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.
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.