Fire in the hole! It didn't end up as long as I thought but its not short either. Keep an eye out for inconsistencies in it. You may freely tell me that I suck at storytelling. But if it does suit your fancy, let me know too, so that I know I didn't waste my time.
I present thee, the factional fiction for Sarranshahr!
The Fruits of Sarran
A very old man walked through the streets of Suran, wearing the Shah’s Robe of Honor. He walked slowly as the gold decorations of his robe reflected the midday sun, augmenting the faint smile on his ancient face. The people saluted him with “Good day, honorable Jamshed!” and “We wish you peace of body and mind, great Jamshed”. He kindly answered the people likewise and went on his way with his staff, without which he could barely walk a mile. When he came to the less densely-built part of the city, just outside the walls, he stood before the modest two-story house he inherited from his father. Entering the front garden, he hit a ripe apricot off its branch with his staff and sat down under the tree to eat it.
Not much later, a boy was calling his name from outside the garden walls. “Can I see you, uncle?”, Zavareh said. “Of course, come in, son”, Jamshed said. His 13-year-old nephew came dressed in silk and silver. “Has the Shah rewarded you as well?” Jamshed said surprised. “What feat of wonder did you pull off, young lion?”
“I didn’t do anything. The Shah’s men knocked on the door this morning and told my mother to dress the nephew of Jamshed the Wise like a prince.. so they gave me these nice-looking clothes” he said, showing off his new look in pride. “I wish my father could see this, but he won’t be back from his journey until next month”.
Jamshed looked at his nephew and then at his Robe of Honor. “Zavareh, we mustn’t let these things go to our heads. There is no virtue in owning yards of fine silk or hoards of gold. If you wish to be as respected among men as your old uncle, you need to use your wits. Be brave and nothing will harm your soul. Only serve goodness and help the needy. You will find peace in your heart and receive the recognition of the Shah as well. Do you even know how our land was built by the kings of old, child? It was built upon justice. The same justice that, like pillars, prevents the very sky from falling apart and crushing the world into chaos.” After the climaxing of his life’s work, old Jamshed felt like he was more alive than ever and needed to enlighten the boy, lest he make the same mistakes as he did and waste his precious youth on the false promises of a short lifetime.
The deeds of our fathers
Zavareh was already a very bright young lad and appeared to understand his uncle’s concerns, though he failed to get the urgency of it and didn’t quite know what the seriousness was about, on this particular fine day. “I know, uncle Jamshed, that’s why I’m here. After I heard that the Shah rewarded you for your years of service I immediately starting thinking “How did we free ourselves from those bloodthirsty horsemen? We were outnumbered and had fewer arms and equipment. Yet my brother Hugaw was there, chasing horsemen off the battlefield on foot! Now that we have a new Shah, I thought about how the old ones must have been. I’ve heard some stories from the story-tellers, but they never talk much besides how strong they were and how many enemies they slew. I wish to know what Sarran was like in the old days, under their rule!”
Jamshed looked at him with a smile and gave him an apricot. “Very well, son. You have a good head on your shoulders. It was not a matter of numbers on that battle, but a matter of courage, self-respect and devotion to one’s loved ones. Even if some men of Sarranshahr would not mind being other’s slaves, they would still owe it to their families to be free men. Our ancient customs do not permit a man of Sarran to bow his neck to a tyrant. Even if we only have sticks and stones, we fight to restore the most capable and wise leader among the royal bloodline to power, so that peace and prosperity may ensue.
Our history of kingship and hegemony goes way back, to the time of the great hero Rostam. No doubt an aspiring young warrior like yourself has heard of his incredible stories. It is said that the royal bloodline that has ruled Sarran for eons is the offspring of this conqueror. An unbroken line of prudent rulers, though there were gaps of chaos by the hands of usurpers. As such, the last heir-apparent which I have served for twenty years, in secret and in his advance to the throne, has brought back with him the glad tidings that were endowed to his royal bloodline. In the old days, it was us, who brought law and order to the people of Ptia, Mylesia and all the way to the borders of the Jade Throne in the east, where the Emperor of the Xi ruled. We brought civilization to many ignorant tribes. Our culture and thinking spread beyond Sarran itself. Indeed, some Ptians and Mylesians still speak a dialect of our tongue. All of this plenty was the result of our ancient kings’ work.
When they conquered a region, they would pacify the countryside, set up a satrapy and appoint an official to dispense justice, keep the roads safe, improve irrigation and gather taxes from which the Great King would receive a large portion as tribute. Thus, they were able to sustain their government and the armies that protected the people of Sarranshahr. Trade flourished, especially with the Jade Throne and the far-off land of Shur. As a result, many noblemen and merchants had spare time to pursue forms of art, poetry and reasoning. The Shahs chose the best of them to perform at their court. This is how our forefathers lived their lives under wise rule.”
