Ashraf Shah rode quietly in his caravan as he ventured into the lands west of Persia, venturing farther than he had ever before. Traveling through small villages, his escorts would check the security of every locale before allowing the Shah to exit his carriage. He would pray in mosques, shake hands with villagers, but mostly he talked with local administrators and religious leaders.
It was time to end the corruption that plagued the peaceful state of Islam. Besides himself, advisors and administrators were spreading throughout the lands, questioning the populace on corruption, money handling, and abuse of power, taking notes, and than later reporting back to the Shah on the gathered intel.
Though he wished to purify Islam and all her children, the Shah wanted to appeal to the populace and access the new lands. Each new kilometre was a delicate pendulem that could be thrown off balance, whether it went into chaos or euphoria was entirely up to the decisions Ashraf Shah made.
Treading carefully, he approached the Mullah's, discussing how both houses must find common ground for the good of all muslims, that we must work together in order to free the children of Allah from the oppresors. Though some asked him to leave, it seemed as if they understood what was at stake.
As he reached the city of Samawah he called for the carriage to stop. Before waiting for an "all clear" signal, Ashraf Shah exited the carriage and began to walk toward the cradle of life, the Euphrates. He bent down and looked into its gleaming water, curious if there were any treasures in the bed of the river. Glancing to the side he was the ruins, rose, and began walking toward him. His body guards kept a quick pace, attempting to be around him the entire time despite the Shah's apparent rush. Though much of the runes were barried beneath the evermounting sand, some were still exposed.
Ashraf Shah went back to his carriage to resume the remaining journey into the city. simply amazing he thought, how such a grand civilization once stood where he just had. It was more obvious than now that it took no more than one man to make an empire great or bring it to its knees. Only recently he'd watched this taken place, having no choice but to progress his country at the loss of another. But such was life.
The carriage stopped once more, apparently reaching its true destination. The guards checking the area and populace gave the signal and Ashraf exited the carriage. Once more talking with the local administrators, he counciled them on his plans for Mesopotamia and the country. When he left the building he looked into the sky and saw a sight that made him quiver; the Afghani flag.
Thirty-four years ago they were nothing but meager khans, fighting feudal wars. Now, the fate of Islam was sealed through this simple flag, one that told the plight of Islam and muslims, but one that would clinch the future of Afghan in the world.