Moonlight in a Jar: An Al-Andalus Timeline

ACT VIII Part XXII: Atlantic Piracy and the First Anglo-Asmarid War
  • Excerpt: Christianity in the Crossing Age - Mark Magnuson, Epic Libropress, AD 1999


    The arrival of the Anglish in the Farthest West - late as it was in comparison to the century-long headstart of Western Islam - was nevertheless a product of the numerous advantages the island kingdom held. Of the Christian kingdoms of Europe, Angland was the closest one with the wealth and infrastructure to construct a good-sized stock of ships capable of navigating the Atlantic Ocean. The kingdom's seafaring tradition - in part inherited from the Danish roots of its aristocratic class following the Danish Conquest - ensured a class of wealthy Anglish with enough familiarity with seafaring to expand their knowledge of seafaring.

    Contact with the Iberian kingdoms of Santiago and Navarre influenced Anglish shipbuilding from the ground up, most notably in the southwest and in Wales. Basque whalers were among the first Christians to adopt Islamic ship designs such as the qarib and the later saqin, and whalers from cities like Bristow, Cardyf and Berrum[1], competing with the Basques on the high seas, quickly adopted similar designs of their own.

    By the early 15th century, the basic Anglish ship designs of the Crossing Period had resolved themselves. The most common ship, the skene, was broadly similar to the Moorish saqin, equipped with lateen sails enabling west Anglish whalers to handle the dangerous Atlantic conditions. By the 1450s, skenes were widespread along the Atlantic coast, and Anglish fishermen and merchants were making regular contact with the Andalusian settlements on the Maghurine Islands. In fact, some of the early letters of Galin Keats suggest his journey west was in part inspired by whalers' tales of islands in the west, suggesting that Anglish fishermen or whaling boats may have sighted Alaska[2] even before Keats and Avezade's journey in 1453. By that time, the skene had been complicated by the larger and wider norry, a type of clinker-built merchant ship loosely derived from Danish ships of prior centuries. These ships could carry larger cargoes across rough Atlantic waters, and they were widely used by merchantmen to conduct trade with the Christian kingdoms of Iberia as well as for trips to Norway or Iceland.

    It was these ships which spearheaded the early Anglish exploration of the Farthest West. Just a year later, under the commission of Anglish King Robart II, Keats returned to the new land to chart what he had begun to refer to as King Robart's Land. Sailing south from Elderbeve, he proceeded to explore a stretch of the Alaskan coast down to the land he called Helenia, after Robart's wife, Queen Helene.[3] Here, Keats made landfall at the site known today as Keats' Landing. He did not encounter any of the indigenous Wampanoag people, but he did plant an Anglish flag and carve a cross into a large stone. Today, phony rocks bearing the alleged Cross of Keats are a common hoax item in folk artifact collections across the Anglish-speaking world.

    Other Anglish explorers would follow Keats in beginning to explore the new world, pursuing rumours of a lost "Heaven Land" somewhere overseas. The most notable of these mariners was Sir Thomas Holmson, a Berrumite sailor who took three norries over the Atlantic and reached the Moorish settlements in the Sea of Pearls. Holmson's ships stopped off at Mansurat al-Fajr on Al-Gattas, where Holmson reports seeing the minaret of a large mosque, before continuing on around the island and landing in Quwaniyyah, in the formerly Mayan city of Zama.

    By this point, Zama was the core of Asmarid Quwaniyyah, a bustling centre in which Mayan architecture had been supplemented and partially replaced by Andalusian building styles. Holmson's crew docked in Zama and traveled inland to Coba before returning. His notes report how impressed the Anglish were with the new land:

    "The people here seemed most rich and content. The Moors and the native people, the Mayans, live side by side. All of them are Mohammedans, though we saw many women with their heads uncovered. The port we beheld was busy and full of traders exchanging goods, and we saw many fat vessels laden with wealth arriving and departing. Thus we knew that there was a great wealth in the land, one which the Mohammedans must have kept secret for many generations, for the cities we saw appeared ancient. Many of the buildings are as great tiers of steps, and they had the appearance of great antiquity."

    Holmson' 1455 voyage roughly coincides with the emergence of a major source of conflict between Angland and the Asmarids: Piracy.

    With no rivals on the Atlantic sea, Andalusian and Maghrebi ships crossing between the continents were typically lightly armed. Less scrupulous Anglish sailors saw these trans-Atlantic convoys as opportunities. The first recorded pirate attack on the Atlantic dates from 1455: The notes of the wali of Lishbuna report that a merchant ship arrived in a damaged state, her captain reporting that they had been set upon by "a ship of the 'ingliziyyayn," who attempted to board her and steal their cargo.

    Anglish piracy rapidly escalated in both the Sea of Pearls and the Banks of Barshil. With Andalusians dominating productive markets overseas, avaricious Anglish whalers and fishermen turned to less savoury methods, employing early gunpowder weapons and fast skenes to attack unsuspecting Moorish vessels on the high seas. Before long, Moorish ships began carrying increasingly heavy armament, and armed seafaring ships were stationed in ports like Kanza and Nasriyyah to escort merchantmen and interdict this new threat.

    Reports of Anglish piracy infuriated hajib Al-Nasr sufficiently that he sent a missive to Robart II in 1459, threatening to "burn your harbours to ashes" should the Anglish King fail to rein in his subjects. Robart seems to have ignored the missive, and indeed, he took a hands-off approach to piracy, more than content to allow local barons and lords even to contract with pirates to raid lucrative Andalusian convoys on the Atlantic.

    This piracy culminated in 1462 with the First Anglo-Asmarid War. In truth the war did not touch either kingdom's landmass, but began when three pirate skenes out of Bristol sailed through the Banks of Barshil and attacked ships in the harbour outside Al-Jadida. Five fishing boats were put to the torch before being driven off by a pair of safinas - large armed ships derived from the tur, sporting lowered forecastles and blackpowder weapons. The incident, while brief, proved a step too far for Al-Nasr, who gathered a fleet of safinas with the intention of burning ports along the Anglish coast.

    The punitive expedition - about 20 ships - made it close to the Isles of Scilly before being intercepted by a fleet of about 30 smaller armed skenes under the Anglish flag. The so-called Battle of St. Agnes was the first known full-scale battle between oceangoing warships, and it proved a surprising humiliation for the Asmarids: The safina fleet had come with only a few blackpowder weapons, while the Anglish made ample use of them, largely throwing fireballs and utilizing large tannants[4] to inflict serious damage. Andalusian combat doctrine had been heavily influenced by the threats they'd faced in the new world, among them the Tapajos, who had inflicted heavy losses on explorers by packing archers into boats. Safina-type ships were built for similar tactics: While carrying some blackpowder weapons, they tended to have high aft castles from which crossbowmen would attack the enemy crews. The Anglish use of blackpowder was more comprehensive, and it allowed them to cut off the Asmarids and rout their flotilla.

    The small Anglish fleet pursued the Asmarid survivors south, but poor weather off the Santiagonian coast caused their fleet to become scattered. Only a dozen ships arrived off the Andalusian coast, where they were met by another group of safinas. This time the Andalusian ships were able to scatter the remnants of the Anglish battle group, largely through the use of tanins.

    The war flickered on back and forth until 1465, with both sides attempting to launch raids on the other's port infrastructure. Ultimately the conflict petered out after Asmarid ships managed to blockade the mouth of the Severn estuary. Ricard's successor, Ricard III, settled the conflict by paying a sum of gold to the Asmarids and agreeing to crack down on piracy - a hollow promise he would have no hope of enforcing.


    [1] Barnstaple.
    [2] North America.
    [3] Cape Cod.
    [4] The Anglish form of the cannon.
     
    ACT VIII Part XXIII: The Fourth Romanian War and the Council of Imola
  • Excerpt: Christianity in the Crossing Age - Mark Magnuson, Epic Libropress, AD 1999


    The centuries following the Great Plague saw an economic and social growth spurt across the Supercontinent. The resulting population pressures helped to drive the early Crossing Era settlement waves out of Asmarid Andalusia and al-Maghrib, and later out of the Atlantic Christian kingdoms. But these pressures also had consequences for central and eastern Christendom at a time when kingdoms were straining for land and grappling with tough social issues as populations bumped up against the capacity of both land and organizational structures to adequately sustain human wellbeing.

    The early Crossing Era is associated with two particular arcs outside of the Anglish sphere: The solidification of Romania under Guy the Great on one hand, and on the other, the splintering of the Catholic Church into monarchal spheres influenced by council ecumenism.

    *​

    The long-standing Romanian Wars had been flaring on and off since 1415, when Duke Berenguer-Ramon III of Provencia accepted the crown of Meridiana and ended up in the position of being both a king in southern Italia and a duke claimed as a de jure vassal by France. The affair brought long-standing tensions between France and the Provencal realm to a head: Provencia had long operated as a de facto independent kingdom, much to France's continuing frustration. The various conflicts between the two powers drew in Genoa on the side of the Provencals and Venice to try and gain mercantile advantage over Genoa.

    The wars truly flared, however, with the ascension of Guy the Great to the throne in Marselha in 1449. Guy - a sublimely gifted organizer and orator - began the practice of claiming the title of "King of Romania." In his mind, he was already a king, and the fall of the Roman Empire to the Bataids years before created a void, particularly with the Holy Roman Empire consistently failing to project power in Italy. Stopping short of declaring himself emperor in his own right, Guy based his claim on his realm's possession of the old Roman Province.

