Shahanshah

[need my speed]

The clang of hammer and anvil was equally companion to the herds of the Anatolian highlands near Uruk, as it was to the merchants bestriding the Caspian reaches near Pasargadae. The mountain ranges of Tyre and Dariush Kabir were mined fervently, and copper and iron and other minerals besides were hurried to the eagerly awaiting smithies on the border. Great columns of towering Trebuchets rolled south and west, from the Farsi basin all the way to the Ottoman border. Immortals readied themselves, trying on chainmail vests and practising with longswords and broadswords as they had with their curved blades of ancient times. Spearmen lined up near the smithies of Ashur and Tyre, and more still near the recent border-towns of Ura Tyube and Altin Tepe, now reduced to forts, castles, as it were. Pikes, metal spears with twice the reach, were forged here by expert metalworkers brought in from all over Persia. These pikes would be necessary, to keep the Ottoman raiders at bay.

As the drums of war beat, as the higher arts of science and philosophy, and the pursuit of wealth and commerce, were discarded for strategy and logistics and physical fitness, the Megisthanes gathered. They recalled the past 600 years, and how their republican government, the ingenious democracy of Otanes tempered by the wise oligarchy of Megabyzus, had governed the realm so well. They remembered the culture war, with sea people and mountain people exaggerating their differences, and people everywhere abandoning the fields, as social cohesion and safety crumbled apart. But now Persia was more connected than ever. The roads and the cities were safer than ever, with a merchant on every horizon and a spearman on every corner. Trade was flourishing, both internally and externally - had Persia not discovered the southernmost point of the world - and living standards were fantastically high, with artisans sleeping easy, secure in the knowledge that their crafts would beget enough food to survive the winter. All of Persia had been united, by the inclusion of Babylonia in that great realm - and indeed, all of Babylonia was happier for it - by the great gifts Xerxes had bequeathed to Persia, by the legend he had built, Cyrus reborn. To be a man in that time was to be a man in a time of prosperity undreamed of.

And yet. A worrying phenomenon had manifested itself. It began with the Ottoman raiders, growing bolder and more daring by the day, coming down from the mountains and driving flocks of sheep and cattle away, plundering farms and razing small villages. The new border cities did not have the infrastructure to ably respond to this threat, and especially far-away Uruk was cut off from greater Persia by mountains and hills and sheer distance. They had to survive on their own, and thus they did. But if life outside the city walls was impossible, for the ever-looming danger of a Turkic warlord enslaving men and raping women - or vice versa - then how would the citizens have enough food? Supply trains from Farsi, or even from the lush Tigra and Ufratu valleys, could not reach the Anatolian highlands; they would be raided and captured long before they reached their destination. Fleets from Ellipi were sent, but the galley was only a theoretical design held by the Great Library of Persepolis, and the curraghs were not up to the task of carrying the hundreds of millions of grain necessary, nor were the currents always favourable throughout the seasons.

In the deserts of Aravia, a similar phenomenon would take place, though later, at a time were Persian armies had already given battle to the Ottoman foes. There, in those harsh deserts, more and more pledged fealty to Persia, expecting roads to materialise overnight, expecting wheat and barley and livestock at their door the next morning. This, however, would take many more years, and in the meantime, local strongmen seized power to divide the meagre food supplies amongst themselves, friends and family first, important men and desired women second, and all others third, or never. An appalling thought, to the cultured and lettered Persians of Gordium, but then, these Aravian tribes had never known another way, and the Persians recognised that, as of yet, there was no other way. Still, to see this attitude develop along the Ottoman border, all because of Osman's impudence and aggression, that was not something the Megisthanes could tolerate. At best, thousands of loyal Persians would die, never having lived, never having risen to their potential, never having reached for their innate greatness. At worst, all notions of cooperation, of trade and tolerance, cultural exchange and social cohesion, would be lost in these regions, and Persia would be split in a strong core and a savage periphery. Not, perhaps, as terrible a prospect as the last culture war - but terrible all the same to the innocents that stood at risk of dying unnecessary deaths.

Already, the Megisthanes had been petitioned by self-proclaimed lords and noblemen, despots and kings, ruling from their forts and fiefs and castles and keeps that now dotted the countryside along the Ottoman border, requesting Persia to send this amount of grain and that amount of iron, and gold too, for merchants did not operate here anymore, and if they would send iron, perhaps send weapons and armour instead, for skilled artisans were few and far between and mostly needed to tend to the fields so as to not starve. And if all this would be sent to this keep, for which our thanks, then please, do not send whatever it is that lord asks of you, for he is an evil lord and his keep is mine by right.

It was madness. Madness with a name, named for the feuds this narrow-minded - savage, barbarian, even - thinking inspired; feudalism.

 

[need my speed]

[I am quite sick, today, as I was yesterday too, so if the quality of this writing is lower, then there's your reason - however, I did have fun creating a fancy drawing]

The Babylonian city-states had each kept to their own pantheons, and an entire priest caste had been devoted to finding out which gods were the same but known by different names, and how much practices and associations could diverge before a god of Uruk was a different entity than a similar god in Nineveh. Ninmah, Nintu, Aruru, Belet-Ili - the Great Queen, the Lady of Birth, Queen of the Mountains, the Lady of the Gods, were they all the same creation goddess? Were they a fertility goddess too, despite Ishtar being more prominently worshipped as such in Nineveh? Were Inanna, Astarte, and Artghik different names for Ishtar? These were the questions Babylonian philosophers debated, until their culture was gradually absorbed and replaced by Persia's.

In the east, the heavenly father Tengri and the earth mother Eje led their flock across the vast steppes, bringing cattle and the finest horses of the world to their chosen people riding ever on underneath the eternal blue sky. Tengri and Eje created forty, and then forty thousand, fierce Mongolians to follow their heavenly host across the endless sea of grass, and as long as lived an upright and respectful life, their wind horse - their soul - will be in balance, and they will be one with their horse, and ride eternally from horizon to horizon. A simple life, the Mongolians had, not bothered by religious complexity.

South of Mongolia, past the largest mountains the world had ever known, in India, two distinct pantheons struggled against each other, but both were orderly and unified, categorised in precise roles and castes. Buddhism, the path to liberation by observing moral precepts and denouncing cravings and attachments by meditation, valuing kindness, compassion, and humility. And Hinduism, the cycle of rebirth by action and intent and consequence, karma, and of the paths and practices of yoga that allowed one to attain spiritual freedom and salvation. Similar yet different faiths, the peace-loving Gandhi occasionally had a hard time unifying his people, but in the end, both faiths had crowned Gandhi King of all India, the highest of the highest, and they preached to do away with desire and jealousy, so that none would lay a hand on the sacred Gandhi, Guru of Buddhism and Brahmin of Hinduism.

In Egypt, to the west, life was much like in the Babylonian city-states, with a few crucial differences. The pantheon of Egypt was clearer than the Babylonian one, with certainty regarding names and roles, and with great reverence for the Nile River, but should a Pharaoh be found wanting by the gods, a priest could incite rebellion and a city could clamour for the overthrow of their despot. A violent affair, but one that served as a check on the power of Cleopatra and her ancestors. Cleopatra had been crowned ruler of the Egyptians, and ruled from Thebes, but the Egyptian faith ruled from Memphis, founded by the ancient Pharaoh Menes, and it was there that Cleopatra was crowned Pharaoh, to rule in the name of the faith as well. In this way, she was Lady of the Two Lands, of Upper Egypt - the heavenly part, of which she was Pharaoh - and of Lower Egypt - the earthly part, of which she was Despot. Of this ceremony, a great work of art dating from 470 AD has survived, drawn by the hands of Neferneferuaten Nefertiti. Note the Egyptian citizens swearing fealty to their new Pharaoh, praising her and praying for divine favour, in front of the city walls. Note Egypt's famous pyramids - though none so famous as Gordium's Pyramid-Granary - and the small Egyptian army marching by, to pay their respects and to seek divine favour as well, before they head into battle.



