Graveyard Of Empires - Rise Of The Afghan Hound

Graveyard Of Empires - Chapter One:A Changed Decision (Part One)

It was another bustling day in the city of Kabul, the capital of the Emirate. The
markets of the city were alive and well, people trading all sorts of fine goods, everything from textiles and fruit to even the occasional slave, everything an Afghan could want was available. The people of the city were dressed in the most colourful garments, men wearing traditional Lungi, with the finest turbans and fez hats covering their heads from the harsh sun. Women could be seen wearing the Saris made of silk imported from Hindustan, and others wearing the traditional Islamic head dress, showing their modesty. The city was a true spectacle.

One of the people arriving at the city's gate was not like the others, no he was very different from the rest. He was covered in medals, he was fairer then most, and he sported a rather odd shade of hair colour, red. He almost stood out from the rest, and would have if Kabul was not so used to foreigners. His movement showed a level of pride, he was armed with a foreign looking sword, and looked as if he was searching for something.

He asked one of the men from the market stall, looking slightly confused. He did not speak Pashto, the language of e land, but did speak Farsi, the language of the Persians.

"Excuse me sir, but I need help finding my destination"

"Ahh you've come to the right place my friend, I know this place like the back of my hand,
What are you looking for?"

"Your Amir". He said in a Stern tone, his accent was strange.....he was a European.

"Are you some sort of jester? Everyone knows where our Khan is, Dost Muhammad Khan! Great, great man, for years our land had been plagued with wars and revolts and other terrors, it was as if The Lord had forsaken us, but Baba has taken us back to the glory days!".

His tone seemed genuine, it was not usual to see such genuine affection for rulers in this part of the world, this man must be something special.

"And where might I find this....'Baba' of yours?"

"North from here, in the cities central district, you can not miss it, look for when you stop seeing beggars and start seeing men of your ilk".

"Thank you friend". The envoy paid him several gold coins, and continued his journey.

The merchant was an eccentric man, but the pale foreigner had heard what he needed to here. He continued to skim past the city's lights and sights, he was on a mission. He was an envoy, sent from a king of a far away land, to persuade the Amir to take part in something much bigger, a "great game if you will". But there comes another twist, he wasn't just an messenger for any king, he was a messenger for a Tsar.
 

katchen

Banned
I hope ITTL the Shia Hazaris can, with the Russians help, withstand the Durrani Pashto who would massacre them in the name of Sunni Islam with the aid of the British. The Tajik and Ismaili Wakhi in the Pamir and Gilgit too.
 
I hope ITTL the Shia Hazaris can, with the Russians help, withstand the Durrani Pashto who would massacre them in the name of Sunni Islam with the aid of the British. The Tajik and Ismaili Wakhi in the Pamir and Gilgit too.

Don't worry, this wont be a too Pashtun-centric, all of the ethnic groups and sects will have their moments to shine;)
 
Last edited:
I assume this is taking place sometime in the 1830s? I'll look forward to seeing more.

You would assume correct:D thanks, that means a lot coming from the man with one of the best timelines on the board.:)

A timeline on Afghanistan of all places? :)

Afghanistan has an interesting history, one that I think could have ended up much more like Turkey or even India, had the right circumstances unfolded;).
 
Chapter One: A Changed Decision (Part Two)

It was 1838, a year which would later go down in history, especially in the eyes of the Afghan people. This was a time of turbulence, long gone were the days of Ahmad Shah Durrani, bringing prosperity to the land, arriving like a tsunami through the Hindu Kush, he along with his karki-clad Abdali warriors brought Islam back to the forefront of subcontinent, if only for another generation.

These were the tales Pashtun tribes would write poetry about in their romanticised view of history, but the times had changed, Afghanistan was no longer the empire it once was. Generations of civil war, weak rulers and tribal politics had destabilised the nation, till it had been reduced to a mere fraction of its once glory.
But, this was not the end of the story of Afghans, this was the beginning of something even greater, the Barakzai Renaissance, as it would be known....

Our story continues from the last time.....

It was the imperial courtyard, on the same hot Kabul summer day, the quarters of The Amir of Afghanistan, Dost Muhammad Khan. He stood tall at 6'3, he had the frame of a warrior, and had a long elegant white beard, he was armed with his pulwar, and wore a lungi typical of his tribe, the Barakzai.

He was not alone in the courtyard, he was with his son, Akbar, a spitting image of his father, but had a childs face still, despite being in his 20s.The two both had a stern expression upon their face, they were in serious discussion.

"Father, I hope my visit was not too abrupt". The prince spoke in a calmer manner to lighten the tension in the room.
"As always, you seem to have this gung-ho approach to life, so it never surprises me what you do anymore".
"Say what you may, my province is one of the most powerful in the emirate".
"So what are you actually here for there, then".
"News had reached Kandahar about that pretender from the Abdali, aren't you worried!?"
"Who? That Shuja character? I am the one who overthrew him! He and his ilk ruined our great nation, it is me who brought back stability, it is me who conquered the Hazaras and Turkmen and Quiziblash, and brought them under my reign!".
"I do not doubt your ability Father, but he has been given sanctuary by the Sikhs, the same who took Peshewar from us, and oppresses the Pashtuns within their kingdom!".
"I do not care for any infidels from the hills in Punjab, they will be crushed like all our enemies".
"Father, this over confidence will not do us any favours. The Sikhs have defeated us before, we can not go on with that sort of mentality".
"What do you propose then, since you seem to know better than your father?". He replied in a sarcastic tone.
" a pre-emptive strike, we can capture the pretender, and reconquer our lost territory".
"Hmmm.....it's seems I have raised a wise son". He smirked and hugged his son, it was not often the Amir displayed such signs of affection.
"I am glad you have come to the right conclusions, father".
"Perhaps you may make a good successor, Akbar, perhaps...." He said in almost teasing tone.