    Key to the conflict was control of Gascony, the southernmost duchy in France and one prone to functioning effectively on its own. The bloodiest leg of the Romanian Wars centred on this duchy, when in 1456 King Jocelyn III of France moved to confiscate the duchy following the dying out of its ruling family. Guy quickly moved in to press the claim of Bernat of Aurenja, son of a former Gascon duke's daughter. Jocelyn brought his military to bear on the duchy, seeking to install a loyalist as the rightful Duke. The result was the Fourth Romanian War (1456-1462).

    Jocelyn enjoyed one of the most powerful feudal militaries in Europe at the time. However, Romanian military might was bolstered by an innovation adopted from Islamic states like the Asmarids and Bataids: A professional standing army at the core of the military.

    Romania's military was the first standing army in Europe outside of the semi-monastic Church Knights. Recognizing he would need better-quality troops to stand against France, Guy's predecessor, Arnaut II, had hired mercenaries from Transjurania and kept them on as the core of his force. But Guy bolstered this force by equipping units of men - usually minor aristocrats or former mercenaries - with good horses, armour and blackpowder weapons. These forces - referred to as the Dragons, after their use of the dragón[1] - filled a similar role in Romania's military as groups like the Saqaliba and Black Guard in the military of Andalusia. But rather than being slave-soldiers, the Dragons were paid free men and owed their allegiance not to feudal lords, but to the monarch's coffers.

    While France enjoyed a numerical advantage over the Romanian army, French troops were still largely men drawn from the general levy, bolstered by vassal knights whose equipment depended on their personal finances. The Romanian military's advantage in professionalism was plainly illustrated in the summer of 1460 at the Battle of Antagnac, the largest and most decisive battle of the war: Approximately 40,000 French troops seeking to relieve a Romanian siege of Agen were intercepted by an army of about 30,000 Romanians, led by the Dragons and mercenaries from Transjurania and Italy. Poor coordination between the French commanders resulted in the will of many of the French levies breaking in the result of determined dragon fire from the more professional Romanian forces.

    The decisive victory at Antagnac resulted in Romanian troops consolidating control of Agen later that year before moving on to capture Bordeaux in a bloody siege, in which the Romanians put bombards to good use battering down the city's defenses. An arriving French army proved unable to dislodge the Romanians. Meanwhile, Bernat was installed as Duke and swore fealty to Guy. With the siege of Bordeaux rapidly sapping the strength of both sides, truce was eventually signed, though both sides understood it more as a chance to catch their breath.

    Gascony would remain a point of furious contention between France and Romania for generations, and the two kingdoms developed a fierce territorial rivalry that would leave them ever at odds. However, the Fourth Romanian War proved decisive in that it brought Gascony into Romania's penumbra and cut France off from both old Aquitania and the Roman Province, confining it to reaches north of the Garonne. Romanian territorial gains around Lemotges and Periguers would be offset by France's holding of Clermont, though de facto boundaries would remain vague in this area for generations.[2]

    More to the point, the Fourth Romanian War established Romania as capable of standing on its own two feet, and it solidified the professional army as the dominant force on the battlefield of Christendom. It demonstrated decisively that kings could essentially replicate what the Church did with the militant orders, countering that source of troublesome ecclesiastical power by consolidating power through their own treasury - though this would lead to more problems down the line.

    *​

    As Romania was on the rise, meanwhile, the power of the Papacy was in a steady decline, and with it the centralization of Christendom. The Strong Pope system pioneered by pontiffs like Celestine IV in the 13th century disintegrated under a series of incompetent popes in the early 15th - the so-called Decadent Popes, beginning with Leo XII in 1425. The resulting Tripartite Schism split Christendom between a Roman pope, a German pope and an Anglo-Danish pope, and the resolution to this state of affairs involved deep bloodshed and the influence of radical religious movements.

    Since the appointment of the German Antipope Benedict XV in 1428, the Roman popes had refused to crown any Holy Roman Emperor - an additional blow to German prestige, together with the Empire's inability to control Italy. Upon the death of Meinhard II Geroldseck in 1437, his son, Adolph, was crowned Emperor by Antipope Benedict, but excommunicated by Leo's similarly decadent successor. The bulk of the German bishops - save most of those in old Burgundy and parts of Tyrol - endorsed the decision at the Council of Fulda following a vote.

    Conflict between the pontiffs largely took the form of the Empire straining to assert control over Italy. The period of centralization brought on in the late 14th century by the political machinations of Guido of Canossa had begun to collapse by the 1430s, and numerous Italian lords and trading cities began to reassert political independence. This state of affairs opened the door for Adolph to invade in the mid-1450s, seeking to depose King Guido II and assert Holy Roman control over the all-important region.

    Control of Italy would be contested between the Empire and an alliance known as the League of Udine - the Papal State, the weak Italian claimant, several stronger Italian nobles, Hungary and Illyria. Control would bounce back and forth over the years before disintegrating entirely following the death of Guido II.

    The decisive factor in the war proved to be disunity among the Italian nobles following Guido's death, leaving his infant son Umberto in charge. A scheming regency council promptly formed, with nobles maneuvering to try and manipulate the young monarch and the Pope powerless to stop it. Similarly undermining the alliance was a growing sympathy towards conciliarism among the populace in general, both in northern Italy and in Hungary, but it was the feuding among the Italian nobility which directly led to the League's defeat at the Battle of Lenta. The competing egos resulted in two Italian armies, comprised primarily of mercenaries, refusing to support one another: Milanese forces withdrew at a critical point and left the forces of Florence to be crushed beneath a German attack, allowing the Teutonic side to build momentum and carry the day.

    The Battle of Lenta (1458) did not, however, end the Tripartite Schism. While Adolph would spend the next few years besieging cities in the north of Italy en route to asserting control, the Roman candidates continued to hold out even as their allies fell apart.

    A series of ecclesiastical councils over the years tried and failed to break the deadlock, but efforts to find a solution only succeeded in further dividing the clergy, resulting in Hungary leaving the League of Udine and the French bishops taking no position at all. Finally, however, the Schism would be settled by the Council of Imola, in 1466.

    The Schism declared the Roman, German and Anglish papal candidates deposed. In their stead, the Church was reorganized to devolve greater power to local bishops. The Council disbanded the Church Knights - a decision which Emperor Adolph enforced militarily - and established a firm limit of no more than 20 cardinals at a time, curbing the practice of Strong Popes bolstering their power by promoting loyalist cardinals en masse. Further, it demanded an end to the practice of appointing primarily Italians as cardinals, and it married the practice to a deeply conciliar move.

    With the Geroldsecks in the catbird seat, the Germans forced a major concession: The Council endorsed a decree giving primacy to the authority of any general church council, even over the Pope. The decree dictated that a church council derives its power directly from Christ, and even the Pope would be bound to obey the decisions of a council as they pertain to the faith.

    Forced to knuckle under in the face of heavy German pressure, the new consensus Pope ultimately ratified the decisions of the Council of Imola in 1470. This decision would have far-reaching consequences, opening the door for ecclesiastical councils across Europe to further weaken the central authority of the Bishop of Rome. Further, the decision was rejected in some quarters of Europe, particularly in Angland, where the Archbishop of York continued to operate with virtual impunity, and in the European south, where bishops in Romania, Illyria and much of Italy viewed German influence over the Council with intense suspicion. For the moment, however, the Strong Pope system was decisively smashed, leaving the Geroldseck Emperors riding high.


    [1] The blackpowder weapon - in this case, the hand bombard and a middle form of the ribaldequin.
    [2] The borders of Romania proper - excluding Sardinia and southern Italy - are shaping up to be what in OTL we'd consider Occitania.

    SUMMARY:
    1460: The Battle of Antagnac. Romanian forces score a decisive victory over France in the Fourth Romanian War.
    1462: The Fourth Romanian War ends, leaving Romania in control of Gascony and Limoges.
    1466: The Council of Imola convenes, intent on resolving the Tripartite Schism.
    1470: The Council of Imola issues its recommendations, declaring the primacy of any general church council, even over the Pope. All three antipopes are declared deposed and a new Pope is recognized, albeit badly weakened and subject to severe restrictions on the appointment of cardinals. More power is devolved to local bishops to oversee matters of faith. The Church Knights are disbanded. The Strong Pope system ends.
     
    ACT VIII Part XXIV: The Cantabrian Wars
  • Excerpt: Christianity in the Crossing Age - Mark Magnuson, Epic Libropress, AD 1999


    The events of the mid-15th century put a rapidly-ticking clock into motion for the kingdoms of northern Iberia - a situation much to the reverse of centuries past.

    Prior to the Crossing Period, a delicate balance of power had existed between Al-Andalus and the northern kingdoms. While a unified Andalusian polity was powerful enough to stand against them following Guillermo del Toro's death centuries prior, internal squabbling and structural factors made conquering the north impractical. By the 1470s, however, factors had changed: The rise of the Asmarids combined both Maghrebi manpower and Andalusian prosperity under the same banner, technology from China had given Islamic militaries and navies strong advantages over the less-developed Christian kingdoms, and the Asmarid overseas empire left the realm flush with wealth. Further, the weakening of France deprived Santiago of allies, and the Treaty of Xavier in the 1390s had substantially weakened both it and Navarre, the latter essentially existing mostly because the Hizamids had valued a buffer against France.

    In particular, the situation in Santiago had deteriorated steadily in the 15th century. The kingdom's coffers were depleted by the loss of productive revenue-producing lands ceded to the Hizamids under the terms of the Treaty of Xavier, as well as by the need to pay an annual tribute to Isbili. Further, the post-war coup of Bermudo III had led to a steady weakening of central authority, exacerbated by religious differences between lords friendly to the growing Anicetian population and those rigorously following the mainline Latin Catholic rite.

