends meet, Mom and I, but with you I've yet to settle scores, Dastra... which I thought could be possible by hearin' ya out just now; and yet ya've the balls to mock me again to my face?!"

"Big Sis," he reminded her, not unkindly, "I'm here to seek good advice, not be chastised beyond what is proper. Guess 'twas my fault as well for not having asked what ya were thinking when I got here, and if I could've helped in solving any part of 'em; I trust ya could forgive that much? Your forthright advice I've taken to mind, but frankly it has yet to satisfy me... so if ya got nothin' else to add, I'd be going to Big Sis Leia. Huh?"

Zalea narrowed her eyes at that, but resumed her seat. "'Calculating subtleties', was it? Well shucks, might need that... and since you're here now, I might as well say it. For the next several days I'm gonna be the vazir's guest; for what purpose, I can't wait to find out. That implies my not being on the table for dinners 'til it's done. Explain that to the others, would ya?"

"Does Dad know?"

Zalea shrugged. "More knows of a secret, less sure said secret becomes."

"Well, let him in at least, Sis. The vazir's got his confidence 'n all; are ya gonna be dumb 'nough to forsake that? 'Sides, whatever plans you might wanna cook up with him, Dad might want to know--as is his right."

"I'll have to make sure the vazir remembers that, or he's gonna make for a poor host. For now--nope, got nothin' more to tell for my part. Get out."

***

Thus told, Dastra resumed his rounds, this time seeking out Princess Leia. To his silent surprise, he did not find her with balls of yarn and needle, instead seeming to relax and enjoy the sights of her mother's gardens.

"Oh hi, Das," she greeted, ladylike. "Peace be with you. Do sit with me."

"And to ya, Big Sis," he nodded back, every so often delighted by this princess's easy manners compared to his true sister's 'what's-behind-it?' one. The princeling also took up her offer, now sitting side by side.

"Need help with anything?" Leia inquired. Once again her visitor related his willingness to train with his weapon of preference; the differing opinions with Rashid on spear-wielding levies; even the most recent encounter with Azalea. Lei didn't bother to interrupt, but almost as soon as he finished, she nodded.

"Zalea's not wrong on one thing," she conceded. "Most of our levies would be peasants... but you're right about keeping such casualties minimal; they are, after all, the backbone of the society as we know it--lose too many and we too would be affected, often adversely. But Rashid too made a sound point: should their training take too long, we might in turn put far fewer men than intended; and this," Lei put up a warning finger as her youngest brother was about to protest, "will be to our detriment."

"So then... what would be your suggestion?"

Leia smiled. "You told me Zalea said that most of the time, levies are gathered without time being on our side, and their large numbers shall come at the cost of inexperience. My suggestion," she clapped Dastra by the shoulder, "is to train them while there is still time."

The princeling blinked. "How?"

The pressure in his shoulder tightened for a second. "Let me ask you, little brother, and answer me this honestly: what is this peace for, if not to prepare? We are not being engaged in any major theater but the north, and there we have Akhi trying even now to get so many things done; may Allah Preserve him. In the meantime, ought we not be training more spearmen with skill, instead of relying solely on levies? Should it come to that, then yes, it may come to pass as Zalea had said: our numbers may be many, but weak as bubbles. Let's pray it shall not come to that. This is where you shall fit in, I hope."

"I? I am but a kid who has yet to take part in even a single battle!"

"You are a prince, sole son to the clever and resourceful Queen Mirani," Leia reminded him. "Not many princes would normally want to take up a common soldier's place... and yet, to you, this hardly seems to be a problem even when, unlike Akhi, you are not under any obligation to. To say that I'm proud of you," here Leia met the princeling's gaze, "might be an understatement. I wish you a good and fruitful training, Dastra."

The kid felt himself blushing, and almost immediately diverted his own gaze.

"Big Sis Lei... I-I don't know what to say to that. To think that you would actually praise me for taking a peon's place..!"

"Oh, now, don't talk like you're the first one ever to do this, while we're at it. Remember Idris, our cousin? His father was Amir before ours; by rights he should have followed Uncle Imran to the throne. Instead, Id has been dedicating his life to serving Father with distinction for decades through thick and thin, and in doing so helping us to preserve this same peace. I say, let not his efforts to that end--and so many others like him, Akhi Mustafa included--be in vain. Shall we?"

