The Black Prince's Journey to the Storm-Tossed Capital
“What?”
The news landed like a thunderbolt, turning Isabel’s face as pale as bleached linen. Her mother had been sold elsewhere?
The slave trader nodded once, calm as a man who had long since learned the value of patience.
“H-where exactly, sir?!”
“Breathe, girl. Everything is written in the ledger.”
Isabel’s knuckles whitened around the edge of the table.
The slave trader continued scrolling through the ink-smeared pages, finger tapping a line.
“Let me see… twenty-one Hawarians. They all came from the same guild, multiple times. That’s why my memory slipped. One hundred would have stuck. But twenty-one…”
“Stop stalling. Who is the merchant?”
“Fez, Your Highness.”
“…Fez?”
Isabel’s voice cracked with anxiety as she leaned forward.
“Fez? Where is that? Do we take a ship? Or ride overland? Or what?”
“Easy, Isabel.”
I reached out to steady her before she could spiral further.
“But you’re looking so serious!”
“It’s only natural, miss. Fez is currently in the midst of civil war.”
“Civil war?”
Isabel’s eyes darted toward me.
“Correct.”
I gave a single nod.
“Fez is the capital of our Maghreb Sultanate.”
Fez.
Sixty kilometers east of Meknes, beyond the towering West Atlas Mountains.
The beating heart of the Maghreb Sultanate, a city that had seen three decades of renaissance under Sultan Sharif ibn Ali. Twenty years earlier, when the name “Ismail” had first taken root in my mind, Fez had been my home as well.
“It’s actually a blessing, isn’t it? You’re a prince of the Maghreb, Ismail sir! You’ll know plenty of people there…”
“Isabel. Don’t you remember what I said earlier?”
She blinked, then her expression darkened once more.
“You mentioned the eastern commander had already invaded the capital, sparking civil war?”
“That’s right. We’re walking straight into the middle of a battlefield.”
To save your mother.
……
I glanced at the slave trader.
“Which guild?”
“It’s listed as the Al-Khatib Merchant Group.”
“Al-Khatib? Hah. Figures.”
Something was clearly growing more complicated by the second.
“Is it a famous guild?”
“Famous if you know the right people. Otherwise… not really.”
“…”
I’m not in the mood for riddles right now.
“Al-Khatib is my older brother’s name.”
“What?! Then it’s one of the other princes’ merchant companies?”
“Correct.”
Moulay Al-Khatib ibn Sharif.
The third prince, the one commanding the capital’s defenses while the Sultan lay gravely ill.
“And the Al-Khatib Merchant Group is the one my brother started behind his wife’s back. I gave it a little extra muscle to help it along.”
She shot me a look that clearly said she had no interest in any of that.
“Um… then I’ll be taking my leave? We have regular transactions scheduled.”
The slave trader eyed me warily.
Our business was finished. I nodded cheerfully.
—— Click.
The moment we stepped outside, Isabel reached out and gently clutched the hem of my djellaba, looking up at me with those big, uncertain blue eyes.
She was clearly the one most unsettled by all this.
“Don’t worry. I was planning to stop in Fez anyway.”
“But… is that safe?”
“I don’t do business that costs me money. Besides, I’m not going for your mother. I’m going to greet my brother.”
Secretly dispatching a merchant into my own territory to spy on his activities? I’d have to deal with that later.
Earlier I’d given a simple explanation about my brother’s guild, but the truth was far darker.
In the political intrigues of medieval Europe, merchants weren’t just traders. They were spies, information gatherers, and sometimes weapons themselves.
Al-Khatib Merchant Group was my third brother’s secret weapon.
How did I know that?
Because I taught him how to build it and secretly funded half of it.
Surviving the cutthroat world of medieval royal politics meant one thing above all: build as many alliances as possible.
The third prince had been an excellent ally in that regard.
He was gullible, weak-willed, and ambitious. As long as I made sure he knew I was on his side, I could keep him on a short leash.
“Huh?”
“Not you. I was just thinking how convenient it is that my old ally is now trying to steal Meknes’s information while the Sultan’s life hangs in the balance.”
The third prince was no longer my ally. He was now a rival candidate for the throne.
“Either way, it’s late. We’ll leave at first light. Bring you with me, so get some proper rest.”
“……”
—— Stop.