    Tensions with the Asmarids had been quick to emerge: Santiago ceased to forward on tribute by that point, but Christian lords in the north launched occasional raids to try and "rescue" communities now living under Muslim lordship. Further, Santiagonian ports became useful jumping-off points for Atlantic pirates as Christian kingdoms began to nose into the Crossing Age. While Anglish pirates were by far the most far-reaching early pests on the high seas, and some of them were known to use ports like Coruna, or to lurk in the many deep rias lining the Gallaecian coast. But some Santiagonians had also adopted ships analogous to the Anglish skene - locally, the scaena - and reached Andalusian ports in the Maghurin Islands, giving them the capability and reach to raid Andalusian shipping.

    Asmarid reprisals against Santiago had begun on a small scale almost immediately following Al-Nasr's takeover, mainly consisting of police actions against Santiagonian ships and local walis sponsoring spring raids into the mountains. Steadily, the consensus of the Treaty of Xavier began to fray.

    By 1466, the kingship of Santiago had fallen to Bermudo V, a weak man with little ability to project power beyond the walls of Santiago de Compostela itself. He found himself lord of a divided kingdom, unable to fund much of an army and with many of his vassals against him.

    Bermudo, a staunch Catholic, had enjoyed the support of the Roman Pope during the Tripartite Schism. The steady rise of Anicetian sentiment had been viewed by the Church in great consternation: As early as 1437, a papal legate had been sent to try and arrest their progress, with poor results. Peaceful conversion attempts proved unsuccessful, leading several bishops to be defrocked in the 1450s for their supposed Anicetian sympathies. Latin-aligned bishops launched local pogroms against those viewed as heretics, encouraging the faithful to turn Anicetians over to either repent or be dispossessed - or worse, put to death. Unknown thousands of suspected Anicetians were burned at the stake in the ensuing Anicetian Purges. However, the anti-heretic sentiment also targeted other religious minorities: In 1464 the lord of Leon ordered the city's Jews to either convert to Christianity or leave under threat of summary execution, and more than a few Muslim merchants were murdered.

    In some areas of Santiago, however, Anicetians held most of the power - particularly in areas such as the Duchy of Sanabria and in other mountainous regions more remote from the capital. Anicetian sympathizers under threat from the Church threatened to flee to these areas, where they would find protection from nobles who either were themselves Anicetians or otherwise sympathetic to the sect. As one noble put it when approached by a churchmen, "These men and women are kin to us, and we could no more turn them away as we could cut off one of our own limbs."

    *​

    Traditional scholarship traces the outbreak of the Cantabrian Wars to an incident in 1473, when contemporary accounts report a group of Santiagonian clerics and armed peasants pursuing fleeing Anicetians across the border to a farming village in Asmarid territory. The mob is reported to have burned the village and slaughtered the population of about 500 people in search of the heretics they believed they were harbouring. The response from Asmarid hajib Al-Nasr was swift and decisive: He declared the reopening of jihad against Santiago and began to mass forces for a series of spring and summer campaigns that would steadily grind down what remained of the mountain kingdom.

    A more in-depth look at the situation provides more nuance. Indeed, spring raids had resumed even before the fall of the Hizamids, mostly undertaken on a small scale by local landlords seeking to assert their authority over restive Christian populations in the Duero Valley, or looking to keep imported Berber populations occupied. As well, Andalusian police actions against piracy in Santiago had seen combat along the Gallaecian coast. A low-level conflict had existed for about a quarter of a century prior to the incident of 1473, and it appears that Al-Nasr's emergence into affairs was simply the first instance in which the central authority in the Umayyad-recognizing world had chosen to abrogate the Treaty of Xavier and move against the north.

    Al-Nasr couched his campaign as a jihad in defense of the faithful, but he may have had more practical considerations in mind as well.

    The Andalusi shipbuilding industry was growing rapidly in the mid-15th century as the Asmarid overseas empire blossomed. Much of the shipbuilding wood controlled by the Asmarids came from the island of Liwaril, where a mercantile cartel of wealthy walis monopolized the supply and dictated prices. This timber cartel drove up the price of shipbuilding, taking advantage of southern Iberia's relatively lesser tree cover to control a prime source of good forestry. This power bloc was one Al-Nasr sought to break.

    To this day, Gallaecia is the most forested region of the Iberian peninsula. Much of this forest consists of oak and maritime pines - the former particularly useful for building ship frames and keels, the latter for outer planking. Gaining control of Santiago's forests would open up a vast supply of new hardwood and softwood to Asmarid control, allowing Al-Nasr to break the power of the Liwaril timber cartel and drive down the price of new ships.

    Further, the timing was likely dictated by the geopolitical ramifications of the Fourth Romanian War. The threat of war with France had loomed for a long time, with the War of the Navarrese Succession representing a lucky break for then-Hizamid fortunes. But with France no longer sharing a border with Andalusia and left badly weakened by its defeat at Romanian hands, French intervention seemed a distant possibility. Romania was a perilous neighbour in and of itself, but one on slightly better terms with Isbili: Moorish merchants traded informally but somewhat regularly with Provencal counterparts, and both powers shared a mutual antipathy for France, though Romanian closeness with perennial Andalusian gadfly Genoa remained a sore point.

    The timing, in other words, could not be better for Al-Nasr. He looked north and saw a golden opportunity to gain an economic and political advantage with little risk, and all that stood in his way was a weak, divided kingdom.

    *​

    The spring campaign of 1473 saw Andalusian regulars barrel across the Duero and lay siege to the city of Zamora, on the border recognized by the Treaty of Xavier. Much to the shock of Christian chroniclers, the city fell in a matter of days.

    The technology available on both sides of the conflict had advanced significantly in the 80 years since the Treaty, but the bulk of the wealth and knowledge lay on the Andalusian side. The Andalusian general Miswar ibn Gharsiya al-Tulaytuli Al-Thagri rolled up to the city armed not with the early tanins of the War of Navarrese Succession, but with contemporary blackpowder weapons capable of tearing down city walls.

    Al-Thagri's force came equipped with a number of heavy bombards suitable for laying siege to the city. Beyond that, the core of his force consisted of 1000 members of the Black Guard, each carrying a new hand weapon - the jazail.[1] This weapon was a long-barreled descendant of the hand tanin, but with a remarkable innovation: The snake latch, which used a curving lever and a match to ignite the blackpowder in the weapon. A typical early jazail resembled a marriage between a crossbow and a blackpowder weapon, with a crossbow-style butt and trigger, and featured a hook on the barrel for mounting the gun on a forkrest.[2]

    While the typical Asmarid army still consisted primarily of a mix of crossbowmen, mounted Berbers, heavy cavalry and elite Black Guard units, the proliferation of blackpowder weapons - jazails for those on foot, fireballs thrown from horseback, bombards for reducing cities or even other armies - ensured their technological edge would be prohibitive. This proved true even in the face of blackpowder weapons falling into Christian hands over the past 80 years. Santiagonian troops had begun to employ limited numbers of dragons and fireballs of their own, but with the kingdom's revenue base gutted, these tools were considered luxuries of the rich, not staples of what army the Kingdom was able to muster. Indeed, the Santiagonians were fortunate to be able to gather more than a couple of thousand troops into individual armies, in the face of much larger ones barreling in from the Asmarid south.

    The fall of Zamora kicked off a series of battles over that spring, with territory gradually falling into Asmarid hands. The fate of Santiago would be drawn out mainly by the leisurely pace with which Al-Nasr prosecuted his jihad, choosing to launch a series of spring campaigns in the style of those which took place before the Treaty of Xavier. It is this lackadaisical approach which allowed the conflict to spiral.

    By 1474, Santiago had begun pleading with its few contacts for help. The King of France sent a missive denouncing the Andalusians for their abrogation of the treaty, but sent only a token aid of gold coins. Angland - preoccupied with putting down a revolt by their Scottish tributaries - didn't respond at all, while Romania remained steadfastly neutral, wary of committing to their south while France remained a hostile party to the north. Some volunteers from Italy did eventually make their way to the north at the urgings of various high churchmen, but for the most part, Santiago was left to its own devices.

    The only ally to eventually come to Santiago's aid was its fellow northern kingdom: Once an ally to the Hizamids in the 1390s, Navarre, fearing for its independence, would throw in with Santiago in 1475 and begin to launch summer raids of their own. Once again the northern border of the Andalusian realm erupted into back-and-forth campaigns.

    This time, however, the campaigns were destined to be final, one way or the other.


    [1] The name parallels the OTL Afghan long gun, the jezail, but its origins aren't quite the same.
    [2] The Andalusian jazail is, basically, the early arquebus. Denliner is not wrong in saying the Asmarids are on their way to becoming a blackpowder empire.


    SUMMARY:
    1473: The Cantabrian Wars begin when Asmarid hajib Al-Nasr takes advantage of a border attack by a Santiagonian peasant mob to restart the summer campaigns against Santiago. His objective is to capture Santiago's rich oak and pine forests to fuel Asmarid shipbuilding ambitions.
    1475: Navarre resumes summer hostilities against Al-Andalus.
     
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    ACT VIII Part XXV: The Cantabrian Wars, Continued
  • With a booming of hooves, the knights of the Santiagonian army lowered their lances and charged.

    They charged straight into their doom. The fire and blare of the jazails had its say long before the once-vaunted heavy cavalry of the Cantabrian lords could even make it into spitting distance. Well-armoured men and powerful warhorses alike crumpled and fell to the muck of the battlefield, mowed down beneath a storm of iron shot.