They rose together, and the princeling went so far as to embrace her. "This I promise, Big Sis! Thank you!"

Unnoticed by either of them, Azalea had been observing this conversation from a safe place, around the time Dastra was expressing thanks for Lei's compliment of him assuming 'a peon's place'; and now, when Zalea was sure her brother would not return there anytime soon, she decided the time was proper to reveal herself.

"Pighead," she called, "we need to talk. Again."

***

With Azalea, the sitting happened despite the other princess's lack of permission; and Lei acted accordingly.

"What?" she prompted.

"Fine job ya done to that runt. Wish you could impart me that same wisdom."

"Would you have taken it, though, Zalea? Even now you're still 'Pighead'-ing me... If you're indeed smarter by that much, then why did Dastra come to seek me for advice?"

"He likes you better. Heck, everyone does!"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Mine, alright?! I lack finesse; I have a mom that acted like a jerk most o' the time... but she appears to have shown kindness now more than ever, so I guess I too would need to start the change. If my bro can go to you, and you let him off happy, why not me?"

"And what exactly would you be so happy about, hmm?" Leia countered. "What are you trying to do, which might require my support, where others can't?"

Without being in any way forceful, for the second time that day Leia had extracted information; this time relating to the other princess's upcoming 'play-host' with the vazir. Zalea even asked her counterpart to 'look after the House' in her absence.

At this, Leia laughed. "We all have, Sister--and I would say, perhaps you do need this... 'play-host'. The vazir is a wise man, he'd complemented Father in functions he could not have devoted his energies in full... just like ourselves, I should think. We quarrel, we clash, but we remain sisters about as much as they remain close associates."

"Admirably so, Pig- Sis," Zalea conceded. "So... you think it's not gonna be a bait?"

"Were it so, he'd have had second thoughts about inviting you while braving your mother's displeasure. These are veteran mind-gamers, and you are about to join their ranks in due time. Make yourself useful, would you."

The wolfling princess smirked at this in-style but otherwise quite friendly taunt. "Don't dare think I won't, Sis. See ya, and thanks."

(Part 3)

In the days following the heated encounter with Vestra about their firstborn, the Amir had not been idle; true to his word, he had prodded his northern agents to try and find out the identity of whomever was lending support to Mustafa.

Loyal as they were, the operatives obliged; and not only were they able to secure said benefactor's name, they even put a finger on the ongoing rebellion's leader: a fellow wali, called Vasmir, for reasons yet to be disclosed.

Mustafa's ally for the time being, it was also discovered, was no less redoubtable: Brista Sabria, dubbed 'the Dragoness', sole daughter to Balkir, the reigning Lord Sabri.

This Brista was also said to be two years the prince's junior--therefore, of the exact same age as the Amir's own daughters.

Deciding not to trouble himself too much for the moment on how exactly such a figure--a girl nonetheless--could be at the head of the armies of an entire House, or why she would bother to actually aid a total stranger-noble like his son, Urdin also took heart from the fact that Brista's domains, House Sabri, had begun production of gunpowder and rifles in presently-modest numbers.

These, coupled with Mustafa's by-now-well-tested leadership alongside the counsel of Idris the diplomat (whose recollection appeared to have pleased Urdin to no end, for these were practically among the best commanders that his present realm could afford to offer), would, the Amir believed, end Vasmir's rebellion in relatively short order.

Be that as it may, Azalea's earlier suggestion on reinforcements was not lost on her father. Preparations were being made in Elbar for a dispatch of one regiment under a Captain Kaigen Besnaris--who, it might be recalled, was Raidan's superior.

"Great is the nature of services you both have been rendering, Mustafa and Idris," the Amir (having dispatched the necessary orders) murmured to himself in his private study, eyes closed in reflection, following a private prayer for them and the lion-hearted martyrs for the cause--been and to-be, heathen and faithful--that they have undertaken to lead and direct. "Imran--bet you're smiling from wherever you are, huh? Heck, smile on. With more like these youngsters on the rolls, I daresay your legacy shall flourish and prosper, for as long as Allah Wills it. May Allah Reward you well, all of you!"