Morality and essence was in short supply in this part of the world. Men fought battles, women cleaned wounds, children played in the streets. The poor lived in hovels to wretch out their lives with whatever work can be found. The middles lived in apartments that lined city streets, the shop owners and traders that made their living off the scraps of the rich. The rich own mansions that see the overview and house servants that line the walls to appear as decoration. Such are the lives of the people of Desola.

Naseem was a trader during his youth. He was a rare man. He cared more for gaining favor and stature rather than the pleasures of the world. No wife, no children, for such pleasures seemed to be a nuisance to him. Something to hold him back from becoming what he go beyond the horizon. Such were the dreams of his youth, that time was gone now. He had risen far beyond his youth could ever had aspired to. He was now a prince among men, versed in law, war, swordsmanship, trade agreements, social politics, farming and livestock, and owned swaths of land. An adopted prince that his lord loved.

Now that he was a prince, his lord wished him to marry and grant him children that his lands maybe further blessed. Finding a wife was a difficult process at his age. He was not without prospects though.

Any well to do young man could have his life laid out for him, have a marriage arranged for him. Have a future with a woman that came with a dowry arranged by her parents. 

Naseem was not a young man, but he still sought a wife. One with spirit, not broken or that would praise his every need, but a wife that would be there for him and only him. 

The parlor house was used to seeing fathers and mothers come to choose the perspective brides for their sons, or to sell off their daughters for hopes that they have a pleasent future. On occasion the wealthy merchant would come through and seek a second or third wife. 

Never before had the propirator seen a wealthy man come alone with only a sword at his side. He could tell instantly that Naseem was a man that had seen the terrors of war, but due to his bright red eyes he had alson seen the beauty of God. He was not a man that desired blood, but he had spilt his fair share.

“Welcome! Welcome, young lord to my house! What sort of pleasures can your humble servant grant unto you?” The propriator said as he bowed his head to Naseem.

Naseem walked up to the courteous man and held out his hand for greeting. “I am Naseem, Prince of the eastern lands that touch the seas. I am here looking for my first wife. I was told by my lord Anoch that this is the finest establishment for finding a good wife.”

The propriator took his hand and led him in. “I am humbled by lord Anoch. Such a gracious man as I am often fond of saying. Please make yourself comfortable on the couch, I will have the finest wives made avalible for your viewing. Then you may have whomever you desire.” He signaled to one of the servants that a drink and food be made for Naseem.

“I do have a request for you though.” Naseem said before the propriator took off.

“Yes? What sort of request do you have.” 

“Do not tell the girls who I am. They must not be at their prettiest for my status. I need to see what they are like if they are expecting a man with too many wives.”

“I shall endevor to downplay your grace.” Then he went off to fetch what girls he had avalible.

The golden drink in the silver chalice was a sweet wine that was meant to clear the head and open the senses. The perfect drink for exposing the beauty of the women here. It seemed to be wasted on Naseem as he placed it back down and asked for some cool, clean water instead. He needed his mind to be clear and focused so that the right decision could be made.

The women were filed in quickly and eerily quiet. Their veils were dark and left a lot up to the imagination. They walked along the back wall and stood to face Naseem. The prince stood up and felt the tension in the room circulate. 

Though the prince had not taken a wife in his youth, his physique was not one to be ashamed of. For he was fit and ready for battle at a moments notice. For the sword that he wore was as much of a status symbol as a badge that the police might wear. The sword was ornate and jeweled. Such a property was reserved only for the princes of lord Anoch.

The girls straightened up as each saw the sword, for all people in these lands knew what the sword represented. A one in twelve chance that the man that wields it could be the lord one day. Such was the power of the symbol that armies would bow before it, that women would swoon to be near it, that enemies would pay a king’s ransom to use it for a day. That is the power that each prince had at his discretion. Each prince, natural or adopted, was taught wisdom before receiving their sword. 

Naseem approached the girls and before the first could slip off her veil to smile at him, he passed by her. He did this with the second, and the third and all the way down to the tenth one. He stopped at her. He starred into her eyes and felt a love that he only felt one other time. It was the same look that his lord gave him when he met him for the first time. Not a look of want or desire, but of defiance, of spirit, confusion and love. 

Her eyes were of a deep purple hue. One that is rare to see in all of except the most exceptional queens. The eyes of a ruler that could discern the correct choice even if it seemed foolish at the time. Eyes of wisdom and blessed by the almighty God. This was the woman that he sought. The future with her was going to be a truly outstanding one.

“What is your name?” Naseem whispered as he grasped for her hand not breaking eye contact.

She looked down and to the right, her cheeks flushed and she felt embarrassed at his penatrating stare. 

“Hannah.” She whispered back, she reached for his hand, and grasped it. “Hannah dimo del Falkon.” 

He pulled her hand up to his lips and ever so gently kissed it and said, “Will you come and be my wife?”

“My Lord, I am unworthy of your blessing upon me. I am the daughter of a huntsman and do not deserve the fair treatment that you offer.”

“Your heritage does not matter to me. I care for you.”

She, lifted her veil with her free hand, and kissed his hand in the same manner that he had done hers. She was young and vibrant and unafraid, the beauty of her face could not be imagined by any but God.

“Then it is done!” He proclaimed with joy on his face. “You shall be mine, and I shall be yours.” 

Naseem undid a bag of coins that he had tied to his belt he lifted ten large gold coins and gave them to the propriator. Two for him and eight for the girl’s family. Such a woman was she that that no amount of gold could have compared to her beauty.

Naseem led his new finance out and into the city street where he had left his servants, and together they started heading , back to his lands where the land met the sea, far to the east.