Regardless of the peculiarities of every great civilisation, they all kept to many gods, pantheons full of them, and though they bickered about the precise nature of their many gods, they all accepted the existence of these gods. Not so with the Byzantines, who, out of all the civilisations on the world, were alone in keeping only to one single god. They waged war in his name, and killed brother, father, and son alike, should they make a claim unfitting with the orthodoxy. Their faith was pure and absolute and weaved throughout all of society, if only because dissent was met with certain death. This idea spread through the Aravian peoples from across the narrow sea, where the lands of Byzantium lay. A worrying phenomenon, perhaps, this monotheism; rejecting the gods of all of Persia could do nothing but split the realm apart, and that in an almost uninhabitable land devoid of Persian culture, only loyal to Xerxes for his might in battle. The Megisthanes was prepared to garrison the former Babylonian lands and let the Aravians live in tribal squalor as they had done for centuries.



The Megisthanes was not prepared to find a delegation of Aravians outside the walls of Gordium, entreating the guards to open the gates, seeking entrance to the council of the Megisthanes.

"When anyone who fights for the true religion dies, all of his sins will be forgiven the moment the first drop of blood comes out. I am Muhammad, eldest of my clan, mightiest warrior of all the tribes of Aravia. I have sinned, as have we all, all of Aravia and all of Persia and all of the world. I will forever fight for the truth, for what is right, and for all that is holy, so that I may do good in greater amounts than the evil I shamefully commit too. For all my might, I know, Persia could crush all of the Aravian tribes like ants. But divine favour can be gained by selflessly helping your fellow man, however mighty they may be, and if you will have us, if we can help you, if we may die in your name and if our blood may flow in equal to all of the Turkic hordes, then I swear, to your gods and the one true God, we will fight and bleed for you. We will die if we must, and serve your cause in Jennah, in paradise, in the afterlife, we will serve you in every which way you may demand of us. The one true God is merciful, and Xerxes his messenger, and we have been blind to this truth. But you, with your many idols and false gods, you saw His truth. He is fighting for us, for all of our sins, for all of humanity - and we will not be tempted by the great evil to stand on the sidelines, while He gives battle in our name and in all of our names. We will stand with Him, and bleed with Him, and die for Him."

This is but a partial reconstruction of the words the Aravians brought to the Megisthanes. Whatever it was that they precisely said, it was clear that in the coming war, to bring civilisation to the plunderers and raiders of the Ottomans, to behead the spiteful and treacherous Osman, all of the many Aravian tribes would stand united with Persia. And instead of garrisoning the border between the lush floodplains of Babylon, the lands that were given sufficient rain by the Mediterranean Sea, and the harsh deserts of Aravia to the south, the Aravians continued to be integrated into Persia. A feat that knew many problems and accidents, to be sure. But a feat worthy of Persia, who would unite the world under her enlightened culture, and liberate all the peoples from poverty and misery. Persia, of Cyrus the Great, and in the eyes of some, of Xerxes the Divine, the Son of God.

 

[Synobun]

Great use of the city screen.

 

[need my speed]

Great use of the city screen.

Thank you! I had to create a random map and mess around with the Civilization III Multi Tool, for the cityview is disabled in any scenario, but it was fun to do.

 

[need my speed]

In 470 AD, the flames of war had been inextinguishably lit. The mountains and hills of Bursa were occupied by Persia's legendary Immortals and fierce pikemen that prevented any horse from coming close, rendering the Turkic raiders impotent, incapable of inflicting any harm. The herders and farmers cheered, and bolstered by this lavish praise, a handful of trebuchets navigated the perilous passes to lay siege to Bursa. A sizeable army of Immortals, shielded by similar pikemen, covered in metal armour and wielding pikes more than twice the length of a man, advanced on Iznik, while Xerxes himself struck from Antioch with lightning speed, reaching the walls of Edrine with his own Lions before anyone had even given battle. A second handful of trebuchets sneaked past Edrine, unnoticed because of the great panic that now beset all of the citizens of Osman's largest city. These trebuchets were headed directly to Istanbul, capital of the Ottomans, were lavish palaces full of thick carpets and rugs, paintings, and all manners of great works of art were stored, to be seen only by Osman and his loyal slave-soldiers.

Slave-soldiers, indeed, known as Janissaries, which translated to the more acceptable 'new soldiers'. But slave soldiers they were in fact. Boys, taken from their parents, kidnapped, forced to do Osman's every bidding. Forbidden to marry, or to be with a woman as a man is wont to, sometimes even castrated after teenagehood had given them enough muscles - these were known as 'unsullied' in Osman's court, but only by whisper and smirk, never aloud. Forbidden to study the arts or philosophies, forbidden to craft or to trade, illiterate and reduced to nothing but a tool of war. Indoctrinated to be utterly loyal to Osman, and to no one else. It was this that the Persian citizens - and all those living on the border of Ottoman lands - would become, were they not cut down by the raiders, were they not burned in the sack of their homes. A kinder fate, and a more common fate, but even so, hundreds and thousands had been captured by the Turkic raiders in the past. And now? Now it was time to put an end to that abominable and barbaric practice.



Edrine was evacuated as quickly as possible, yet not quickly enough to prevent Xerxes from cutting down the heels of the retreating Ottoman armies. And the retreating Ottoman armies, disorderly, in disarray, and turning upon each other as raiders are wont to, were not quick enough to prevent Xerxes' forces from bearing down upon them, raining volleys of stone from the heavens as punishment from the gods, for slavery and all their barbaric crimes.



As Edrine was evacuated, Iznik was reinforced. The Persian armies scaled the nearby peaks, giving them view of the Ottoman defence; numbers, formations, tactics, and more. The picture was disheartening - but each and every Persian Immortal surely counted for ten Turkic savages. To the west, on the outskirts of Bursa, this truth was proven once more, as untold thousands of Ottoman archers were successfully drawn away from Bursa, attracted by the small force of Immortals that emerged from the forests near the Celtic border. This brutal battle should have been a complete slaughter, should have spelled death and doom for all of Persia - but instead, these few brave men held against the onslaught of Ottoman warriors, suffering grievous casualties, but holding even so. This, in no small part, was to the secret expedition a Persian legend by the name of Rostam undertook, to rescue some of the captured Anatolian civilians, hiding them in the nearby forests, urging all to rise up against the Turkic scourge. Stories of how he slew a lion with his bare hands, to save the life of an injured horse of an equally injured herder, were the epitome of virtuosity, and stood in stark contrast to the Ottoman brutes.



As the Turkic horde was skirmishing in the east, the walls of Bursa were breached by the awe-inspiring power of Persia's trebuchets. Not many - but two score of spearmen - were left to guard Bursa; the rest of the savages, raiders, and pillagers, had been lured away by the promise of loot, of eternal glory for the death of Rostam and the slaughter of those he held dear, and of revenge for the humiliation they had suffered against the people of Uruk, ever since that moment that Uruk had sought safety under Persia's wings.



It did not take long, for all these hordes to be reduced to bands of squabbling men, armed with loincloth and a wooden stick that passed for a spear, little more than peasants that had forsaken farming. But as the Persian armies surged down from atop the mountain peak, the many defenders of Iznik didn't fare any better. It was a pikemen regiment that was first through the breach, instead of Persia's famed Immortals, but then, the counter-charge of the Ottomans, ill at ease for being holed up in a city instead of freely roaming the lands, was ended before it even began; the Ottoman warriors rushing to their deaths as they impaled themselves upon Persian pikes.