However, at that moment, one of the palace servants arrived in the courtyard. Both turned their attention to him.
"Please forgive me master, but you have a visitor, it appears to be urgent".
"Who is this, who dare interrupt me in my own quarters!?". He folded his arms, he did not look impressed.

"He appears to come from the north, a messenger, from the Russians".

"The Russians?.....let him in, but let him be escorted by the guards, we can not be too careful....". His tone of voice changed, he became more cautious, Akbar was not used to seeing his father in such a state.

After several minutes of anxious waiting, the visitor arrived in the courtyard. He was surrounded by Barankzai clansmen, all carrying their own pulwars, covered in armour and looming tall with large frames. Compared to them, this pale skinned, auburn haired foreigner almost appeared like a dwarf, but somehow appeared to stroll in casually, and had a calm facial expression. Both father and son stared intently at him.

"Ah, Amir Dost Muhammad I presume! So glad we could finally meet, you didn't reply to the Tsars letter, so he sent me to check that everything is alright between our two nations".

"I chose not to reply, in the best interest of my peop,e. I know your rulers aims of expansion, and the British have the same goals. I do not care for your imperialistic goals, whatever conflict takes between your two nations, keep Afghanistan out of it".

"See this is where you are wrong sir! We are not interested in territorial advances into your nations, we aim for an alliance between our two great nations!".

"We here you are having some troubles with the Sikhs.....".It was 1838, a year which would later go down in history, especially in the eyes of the Afghan people. This was a time of turbulence, long gone were the days of Ahmad Shah Durrani, bringing prosperity to the land, arriving like a tsunami through the Hindu Kush, he along with his karki-clad Abdali warriors brought Islam back to the forefront of subcontinent, if only for another generation.

These were the tales Pashtun tribes would write poetry about in their romanticised view of history, but the times had changed, Afghanistan was no longer the empire it once was. Generations of civil war, weak rulers and tribal politics had destabilised the nation, till it had been reduced to a mere fraction of its once glory.
But, this was not the end of the story of Afghans, this was the beginning of something even greater, the Barakzai Renaissance, as it would be known....

Our story continues from the last time.....

It was the imperial courtyard, on the same hot Kabul summer day, the quarters of The Amir of Afghanistan, Dost Muhammad Khan. He stood tall at 6'3, he had the frame of a warrior, and had a long elegant white beard, he was armed with his pulwar, and wore a lungi typical of his tribe, the Barakzai.

He was not alone in the courtyard, he was with his son, Akbar, a spitting image of his father, but had a childs face still, despite being in his 20s.The two both had a stern expression upon their face, they were in serious discussion.

"Father, I hope my visit was not too abrupt". The prince spoke in a calmer manner to lighten the tension in the room.

"As always, you seem to have this gung-ho approach to life, so it never surprises me what you do anymore".

"Say what you may, my province is one of the most powerful in the emirate".
"So what are you actually here for there, then".

"News had reached Kandahar about that pretender from the Abdali, aren't you worried!?"

"Who? That Shuja character? I am the one who overthrew him! He and his ilk ruined our great nation, it is me who brought back stability, it is me who conquered the Hazaras and Turkmen and Quiziblash, and brought them under my reign!".

"I do not doubt your ability Father, but he has been given sanctuary by the Sikhs, the same who took Peshewar from us, and oppresses the Pashtuns within their kingdom!".

"I do not care for any infidels from the hills in Punjab, they will be crushed like all our enemies".

"Father, this over confidence will not do us any favours. The Sikhs have defeated us before, we can not go on with that sort of mentality".

"What do you propose then, since you seem to know better than your father?". He replied in a sarcastic tone.

" a pre-emptive strike, we can capture the pretender, and reconquer our lost territory".

"Hmmm.....it's seems I have raised a wise son". He smirked and hugged his son, it was not often the Amir displayed such signs of affection.

"I am glad you have come to the right conclusions, father".

"Perhaps you may make a good successor, Akbar, perhaps...." He said in almost teasing tone.

However, at that moment, one of the palace servants arrived in the courtyard. Both turned their attention to him.
"Please forgive me master, but you have a visitor, it appears to be urgent".
"Who is this, who dare interrupt me in my own quarters!?". He folded his arms, he did not look impressed.

"He appears to come from the north, a messenger, from the Russians".

"The Russians?.....let him in, but let him be escorted by the guards, we can not be too careful....". His tone of voice changed, he became more cautious, Akbar was not used to seeing his father in such a state.

After several minutes of anxious waiting, the visitor arrived in the courtyard. He was surrounded by Barankzai clansmen, all carrying their own pulwars, covered in armour and looming tall with large frames. Compared to them, this pale skinned, auburn haired foreigner almost appeared like a dwarf, but somehow appeared to stroll in casually, and had a calm facial expression. Both father and son stared intently at him.

"Ah, Amir Dost Muhammad I presume! So glad we could finally meet, you didn't reply to the Tsars letter, so he sent me to check that everything is alright between our two nations".

"I chose not to reply, in the best interest of my peop,e. I know your rulers aims of expansion, and the British have the same goals. I do not care for your imperialistic goals, whatever conflict takes between your two nations, keep Afghanistan out of it".

"See this is where you are wrong sir! We are not interested in territorial advances into your nations, we aim for an alliance between our two great nations!".

"We here you are having some troubles with the Sikhs.....".
 
Top