OOC: Doesn't Jeshua work as a Muslim name for Jesus as well?
Camp Ishmael, remnants of the Grand Plaza, Shiraz
It had been a long, bloody, and exhausting year for the Islamic Army of Persia. The tyrant and his raiders had been driven out of Shiraz, but at great cost. Chehel Sotoon Palace, beautiful court of the greatest Safavid Shahs, was in ruins. The Military Academy, while intact, had been totally stripped of it's possessions. And many the shops and markets of Shiraz, it's economic lifeblood, had been burnt to the ground.
Yes, it had been a hard year. But the Ishmael Mosque was still intact, (even if the Plaza had been ruined,) the Shah's Citadel was still standing on the central hill of the city. Not even Karamurad could take that fortress! And the Royal Safavid Palace, still under construction, had been successfully defended by the militias.
In the end, normal Persians fighting for their homes and families triumphed over even the most skilled butchers Karamurad had in his army.
"He is like a cornered wolf," Ardashir said in a speech as he assessed the devastation. "Bleeding and angry, he will try to hurt Persia as much as he can while he still lives."
The soldiers cheered. But they knew the time was coming when Karamurad would return. With the spring flowers, the Butcher of Samarqand would be back, to try and take more Persian lives.
The Supreme Military Command, comprised of most surviving Persian generals, and headed by General Osman Mustafa, was not made up of fools. They knew that Karamurad still held control over a considerable fighting force. And moreso, that he had the Persian citizens of the Caspian Province as virtual hostages. They did have two key advantages, however.
One was allies. Karamurad was a bit isolated on the diplomatic stage as of yet. The other, was that he was predictable. If he sat on his behind and waged a defensive war, it would only be a matter of time before the Chinese and British took all of Turkmenistan. Karamurad would be forced to attack, and soon.
As Mustafa and Malik heatedly argued over Persia's next course of action, one thing became clear. And once they had agreed on their plan, they sent their officers to the place where the best soldiers of the next generation were.
The University.
It was, in essence, a refugee camp. Students and professors from Teheran, Isfahan, and all over the country gathered in a few crowded mosques to try and continue their lessons. Many students joined the army anyway. But it was not normal students that the Army needed today.
The recruiting officers passed by the medical "school," the humanities building, the law offices, and stopped in front of one small, unassuming shack. The sign above the doorway said "Engineering and Architecture."
"This is the place," they said, and walked in.
In that day of orders, protests, and forced conscription, the Persian Engineering Corps was born. The professors yelled and blustered, but the students were all too happy to go with the Army. Because they had something that their frustrated teachers did not have. Money.
Money to buy books, materials for modeling and schematics, and most of all, money to hire real engineers to lecture and teach them. The students joined the army, and immediately set to work learning their trade. Pentagonal fortresses, demolition, bridge building, trench creation, barbed wire fabrication, siege warfare, siege defenses, tunneling, booby traps, sabotage! The Army gave them all the materials they needed. It was a relationship that benefited both. The students wouldn't be drafted, and in return got a first class education in battlefield engineering.
And of course, the Army now had a new weapon, a new chance to defeat Karamurad.
New UU-Persian Engineering Corps