These were great victories, to be sure; with Barsa, Iznik, and Edrine now in Persian hands, the peoples living in these highlands, be it along the twisting rivers coming down the mountains and hills, or along the coast of lakes hidden in small valleys, knew peace and safety for the first time in their life. No more did they need to sleep with one eye open, no more did they dream of not waking up at the next sunrise. Their small farms were safe, as were the herds that trekked through the lands, and the children and men and women accompanying them. The Ottoman army, as far as it existed as a cohesive structure, was now amassed between Iznik and Edrine, seemingly more concerned with gold than with fighting; the lack of plunder during this campaign, the lack of easy enemies to kill and rape, was surely taking its toll upon their morale. Barbarian filth always broke quickly, scattering to the seven winds the moment the tides turned - no, these spineless savages could not stand against the virtue and glory that all of Persia brought to bear on them.

 

[need my speed]

As the Persian armies approached both Uskudar and Istanbul, that Ottoman capital bursting with opulence and decadence, wealth and riches and great works plundered and stolen from others by the Turkic raiders, almost all of the Janissaries cast off their shackles and rose up in revolt against their Ottoman masters. Most were cut down before they could do so much as grasp the sheath of their swords. Some were killed in their sleep, as a precaution, lest they turn traitor too. Thus was the worth of human life to Ottoman barbarians. Regardless, with the palace halls in confusion, order broke down amongst those that manned the city walls as well; many generals had sons and daughters that were raised in the palace, to serve Osman and to ensure the loyalty of their fathers. If the Turkic people were bereft of civilisation, at least they had strong familial bonds, and would move the world for their mothers and daughters. This auspicious incident greatly weakened Istanbul's defence and resolve, and with the aid of Persia's great trebuchets, most of the Immortals storming into the city suffered only minor wounds.



A great feast was held, with tables full of exotic fruits and nuts and more, stretching unto the horizon, but Xerxes himself spoke no words of the great valour, and courage, and honour, that his men had shown. Xerxes was not present at all, being in the field near Izmit. Osman had fled from his palace, as the Janissaries rose up, and in the confusion, had made his way to Izmit - for the auspicious incident had happened before the Persian army could surround Istanbul, preventing any escape. In Izmit, Osman had taken all men with him, practically emptying the city and condemning the remaining women to starvation. He had sailed from there all the way to Aydin, as far away from the Persian armies as he could be.

But as Osman hid his fat belly in Aydin, importing Celtic foodstuffs to ensure he could stuff himself with six banquets a day, some of his sipahi came together and plotted revolt. The sipahi were the mightiest of the Ottoman raiders, with cunning minds and a head for tactics and strategy, commanders and generals of the largest and most feared hordes. They knew Osman and the Ottomans were losing the war - but if they, if all of the Turkic people, could break the Persians just once, fortify themselves in the valley of Iznik, perhaps, shielded by easily defensible mountains, perhaps then they could secede from Osman's folly, declare the Ottoman people to be lost and done, and ask Persia to grant peace to the Turkic people at large. The dominion of the Ottomans over the Turkic people would be at an end, and with no more infighting to decide which of the Turkic people deserved to rule over the others, soon enough, the Turkic people would recover their strength and reclaim what was rightfully theirs; all of the Ottoman lands - nay, all of the Turkic lands, and the great empire of Turkey would then cast its long and deadly shadow over effeminate Persia.



Reality, alas, begged to differ with these naive dreams. A small convoy of trebuchets entered the valley leading to Uskudar, where the trebuchets promptly destroyed the hastily erected fortifications. They were guarded by fierce pikemen, to prevent any foolhardy Ottoman warriors from rushing down the mountainsides, springing an ambush, hoping to capture some of these towering war machines for themselves. But as with Izmit, so too had Osman emptied Uskudar, leaving only elderly and infirm men behind, leaving just enough food to survive autumn.



The Immortals surged ahead, closely followed by the pikemen, with only a small force left to guard the trebuchets. Against what, after all? Bandits and thieves that prowled the mountains, not wishing to swear themselves to Persia, nor even to the Ottomans, for some. The only road into Uskudar was guarded by keen Persian pikemen at multiple points, with Immortals regularly on patrol, conducting punitive actions against the lawless brigands. From the western mountains, Persian scouts chanced looks at Aydin, Osman's refuge for the nonce. Mighty armies of Immortals and trebuchets as far as the eye could see, covered in glory and victory, marched past south of these mountains, making Osman's refuge a temporary affair indeed. Southerner still, brave pikemen companies occupied the poorly maintained farms, sending the citizens, workers, and slaves to Bursa, to be provided for by Rostam and to serve in his ranks, even, should they be willing to do so.



As for the sipahi, hoping to carve out their Turkic empire in Iznik? They heard of these Persian victories as a noose of Immortals and pikemen tightened itself around their necks, trapped on a lonely mountaintop, cut off from Izmit - Izmit, now in reach of Persia's trebuchets, but not in reach of the great sipahi army, the last hope of both Ottomans and Turks. A forlorn hope, trapped and starving amidst a sea of golden Persian coats.

 

[need my speed]

The citizens of Izmit armed themselves with spears, sickles, scythes and wooden sticks, but they stood no chance whatsoever against the golden tide of Persia. Two volleys from Persia's trebuchets were enough to reduce the Ottoman people to tears, distraught and driven mad by grief and worry and worse. The sipahi came down from their mountain camp, not to attack the Persian armies in a last heroic fight to the death, but to escape to the sea, to the north, where they might yet fashion rafts from the trees and make their way to the lands of the Celts.

This avenue of escape was soon denied to them, however. A hilarious play still enacted to this very day recounts what happened as follows:

From the dark horizon, where blue sea slowly turned dark blue and black, sails emerged, and then ships, and the sound of drums filled the air as oars were worked. Shouts drifted ashore, and at last, a red-haired warrior stood tall, towering over his crew.

"Hail! It is I, Ragnar Lodbrok, son of Odin and King of the North Men, who greets you!"

This the warrior bellowed, and a sipahi spoke in reply:

"Well met, mighty warrior. We are the sipahi, the highest generals of the vast Turkic realm. An army of evil is on our tail, but we shall escape with the winds and waves and currents, as soon as we have cut enough limber to construct a ship. Fight for us, hold off this army of evil, as we set sail to gather reinforcements, and our sultan Osman shall reward you richly!"

To this, the red-haired Ragnar Lodbrok laughed:

"You do not treat with ignorant barbarians! All the waters are ours, and our empire stretches far beyond the horizon, and I am absolute ruler in these lands. If you be sipahi, highest of generals, then why are you cowering here without fighting, why are fleeing from your liege lord? I name you traitors, with false tales of evil and false promises of rewards. We will claim our reward from this army of evil, when we bring them your heads, or when we die a warrior's death and enter Valhalla with pride!"

The sipahi were now trapped between the devil they just spoke of and the deep blue sea. Most chose to flee once more, as was in their nature, and sought to hide on the higher grounds south of the forest. Humorously, Ragnar commented that, though they should always rise to an early meal, they should always eat their fill before a feast. And if this army of evil was so monstrous, a feast for swords and vultures, then at least they had eaten their early meal of sipahi scum.



Izmit was lost before a single Persian sword had coloured red, and without any warriors loyal to a greater cause than their own purse and belly to guard the lands, the bulk of Persia's trebuchets advanced upon the escaping sipahi. Never would those self-serving barbarians establish their empire of Turkey.





Then Xerxes advanced, with his own Lions, and he ripped limb and head off the sipahi horde in a battle for the ages. Emboldened by his heroics, the other Immortals, who had ably guarded the mountain passes, preventing the sipahi from gaining purchase, now rushed down to join in the carnage. A slaughter it was, but a wholly one-sided one, with battered sipahi spearmen missing limbs from a rain of heavy stones, with archers running out of arrows as Xerxes shrugged them off as if they didn't matter - and they didn't, for how could a band of conniving cowards matter to the greater glory Xerxes surrounded himself with, doing his heroic deeds as easily as lesser men closed their eyes for sleep? In the end, the hills were crying tears of red, and a thousand body parts were all that remained of what could have been Osman's last hope.