    Beneath the tidal wave of jazail fire, crossbow bolts and javelins thrown from the flanks, the Santiagonians had little chance against the Moorish host - but then, the numbers would have made their case a desperate one anyway. The armies of the Kingdom were truly not the armies of the Kingdom anymore, merely the disorganized hosts of Dukes and Counts who owed obeisance to the throne in name but who ruled effectively on their own. Here at the field of Macedo de Vale Prados,[1] the Count of Braganza had mustered just 1,500 levies and 100 of the King's knights to face nearly twice as many Moors.

    The knights could, at least, do some damage if they got close. But the common men of Santiago - armed with weapons a generation out of date - could do little against the Black Guard and their jazails, or the crack Andalusi crossbowmen, or the agile Berber cavalry, now throwing fireballs alongside javelins (or even affixed to them). And they could do even less against the punching power of the tanins that rolled into play.

    Dragons of their own could help level the playing field. But they were a rarity, and even more so in Braganza.

    It made the battle in the orchards something of a foregone conclusion. By the time it was over, hundreds of Christian men lay fallen on the field, with few Moors among them. Still more found themselves taken from the field as prisoners.

    They would return soon enough. The saving grace for the Christians was always that the Moors were kind to those who fell captive during battle. Tales spread soon enough of the willingness of the Muslims to feed and clothe their prisoners, and to send them home upon receiving ransom or submission from their lords.

    The prisoners of Macedo de Vale Prados would find themselves homeward bound within weeks. Seeing little aid from the King coming, and with a Moorish army at the gates of his city, the Count of Braganza pulled down the banner of Santiago from his ramparts, and in its place raised the white flag of the Caliph. The gates were opened, a tribute was paid out, and a Moorish overlord was placed over the city - and while those who resisted violently were met with fierce reprisals, most were allowed to go about their daily lives.

    There would be grumbling. There always was. But there was ultimately no choice but to bend the knee to the Moors.


    ~


    We, the followers of the teachings of Anicetus dwelling here in the realm of the Lord of Viana, appeal to you, the representative of the Lord of the Moors. It is said that those Christians who dwell within your lands are permitted the right to worship as they see fit, and that they are not put to the death or the persecution. We wish only to worship God in peace. The goodmen and women of our community raise no hand of malice against you. We too have known the harshness of the followers of the Old Church, whose lords have persecuted as well the Mohammeddans. We would welcome you with open arms should you see fit to enter Viana, and we would submit to your administration with gladness.

    We await your reply.



    ~


    "The gardens here are shockingly disappointing," murmured Al-Nasr as he stepped through onto the grounds of the so-called Castle of Viguera.

    The battle for the city had been anticlimactic. In the years since Viguera had fallen into Christian hands, it had lapsed in importance to a mere middling city, a simple fief of some obscure Basque noble family who had built a castle that was really more a mansion. The colonnaded domicile had survived the fighting intact but with most of its treasures absent, absconded with in the nobles' flight from their demesne.

    At least the central courtyard was pleasant enough for a hajib, with its large reflecting pool and shady green trees. The hajib pushed back his silvering hair and settled to one of the benches by the water with a puff of breath. As much as he'd remained spry well into his sixties, Al-Nasr wasn't young anymore, his mind still sharp but his body more prone to wearying.

    With a soft mewl, a pale shape slunk up to his right side. He smiled and moved the creamy cat to his lap, stroking her back gently. A moment later, a serving-girl glided up to his other side with a steaming cup, which he took in hand and bowed his head over.

    A cup of yasemin tea[2] always helped to settle him - and to keep him young. It had been introduced to Al-Nasr by a merchant coming back with gifts from the land of Sin, and he'd taken a liking to it.

    Sipping and savouring the subtle taste of the tea, Al-Nasr gave himself a moment of quiet before taking another slow look around the courtyard. There was something too blunt and cold about the architecture for his taste. Christian buildings always seemed to be like this up here - heavier, with thicker columns and fewer arches. The style made him, briefly, pine for Isbili - or even his home in Sale, where he spent part of the year when not tending to affairs here in the north.

    Or affairs over the ocean, for that matter, he reflected with a wry smile. I feel like that consumes everything these days.

    Even the wars that had brought him from Isbili to Viguera went, in the end, back to Al-Nasr's concern in the new world. Certainly, the Rum here were a perennial nuisance, unable to control brigands and providing harbour to the accursed Anglish pirates. But chastising them was only part of the calculus for him. His people were multiplying, and they needed more land - and the forests of Santiago were the perfect place to get the wood to build the ships to get the people to that land, without paying extortionate prices to the fools on Liwaril.

    Getting Navarre out of his hair was a bonus. He hadn't expected them to abrogate the Treaty of Xavier so quickly.

    The cat in Al-Nasr's lap meowed lazily and looked up at him. Smiling behind his dark beard, he scratched behind the little pet's ears, evoking a purr, before letting his eyes travel towards the statues at the far end of the courtyard. A pair of large griffons, heads raised with pride.

    He gestured to a servant with a wave.

    "See to it that those things' throats are cut," he said. "This is a godly house now."


    ~


    "They've come too far as it is," muttered Bermudo V as he hunched deep into his suit of plate armour. It fit him uncomfortably - but not as uncomfortably as the realization that his kingdom was falling apart around him. "We can't let them come any farther. Not anymore."

    It wasn't often that the King of Santiago marched at the head of the army, but with the Moors encircling Leon and unleashing their bombards, all he could do was muster every man who could stand up, see daylight, and hear thunder in the hopes of rushing to the city's relief. The numbers weren't great - a few thousand, now - but at least many of them were knights and rich men from Santiago and the other handful of cities where he could still count on people to answer his call.

    That number was never large. It had diminished over the past five years. Zamora, Braganza, Viana, more - taken. The entire Duchy of Sanabria, simply abandoning him to cut a deal with the accursed Moors. The damned followers of Anicet turning tail across the realm to hunker under the Moorish banner. Heretics throwing in with infidels.

    It had to end. It would have to end, if not at Leon, then on the road there.

    The word had come down from the scouts: A large force of Moors had been seen moving up through the Sanabrian mountains, no doubt intent to intercept them. Their numbers were comparable to Bermudo's own force. They'd likely meet on the road to Leon, at the village of Destriana. If he could break this army, Bermudo could lead his men on to relieve Leon - the force of Moors besieging the city was smaller, and he could beat them with numbers.

    It would come down to Destriana. Bermudo could turn this conflict around there.

    So why are my hands trembling? The King looked down at his gauntlets - stared through them.

    Even in the face of the heresies of the Anicetians, Bermudo V had believed steadfastly in the grace and mercy of God. Here, with battle mere hours away, that faith seemed far away - yet he could merely grasp for it, as if to cling in his heart to the source of his greatest hope.


    [1] In the vicinity of OTL Macedo de Cavaleiros, Portugal.
    [2] Jasmine tea. Andalusian yasemin tea uses jasminium grandiflorum from Catalonia with a green tea base, but it is, of course, a fundamentally Chinese drink - an artifact of Sinophilia. Older rich people like it because it's believed to promote youth and healing.


    SUMMARY:
    1475: Braganza surrenders to the Asmarids following the lopsided Battle of Macedo de Vale Prados.
    1476: The Anicetians of Viana revolt against their mainline Catholic lord and welcome the Asmarids into the city, breaking an Asmarid siege.
    1477: Asmarid forces retake Viguera, in the Ebro Valley, dealing a blow to Navarre.
    1479: The Battle of Destriana. A decisive battle begins between Santiagonian forces led by King Bermudo V and an Asmarid force coming up from Sanabria.
     
    ACT VIII Part XXVI: The Battle of Destriana
  • Excerpt: Christianity in the Crossing Age - Mark Magnuson, Epic Libropress, AD 1999


    The Battle of Destriana marks the decisive moment in the Cantabrian Wars. While not the largest battle in the conflict in terms of numbers, it has been lionized by both Christians and Muslims through the years, and references to it continue to recur in popular histories, many of them romanticized almost beyond recognition.

    The stage was set for the encounter at Destriana when a force of about 6,000 men under Bermudo V, King of Santiago - bound to relieve Leon from an Asmarid siege - was intercepted by a column of about 6,000 to 7,000 Asmarid troops coming up from annexed lands around Lake Sanabria. At the head of the Asmarid force was an Andalusi general, Gharsiya ibn Abd al-Qadir al-Qurtubi, a younger commander with a modest track record.

    Al-Qurtubi's force had been bound for Astorga, but upon scouting reports that a Christian host was in the area, they diverted to try and intercept them. Bermudo, alerted to the danger, force-marched his army to Destriana and reached it ahead of al-Qurtubi. The Santiagonians had little time to establish a fortified position, but Bermudo nevertheless organized his troops into defensive ranks.

    Santiagonian armies of the period were typically not large, but Bermudo's was one of the largest of the period, and well-equipped considering the circumstances. His force consisted of roughly 1,000 mounted knights, 3,500 infantry - mostly peasant levies - and an additional 1,500 Italian and Provencal mercenaries. The core of his force consisted of a dozen field dragons,[1] which he set up on high ground just south of the village of Destriana, overlooking the River Duerna. He organized his troops in flanking positions to defend the artillery and placed his archers close to the core. Bermudo's arrangement presented the Andalusians with a quandry: While the Duerna was a relatively shallow stream and easy to cross, doing so would slow them down enough for archers and dragoons to wreak heavy casualties.

    Al-Qurtubi quickly received word from Berber scouts of the Santiagonian troop movements, and he reasoned that a frontal assault on Bermudo's position would be suicidal. The Asmarid force held due south of the Christian army before Al-Qurtubi divided his troops, consisting of a mixture of Andalusian junds, mounted Berbers and a core of 500 members of the Black Guard.

