Chapter 435: Embroidered Robe

Chapter 435: Chapter 309: Embroidered Robe

The great Sultan granted his subjects justice; no matter how humble a subject might be, he was worthy of the Sultan’s gaze.

The old farmer cheered, praising the Sultan’s wisdom as he left the great hall with tears streaming down his face. The crowd outside erupted, shouting the Sultan’s name like a rising tide, the atmosphere growing more fervent by the moment.

“Great Suleiman, true master of Antioch, may you protect us forever!” The chant echoed through the crowd, the voices perfectly synchronized, as if in a meticulously rehearsed performance. Every cry was utterly uniform.

As each petitioner entered the great hall, regardless of their status or attire, Suleiman Shah showed not the slightest hint of impatience. His gaze remained calm and profound, as if every appeal was worthy of his ear and his judgment.

However, Eric, who stood outside the great hall, keenly noticed something subtly amiss. He leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed, his gaze impassively scanning the petitioners outside.

The clamor inside the hall gradually faded, but the scene outside continued. Eric observed, however, that the cheers and praise remained perfectly uniform, their coordination startlingly precise.

The cheers and chants seemed like a prearranged performance. A few individuals always led the shouting, their voices exceptionally loud and powerful, as if they were conductors guiding the crowd.

Eric frowned slightly and continued his observation. He never overlooked a single detail; he knew that any unnatural behavior likely concealed a hidden purpose.

As time went on, the line of petitioners began to dwindle. Eric noticed that some of the people at the front didn’t seem all that eager for the Sultan’s justice. In fact, a few of them even began to quietly back away.

Eric saw some retreat to the back of the line, still shouting loudly without hesitation, while others slipped away from the hall entirely. Their movements were light and inconspicuous, as if they had never been noticed at all.

Eric felt this was no coincidence. Those who had left were likely not genuine petitioners, but rather part of some deeper arrangement.

Eric laughed. “Interesting.”

….

As the last petitioner departed, the atmosphere in the hall eased slightly. However, at almost the same moment, Suleiman Shah’s attendants swiftly moved to his side and began helping him into a new set of robes. They carefully removed his filth-stained outer robe and replaced it with an embroidered one that was cleaner, though not ostentatious. The robe’s fine embroidery was layered four times over, giving it a dignified yet reserved appearance.

Suleiman Shah’s brow furrowed for a moment, a clear sign of his displeasure with the complicated robe. But the expression was fleeting. He quickly schooled his features, reassuming his customary composure and authority. Though he was the absolute master of this palace, this city, and this entire land, with the power to decide all things, he still chose to restrain his feelings. He had to admit that the performance had its purpose.

Clad in the inconvenient robes, he unhurriedly sat back down on the high throne at the other end of the hall. His piercing gaze cut through the faint air of chaos still lingering in the hall.

With Suleiman Shah back on his throne, the Turkic officials in attendance, along with a group of other dignitaries and village chieftains, began to converge on him. They all looked utterly exhausted, their steps heavy. Many moved slowly, as if they could barely lift their feet. Some of the older officials dragged their stiff legs, their gait a weary shuffle, as if walking itself was an ordeal.

These men had been standing stiffly to the side ever since Suleiman Shah began receiving petitioners, bound by protocol to maintain perfect decorum. The slightest show of disrespect, a bow that wasn’t deep enough, or any hint of defiance could bring the swift and severe punishment of the Sultan’s Guard. As a result, they all subconsciously hunched their shoulders and pressed close to their neighbors, doing their utmost to remain unnoticed.

Yet now, as they finally hurried toward the throne, their movements were oddly sluggish, each step a difficult drag. By custom, they would kiss Suleiman Shah’s foot, hand, or shoulder—depending on their rank—to express their respect and loyalty to the great Lord.

Because of their slowness, a female slave entering from outside the hall suddenly cut ahead of them. She approached Suleiman Shah’s throne and whispered a few words in his ear. Her voice was crisp and elegant, a gentle breeze that broke the hall’s heavy silence.

Suleiman Shah rose from his throne. Then, one by one, he unceremoniously flung the layered, embroidered robes he had just donned at the approaching officials and chieftains.

This was a stark departure from tradition. Persian lords typically removed their magnificent robes layer by layer, bestowing them as gifts upon those they deemed worthy, especially on such formal occasions. Suleiman Shah’s gesture, however, was clearly tinged with displeasure, as if it were not something he did of his own free will.

He offered no further words. His calm, decisive movements alone conveyed his message: today, he had no intention of bestowing any more rewards on those around him.

At that moment, the beautiful slave girl cried out in a voice both clear and melodious, “In the name of my master, Conqueror of Antioch and Anatolia, son of the great Kutalmish, the supreme Suleiman Shah! For our honored guest from a distant land, a warrior of peerless excellence, of the noble blood of Normandy, let us offer countless cheers and the highest honors!”

“Great Suleiman Shah, may your valor and wisdom be as peerless as the gods! You are the guardian of Antioch, the very image of a conqueror! Today, with boundless reverence, we welcome this hero from distant Normandy! His battle honors are renowned, his fame widespread, his glory renowned far and wide! Today he stands in the light of your glory to pay you the highest homage!”

The officials and attendants immediately turned toward the hall’s entrance, cheering with all their might, though they knew nothing of this newly arrived Norman.

Until the slave girl spoke, the Normans had existed in their minds as little more than a band of notorious brigands. Their Nobility were merely chieftains who wore a few more animal hides than the rest.

Led by an Attendant, Eric entered the great hall. Bowing to Suleiman Shah upon his high dais, he declared, “In the name of my lord, master of England and Normandy, son of Conqueror William, protector of cities and castles, His Majesty Robert the Benefactor, I extend to you, supreme ruler of Antioch, my highest respects.

May the friendship we forge be as everlasting as the stars. Based on equality and honor, let us forever stand together in the name of justice.”