As all the mountains and hills were patrolled, and all the bandits and brigands driven from their nooks and crannies, as all the people were assured that they now fell under the banners of Persia, of Cyrus and Xerxes and the Megisthanes, of Persepolis and Gordium, of law and order, peace and prosperity, that safety would at long last reign, and that all of the Ottoman raiders had been put to the sword, never to terrorise the innocent again. The Persian armies reconvened at Iznik, to be dispersed throughout the lands, to keep the Persian peace forevermore. Children, daughters and wives, all were now free to live under the golden banners of civilisation that Persia had brought to them.



But as the east celebrated, one last stronghold yet remained. Aydin, where Osman gorged himself with all the foods his fat fingers could reach, and pressed all of the starving populace into military servitude, castrating even the youngest of boys and establishing an even more twisted and evil regime than the palace halls of Istanbul had ever known. All that suffering he wrought, all that wickedness he let in, all that for a doomed cause.



Rostam himself was at the gates of this last vestige of Ottoman cruelty and decadence, and to his banners flocked all the farmers and peasants that had not yet been abducted by the merciless Osman. One of these labourers was Constantine, victim of an expedition the Ottomans had sent to the Hellenic highlands. Enslaved at a young age, he had known nothing but a life of servitude - yet when Rostam put a sword in his hand, he fought with a vigour seldom seen, and he slew a dozen Ottomans in the time it took most Immortals to slay but one or two. Rostam praised his skills greatly, and asked whether he wished to serve in his army as a general, earning great renown like the Lions of Xerxes, but Constantine declined.



"We cannot liberate these people. Oh, we can liberate their hands, but their minds will forever turn to the oppression they have suffered, their eyes will forever wander to the scars they now bear, and their souls can only be made whole by the gods in the afterlife. We cannot provide true refuge for these people, until every last memory of these Janissaries, these Unsullied, these monstrosities committed in the act of a barbarian regime that should have never seen the light of day. For untold millennia, Persia stood by and did nothing - not when Cyrus built this great realm that is always spoken of in awed whispers, too good to believe, nor when Xerxes brought the Babylonian city-states to heel, inspiring Persia with his heroic feats in combat, yet not with her heroic feats in morality, in liberating a people that truly needed liberating, a people that suffered the Ottoman presence for unending generations.

I appreciate your efforts, Rostam, truly. But as for myself? I shall live my life as a warrior, liberating my people, and all other people that need liberating. I shall not know the comforts of an officer, serving under you. I have never known comforts, and I have always served, but by your leave, I would change that today. I would sack this forsaken village, this rotting carcass of sin and evil, and let its ruins be a monument to where the despicable debauchery of Osman and his ilk lead. I would gather men, my kin, all those who were once enslaved and now set free. I would build a city, a beacon of hope that may shine its light over the whole world, calling out to all those who suffer in misery - cast off your shackles, workers of the world, you are all my family and you will all be fed, and kept safe, and given the means to build a life of your own, in my city! This I would promise them, Rostam, and I know you, and Xerxes, and all of Persia, must be in like mind."



Thus ended the decadent regime of Osman, the shameful plotting of his sipahi, the wicked evil of the Janissary programme - thus ended the dominion of the fragile Ottomans over the Turkic people, who joined their Persian cousins in the light of civilisation.

 

[need my speed]

And by the way, what is the deal with the AI marching huge armies across my lands? I made mention of the Russians, Egyptians, and Mongolians, in this story, but now they were back at it, with India joining in too (though the largest Indian stack disappeared into India's borders again the last turn):





Another observation is that setting the minimum research time to eight doesn't seem to increase the research cost of technologies, so I am just rolling around in money (seriously; I pay 224 upkeep costs for my armies, my slider is at 20% science and 30% entertainment, and I earn +122 per turn). I did receive a lot of technologies from the Great Library, including technologies such as Map Making and Monarchy, so the AI shouldn't be backwards - they may just be lacking iron or horses, though the Mongolians do have horses - but I wonder if they can account for this minimum research time, and not spend a lot of money with no gain?

 

[Synobun]

Very nicely written!

I always took the border trespassing as the AI's way of goading me into a war. If I tell them to leave while they're set to Annoyed, it almost always results in a declaration.

 

[need my speed]

Thank you!

Oh, yes, I used to do that too, to surround their armies and cut them off deep within my territory. But this is a story, and so, I have established embassies and signed right of passages with everyone here.

Which ís annoying now that I want to invade Egypt - if I cancel the right of passage, their armies won't automatically teleport to outside my borders, I believe? But I think I can wait a few dozen turns for most of their army to return to Egypt. Would I incur diplomatic penalties if I demanded them to leave, if Egypt agreed, and if I then immediately declared war afterwards? Come to think of it, I don't think I suffer any diplomatic penalties for declaring war on friends of other AIs, unlike in Civilization IV, right?

As if it matters.

 

[Toxicman007]

well done on conquering the Ottomans! In my experience, AI sending troops through my lands like that always have a target in mind. Whether they are at war with someone else, or simply wish to take out barbarian camps, is often the real question

 

[need my speed]

The rubble of ruined Aybid, a mixture of smoke and fire, its copper-tinted airs and with blood crusting between stone and wood, was soon abandoned by the Persians. Constantine's Crusaders, as they were called, headed to Gordium, to the Megisthanes, to ask all of Persia to join them in their wars of liberation. To the Hellenic highlands, perhaps, in the vain hope that some of Constantine's family might yet survive there. Some of Constantine's men remained in the east, guarding the isthmus that had served as a border between the Celts and the Ottomans, and preparing for their journey to Hellas - for even if the Megisthanes would rule against them, they were in the first place loyal to Constantine and to his vision, of liberty and equality and freedom.

Word spread fast, of how Persia had come down hard upon all those that paid no heed to Persian rules and Persian values. This sparked anger in some, for who were the Persians to decide on morality, to judge as only the gods could, to strike down the natural order and hierarchy that saw some people small and suffering, and others mighty and majestic? Who, indeed, thundered Temujin, Genghis Khan of Mongolia, to decide that his horselords could not enslave and pillage all across the great grass sea? It was just and good, for one man to be more powerful than another, for one man to rule while another man served, for such was the natural order of things, and power was all in the Mongolian hordes.

But the words of Constantine, the actions of Rostam, the philosophies that now held sway in all of Persia, were the embers that rekindled a long-extinguished flame, and the oppressed masses found a fire in their heart they hadn't known of. In Ghulaman, a warlike city strongly influenced by Mongolian culture, the call now went out to take up arms against the slavers and despots of the world, to wage glorious war upon them until Persian enlightenment had spread everywhere. In Ulaanbaatar, the serfs and slaves had thrown off the yoke of Mongol oppression, and expelled the horselords by sheer tenacity - not for nothing is this age called the Age of Enlightenment. Constantine's Crusaders would arrive in this city, and rally all willing men to their banners, providing them with food and armour and weapons, and discipline and training above all, perhaps even superior to the average Immortal - and no Immortal was ever average. Constantine would go on to support such efforts everywhere, spreading the enlightenment of Persia wherever he went.



In Aravia, too, calls rang out. Calls to prayer, heard all over the peninsula, as a shared Aravian identity developed under the auspices of Persian culture. The Aravian warriors had fought and bled by Xerxes' side, as ferocious as any Immortal, as their God demanded. They had taken vows, swearing themselves to the good and the righteous, dedicating themselves to the great cause their God had revealed to them. Just as Constantine and Rostam, and their crusaders and refugees, were driven to eradicate slavery and oppression and all such evil, so too were the Aravians, this ancient and sacred battle of good and evil revealed to them by their God. They went to Ghulaman, to join the crusaders of Constantine. They went to the Aravian peninsula, to further unite the tribes, to sound yet another call to arms. They went north and south and east and west, and they did great deeds everywhere, a warlike people of passion and aggression, knowing only one God, but a people now embodying the virtues and values all of Persia strove for.



