(Written with Oan)
Als Kholynger, Mekedesh Province
May 2024
There is a thunder in the east.
The sound of hooves pounding against the hard-packed earth echo through the stillness of the Packilvanian countryside, a rhythmic, thunderous beat that matched Sagaâs own heart. Altansalkhiâs powerful legs stretched out with each stride, devouring the earth beneath her. Wind and dust whip back against Sagaâs face as she leans forward, blurring the world into a mosaic of colours - trees and bushes rushing past, their green leaves clashing against the golden haze that arose in their wake.
Up ahead, a lone figure waves, and Saga gently shifts her weight to ease the horse back, gradually slowing their pace. The gallop turns to a canter, then a trot, and finally a walk. Altansalkhiâs sides heave with exertion, her breath coming in steady, powerful gusts. Saga grins and coughs, before reaching down and patting the beastâs neck.
âAmarkhan, khatagtai mini. Amarkhan,â she murmurs soothingly.
The sun hangs low in the sky now, casting long shadows and flashing off the Ălemsi Goldenâs metallic coat. Its warmth was broken only by a cool breeze that rustles the leaves of the surrounding trees. Saga takes a deep breath, and tastes the scent of pine and earth, now mixed with the faint tang of sweat and leather.
âYou are slouching too much,â Jochi rumbles. The towering Burimi man walks up the path to her.
âI am,â Saga chuckles in agreement, âBecause I am old.â Gravel crunches under her boots as she dismounts, and stretches her arms with a groan. âI will admit, I am feeling a little cheated. Everyone said age would bring wisdom.â
It had taken no small amount of persuasion to convince her old aide to join her out here, at the far side of the globe. Persuasion and compensation. But Jochi was worth every word, and every Krona. There were good, reliable people at the Sultanaâs Palace. But she needed one of her own, one she had relied on for years. And here, at Als Kholynger, a place of her own as well.
The estate had once belonged to Prince Elam of Mekedesh. The former Prince Elam of Mekedesh, that was. Saga found it difficult to hate someone she had never met, but the old prince would forever be an exception. There had been a special sort of helplessness in reading the daily updates of the energy crisis and Elamâs quiet rebellion against her husband, all while she was half a world away in Tynam. And nothing stuck in the craw quite like helplessness.
With the Princeâs arrest, the estate - a modest Staynish-style townhouse with acres of rolling hills and fields nestled just off the map in the hinterlands between Bingol and Kin - had fallen into government hands. From there, it had been bought at pennies on the dollar by an Ellesborg-based Limited Liability Company, and the rest⌠well, that was the last anyone needed to hear about the place.
Everyone needed a place to keep their secrets, and their joys. Once, sheâd had Symningborg, a cold castle on a hill to keep her confidence. Now she had Als Kholynger, when she wished to fade from the public eye, or the scrutinies of the Sultanaâs Palace.
Just for a little moment.
Saga runs her gloved fingers through her hair, and waves her waiting equestrian over to see to her horse.
âThe Sultan will arrive in a few minutes,â Jochi says in that bland, matter-of-fact voice of his, âFor dinner. I meant to remind you ahead of time, but I do not think you heard me.â
Saga sighs, and squints at the sky. âYes,â she mutters, âI lost track of time.â Saga swats dust off herself, âGive me a moment, I will be there to greet him.â
In one sense, it was a matter of practicality alone that she had asked her husband to join her for dinner here, rather than at the Sultanaâs Palace. The Sultan was in the midst of shuttling between Derengol and Yukader, to personally commemorate the opening of the new high speed rail line. Bingol was just as much in his way as here, it was true, but as Saga had learned from experience by now, moving a motorcade from the airport to the Sultanaâs Palace through the cityâs sprawling urban mass was always a lengthy affair in its own right. The old Prince Elam had chosen this location well, for the purpose of travel.
But past that⌠what was a marriage, if not a sharing of secrets and joys? Saga took no guests at Als Kholynger, and her husband made no inquiry of the place. But she would have him here, on this opportunity. She had at last outfitted the place to her liking, and it was as much his home as hers - And as much her home as the Sultanaâs Palace.
Saga exhales, and casts one last look around the golden hillsides, and the sun setting the horizon alight. Finally, she begins to trudge the rest of the way back to the townhouse.
There was something important to discuss tonight as well.
âAs refuges for respite go, I imagine that this estate is remarkably effective at replenishing oneâs spirit, for you seem more radiant than you have in some time, habibiâ, Thumim said, before he kissed his wife.
He drew her close to him, clasping her around the waist with his right hand while holding the back of her head with his left as she lay it against his chest. Without the burning gaze of courtiers, affection could be generously and liberally displayed. He kissed her again, their bodies exchanging warmth and scents, cultivating the bond that holds marriages together.
They eased into the evening, delighting in updates about each otherâs activities. Thumim spoke with wonder and excitement about the mechanics of trains and the elaborate machinations that enabled them to function, and the deep wisdom and intelligence of the engineers who had orchestrated the construction of the whole thing. He was warmed by Sagaâs anecdotes about her horse and her seemingly burgeoning career as a middle-aged jockey. As their conversations tended to do, weightier matters had to be discussed.
