King Sahir's Arc

Chapter 5 of 17

The weeks after the gate closed buried Sahir in paper. Advisors stacked petitions on the long table. Grain disputes. Water rights. A bridge that needed repair before the floods. Sahir signed and signed until their hand cramped. They slept less. They ate at the desk. The garden fountains ran without them. There was no stall, no tea, no stranger who smiled. There was only the work, and the work never ended. The pain came back worse than it had in years. It started in their knees each morning and climbed to their lower back by noon. By the third week Sahir could not rise from the chair without gripping the table edge. They sent for the golden trident they used on bad days. They leaned on it to cross the room, both hands on the teal-marked shaft, dragging each step. The copper crown felt heavy enough to bend their neck. One evening Sahir tried to reach the window alone. Their knee buckled. The trident scraped the floor and they went down hard against the stone. They could not get up. They stayed there, cheek to the cold floor, and waited for the pain to pass. It did not pass. The door opened. Vizier Sadiq stepped in with a sheaf of letters. For thirty years Sadiq had served this palace, loyal to tradition, certain the king belonged within these walls. Sadiq had kept the gate shut. Now Sadiq saw the king on the floor and stopped. "Majesty." Sadiq set the letters down. They crossed the room and knelt, slow in their purple robes. They reached for the trident and held it steady. "Lean on this. Not on me. Up." Sahir pulled. Pain tore through their back. They got one knee under them, then stood, swaying over the shaft. Sadiq did not let go of the trident. "How long," Sadiq said. It was not quite a question. "Weeks." Sahir's voice came thin. "Since the gate." Sadiq studied their face. The old advisor had learned every lie Sahir told. This was not one. "You have signed every petition on that table." "Yes." "A dead king signs nothing." Sadiq straightened the crown on Sahir's head with one hand, almost gentle. "I kept you here to protect the crown. The crown is cracking the person under it." Sahir said nothing. They had stopped expecting anyone to see the person at all. Sadiq stepped back and folded their hands. "I will carry the smaller matters myself. You will rest three days. This is not a request." They picked up the letters and walked to the door. There they paused. "The gate is my duty. But a king who cannot stand is no use to the throne either. Think on that, Majesty." The door shut. Sahir stood alone, both hands on the trident, and understood something had shifted. The one person watching them had finally looked past the title and seen them hurting.