    Al-Qurtubi sent his troops at Destriana in two blocks. The first group consisted mainly of infantry, heavy on crossbowmen and backed up by field tanins and jazails. This larger unit proceeded westward to cross the Duerna southwest of Bermudo's position, taking advantage of tree cover along the river. The infantry managed to cross the river and begin a slow approach, drawing the attention of Bermudo's field dragons.

    This move allowed Al-Qurtubi's smaller second force to cross the river to the east. This more mobile force consisted of the Berber cavalry and mounted Black Guard. The force crossed the river while Bermudo trained his field dragons on the western army, largely making it over without incident and circling to begin harassing the infantry on Bermudo's flank. The Santiagonian force split its fire, buying the western army time to dig in and set up their own bombards, but casualties in the early phases favoured the Santiagonians as the Asmarid army fought to set up their artillery under even divided cannon fire.

    Seeking to disrupt the Asmarid preparations, Bermudo ordered his heavy cavalry to charge the Asmarid infantry. The charge inflicted significant casualties on the Andalusians before being blunted by jazail fire, forcing the Santiagonians back to their defensive positions. Al-Qurtubi then sent in his own, lighter cavalry, peeling off additional ranks of the Santiagonian levies.

    The speed of the Berber cavalry enabled them to quickly swoop around and encircle the Santiagonians, managing to outflank the infantry and engage the withdrawing knights while negating the ability of the field dragons to fire. The Andalusian infantry regrouped and closed the circle, opening fire with crossbows and bombards as the front ranks advanced into the fight. The battle quickly devolved into a bloody close-quarters battle.

    It is this melee that provides the basis for countless romanticizations of Destriana. With the poorly-trained levies suffering brutal losses at the hands of the Asmarid cavalry, Bermudo - known to history otherwise as a relatively powerless king - managed to rally the remaining knights and regroup onto a site known as Balduino's Farm, for the peasant who owned the patch of land. Re-energized, the Santiagonian core fought back ferociously against the better-equipped Asmarids, managing to successfully surprise the Black Guard with a successful charge and inflict heavy losses on the most elite Asmarid unit. The surprising resistance forced Al-Qurtubi to regroup and launch another attempt to dislodge the knights.

    Al-Qurtubi refrained from immediately rushing into battle, instead bombarding Bermudo's position with his field tanins, crossbows and jazails. The blackpowder fire inflicted several losses, compounded by subsequent hit-and-run attacks by the Berbers, breaking up the knights' defensive formation with fireballs and thrown javelins. The rapid attacks forced Bermudo's core into a defensive circle, giving Al-Qurtubi an opportunity to send in his infantry.

    The final engagement at Balduino's Farm, while a foregone conclusion in some ways, saw Bermudo and his knights go down fighting vigorously. The so-called Lament of Destriana, written by the Catholic monk Arduino de Sahagun in 1489, records the following:

    As the infidels surrounded them, King Bermudo raised his eyes to the heavens, and there did he behold a dove alighting across the face of the sun, and he knew that the power of God was with him. And he took his sword in hand and he laid about him, and the knights of the land smote the Moorish host with righteous fury, for their faith would gird them even before the most desperate of circumstances. And the Moors were sore afraid, for none among them had seen the fury of God in the faces of men. There on the Field of Balduino's Farm, the adventurers struck down foeman by the score, until Bermudo's arm grew weary from swinging his blade. And yet he continued to swing until the last.

    Reports on the final fate of Bermudo are vague. Arduino de Sahagun reports that Bermudo was struck in the chest by several jazail balls fired from a distance, but a letter from Bernardo de Coruna, one of the common soldiers at the battle and an aspiring poet, describes the King being unhorsed after being struck in the shoulder by a crossbow bolt, then run through by a javelin when he tried to regain his footing. Muslim accounts of the battle credit a Berber named Tumart ibn Tashfin al-Zanati with slaying Bermudo, but give few details.

    Most of Bermudo's remaining army was killed during their final stand and withdrawal. The knights were largely decimated, with most survivors of the battle being peasant conscripts or Italian mercenaries. The Asmarid force also suffered significant casualties, but managed to rout the Santiagonians and obliterate the threat to their siege of Leon.

    *​

    The Battle of Destriana was the decisive moment in the Cantabrian Wars. Bermudo's death threw an already divided Santiago into confusion as a kingdom under siege suddenly found itself kingless and faced with a contested succession: Bermudo left behind two sons, but both were underage.

    Court intrigues eventually saw Bermudo's eldest son Rodrigo elevated to the throne, but he was a boy of just 12 at the time, and within a month there were several moves afoot to depose him in favour of more capable candidates. The divisions would contribute to the rapid breakdown of unity on the Santiagonian side of the Cantabrian Wars, leaving dukes and counts to effectively fend for themselves as political divisions broke the realm down into warlordism - disparate fiefdoms recognizing various pretenders or Rodrigo, largely left to their own devices and forced to face the Asmarid advance singularly while fighting amonst themselves.

    Bermudo's body, meanwhile, was recovered from the battlefield three days later by a group of monks. Fearing that his remains would be desecrated by the Asmarids, the monks buried the fallen king in haste at the site now called Mojon del Rey, northwest of Astorga, in a wooded area somewhat back from the main pilgrimage route of the Way of Saint James. The site was obscure for many years before being located again in the 1700s, overlooking an arroyo a distance outside the city. Later archaeological surveys found the remains of a man killed in the late 1400s, bearing wounds to his head, shoulder and sternum. Genetic testing has since positively identified these remains as those of Bermudo, and Mojon del Rey has become a notable historic site - and something of a place of pilgrimage for Christian extremists.

    With Bermudo out of the way, meanwhile, the Asmarids were able to consolidate their control over much of Santiago. Leon fell by the end of August, along with several other cities, including Vigo, Lugo and Astorga. This limited Santiago to its north coast and redoubts in the Cantabrian Mountains, and it left the city demoralized when the summer campaign of 1480 saw Asmarid trools roll directly up to the gates of Santiago de Compostela. The city surrendered with little fighting.

    The fall of Santiago left little more than mop-up work in the northwest, allowing hajib Al-Nasr to redirect his forces to the subjugation of Navarre in the northeast. The Basque kingdom, left standing alone, would ultimately capitulate in 1481.

    While Santiago was outright annexed, the much-weakened Navarre instead chose to surrender in exchange for certain guarantees. The last Basque king was forced into retirement, sent into house arrest on a luxurious estate in southern Andalusia. The remaining Navarrese territory would be reorganized into a wilayah, ruled by an Asmarid military governor. However, Christian landholders and ecclesiasts were permitted to retain their lands and titles, and the area was generally treated as a Christian enclave.

    The collapse of two Christian kingdoms - even weak, divided ones considered on the fringes of Europe to begin with - sent waves of consternation through the more cosmopolitan classes in Europe. Fears abounded of disruption to the Way of Saint James. These were mitigated somewhat by the Council of Toledo, called in 1482 by the Mozarabic Bishop of Toledo and attended by Mozarabic, Catholic and Anicetian theologians under the watchful eye of Al-Nasr himself. The council was really a sham event orchestrated to demonstrate Al-Nasr's magnanimity to the Catholic Church: The leaders of the three Christian communities produced a call for pilgrims to remain unmolested en route to Santiago, and Al-Nasr made a show of accepting their recommendation.

    Localized rebellions and resistance from local landholders would continue in the north for decades - indeed, terror groups like the Bullfighters continue to draw their inspiration from a sense of resistance against the outcomes of the Cantabrian Wars. The northern kingdoms would never truly be Islamized to the extent that southern and central Andalusia were, ensuring a large Christian minority would continue to dwell in Iberia. But the fall of Santiago and Navarre would effectively consolidate the Iberian Peninsula under a single entity for the first time since the height of the Visigothic Kingdom, and it would serve to further undermine confidence in the Catholic Church at a time when the Church could ill afford it.

    *​

    The end of the Cantabrian Wars is often treated by historians of western Eurasia as the end of the Middle Period. It marks the rise of the Asmarid Empire as a world power, coinciding with their overseas expansion. Together with the Fourth Romanian War and the end of the Tripartite Schism, the event marks a rapid transition to modernity: The Blossoming, the settlement of the New World, and the globalization of politics, technology, peoples and cultures.

    The world following 1481 would be transformed dramatically, and the Cantabrian Wars left the Asmarids well-positioned to steer much of that transformation.


    ~


    END OF ACT VIII "DAYS OF SAIL AND STEAM"

    THE END OF THE MIDDLE PERIOD
    AND THE BEGINNING OF ACT IX
    THE RECORD OF AN AGE OF CHANGE AND WONDER


    "A STORY WRITTEN IN BLACKPOWDER"
    THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD OF MOONLIGHT IN A JAR



    [1] Field artillery.

    SUMMARY:
    June 19, 1479: The Battle of Destriana. Santiagonian King Bermudo V is killed after a heroic last stand outside the village of Destriana. The battle triggers a leadership crisis in Santiago and breaks the kingdom down into independent feudalities, many of which begin to settle with or surrender to the Asmarids independently.
    1480: The Asmarids largely complete the subjugation of Santiago.
    1481: Navarre capitulates to the Asmarids in exchange for a degree of autonomy. The Cantabrian Wars end. The Early Modern Period begins.
    1482: The Council of Toledo. The Asmarids provide assurances that the Way of Saint James will remain open.
     