To the east, to the very north of the Indus valley, the Avarians met an ancient people. They had lived there before the Indians, and Gandhi himself was said to originate from these people, an exile, for being too brutal and harsh in his application of justice. He headed east, where he battled with a Raja - an Indian king - by the name of Dhilu, whom he bested, and so he inherited the tribe of Dhilu, the Delhi. Delhi would become but one of many villages of the Indian people, as they frolicked and multiplied, and flocked to the banners of Gandhi - for after having seen the tribal warfare he participated in, he swore to no longer use justice as an excuse for violence and retribution, and he made it known that he sought the most knowledgeable priests and monks to educate him in the true justice, the divine justice of the gods. So it came to be that both Hinduism and Buddhism were established as the religion of the Indians.

The south of the Indus valley was under the sway of Lahore, a place bursting with thousands upon thousands of Indians, but Gandhi had ever taken care to let his old tribe live in peace, as an apology to the tribe he had once wronged, the tribe he had once been exiled from. The Harappans, these tribesmen and -women called themselves, and as the Avarians trekked through the many many mountains, eventually lowering themselves to open up the north of the Indus valley, the Avarians made contact with the Harappans. The Harappans were greatly impressed by the valour and dedication of the Aravians, and found their faith to be fascinatingly different from all the many offshoots of Hinduism and Buddhism they were familiar with. Thus it came to be, eventually, that Harappa hoisted the golden banner of Persia.



To the north, once, the great desert there marked the end of the world. But then the Russian black-coats had proved the error of this, and ever since, the fertile lands of the Farsi had been vulnerable. The traders from Pasargadae and Caspi kept an eye on their sea, and a company of spearmen had scouted the lands, but now the devout of Avaria had come to keep an eye on the desert. They left from the Great Library of Persepolis with scrolls and maps, and all the knowledge of herbs and foods and animals that had been present there, to better survive in that great desert. But the Avarians had called a desert their home, and the famous Xenophon, who had survived the deserts around Babylon and had gone on to head the Great Library, lent his aid as well to the Avarians. Soon the Avarians intermingled with many of the Siberian tribes, living at the edge of civilisation; the Uralic, the Altaic, the Yeniseians, and many others.

The Russians considered these Siberians to be part of the greater Rus diaspora, but the Russians had been busy in recent years. For as the distraction of Ottoman raiders were drawn south, to advance upon Persian armies, Tsarina Catherine had been left without a threat to rally her people against. Persian values now had an even easier time penetrating the Caucasus, into the Russian heartland, and Persian values had only grown stronger since the last time. More uprisings occured, and Catherine found her power lacking, her position weakened. She was forced to shackle her powers at least somewhat to a newly established Duma; in essence, a far weaker Megisthanes, where twelve Boyars and six Okol'nichii could advise the Russian Tsar or Tsarina. The Boyars were the Russian aristocracy, while the Okol'nichii were in theory the Russian soldiers, allowing the lowest peasant to be heard at court provided he had served loyally in the Russian armies. In practice, the Okol'nichii were appointed by the high commanders of the Russian armies, and so it was often the case that Okol'nichii were appointed by nepotism and status. The Duma was an advisory organ anyway - but Catherine could not afford to ignore it entirely, lest she spark another uprising.

Still, knowledge of the Avarian presence, accepted by the Siberian tribes, combined with Catherine's meagre reforms, was the impetus for a sizeable amount of Russians to head eastwards. The tribes of Oghuz and Bajanak arose to prominence in this time, amongst the Siberians, greatly aided by Avarian and Persian cultural influence, with knowledge of irrigation and metal-working allowing these tribes to exploit the floodbanks and wheat, and the mountains and minerals, as never before.



Some of these tribes would migrate westwards and southwards, across the sea of the Caspi, and so the Khazars settled down in a desert reminiscent of what they once called home, yet a desert with sugar and fish and all the essentials of life, too. A particularly mighty warlord, Tigranes, struck the shores with his gigantic broadsword, and proclaimed that this land and all land now belonged to the satrapy of Armenia. He had commanded a host so mighty that many thousands of Russians had been sent in pursuit of him and his men, and one day, they had captured him and slaughtered all he held dear. He was raised at Catherine's palace-fort, then, thinking that she might make use of this towering giant of a man to pacify her upstart subjects - but he had sworn to the gods that he would paint the lands around her palace red with Russian blood, so that they may forever be known as the red square. He promptly escaped, a feat defying belief, and now, with Persian backing, he had come to these shores and established his own satrapy, from where he would strike out at the Rus.

Farther to the west, the voivodeship of Colchis declared its independence, and Argus - who had been installed by Catherine to administer Colchis - proclaimed the Duma to now rule over Colchis, instead of his sole self. He had staffed the Duma with his sailors - Argus' nautics, better known as the Argonauts - and all of them used their newfound freedom to conduct unfettered trade with the Celts, the Vikings, and the Persians. Famous for the gold hundreds of ships regularly brought into its harbours, famous for the massive gold reserves in the nearby mountains, and famous even for the golden fleece of the sheep in the forests, Colchis came to be known as the golden city, and Catherine had not the means to reintegrate it within her 'republic'.



Farther still to the west, the first crusade of Constantine gathered the poor and the outcast of the former Ottoman lands, and of all the lands his crusaders passed through, to bring Persian civilisations to the Hellenic highlands. These had been subject to Ottoman raids, though in lesser frequency than the Anatolian highlands - but most importantly, these were the lands where Constantine had been born, and he yearned to find his family. A forlorn hope, and a fool's errand, as for all the many years of hard work he and his crusaders put in - spreading Persian culture and law, establishing walls and granaries and temples, proper cities fit for hundreds of families and clans, with city guards and seafarers, farmers and artisans and more - no family was there to be found for Constantine.

The island of Kaptara, Keftiu, Kretes - Babylonian, Egyptian, Hellenic - or, in Persian, Iqritis, as well as the island of Qibris - called Kupros by the Hellenic settlers for the large copper depots - were settled on the orders of Constantine and with the backing of the Megisthanes, to pave the way for Persian naval expansion; pirates and privateers would not abduct innocent Persians, and a second Osman would not abscond so easily to these shores.



These shores were the converging of the continents of Europe to the north and Africa to the south. Of Europe, it was known to be divided between the Romans and the Celts, and the Germans and the Vikings. These people took care to exaggerate their differences, but were not so different in the eyes of Persia. The Romans were an industrious and militaristic culture, often busy with large feats of labour that required a large and orderly society; no mere tribe could construct the large aqueducts the Romans constructed, not unlike the world-spanning Persian irrigation channels. They saw themselves as the epitome of civilisation, a society built on the principles of order in labour and discipline in war, and saw the Celts as unruly and barbaric. Yet the Celts were perhaps the better metalworkers, fashioning a great many swords of a great strength, of copper and iron and even steel, and the Celtic culture placed greater value on the individual - unorderly, perhaps, but their culture and craft flourished as every tribe, council, and village, competed with each other, while the Roman culture stagnated, their culture of order and discipline leaving little space for creativity.

To the south, across the Mediterranean Sea, the Carthaginian peoples in all their multitudes dwelt, and not much was known of them yet; a fleet of curraghs had only skirted past these peoples on their way to seek the end of the land and the end of the sea. They had found this just past the Pillars of Hirqul, the twin hills near Utica that were now named for Hirqul, the captain of this brave Persian fleet. They had found where the light blue of the Mediterranean Sea turned dark and foreboding, with whales and kraken and worse dancing amidst terrible storms - no land was there, no navigable sea was there, only the very end of the world. They would return to safer ports, bring report of their journey to the Megisthanes, and equally weigh in on debates on tavern girls and shipbuilding techniques - shell first or frame first? - before setting sail once more.