Isabel’s practiced walking halted.
I turned back, curious.
“…… Thank you, Ismail sir.”
“You’re thanking me already? You’re still a hostage, after all. Stop the nonsense. Write your letter to your father, then go to sleep.”
“Hah? Even in this situation you have to sound so cold?”
“Then tell me, what else do we still need to say to each other?”
“……”
“Nothing at all.”
Isabel walked ahead without another word, her back stiff and proud.
I watched her for a moment, then followed at a measured pace.
I scanned the streets once, checking for anyone who might have seen us. Good thing I’d cleaned up the vagrants on my last visit. No one had been around to cause trouble.
“Hey, that’s not the right path.”
“……”
Isabel continued left without a backward glance.
She was trying to sever any lingering connection. Fair enough.
Isabel was destined to marry the original male lead and become the Iron Lady of Hawar.
Whether main protagonist or side character, I had no place in her story.
Why walk the long road when I could simply enjoy the short, comfortable one I already had?
We were extras in a story that didn’t even need us.
—— Next morning, east gate of Meknes.
The red sun rose over the horizon, slicing through the morning mist. The black-clad figures of my personal guard stood at attention, their bodies gleaming like polished obsidian.
“……”
“Well? These are the Abid al-Bukhari I raised since childhood.”
Abid al-Bukhari.
An elite guard unit composed entirely of the strongest, most aura-talented slave children from the Maghreb. Fifty men, hand-picked for ferocity and discipline.
Half my black funds had vanished to build them, but when it came to actual combat, no one could match their number.
“Every single one is an Aura Expert or better. If they were all Hawari citizens, I’d recommend every last one to the Tercio Knight Order.”
“Impressive, right?”
“Yes, Your Excellency the Governor.”
Isabel only offered a polite reply, then turned her gaze toward the soldiers.
…… What’s wrong?
These were the men I had poured my heart into raising. Why didn’t she look proud?
“Especially the one in front—his aura is pure and his frame is massive, almost like the Tercio commander himself…”
“What about the ones behind? They’re even bigger.”
“You’re joking, right?!”
Isabel’s cheeks flushed red, brows drawn in clear displeasure.
That’s it. That’s the reaction I wanted.
I swung myself up onto my stallion with effortless grace.
“You’re ready too. Let’s move out.”
“……”
“Um… actually, my riding skill isn’t the best…”
……?
You can’t ride a horse?
“Riding is a basic noble skill, isn’t it?”
“That… is true, but…”
I remembered the original Isabel’s travel habits and asked, half teasing.
“…… You’ve never ridden before?”
She looked away, ears burning.
I couldn’t leave her here alone.
“Fine.”
“……”
“Hey, climb on.”
I shifted backward, leaving space in front of the saddle.
“……”
“Mount up. We don’t have time to chase down a carriage in the middle of nowhere.”
She really thought we were still in the Hawar Kingdom.
This was the Maghreb Sultanate—everything was scarce.
“Come here. Extend your hand.”
Isabel hesitated for a long second, then slowly reached out.
—— Whoop.
“Kyaaah!!”
“The basics are simple. Hold your waist and legs tight, trust the horse, and follow my rhythm.”
“H-how can you ride one-handed so casually?!”
“Don’t you think I’m light?”
“Think… what?”
Any more conversation would waste time, so I wrapped the reins around my fist and pulled tighter.
Isabel’s entire body tensed against my back.
“Th-this is really okay?”
“Why? Did you suddenly feel embarrassed because I’m hugging you from behind?”
“I-I didn’t say anything about being embarrassed!”
Her ears were now scarlet.
I could see the top of her head clearly, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Relax your body.”
“H-hic…! Don’t—don’t talk so close to my ear!”
“Sorry, but that’s on you. Just loosen up and match my movements.”
“Haa… I’ll learn horse riding at once!”
While saying that, Isabel naturally slid into my arms, fitting perfectly against my chest.
That’s right. If you want to live, you have to do it this way.
The moment the thin fabric of her djellaba brushed against my chest, my shoulder twitched, but I paid no mind and kicked the stallion forward.
—— Thud!
“Kyaaaaah!”
With me at the front, the entire fifty-one-man guard unit broke into a gallop, the air filled with the thunder of hooves.
We were heading straight for the capital, Fez.