    Last edited:
    INTERMISSION: Dat Mapdate, 1482
  • I'm a bit late to this one, but here's the latest mapdate:

    oTWHert.jpg



    Western Eurasia and the Mediterranean:

    * The Pyrenees: Urgell continues to stubbornly maintain its independence - it's one of those places that's too remote and too minor for the Asmarids to bother picking fights with, but too used to its independence to outright declare fealty to Romania. It's a Romanian protectorate, sure, but the Count here remains nominally independent. Newly left over, however, are the remnants of Navarre - the County of Aran, in the Val d'Aran, centred on the town and castle of Vielha. The people here speak Aranese, a form of the Gascon language - it's one of the langues d'oc. Aran has largely been left alone due to the difficulty of marching an army up here, and it's likely that the area will eventually be annexed by Romania or join it willingly.

    * Angland: The Anglish tried to establish a settlement in Elderbeve in the early 1460s, but most of its people died over the winter and the survivors were picked up by Andalusian sailors and taken back to the Maghurins. They've had more success since: The settlement of King's Town was established in 1475 by a group of Anglish settlers, and the Archbishop of York has sanctified the effort by acknowledging that the lands the Anglish have discovered are, by right, King Robart's Land. Anglish pirates continue to ply the high seas in search of Andalusian merchantmen to prey on, but they're running into stiffer resistance now. At home, meanwhile, unrest in Scotland and Ireland is beginning to distract the throne - both regions recognized the Pope of Rome during the Tripartite Schism and still consider the church in Angland to be dangerously devoid of good Church influence.

    * Denmark: When not dealing with tensions with Sweden and unrest in Norway, Denmark has been taking to the high seas. As an ally and trading partner of the Anglish, it's highly active in the North Sea. In the past couple of decades, Danish sailors have made it to the tip of Greenland, following the tales of the old sagas and rumours of a mythical "Heavenland" their ancestors discovered. It'll only be a matter of time before Danish feet touch Alascan soil. The New World, in other words, is set to be defined not by Spain in the early going, but by Anglo-Scandinavians following well behind Islamic Moors. Denmark at this point punches above its weight, being relatively wealthy from a brisk trade through the Baltic and the North Sea areas.

    * Russia, Sweden, Novgorod, Prussia and Tavastia: The Bear is beginning to show its teeth. Over the past 30 years, Suzdal Russia has geared up significantly. It was always at war with its neighbours, but when Kirill the Great took power in 1457, he set his sights on removing the obstacles between Russia and European markets. That meant biting chunks out of Novgorod and gaining control of the fur trade and access to the White Sea. The war roped in Novgorod's ally Prussia and kicked off the Northern War, in which the Russians tore Novgorod into tiny pieces and smashed the Prussians clean out of parts of old White Ruthenia, recapturing Iziaslavl and everything around it in the process. The Bear looked poised to march straight into Finland from there, but Sweden swooped into the war in 1464 and propped up a Catholic pretender as ruler of the Tavastians, establishing a puppet kingdom and organizing the remnants of Novgorod's army and upper class to keep Kirill out of Scandinavia proper. The eventual Treaty of Vizersk saw Prussia forced to fork over tribute to the Bear, recognized Tavastia as a Swedish client and left the rest of Novgorod to Kirill's tender mercies. Russia has since pushed its hegemony up to the Northern Dvina and subjugated the Nenets there, and Kirill is now demolishing the Kabans and the Permyaks on his way to expanding Russian power all the way to the Urals, as is inevitable. But the other story here is Sweden, which is emerging as a power in the north in its own right.

    * Poland and Ruthenia: Bordering the Bataids is never a fun place to be. Ruthenia lost its Black Sea access to the Bataids in a series of raids and attacks in the late 1460s, though a Bataid army was defeated at the fort of Khemev on the Dniester before they could push into Ruthenia proper. Finding itself surrounded by hostile powers - the Bataids to the south, the Russians to the north - Ruthenia has become cozier with the Polish, and the two noble families have intermarried quite a bit over the years. A formal alliance has emerged between the two, into which Qimir sometimes enters if it means wrestling Russia.

    * Qimir: The Red Horde invaded Qimir in the late 1450s, flooding the polity with new qazaqs and toppling the local power structure. The Salchakobich Grand Princes remain in power, but they're relying more on the Argyns to provide their military muscle. The Salchakobichi themselves are of Tuvan extraction and are, like a majority of the people here, Nestorian - Qimir has a mix of Nestorian, Orthodox, Buddhist, pagan and Muslim believers, though the Christians predominate. They've got blackpowder weapons and have been able to ally with Ruthenia and Poland to keep Kirill the Great from gobbling any one of them up, though in truth it's always hard to tell who controls the areas outside of the Tauric Peninsula and the coast, given that the inland power structure is dominated by groups of wandering qazaqs who flow in and out.

    * Circassia: Records here are always hard to come by, but Circassia has consolidated somewhat thanks to the turmoil in Qimir and an easing of tensions with Georgia. The Circassians have also largely adopted Nestorian beliefs, much of this thanks to the influence of Argyn arrivals from the Red Horde. Actually these arrivals are partially responsible for the consolidation and form a large chunk of a nascent ruling class, at the head of which is a king by the name of Shuwey - a name which denotes an intrepid horsemen. He's actually of Argyn/Basmyl stock but has become immersed in Circassian culture.

    * The Bataid Empire: Hungry and rapidly transforming into a blackpowder force to be reckoned with. Not even the rise of the Irbisids to their east and changes in Egypt have been enough to take a bite out of them - indeed, they've expanded up the coast of the Black Sea. But their biggest move was swiftly subjugating the Hashimids and gaining control of Mecca and Medina, adding legitimacy to their claim to control the caliphate. The tribes of Nejd reject these claims - they consider the Bataids to be Turkmens and insufficiently orthodox, and they're in a constant battle with them. The Bataids mostly just shrug at this and continue to nibble on the edges of Hungary.

    * Egypt: The fate of Egypt was decided in 1467, when a Bataid invasion was just barely thwarted by a numerically inferior Harabid army at the Battle of El Arish. The core element of the Harabid army was a mix of Berbers, Arab nomads and Turkic ghilman, and the Turkic element took the bulk of the losses, leaving a power vacuum. Into it stepped the most influential general in Egypt: Hasan ibn Al-Hakam al-Bayadhi is a member of the Banu Bayadh, a Bedouin tribe from Sinai descended from the Banu Judham. With the Harabids falling to decadence, Hasan swept them aside in the early 1470s and established himself as the protector of Egypt, refusing to pay tribute to the Bataids. The Bayadhids are mainline Sunnis of the Hanafi madhhab, but there are a few followers of Maliki among them, and there's talk of recognizing the Umayyad Caliph in the khutbah if it would mean tying Egypt to another strong country. The Asmarids haven't been very responsive yet.

    * The Irbisid Khaganate: More properly, the Realm of the Snow Leopard Khan. The Irbisids are a Taban (Oirat) dynasty out of Khwarezm, led by a conquering general named Khubilai - a descendant of the Golden Khan. Once a mercenary, he managed to gain control of Urgench and Samarkand in the internecine wars between the post-Taban states, using them as a power base to go on a gigantic conquering spree. The Mezinids had nothing in the tank to deal with a generational threat from the north, and they folded quickly, reducing them to a rump in Balochistan. Khubilai - a Sunni whose totem is the snow leopard, the so-called irbis, or aq bars - has set himself up in Rayy as a dominant ruler, and he's eyeing the Bataids avariciously. In some ways, though, Khubilai is a typical Turkic conqueror whose realm may not last long after his death.




    The Chinese and Indian Spheres:

    * The Great Wu: Beginning to stretch their wings a little more, re-tributizing the Uyghurs of Qocho and exercising greater influence over the north. More to the point, the progression of steam technology is only continuing. Steam-powered trip hammers and bellows are becoming more common in forges in Chinese urban centres, leading to a steady proliferation of high-quality blackpowder weapons and metal tools. The first experiments with using steam-powered mechanisms to pump water are also under way, and proposals exist to use the technology to control things like locks or barge chains on the Grand Canal. The Dragon, in other words, is slowly beginning to realize what it has. It's slower and fighting against cheap labour more than it did OTL, but the seeds of an outright Industrial Revolution are being planted.

    * Japan: Resentment against the Miura Shoguns exploded in recent years following the death of a particularly heavy-handed shogun, leaving behind only a baby as his heir. Mysteriously, the wee lad fell into a cistern, leading to every member of Japan's scheming regency council trying at once to assert their rights to the Shogunate. Japan is now in the middle of a free-for-all civil war, and the likely victor will be the Nanbu clan. The Nanbu are based at Morioka in northern Honshu and control most of the northeast of the island along with claims on Ezochi: They managed to beat the Ainu on paper, but rebellions there continue. While the Nanbu have momentum, however, opposition is rallying behind the Imagawa clan in the Aichi region: The general Imagawa Nobunori was a key member of the regency council and is seen as the most traditional candidate, with a solid court backing. The question is whether he can pull together enough support to match the Nanbu's bigger army and larger budget.

    * Ryukyu: A hundred years of trade with Andalusian traders has resulted in Islam taking root on the island. Uchinaa proper has been brought under the control of the king based at Chuzan, who follows the traditional religion but has extended privileges to Islamic merchants. Local traders and nobility have begun to convert in some numbers. While Ryukyu does not have a Muslim majority by any means, it'll probably have one in a century or two, though there's a decidedly Buddhist flavour to it.

    * The Nimanni Sultanate: Extending their control east into the sub-Himalayan regions of India and bringing Islam with them. They're engaged in a series of bloody wars with the Seunas, and while they gained some ground in the 1470s, the Seunas stalemated them in a battle somewhere in Rajasthan, bringing the Muslim push into India to a halt for a little while. Things are tense, though.