Africa, with the exception of its northern shore, was known well enough to the Persians by now, with Hanno the Navigator still sailing under the flag of old Spitama, governor of Borazjan. Hanno had met six significant civilisations in his travels, and six dozen of tribes besides, and his efforts alone had made Persia truly realise how vast and distant the world was. Even though galleys now sailed from Ellipi and Uruk, facilitating trade over distances and colonisation in numbers that mere curraghs could never have achieved, it were still sturdy fleets of curraghs that were mapping the shores of Africa and Europe.



Word of all these feats passed through Gordium, and then through Persepolis and to its Great Library, and to all throughout Persia from the mouth of merchants, as heroes and legends reported their deeds. The Aravians, their glory reaching far to the north and south, and east and west. Constantine, his crusades, his virtue and humility and his calls for liberation, his tragic tales of lost family. Xerxes, and the cowardly sipahi, and Rostam, who had provided refuge from abhorrent evil. Hanno and Hirqul, Persia's most celebrated navigators. And many more besides. All these feats were recorded, in administrative notes recording the proceedings of the Megisthanes' meetings, in the dusty tomes of the Great Library to preserve history for generations after - and in that Heroic Epic, the Shahnameh, the Book of Kings, that recorded only those heroics worthy of recording, every page a feast of glory, not a single word of boring minutiae, but poetry, art, the work of the greatest writers Persia would ever see, enrapturing and enthralling and utterly glorious.



Truly, in this Age of Enlightenment, Persian culture spread to all the corners of the world, from Harappa to Hellas and from Siberia to Aravia, and all the peoples grew to admire or envy that mighty realm at the crossroads of the world. With black fur-coats and wafer-thin white robes now both being clothes worn within that vast realm, and with merchants selling Celtic wares to Indians, and Egyptian wares to Russians, many new practices inevitably spread. New techniques of machinery enabled watermills and irrigation channels to work as never before, and a man once trained by father and grandfather in the art of archery could now pick up a crossbow and man the city walls with some modicum of capability. Life was well, and all had enough gold - be they wealth or wheat - to live happily underneath that golden sun that shone down upon golden Persia.



[And yes, settling Bajanak there was very silly; it should have gone on the south-western hill, but what's done is done I suppose - at least the people of Bajanak can dine on that lonely deer]

 

[need my speed]

well done on conquering the Ottomans! In my experience, AI sending troops through my lands like that always have a target in mind. Whether they are at war with someone else, or simply wish to take out barbarian camps, is often the real question

Thank you! I think they are heading to barbarian camps to the far north, into the unsettleable jungle that is Siberia. It just seems silly; they could be conquering their neighbours, but aside from the occasional wars between China and Japan that start every so often, I'm not aware of anyone else having ever declared war. It would be a pity if everyone just sat around waiting to be conquered by me. Perhaps, if such a thing will happen, I can give the Americas a technological boost, or who knows what.

EDIT: Ah, not to worry, war flared up between France and the Netherlands and between India and Japan. Good job AI.

 

[need my speed]

It was a fortuitous age - but fortune was a fickle thing, and the wheel was ever turning. The peace lasted for almost two centuries, and in this time the once young and virile men grew old, content to see the glories they had helped establish. Otanes and Megabyzus, and many more prominents, now sat in the Megisthanes wearing weathered faces full of wrinkles, losing their last hairs of white and grey. Governor Spitama died in his office, while Hanno and his crew grew old as they, too, reached the Carthaginian lands - from the south and west, having circumnavigated all of Africa. They still hoisted Spitama's banners when the old man had gone on to become one with the great fire of Ahura Mazdah. Xerxes was older, too, but a man of his like did not just surrender to the havoc time wrought upon lesser beings. Rostam had taken to civil engineering and infrastructure, ensuring the lands of Anatolia and the Caucasus, and the Levant and Aravia too, were remade into the image of Persia proper, devoid of the suffering others had once inflicted upon these lands and their people.

Constantine had instituted an official order in Ghulaman, to better organise his many crusaders, and they were hard at work scaling the uncountable mountains of Mongolia and India. Road networks now crossed from peak to valley and back, connecting many smaller and larger mines and bringing valuable minerals back into Persia proper, but more importantly, Mongolian raiders were denied the hidey-holes and makeshift camps the mountains could hide so well. The crusaders kept the peace, and the mountains were no longer a place of danger and hard crossings, for with the growing workforce came small outposts regularly supplied with food, so that worker and traveller alike would not die of starvation nor of spear or sword in these mountains.



The crusaders of Constantine were more than a force of noble warriors; they distributed food to the hungry, and gave fresh water to the thirsty in, and funded, constructed, and maintained public works such as orphanages and cathedrals. Even so, the cathedrals taught of the virtue of holding a sword and protecting one's daughter, wife, or mother, from the evil that inhabited the darker corners of the world. Orphanages educated children in swordfighting - technically, stickfighting - and self-defence, in the style of eastern monks. These programmes were first introduced by a wise man from the east, his origins never revealed. He promoted peace, and was likened to Gandhi in this, but if there should be war, let the war be conducted with as little bloodshed as possible, to achieve as overwhelming a victory as possible. In his treatises, he expanded upon these tenets, detailing how one could achieve these ends, helped more by cunning and guile than by number of swords alone.



Theological debate filled the cathedrals of the crusaders; one God, or many gods, or subjective forces, lacking objective truth, or nothing at all, or a thousand thousand different views? Heavily influenced by the Aravians, the conclusions more and more resembled that peculiar Byzantine one, that knew of only one God, but for the crusaders and those influenced by them, this god was Ahura Mazdah.



The Aravians had become squires, companions, knights, always a welcome sight, always so full of honour and valour - who could have predicted this, three centuries ago, when they had been nought but warring, tribal brutes? Truly, the fates worked in incomprehensible ways. And now the wheel of fortune had cast its shadow on Egypt, turned by the cries of these Aravians. For even though the banners of Persia were raised far and wide throughout all of Aravia, the Egyptian city of Giza held sway over the Sinai and the Suez, and over parts of the Hejaz, and over more lands besides.

Cleopatra, Despot of Egypt, was also Pharaoh of Egypt, and presided over the Egyptian pantheons in this function. She established temples, and converted foreign peoples, and was responsible for the flourishing and prosperity of all the Egyptian gods. This, of course, did not sit well with the Aravians, who knew of only one God, and who rejected all the false Egyptian idols. In order to maintain the support of the priests and prophets, in order to maintain her title of Pharaoh - in order to not have herself overthrown and cut down by bloody revolution, Cleopatra did what she had to do. She lay siege to Giza, and cast the Aravians in chains, to build pyramids in the dry desert heat, until they died from their slave labour.

Their Aravian brothers and sisters in Persia cried out in rage and anguish, and they assembled themselves as crusaders and warriors, and they petitioned the Megisthanes to declare war, to not suffer these atrocities. And so the Megisthanes, too, did what it had to do.

 

[need my speed]

So it came to be that, in 830 AD, that the unfathomable might of Persia had assembled itself on the borders of Giza and of Egypt at large. Some few Aravians had managed to flee Giza, and had found safety behind Persian shields and Persian swords, but there was only a single path leading from the desert of Giza into Persia, and there Egyptian spearmen and bandits alike enjoyed rape and theft and murder of all those that tried to escape.



The governor of Giza, Ahmose, laughed cruelly at the slaughter, and sent back the heads of the Persian delegation that pressed him for peace and leniency. In response, the Persians took the heads of would-be rapers that kept watch over the countryside, ensuring the Aravians were trapped in a prison that would mutilate them and murder them.