The end of grace
Zavareh listened with great interest. He had finished his apricot and was now staring at the fruits of the pomegranate tree in front of them, which had given fruit sooner than normal this year. He posed another question: “What a great history we have, uncle. Why did it change? Can I have one of those?” he said, pointing at the pomegranate. He didn’t wait for the answer, grabbed one and sat down next to his uncle again. There was a cooling afternoon breeze and both young and old took a deep breath to enjoy it. Jamshed, clearly enjoying his nephew’s failed attempts to open the pomegranate, took out a knife from his bag for the kid and continued:
“It was the city of Ellis, in lowland Calradia, that had grown in power. They had conquered most of the north, west and south-west and put their greedy eyes on our dignity. They were men with very little understanding of the purpose of war. They conquered lands, but ruled them with and iron fist. If a city would resist, they would burn it and repopulate it. They believed in gods that would give them support no matter what crime they committed. They invaded Mylesia and would even dare send an army to our homeland, but our fathers defended. We were the only one not to bow before the Emperor. But our golden age was over.
Centuries later, Ellis had lost its glory and was but a shadow of its former self. But there were new threats. Fanatics from the south came in the name of a Pope. They came to our borders and demanded we surrender. The king of that time brokered a deal with them to keep the peace, lest they have to fight the Horde of Khergits to our east. The Lion Throne couldn’t use such a war at that moment and they retreated with the Shah’s coins in their coffers.
The innumerable Khergit Horde had done their first conquests outside the huge steppes. When they conquered the Xi, trade was cut off. They continued into our eastern territories, but were again halted in Sarran. The Shah of that time, Mnemon had a hard time keeping both armies out. If it were not for the mostly hilly and mountainous landscape of Sarran, the inevitable would have happened sooner. The royal treasury was in debt due to constant war, morale was low. Finally when Mnemon was assassinated, the Khergits seized control and placed a lesser Khan on the throne here in Suran. Twenty-nine years of oppression ensued. Nomads came with their herds to take over our greenest pastures. Our sanctuaries destroyed. Our sons were slain and our daughters defiled. In the meantime the Khan and the Pope fought over the former satrapies of Sarranshahr, until they agreed to a cease-fire. Our homeland and the east was for the Khergits and the western satrapies fell to the Lion Throne.
It was a matter of time before they would see our revenge. And here we are, under the leadership of Mnemons youngest grandson Khusraw, free.” Jamshed stopped talking, his green eyes were glistering.
A fire in the hearts of men
A moment of silence ensued as Zavareh was thinking, with the red color of the pomegranate around his mouth. His costly green silk shirt was stained by its juice and he looked at it with horror, but continued: “That’s amazing, uncle Jamshed! How did we manage to free ourselves from them? I was too small to be aware of what happened. What was your part in it? What did you do to make the Great King love you so much?” Zavareh said.
“That is because the Great King was not always the Great King, my nephew. A man may make a claim to the throne, but that does not make him Shah. He needs to have men to lead and his rule must be unchallenged. When Shah Mnemon was assassinated, our armies were routed and the Khergit lesser Khan named Tolui was installed. The royal family fled to the mountains, where they remained hidden by faithful servants. Mnemon’s son, Prince Bahram commanded a spread-out force of warriors who used to be the personal guard of the Shah. They would hide themselves in rural areas and in the mountains and forests of Sarran. Bolstered by volunteers they would organize raids on Khergit patrols and nomad camps and assassinate army commanders. In all those years, we did not give any rest to the Khergits to establish themselves firmly on our soil.
I myself remained the Vizier of Bahram, as I had been the Vizier in Mnemon’s time. Though I had no mighty realm to administer this time, I still gave counsel to the Prince in all matters and sought connection with the people of the cities for support. You know, Zavareh, that our family has brought forth renowned viziers for the kings of Sarranshahr for many generations. Nothing would fit me but to stay with the royal family in their time of need.
As years passed, the resistance grew and we gained permanent control of some of the small towns and villages. Our famous horse breeds had the upper hand in mountainous terrains, though most fought on foot and lightly packed. Bahram remained in hiding, unreachable for the spies of the lesser Khan. Until one of our spies turned out to be a double spy. Prince Bahram was arrested and executed. He was a valiant warrior and a true example of nobility. He had left behind two sons. The older brother Arman was asked by the nobles to accept their oath of fealty and lead the resistance. The Khergits were slaughtering whole towns for information about our struggle, but Arman felt that he had seen enough bloodshed and declined. He retreated to the forested mountains of Gurgan, saying that he wished to live a quiet live. To this day he resides in a cave, living off the land. Perhaps for the better. No one would want to see him again.