âIâve begun to narrow the candidates for the Home Departmentâ, Thumim said, âAnd in choosing that person, Prince Luwadeen has rightfully pointed out that there are constituencies whose rising significance necessarily mean that we must consider candidates outside of the Imperial Dynasty. Notwithstanding that we want ministers with skills that portray our government as competent, we must balance the groups that move around us. With Dhakarâs appointment for Justice Minister, the law enforcement and judicial constituencies ought to be satiatedâ.
He continued, âBut the Home Department is notoriously difficult to extract performance from. It has a sprawling, deeply entrenched and change-resistant bureaucracy. But it is costing the government money and its inefficiencies are making it difficult to implement digital transformation and modernisation. As the Chairperson of the Civil Service Commission, Prince Luwadeen believes that we need someone with some currency in the bureaucracy, but with some record of digital transformation. So I need your advice, my juniperâ.
Saga silently selects her words for a moment.
âI have every respect for Prince Luwadeen,â she says. That was the truth. She found the Prime Minister to be an intelligent and driven man, of the sort that every government needed, and every ruler watched carefully.
âBut I think we see very different worlds,â Saga goes on, âPerhaps it is because I am unaccustomed to yours. But I know the Home Ministry. Every nation has one. Oh, not under the same name, not with the same portfolio, but it is there - The bureaucracy that reaches into every home unseen and unheard from. Ask any citizen of any country about their nationâs cabinet, and they will speak of the Foreign Minister, the Justice Minister, perhaps the Defense Minister. Nobody will speak of the census bureau, whose numbers draw the electoral lines and distribute the budget. Here, our Home Ministry does that atop overseeing every local government in Packilvania. It implements every policy around marriage and inheritance and the nobility. It follows us from birth to death in ways that the Department of State Security never can.â
âThe Prince sees a records office. An old library filled with birth certificates and marriage licences in need of modernization. Now, I think we can find someone who will meet that criteria,â Saga clasps her hands on the table, âAnd there are more factions to appease than there are positions to dole out. But we should not forget that we too - the Imperial Dynasty - are a constituency.â
Saga pauses, to regard the Sultan with a grave look, "I will never forget the week of our wedding. Not the spectre of rebellion Prince Elam raised. Not the hope that all we build might be built for a child of our own. Someday. So, with provinces and inheritances in my thoughts, this is what I see in the Home Ministry, dear husband - I see the levers that can move the world, if pulled by a subtle and clever hand.â
âI find none more clever and subtle than Princess Yadika,â she concludes, âHer administration and modernizations of the Ministry of Natural Resources will speak well to Prince Luwadeenâs requirements. I do not need to tell you that she is capable, nor that she will be more reliable than any alternative. And an open position at the Natural Resources Ministry can in turn be used to reward someone in the business community⌠preferably the energy sector.â
âAnd, I will admit,â Saga adds with a faint smile, âI have grown quite fond of your sister. I think she has her own aspirations which will carry her far, and I think she should have this, if she chooses to accept it.â
âHmmâ, Thumim said as he milled, tossed and sifted through her suggestion in his mind.
Princess Yadika had proven a formidable and capable political ally, who had come to occupy a prominent and important place in his inner circle. As far as candidates went, she certainly had his trust. Despite initial rumblings within the family about elevating women in general too highly, she spoke with a voice that was beloved and not unfamiliar to the Princes of the Realm, no matter where they lay on the spectrum of bigotry and misogyny.
âMy juniper, you certainly give me pause. There are levers available to satisfy the competing constituencies while still ensuring competent and loyal people are placed in appropriate areas of the governmentâ, Thumim said.
He asked, âIf it were that We should appoint Princess Yadika, whom would you have in mind for the Natural Resources department? There is of course the option of selecting the muSharif of a state-owned corporation or a state agency. I am reluctant to bring in someone from outside of the state since the civil service might see the appointment of muMamlukumnelea Yadika as a snub and resist her, and might want compensation in another luBawaab. Although the tides of retirement may be within view and perhaps even reach for many members of the Council of Ministers, at present there are no other potential vacancies but those in the Natural Resource or Home Departments to satisfy that need.â
âI think the Princess should have the first voice in her replacement,â Saga says simply, âNobody is better suited to understand the requirements of the position. But since you have asked me, I will suggest the current Chief Executive Officer of the Development Bank. Rava Maktarim, that is. I will admit to some bias here,â she adds wryly, âI am passingly familiar with the man. He came to Tynam fairly often once, to oversee an investment in the Tansu nickel mines, though it was many years agoâŚâ
Five years ago, by Sagaâs estimation, though now it may as well have been a lifetime past. But she remembered Maktarim alright - A competent, stolid man with all the personality of a lobotomite. A perfect bureaucrat.
âBut he is well connected with both the civil service and the private sector,â Saga concludes, âAnd experienced in the relevant industries. He would be a competence hire, entirely unconnected from the Imperial Dynasty. I think, if he is inclined to take the position, we could certainly do worseâŚâ