By all accounts, the war was over. Celebrations broke out, and people danced in the streets with sheer joy, overwhelmed with the fact that the Old Empire (as many Persians called the Safavid Dynasty) had been restored, and was victorious. Turkmenistan, that ancient and barbaric enemy, was forever humbled. And many of Persia’s former conquests whittled away in past centuries were finally hers again. As the column of troops returning from Samarkand reentered the capital, Persians everywhere laughed, filled with triumph from their hard won battles.
Slowly but steadily, the rejoicing spread throughout battered, scarred Shiraz. Tears of happiness were seen in the face of almost every man and woman. Old veterans cried. Merchants and midwives cried. Soldiers and bureaucrats alike cried. Even babies cried. It’s not like that didn’t happen anyway, though.
People knelt in the streets giving thanks to Allah, praising Him for granting glory and honor, and sending as great a man as Ardashir, Falcon of Persia, to lead them. The Gray Turbans unanimously declared the Shah’s Citadel to be a Shiite holy site, the ancient castle clearly having been strengthened by Mohammed himself to resist the Turkmeni army. As Persians slowly realized the magnitude of their success, the eyes of every citizen were wet with victory.
But where was Ardashir?
Certainly not in Council, the government was closed after the proclamation of the national holiday. And he wasn’t in the Royal Safavid Palace, either. The Shah had moved into his new residence as soon as the royal wing was finished. But the beautiful gold minarets atop the palace (which was nearing completion) lay dark, the windows unlit.
Where could Ardashir be? No one knew. There was speculation he had gone to France, to meet with the Emperor himself. But no, not a vessel had left Bandar-e’ Abbas, for the Islamic Council kept a strict watch on all exiting ships, hoping to catch Karamurad on the run. People wondered where their beloved Shah was, but the wisest among them looked to the northern roads, and smiled.
For Ardashir was riding to Teheran.
The Caspian Region was an unstable place, now. The beautiful, historic cities of Teheran and Isfahan had been sacked, and although many great landmarks were intact, the industry and buildings of the cities had been gutted, many ransacked by the Turkmenis in order to build a last-minute line of fortifications. Some released criminals and Karamurad loyalists were still at large, and General Malik was only now organizing the taskforce to sweep in and restore order.
But nonetheless, Ardashir was riding to Teheran. Three guards accompanied him, as well as Major Jeshua, promoted to a field command in light of his extreme courage and bravery serving Persia during the occupation. His cunning and usefulness in the occupied territories were of inestimable service to the Islamic Army of Persia.
At any rate, Ardashir and his four companions traveled along the “road,” ready to survey what lay before them. They all knew that Teheran was in bad shape, near destroyed, but…
They weren’t expecting to find a completely ruined city. Much, far too much of the once proud university town had been pounded into rubble by Turkmeni cannons. Certainly Karamurad had been defeated, but at what cost? Ardashir’s spirits sunk as he rode through the ruined gateway. The few people he saw were clad in rags, and over half of the town’s buildings had been burnt to the ground. The city once called “The Paris of the Middle East” was beautiful no longer. All five men steeled themselves for what they might encounter as they rode up Mohammed’s Way to Teheran University. What horrible sight would they behold as they approached the gates to the proud center of academia?
What they found was even more shocking than total devastation. The University was…totally intact! The Shah gasped, running his hands along the beautiful wrought-iron gate that was the main entrance to the compound. “How could this be…the city was destroyed! I thought that the Turkmenis would have burned this place to the ground. This is wonderful, what a gift from Allah is this!” Jeshua turned to Ardashir, smiling slightly.
“I had heard some unbelievable reports my lord, but thought them to be rumor. I decided not to inform you or Mustafa, lest it all be untrue, and the place a smoking ruin. It is certainly amazing…but it would seem that these rumors are true!” Ardashir fixed his aide with that intense gaze particular to him alone. “What did you hear, Jeshua?”
“You all knew that the Turkmenis had occupied the University as a regional headquarters, correct? Well…Karamurad gave a directive to all his senior commanders in the closing months of the war. As he withdrew from Persia, to fight the final battle at Samarkand, our spies intercepted this communication. It ordered a full withdrawal from Persia, and absolute destruction of all remaining cities and property.”
“Yes, the High Command was briefed on all that. But it still doesn’t explain how the University is still standing.”
“Right. The Turkmenis hurried to destroy as much of Teheran as they could in November, before they left. But at that moment, the Dalnorossians landed in support of the rebels in the Caspian area. Apparently a large contingent of students in hiding, along with some Dalnorossian Cossacks and irregulars, managed to storm the University in the last days before the final retreat.”
“But how could they? The Turkmenis are fanatical fighters, and well trained at that.”
“True, but they were in a great hurry to get back to their own lands, rapidly being overrun by the Chinese and Federates. And there were stranger reports yet. It would seem that the students assembled some strange device to repel the Turkmeni assault once they drove off the garrison. I was told that it was some kind of gun with a crank, and it spat out many bullets at a time. “Devilry,” I thought. But apparently it was true! How else could they have held this place?”
“This is truly a miracle, Jeshua. Let us give thanks for this victory. Our greatest center of learning has been saved, and all thanks to Persian patriotism and ingenuity.”
“Definitely, my liege.”
The proud soldiers and the astonished Shah then watched, as a column of young, gun-bearing students marched proudly toward the gate, the tattered, blue-gold flag of Persia fluttering before them.