    * The Lavo Kingdom: On the up-and-up. A war with the remnants of the Khmer in the 1460s and 70s resulted in Lavo annexing the rest of Cambodia, and tensions with the Avas of Burma and the Radhas of Bengal continue. Arakan, basically, is up for grabs at the intersection of Hinduism and Buddhism, and it's unclear who'll win out right now. Islamic traders are pretty common here and form minority communities along the coast.

    * Champa: Hanging on despite China's control over the north. Actually that's taken a lot of heat off of them by sparing them war with their northern neighbours: The Wu don't much care if the Champa see to their own affairs, so long as they bend the knee to the Dragon.

    * Ma-i: The OTL Philippines are undergoing something of a wave of state formation. The influence of traders from Aceh (and Mubaraka) has helped promote Islamic state formation in the central islands, where the Sultanate of Madyas is the key Islamic power, but the biggest mover in the archipelago is actually Caboloan, a large Wu client in the north. On Mindanao, meanwhile, Buddhism and Hinduism have the most influence, and the island is broken up into a handful of small Indianized kingdoms and a couple of sultanates.




    Sudan:

    * The Simala Emirate: Over the past thirty years, the Simala have only grown more prosperous. More than even the Andalusians, the people living along the Wadi al-Dahab have embraced New World crops, and the population of the area is exploding. Meanwhile, the Fulani grip on power has only increased, and they increasingly pull the strings in the Emirate. Fulani nomads and regulars form the backbone of the army, which has begun pushing down the coast with the help of Andalusian-style boats. The people of Bazagu continue to cause them problems, but they've basically gotten that far, increasing their hegemony and establishing new seaside villages and farming settlements in their quest for ever more farmland - and as they cut back trees for farms, they unknowingly roll back the habitat of the tsetse fly. A lot of this new settlement is taking place around the mouth of the River Kasamansa, where Serer and Fulani people are beginning to move in alongside the locals, the Jola. The Jola don't mind the Serer being there - the two groups believe they have common ancestry, and the Jola have welcomed Serer settlers with good humour - but the Fulani have been somewhat more troublesome to them.

    * The Lolwe Empire: Luo hegemony continues to grow. The Lolwe Empire is the first true empire in the African Great Lakes, and not much is there to stand in their way. They subsumed the kingdom of Ankore in the 1470s and are enforcing tributary status on chiefdoms and tribal lands well south of Lake Lolwe as their power continues to grow. Armed with iron weapons and trading briskly down the Nile, the Lolwe are a rising Ismaili Shia power. That said, internal conflicts with Sunni and pagan Bantu-speakers continue to be an issue for them.

    * The Hussenids: Inevitably, the Addi people have expanded and dogpiled up into Kanem-Bornu. The nomadic Hussenid tribe have managed to topple the Sunni kingdom there and replace it with a Shia dynasty of Hilalian stock, further expanding the post-Hilalian realm in Subsahara. The Addi takeover damaged a number of very old cities and has increased nomadism in the region, and while they're militarily powerful, their economy is still largely slave-based.

    * The Warsheikh Sultanate: Presently at an apogee of their power. Somali merchants form a vital link on the trans-Sudani trade routes, and they've got new customers pining for Indian and Chinese goods: They're key middlemen for the Luo of Lolwe now. Warsheikh itself is becoming the wealthiest city in Subsahara, and the city has expanded its control to other Somali city-states thanks to a stronger navy and a larger mercantile fleet. There's really nothing they can't buy at this point.

    * NiKongo: Bloody statecraft. Trends from 30 years ago are continuing: Asian rice has led to a population boom, and cassava has begun to arrive in earnest. The Emirate's leadership consists of a dynasty of the Kongo tribe, ruling out of the town of NsiKongo, which has adopted a lot of Moorish architectural tropes: While they make good use of local red/bronze-toned brick and the like, there are a lot of arches and other elements clearly cribbed from the Moors, saying nothing of the blue zellige tile. At the moment, NsiKongo is the largest city south of Binu, home to a solid 20,000 people and still growing. The Emirate looks almost certain to be the Big Guy in central Subsahara, though there are some smaller tribes beginning to organize around them....



    The Algarves/Alasca

    * The Great Lakes: We've touched on the emergence of the Haudenosaunee, but there's more activity happening in OTL Ontario. Conflict with the Haudenosaunee has seen the locals begin to consolidate under the Chonnonton, who are currently fighting both the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat over the fertile hunting lands between the lakes. OTL, these natives were known as the Neutrals, but they're becoming more consolidated under the Chonnonton tribe here.

    * The Niitsitapi: They've veered southeast a little. The OTL Blackfoot are more likely to take the role of the Sioux, moving into the Dakotas in search of good hunting grounds.
     
    ACT VIII Appendix B: Supplemental Mapdate
  • I'm at a point where I feel like there are a million tiny details that I nee to keep track of now as we move into the modern world.

    Re. the Algarvian polities: I'll have a lot to say about them in a future post that should warrant more detail. But I guess this one will drill down into a few lesser lights that aren't super obvious on the map.

    * The Low Countries: OTL, unity in this area was fostered by the Burgundian and Habsburg interlude, but with this TL's Geroldsecks concentrated in Swabia and Bohemia, the big mover in the Low Countries is Frederick III, Duke of Brabant and Count of Holland. Frederick's family - the House of Antwerp - is a cadet branch of the Reginarids and has been accumulating power steadily over the years, managing to unify a lot of smaller fiefs under their own rulership through both marriage and internecine warring. Marriage alliances have also ensured that Frederick has claims on Flanders, which is still a French territory, albeit one that tends to go its own way a lot. It's likely that Frederick's desire for Flanders will bring the Holy Roman Empire and France to blows at some point, a war France would struggle to win considering that the HRE is riding high right now. The dialect of German here is becoming very heavily influenced by Brabantine, earlier so than OTL, leading steadily towards a language with some vague similarities to Dutch but with more accusative forms and a few different phrases you wouldn't hear in the OTL Dutch language. What's also driving prosperity here is trade: The coastal cities in Brabant and Holland do brisk trade with the Nordic countries, especially Angland. At the moment, Antwerp is one of the most prosperous cities in the Holy Roman Empire, with a thriving and cosmopolitan mercantile class embracing new ideas about trade and travel. If any HRE colonization occurs, it is likely to be spearheaded by sailors out of Brabant.

    * The Archduchy of Swabia: As Denliner noticed, the home of the Geroldsecks. While they also control Bohemia right now, they've elevated their holdings in Swabia to a special status: Archduchy. They control Baden and a huge chunk of Transjurania as well as much of the area east of Baden. The big city of note in this area is actually Strassburg, and one of the less publicized conditions of the HRE's trouncing of the Pope recently was abrogating the "Prince" part of the Prince-Bishopric there and bringing the city under control of the Geroldsecks, ostensibly as an Imperial City, in fact because the Geroldsecks wanted the tax revenue from the region's largest municipality. The centrality of this area and the dominance of the Geroldsecks here will likely ensure that Swabia will have some sort of special status long into the future, even if the Geroldsecks lose control of Bohemia - or lose control of Swabia and remain in Bohemia.

    * The Duchy of Rugen: The House of Strahl rules this area, the most prosperous region in the HRE's northeast. While the population here were originally Slavs subjugated by the Germans, German culture has spread rapidly here, and many families of old Slavic stock consider themselves German now. Rugen itself has become something of a private island for the wealthy and noble, controlled directly from the city of Strahl right across from it and covered in beautifully manicured gardens and elegant manors. In the hinterlands, you can still find Slavic-speakers descended from the Veleti, known as Wiltzen to the Germans, but most of society has been Germanized. This area is quite prosperous, doing a brisk trade with other northern cities and serving as a key receiving port for furs shipped down from places like Tavastia, Prussia and Russia. There's a lot of wealth accumulating around here, and a lot of power to go with it.

    * Vienne: A major bone of contention between the Holy Roman Empire and the rising Kingdom of Romania. Guy the Great views Vienne and its surrounding region as a de jure holding of his, as ruler of what was once the Arelat, but the Holy Roman Empire considers the old Arelat to be long-time German territory. The Geroldsecks stand on this point strongly, as losing the Dauphine area would put Romania closer to the core of the Geroldseck demesne. It's one of many flashpoints between Romania and the HRE, one that's likely to get caught up in future disputes about who is and is not the successor of the Romans. The Geroldsecks do not like that their southern neighbour is claiming the name "Romania," despite the fact that the Provencal language is increasingly just called "Romance" and despite the fact that the Romanians justify it by their control over the Roman Province. Now that the HRE again controls northern Italy, their claim is strengthened, but Romania's control of southern Italy gives them another card in their deck, too.

    * Ireland: Decidedly not happy with being under the thumb of Angland, but with little leadership capable of making hay about it. The Anglish ate Ireland piecemeal, with the island divided into little counties and chiefdoms unable to truly oppose the takeover. For the most part, Ireland is controlled by Anglish landholders who treat the Irish like serfs, or by Irish petty kinglets who sold out to the Anglish to save their own skins. There are periodic rebellions here, but they're mostly of a peasant nature: Now and then groups of serfs will rise up with pitchforks and torches, obligating the Anglish to come in and stomp them down. As yet, there has been no great unifying rebel leader able to bring the Irish together to mount a serious rebellion.

    * The Bataids: Actually the most ethnically diverse power on Earth right now. Islam is beginning to take root in conquered lands, though rather more slowly than it did in Iberia. Greek culture is proving fairly resilient, and even nearly 300 years after the fall of Constantinople, there is no Muslim majority in Hellas - something like 40% of Greeks have converted. The Bataids don't mind that, because the Greek lands are wealthy and the dhimmi tax is quite lucrative. Those Greeks who did convert are developing a distinctly Arabic and Persian-influenced form of Greek culture, one the Patzinaks are embracing elements of as well. Arabic is the language of state and religion, though Greek is commonly written in an Ajami script. Notably, a lot of Arabs, Persians and Berbers HATE the Bataids and view their rule as the captivity of the Caliphate by Turks and Greeks.
     