Persia struck swiftly, marching not only on Giza, but also on Heliopolis. Heliopolis controlled the small rivers and channels that connected the Mediterranean to the long waters that stretched between Egypt and Aravia, and was vital too for the Egyptians to access the vast realms of Europe and Asia, Persia first amongst them. Without Heliopolis, and lacking a strong navy, the Egyptians could not resupply Giza, and could not do further harm tot he Aravians. Provided, that is, that Giza and all of its Egyptians could be put to the torch.

Egypt, a land of flat deserts and fertile riverbanks, marked by one wide river that flew freely wherever it wished to go, muddying and softening the lands all around, and often washing over the farms and herds and houses of the Egyptians, had little lumber and fewer forests, their wood imported from Rome in return for the bounties of Egyptian farms and granaries. Lacking even the notion of catapults, the Persian trebuchets must have seemed like wonders of technological marvel, its intricate design, its interlocking parts, all connected to preform one mighty dance of destruction. So it had been in Anatolia, where entire armies had been swept away by stones, as if Xerxes himself could command mountains to cave in and hills to rise - and so it was in Egypt, too.



Of governor Ahmose, it is known that he lay laughing in a destroyed temple, the great sandstones that made up its roof and walls crumbling under the battering of trebuchets. Sandstones that had, then, crushed leg and arm of Ahmose, reducing them to puddles of blood without bone or muscle to hold them up. And yet, in these dying moments, as fire threatened to consume them - as Ahura Mazdah's flame came to cleanse the taint of the oppressive Egyptian gods - Ahmose laughed, and laughed, and coughed up blood and teeth and laughed, and called over a dying priest whose legs were equally crushed, and had this priest crown him 'Pharaoh of Oppression', and with a wicked smile Ahmose breathed his last.

This was recorded by Salah ad-Din, whose name had been Yusuf, an Aravian from Giza who had survived on the power of faith alone, in the dry deserts devoid of water or food or life. As the Persian armies advanced, first by stone and then by flesh, he advanced too, on a personal mission of vengeance. It was he who found Ahmose first, he who leaped through Ahura Mazdah's fire - unscathed, of course, for his faith was pure and true - and he who, with bare feet, crushed the head of the oppressor Ahmose until his brain was spread out over the floor. Ahura Mazdah then spoke to him, as the fire enveloped him in full, and he was granted the title 'Salah ad-Din', meaning 'Righteousness of the Faith' in Aravian language, and as his clothes singed and burned while his hair and his flesh emerged unharmed from the fires, he donned the cloak of commander and became a great general of the Persian armies and a hero of all Aravians.



Soon the cleansing flames of Ahura Mazdah consumed the city whole, swallowing all the vile and tainted, burning even their ashes so that their spirits would nevermore blacken the world, and the Aravians cheered and cheered and prayed and worshipped, Ahura Mazdah and Xerxes and all Persians in equal amount. Heliopolis, built to honour the many Egyptian gods of the sun, built at the crossroads of continents as Persia flourished at the crossroads of the world, and thus built to encapsulate Persia in city-size, fell soon after. The Persian navy starved the city, and it was a city of traders and merchants, philosophy and learning, with noblemen eating sweet and sugary dishes as they dined and smiled with the lowest of peasants and the highest of kings. This was not a city of war, nor a city that knew of hard work and harder life, as all those born in the desert knew. Giza, for all its Aravian heritage, was more Egyptian than Heliopolis, for Heliopolis knew naught of starvation and of the fervent wishes for a good harvest, knew nothing even of how strong rulers had to coordinate harvests and waterworks to defend lesser peasants against the frequent flooding of the Nile. Heliopolis only knew of wealth, in all ways, and in this, resembled Persia - but then, the primary trading partners of Heliopolis were Persians, and the primary cultural influences on Heliopolis were Persian, too.





A city of boys and of laughter, the small garrison was soon cut down from the inside as from the outside, for Persia's opulence was better than the starvation of a siege. The sun gods smiled upon Persia, for gold were their banners and gold was the sun. Gold were the coins the merchants of Heliopolis paid and bartered for, now living not only on the crossroads of a continent, but on the crossroads of the entire world. The philosophers and alchemists and scientists of Heliopolis eagerly mingled with their Persian counterparts, and the theory of heliocentrism is still named for Heliopolis. How could it not, when the sun gods had always smiled upon Heliopolis, blessing its inhabitants with the laws of the Megisthanes and with life as Persians?



With the roads of Egypt and all of Africa now open to Persia, it would not need to content itself with the circumnavigations of Hanno and Hirqul anymore. Its armies surged forth, with the sun at their back, and all of Africa would be lit up gold, in due time.

 

[Synobun]

That's a lot of troops!

 

[need my speed]

That's a lot of troops!

Yes. And I'll probably take a look at what the AI is doing, after this war, because you'd expect them to settle every single spot on the map, not? The lands seem suspiciously empty to me? Ah well. Egypt can fall first. Then the AI can receive free settlers or whatnot.

 

[need my speed]

A small Egyptian army was sent forth from the south, beaching the river before the main Persian army could follow. Their aim, then, was to split the innumerable Persian host in two before it could bring its full weight to bear upon the Egyptian heartland. This aim was a doomed one, for Rostam's refugees had long since learned how to live off barren plains and how to hide on endless fields without shrubbery - and the Nile delta was anything but barren or lacking in shrubbery.



Rostam's army thus threatened Thebes and guaranteed safe crossing to the rest of the Persian forces, and the Egyptian company had arrived too late to bottle up the Persians at Heliopolis or at the Suez. In the depths of the night, Rostam's refugees sneaked upon the Egyptians, busy fording up the river's shore, and a great many of Cleopatra's thralls were killed by those who had suffered oppression in equal amounts to their Aravian brothers and sisters. Be it against Osman or against Cleopatra, their justice was swift and deadly like a storm of silent swords in the dark. As the Egyptians turned around, abandoning their defences and recalling their outriders and scouts along the riverbanks, to deal with Rostam at their back, brave Persian Immortals managed to cross the river at various points and so caught the Egyptian army between two far mightier hosts.



Now the Nile delta lay open to Persia. Xerxes headed south while Rostam headed west, and all around makeshift bridges were hastily erected, and small wooden ferries were pressed into service, and as the entirety of Persia's soldiery now marched uncontested throughout Egypt, words of victory were already written in letters of soldiers sent to their wives and daughters. In Aravia especially, they celebrated and feasted long before the war was concluded, but then, Ahura Mazdah celebrated with them, and great bonfires were lit at night to honour him, accompanied by wild dances harking back to the tribal days of old, in gratitude for the end of Egyptian oppression.

These were hasty acts, for in Memphis, the city of Pharaohs, all denied the power of Ahura Mazdah, and the priests there were certain of Egypt's eventual triumph. They ordered a diversionary force out of the city gates, to meet their inevitable doom at the hands of Persia, for it was now Persia that controlled the crossings of that great river that was the lifeblood of all Egypt.



Meanwhile, a far larger army was assembled, one with a thousand banners of all manners. None bore the marks of the noble houses or families that were prominent in Egypt, but all were marked with the blessings of the many gods these families kept faith with. Ra for the sun, Thoth for the dead, Bast to bring protection of the Pharaoh to Lower Egypt and to all, Horus the king of the gods and sky and war too, Menhit who massacres to bring bloody tidings to Persia, and many more besides. These men rushed to defend the remaining riverbanks and to relieve Thebes, capital of Lower Egypt, threatened by more and more Persians with every passing day.



