Inside the carriage...

Princess Nila looked at the strange guard outside with curiosity. He looked so rough with his unshaven face, stained dark cloak, and dented helmet. So unlike the prim and proper soldiers of her native Lydia.

His mouth was hanging open as he stared wide-eyed back at her. That was the usual reaction from men in her presence. The young princess was of legendary beauty.

Nila's eyes, round and dark like a pair of onyxes, emitted warmth and courtesy – and a dreamy shyness that only became her. Her full-lipped smile and regally arched nose added further to her delightful face. Her skin was olive toned, a bit fairer than most other Lydians and her raven-black hair curled all the way down her back.

Unlike her father, she wasn't very tall. But what she lacked in height she compensated with her body. Under a beautifully embroidered cloak, a traditional Lydian silk dress hugged her slender frame, characteristic of the active lifestyle of the ruling class.

But her rounded hips, shapely bum and just a hint of a potbelly still gave her feminine curves that were the envy of every woman in the kingdom. The valuable fabric stretched around a very ample bosom. The gods had blessed Nila with breasts that had both the size and shape of a pair of ripe honeydew melons. One of the nicknames the Lydians used for their beloved princess was actually, ”Nehid Amara,” roughly translated ”The Melon Princess”.

Oddly enough, the modest princess seemed to be unaware of her great beauty and somehow missed the looks of envy and desire that most people she met cast on her.

”Nila, don't look at these barbarians,” commanded King Mandour.

”No father,” Princess Nila said and obediently turned away from the window.

The presence of his daughter made the aging king feel uneasy. He didn't like bringing his child into the lands of the enemy, right into the lion's den. But she was old enough, and there was no other way. She had been so excited when he told her that she could come with him to Zatakia on his diplomatic mission.

He had several other children with various concubines, but he had always favored and spoiled Nila over her half-siblings, especially since her mother, the queen, passed away when Nila was young. She had always been kind and charming, and the traits just increased over the years as the princess grew. And always compliant, never causing any trouble for her father.

She had turned 20 this spring, a few years past the proper age of marriage. She had many suitors flocking around her, but none were to her, and her father's, particular taste. They turned them all down, and the princess continued her sheltered life at the palace, cultivating her interest in clothes, books, dancing and horse riding, just like she always had.

But this was about to change. Mandour's precious jewel was about to grow up, and he dreaded the thought.

His thoughts dispersed as his advisor Emir Khardal spoke from across the king.

”Your highness, may I suggest we make some final preparations before the audience?”

The king's face grew earnest.

”Yes, old friend, let's outline our plans once more.”