But the war was at its low point. The younger son of Prince Bahram was but a child, a bit like you, Zavareh. It was young Khusraw. The nobles lost hope. They needed a strong leader, whose charisma would uplift the hearts of the common folk. For they knew very well that their noble blood was of no use to them without enough fighters on our side. I took most of the tasks of young Prince Khusraw on my shoulders, while I mentored him to adulthood in the ways of leadership, persuasion and the skills of administration. As the years passed, he grew into a powerful warlord and we needed but an extra aid from heaven to start a full-scale rebellion.
It came in the form of the death of a man who we despised before all others, Mongke Khan. Executed on the orders of the Fifth Deva after attempting to invade the Lion Throne. What a blessing it was indeed that one of our enemies was to be slain by the hands of another enemy, don’t you think Zavareh? The lesser Khan Tolui in Suran needed to get back to the Khergit capital of Karakorum for the decision of who would be the next Great Khan. He had a chance of being chosen too. He would rather risk losing a war-torn and poor Sarran, than to stay here and lose his chance to become the mightiest ruler of the East.
Thus he left behind an incapable regent. I sent letters to old friends, merchants and elders that the time had come to fight for their rightful king, to rid ourselves from these devils and save the honor of Sarran. We received positive replies and Prince Khusraw coordinated his new forces, first to dispose of the Khergit garrisons in the cities and then to unite for the battle in the fields near Suran against the regent’s counterattack. We won, because we had everything to win and nothing to lose.
The people of Suran welcomed the Prince in joy and a coronation like none had ever seen took place in the Palace Garden. Not because everyone wore velvet and gilded ceremonial swords, but because we were united once again. But the deed was not yet done. There Khergits still held a number of castles. The city of Yazd had failed to rebel and half its populace was massacred. The regent received news that Tolui was on his way back. Frightened by the punishment that would follow when Tolui would be back, he fled south.
Lacking a leader and demoralized by the turn of events, the Khergit castles fell relatively easily. While Shah Khusraw prepared to assault the walls of Yazd, where the Khergits had been stubborn, Tolui turned up, with an army from the steppes. He was not Great Khan, so he was angry. The Battle of the Spear and the Rock was fought. I don’t have to tell you about that battle, Zavareh, your brother Hugaw fought bravely there that day. When it was all over, Shah Khusraw rewarded his followers, asserted his rule over the land and brought peace and justice to the people once more.” Jamshed finished, looking at Zavareh.
Memories suffice as wealth
“What a story”, Zavareh said. “But why did he reward you with just a Robe of Honor, uncle? Aren’t Viziers supposed to be almost as wealthy as a prince?”
“He wanted to award me with fertile farmlands, estates, gold, the best herds of horses and much more. Yesterday, I was at his court. I said that I did not need those things. I only wanted to make sure that my family was looked after when I was gone. I declared him my retirement as Vizier, as my work is done. He refused to accept it. I told him that my life was drawing to a close and that I wished to die in my grandfather’s garden, here” Jamshed said.
Zavareh stared at his uncle. He felt something in his throat and tears started filling his eyes.
Jamshed ignored him and said: “To that, the Great King said to me, in front of all those nobles:
“Our most kind father, for you are like a second one to us, it should have been yours, this throne upon which we sit with vanity.” The nobles murmured in awe at this statement, but Shah Khusraw continued: “It pains us to see you with your hair grey and your body weakened by old age. It pains us that you do not accept your due from the spoils of success and it pains us that you wish to leave us in your final hours. But we shall leave you to your wisdom. Take this Robe of Honor, like the Viziers of old, as a reminder for your offspring. Your family will be looked after according to your wishes. We will not distinguish them from our own household in closeness to our favor. We wished for you that you would see the re-conquest of all of ancient Sarranshahr from the hands of the unjust. But alas, it was not decreed. Do you have one last word of advice, Jamshed the Wise?”
I saw that he was withholding his tears barely. Then I said: “My king, I advise you to rule like a man, not a king. If you remain a king, cold in all his splendor, you will only be king of the ones who receive weekly pay. But if you remain just a man at heart, you will be king over all the people’s hearts.” Then I left, leaving my duties to my second son, your cousin Ramzi”
Zavareh wiped the tears off his face. He had never realized that his uncle was too old to live much longer.
“Do not be sad that I leave you, Zavareh”, Jamshed said, smiling and petting his nephew’s head.
“If I did not leave, how would I meet you in the next world? I will wait for you there and we will have many more fruits and drinks and we can talk about your adventures. Warriors don’t cry but for glory, Zavareh. You will become stronger”