But as with the soldiers sent out before, these, too, were too slow. With the flame of Ahura Mazdah burning in the hearts of all true men, with hot-blooded veins and fiery spirit, Rostam led the final charge on Thebes, as he had led the first, and the capital of Lower Egypt was soon his. Fighting was fierce, with common men and even women, farmers and artisans and more, all taking up arms against the Persians, every street and every corner a new victory in the war for Thebes, but none could stand against the low cunning of Rostam's hardened refugees, nor against the flurry of Immortal blades, nor against the sacred flame of Ahura Mazdah, that had now gained sway over the dry deserts and the wet riverbanks of Egypt.



The dry deserts and wet riverbanks of Lower Egypt, that is. The Egypt of the common people, of humans and animals, but not of gods and kings and Pharaohs. For they dwelt in Upper Egypt, and their capital was Memphis. Cleopatra had passed through here, sailing up the Nile all the way to Elephantine, a fortified island in the Nile and a bustling town of trade both. She had curried the favour of the priests, and had courted the favour of the gods, and had gained both, for she had held her crown and had remained Pharaoh. It was a quick procedure, for Xerxes was hot on her heels. Almost, almost, he managed to seize Memphis, left undefended now that its many regiments of spears had been sent into the fields. But the gods of Egypt cursed Xerxes the city of Pharaohs held against his men.



Fortunately, he had the foresight to establish a dependable network of outriders, and had sent small groups of his most glorified Immortals out into the lands. He had further ordered any tree they came across to be cut down, to serve as fuel for the Persian war machine - trebuchets and ferries and arrows - and to deny these resources to Egypt. As such, the large Egyptian army had no means of crossing the river now, and should they attempted to do so, Xerxes would soon be alerted and cut them down while they were stuck on the water.



They thus fortified the shores and counted the days their supplies would last them, and the days their empty bellies would last them too. But they were cut down anyway. The Persian armies amassed to the north and east struck like vultures tasting the scent of blood, and the magnitude of all these men and their might should, by all means, have utterly crushed the Egyptian spears. Caught on the open field, with a river to their back, they were indeed crushed, for not even a hundred thousand spears could fend off Persia's warriors. But as the dust came down after the battle, thousands upon thousands of brave Persian soldiers lay dead, far more than should have been possible to achieve by a host of flanked spearmen. The Persian army had suffered truly grievous casualties, with even Xerxes' own Lions cut down to a pale imitation of their former glory. The fields of Memphis were bathed in blood, and it was whispered that this was the true might of the Pharaohs; how arrogant the Persians were, to think they could conquer that pious city, that they could break the line of Pharaohs that had ruled for untold aeons, that they could overthrow the reign of those favoured by the Egyptian gods.



Cut down, the Egyptians were, but at a terrible cost. And if this was what the Egyptian gods could bring to bear, what ill tidings were kept in store for the Persians, as more and more marched within sight of Memphis' city walls?

 

[need my speed]

The Persian armies marched on, bestriding the lands until every horizon held the golden glint of Persia's banners. They marched over blood-stained lands, coloured red from Egyptian and Persian blood alike, but no tears were shed; their brothers had fallen, and they would be avenged before they would be mourned. Memphis, no matter the purported strength of their false gods, would fall when faced with the copper and iron of Persia's innumerable Immortals. And thousands upon thousands, millions, indeed, of Persian swords and spears were pointed into its direction.

But even if an unholy power kept watch over this city of Pharaohs, the fleet of galleys from the Persian Levant and the Persian Hellenic highlands watched over the city of Alexandria, blockading the port-city from the gentle waves of the Mediterranean Sea. But while they only threatened Alexandria with starvation, reliant as its citizenry was on seafood, the swords of Rostam and his men threatened Alexandria with conquest.



Pike- and spearmen marched with him, and Rostam fashioned this force into a superb army. His refugees, tough men who had forever lived and toiled away on the rough countryside, made excellent guerrila warriors, serving as scouts and laying ambushes and raiding convoys. Meanwhile, the professional army reinforced key points, slowly securing the land behind the guerrilas and giving them harbours of safety to retreat to. Thus Rostam closed in on the city, until none could leave its gates without Persian arrows finding new marks. Until none could man the city walls without Persian arrows being bloodied. Until none could do anything but starve in despair - until Rostam was invited into the city, and claimed it for the Megisthanes.



But it was not Alexandria, where the Egyptians rallied to best the Persians. That was in Memphis, and there, the Egyptians were emboldened by the works of their gods, and stood with renewed faith on the walls of Memphis. For all that the trebuchets roared and swung their mighty arms, throwing rocks and stones at Memphis, the winds seemed to carry away the rocks to land harmlessly in the desert sands, and only a mere handful of barrages found their mark. There were gaps in the walls, and caved in buildings, and the occasional corpses, too, but these were few and far between, and ascribed to a lack of piety. The gods were watching over Memphis, and all the might of the Pharaohs of old too, and the home of Ra and Isis and Horus, Anubis and Bastet and Osiris, and Nephythys and Thoth and Amun, and many more, would never be breached by the disciples of Ahura Mazdah, the Egyptians proudly boasted.



How wrong they were. Many a Persian - too many, all too many - had perished as they sought to cut down a host of spearmen better served by defending the city walls. They had been sent to relieve Thebes, and then recalled to defend Memphis, and they had been cut down in the lands betwixt those capitals of Lower and Upper Egypt. But they had extracted a terrible cost, and had bloodied the Persian army far more than need be. Many a Persian trebuchet, then, had failed to find its mark, and the siege of Memphis seemed to be a venture void of progress or success. Perhaps, this was the fortune of men, or perhaps it was that of fate, but Persia had the numbers and the heroes and glory, and with the fire of Ahura Mazda driving them forth, even Pharaohs could fall to mere men. Persia would not be dependent upon the whims of gods and goddesses to decide the order of the world. Persia could carve out its own glory, for ever and ever-lasting, until all the lands and all the gods were united under that golden banner. In time, as Heliopolis prospered and the rest of Egypt followed, the Egyptian gods would be content, and if they would wage war against Ahura Mazda or wage genocide against Aravians, they would be cast out of the hearts and minds of Persia. Such was the strength of Persia, to seize even the homes of gods, to let mortal men walk in Memphis, with feet ten feet off of paradise.



There was outrage and fury and the dying gasp of an old order, and the third plague the Egyptian gods called forth was to let all of Persia feel their own grief and rage, and riots broke out demanding more food and more gold, and more swords and an end to war both, and against the many cultures that were united under Persia, and against the many gods too, and against the horrors the Aravians had suffered, and thousands of more contradicting causes. Some called it war weariness, but it was the final act of a dying pantheon, to be subsumed within the greater Persian whole, and the fury and anguish felt into the hearts of men showed naught but the hopelessness and despair of doomed gods. Weakness, it was, a small blow against Persia but a confirmation that Persia had won, and thus emboldened, the new capital of Egypt was reached.



There in Elephantine, a Pharaoh sat without her gods, and a Despot sat without her people, and a ruler sat without her lands. Her armies had been beaten, her gods had been beaten, and her culture and way of life, too, had been beaten, for Heliopolis flourished and words of happiness, not resentment, slowly reached the former Egyptian heartlands. Not much was there to write, of the siege of Elephantine, for Egypt's armies were as exhausted as Egypt's spirit was.

 

[need my speed]

So... I peeked at my savegame with the Civilization III Multi Tool, and, yeah, I see no AI cities established in the ADs (it is currently 910 AD). The AI is teching well, with a few of them in the medieval ages - even knowing feudalism already - and with all of them knowing some of The Republic, Monarchy, or Construction, for example. But it is not settling, for some obscure reason... I could try using the Civilization III Multi Tool to put a few Settlers in the capital of every AI (except for Egypt ), and see if that would trigger their desire to build Settlers? But I think the game keeps (internally) track of the amount of Settlers produced, for the city limit, and so simply spawning Settlers might mess up this calculation. I suppose I could switch the production of cities to Settlers. What do you think, before I play on?