Page 4 of A Fragile Heart

She giggled. "You underestimate how much Dariush values being miserable as part of his character, Your Highness. Don't worry though, we're putting your ideas into motion, slowly and carefully as you advised. We'll come out the victors in the cracker war yet."

"I have faith in your victory."

She shooed him off, and he finally went to face the moment he was dreading. "Father, you wanted to see me?" Not that there was much point in the conversation, now he could see his father's face. Stoic though he was, Bakhtiar had long been attuned to known when someone was about to tell him something he didn't want to hear.

"Bakhti, I am so sorry, but there was a change in the council agenda today and though I fought against it vehemently, they have removed your speech for now and will reschedule it for a later time."

"I see," Bakhtiar replied. "What replaced it?"

From by the desk, his father's concubine Beynum replied, "Tariff issues, they're growing increasingly contentious and want the matter done."

Tariffs. Of course. Squabbling over how much all the wealthy merchants should pay on imported luxury goods, what goods should be classed as luxury and which ones should beallowed to be classed as necessity to allow them to skip out on higher tariffs, was infinitely more important than his cause.

All his siblings' causes were taken seriously, and rightfully so, especially Aradishir and his ever-constant fight against traffickers. If they'd said another matter there had come up, he'd have born no ill will.

But he'd been pushed asideagainfor yet another bickering session over luxury tariffs. It was a never-ending fight because nobody would ever be happy because god forbid all these wealthy people part with a single coin more of their wealth than they absolutely had to.

Meanwhile there was little to no regulation on gambling, and it was the poorer classes who suffered for that while the rich grew richer off essentially stealing from people who either were addicted to the thrill of gambling or did so desperately hoping to make their lives better. It was disgusting, reprehensible in the extreme, and not a single fucking person cared.

Not even his oh so perfect and wonderful father, the high and mighty King Shahjahan who never did or said anything wrong. And if he didn't care, no one cared, and therefore Bakhtiar was wasting his time at best, and completely wrong to care at worst.

Ordinarily he would fight and rage anyway, until he was dismissed for losing his temper and everyone talked about how he was always getting wound up and emotional and carried away.

He was tired though, in a way he could not adequately describe. What was the point? Who cared that he had put weeks, even months, of work into this matter. Spent countless nights reviewing laws and drafting his own ideas for new laws, regulations, a board to oversee gambling halls. Who cared that this was important to him, as important as charity was to theirmother, as stopping trafficking was to Aradishir, as treatment of veterans was to his sister?

Nobody cared, because it was just dice and cards and people making bad decisions.

"I understand, Father. Please inform me when my speech is rescheduled. Was there anything else you needed?"

Shahjahan frowned, actually, visibly, looked worried frowned. "I will see it done as soon as possible, Bakhti, I promise. Are you all right?"

"Perfectly fine, Father."

"If you have nothing too urgent to do, would you take over general audience for the rest of the day? Your mother is in there now, but breaking shortly because she must go to the temple to deal with some problems regarding the upcoming festival."

"Of course, I'd be happy to," Bakhtiar replied, and that he meant. General audience was the one thing he was better at than anyone else. Helikedit, listening to people, helping them, using all the power and authority he had to actively, personally improve lives. "Farrokh…"

"I'll speak with the office and then go find Kurosh so we can both attend you," he said with a smile, before bowing to Shahjahan and slipping away.

"Father," Bakhtiar said with a bow of his own.

Just as he reached the door though, Shahjahan called, "Bakhti" in a soft tone he'd never heard before, and for a single, stupid moment made hope forsomethingflutter in his chest, before he ruthlessly quashed it. "Yes, Father?"

"Are you certain you're all right? You are not normally so quiet, and I know the gambling reform is important to you. I promise you will get your chance."

Important to you.But not important enough to anyone else to do more than promise to reschedule something that had been rescheduled several times already. Bakhtiar knew a lostcause when he saw one. "Just tired, I did not get much sleep, working on something for Mother, though the papers wound up lost somehow. Thank you."

He left before Shahjahan could say anything more, though he doubted he would. In the hall, he handed his carefully written note and speech cards to a servant. "Discard those for me, Jaleh, if you please. Thank you." That done, he headed to his room to change from the clothes he'd worn for the breakfast into something more serious for general audience.

When he arrived a few minutes later, only Kurosh and Farrokh were waiting for him in the private antechamber. "Where is Mother?" He'd hoped to speak with her before he took over to get any personal notes she had about who still needed help, any straggling issues, and so forth. He'd also wanted to know she got the signed contracts this time, for property he'd bought with personal funds and signed over as part of one her big, ongoing charity projects regarding affordable, protected housing.

But of course she was too busy to see him for just a few minutes.She'd have lingered to speak with Aradishir or Jahanara.Not that either of them held audience except in extremely rare cases.

"She had to leave in a hurry, apparently there was an accident with the wine barrels and people were hurt, but she left notes with me to pass on to you."

"Ah, of course. I hope the injuries are not too severe."

Shoving aside his bad mood, Bakhtiar shifted his mind to general audience, taking the notes and reading through them as quickly as possible, fidgeting with his gear the whole time. Numbers called, people coming forward with their problems, him handing out solutions or assigning the people who could provide the solution.

---