    ACT VIII Appendix C: Culture and Society in the Otomi Alliance
  • As a supplemental, a look at culture in the Otomi Alliance right now.


    The Otomi Alliance, like every polity in the New World, has had to grapple with the cultural impact of virgin-field pandemics killing most of their population. While the 95% figures of OTL weren't realized, largely due to the far lighter touch Andalusis and Berbers had on the region (as compared to the 90%-ish toll in Yukatan and the actual genocide of the indigenous population of Mawana), the Valley of Mexico lost something like 80% of its population to illnesses they had no concept of. Add to that the influx of Sufis, Moorish traders and kishafa, all of whom seem to be immune to the disease, and you have a recipe for people beginning to get the idea that something about these strangers is saving them from disease. Among the surviving peoples in the Valley of Mexico, conversion to Islam has been unusually rapid and vigorous, largely because even common people see it as protection from disease. It's broadly believed that embracing Islam means receiving the protection of God.

    Together with the rapid spread of Islam, particularly among the upper classes, has been a trend towards Arabization of the elite. Indigenous languages - Otomi and various Nahuatl dialects - are still widely spoken among common people and in the hinterlands, though Ajami scripts exist for Otomi and Nahuatl. But increasingly, the upper echelons of society speak a dialect of Arabic influenced by the Andalusian form. The dialect is broadly classified as an early form of Nanyu Arabic - after the Arabization of the Otomi's name for their own language, Hnahnu. It's rather more musical-sounding than other forms of Arabic but otherwise shows its clear Iberian-Maghrebi influence.

    The language has come with cultural Arabization. The Otomi ruling class have taken Arabic names and adopted fashions influenced by their overseas benefactors. The ruler of the Alliance calls himself the Emir and speaks Arabic, and the city known in Otomi as Dahnini - increasingly Arabized to "Danin" - has all the trappings of a typical Muslim city, including an impressive mosque that started life as a pagan temple and has since sprouted a minaret. A lot of Otomi trends have become blended into this Arabization: Arabo-Otomi people will often wear the sarape, often in bright colours. It's become increasingly in vogue for particular families to develop their own sarape patterns and pass them down. In that respect, a sarape is becoming something like a tartan, with each pattern tied in with a new cultural focus on genealogy. Some Otomi families are even beginning to forge Arab genealogies for themselves, not unlike how the Andalusis did.

    More than a few pre-Islamic practices have survived, though. Even among devout Muslims, it's considered common to set out a candle on nights when the moon is full. A century or so after first contact with Islam, the meaning of this is starting to fade, but it originally started with the Sufist cult of the One and Only, which conflated Otomi beliefs about the Old Father and the moon goddess into Islamic frameworks. These were set out on full moon nights, when cult members would pray to the One and Only - a sort of symbolic recognition of the old figures of the past sanctifying the appeal to the higher power. These days, the One and Only cult is a very fringe thing with few adherents, but the lighting of candles and ceremonial fires still has great symbolic value even among Muslims in the region: It symbolizes warmth, renewal and new life.

    Of course, there's also a large portion of the population consisting of Old World arrivals. The devastation wrought by virgin-field epidemics has allowed Andalusis, Berbers and Sudanis to make up a solid percentage of the population, even in comparatively small numbers. The three groups are much more orthodox in their worship and lifestyles than most Otomi, and many of them form part of the upper class. Andalusi merchants and courtiers, Berber soldiers and traders, Serer marabouts, Wolof mercenaries and others are easy to find here.

    Also noteworthy is that there is no human sacrifice in the Otomi realm - at least outside of hinterland pagans who cling to the old ways. Officially, the Emir outlaws human sacrifice, and it's considered punishable by death. While the Otomi still prefer to capture enemies alive, they've adopted Arabo-Berber practices of slavery. Pagan slaves are growing quite common in the Otomi realm. While many of these folks are nomads or other semi-settled groups within the greater isthmus area, their susceptability to disease has resulted in the Otomi beginning to buy in slaves from the Sudan. Their slave economy isn't huge yet, but they're a customer for places like the NiKongo Emirate and the Islamizing states in the OTL Bight of Benin.

    The Alliance - in fact increasingly just an Otomi hegemony - has a few economic benefits growing for it. One of their biggest cards is that they're the world's leading source of vanilla. No one's figured out how to grow it satisfactorily outside of Anawak's climate conditions, so the Otomi remain basically the only ones with access to vanilla. This works great for them because it's becoming popular overseas back in Al-Andalus and the Maghreb. The Otomi have shouldered in on the former Totonac monopoly over the crop, as have enterprising Andalusis. If you're a vanilla farmer in the Otomi lands, you've got a cash crop that's in huge demand. Kakaw is also exported, but it's easier to grow abroad, so the Otomi don't benefit from a monopoly on it anymore. Incidentally, a lot of slaves coming into Anawak end up going to work on vanilla plantations: Farming vanilla is very labour-intensive, which is part of why it costs so much.
     
    ACT IX Part 1: The Hajj of Muhammad Mahbat and Other Milestones
  • The safina that pulled into the harbour of Isbili that afternoon was unlike any the crowd by the dock had seen before.

    In design it was large but conventional - and yet the colourful draperies and painted designs across the upper band of its hull were unique and startling, and the people aboard were vibrantly dressed and ornately garbed, even those Sudani and Andalusi men among them. Universal in their garb was a cloth draped over the shoulders and woven in elaborate patterns and colours. The sarape was known to some of the merchants here, but not yet in high fashion.

    The most attention-grabbing of all the guests was the man who descended the ramp, a middle-aged man clearly neither Andalusi nor Berber nor Zanj in his heritage. His selection of gold and turquoise accessories meshed well with the simple but bright colours of his sarape, underrobe and headscarf: They were patterned in elegant bands of turquoise, indigo, white and gold, calligraphic characters woven into bands across the sarape in a font just barely recognizable as Arabic.

    The glories of Al-Danin were familiar to Muhammad Mahbat,[1] Emir of the Otomi - and yet the splendor of Isbili was another thing altogether. To see it from the Ocean Sea was magnificent enough, but to gaze upon it was remarkable. A city of marble and glorious gardens, of soaring arches and domed buildings, of graceful minarets, of ships at port whose masts and sails seemed to brush the sky. Even the song of birds overhead was far different.

    As his entourage gathered around him, he bowed his head and drew a breath, a smile forming behind his thin, silvering beard.
    "So these are the wonders that exist here," he murmured. "Such things must be our brothers' reward for knowing God sooner than we ever did."

    The cluster of attendants around him, younger men just as awed as Muhammad Mahbat himself, nodded in astounded agreement.

    "Isbili is one of the jewels of the world, eminence," remarked his closest advisor - Abd-al-Malik ibn Fadl al-Qurtubi, an Andalusi, had come into Muhammad Mahbat's service years ago and been a source of spiritual and financial guidance ever since. The old man gestured towards the thickest cluster of buildings with a sweep of one arm. "There are many other places like this. When we reach Makkah, you shall see the most truly breathtaking place of all. The House of God awaits us far to the east - but for now, I know that the Caliph awaits your visit."

    Muhammad Mahbat lifted his head, nodding gravely. For all that he had honoured the Caliph all his life - for all that his father, and his father before him, had bent their knee to his mere name - no Otomi ruler had ever seen him in person. Missives from the Caliph had always been sent through the agents of his Hajib.

    Raising his eyes to the heavens, the Emir clasped his hands together at chest level. "Take us there," he said quietly. "Perhaps we will have the chance to give the Commander of the Faithful some token of our respect."


    ~


    ACT IX OF MOONLIGHT IN A JAR

    "A STORY TOLD IN BLACKPOWDER"

    AN AGE OF NEW LANDS, NEW NATIONS AND NEW IDEAS
    AS WE ENTER THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD



    ~


    "Nice of them to put that up," muttered Anders Thordssen as he scowled at the taunting shape of the structure jutting up from the cape.

    The tall stone navigational beacon was clearly of Moorish construction - it resembled nothing so much as one of the minaret towers from countless Moorish places of worship they'd seen in their travels down the coast of the landmass called Sudana. Beacons the size of this one were rather less common, but the Cape of Storms was a key point in the journey around Sudana - that place where Moorish sailors were supposed to swing east.

    In a way, the towering navigation marker was handy for Anders and his crew. But he still curled his lips with irritation behind his thick blonde beard as he joined the rest of his crew in adjusting the sails. It was yet another reminder that he wasn't the first to these lands - that someone had beaten him to sailing to the mythical land of Hindustan, as had been theorized.

    At least no one back home in Denmark had done it. The risks were said to be great - but Anders Thordssen had little to lose and much to gain.

    The Danish ship slashed through the waters of the southern ocean, the wind booming in her lateen sails. In most respects she was a typical modern ship of her day - a sleek, fast jaevner, built not with overlapping planks like the olden days but with flush hull beams like the vessels of the Moors and the Iberians.[2] A few of the shields traditionally hung over the side had fallen off during the long journey around Sudana, but most of them remained in place, there in case Thordssen and crew needed them - which they had a couple of times, when they'd landed on untamed coastlines to water and resupply only to be met by hostile locals.

    The days after the rounding of the Cape of Storms were, fortunately, less perilous for Thordssen and his men. The jaevner was unaccosted as it sailed on through sunrise and sunset, through sunlit seas hot enough that the men worked shirtless much of the time and yet still sweat as if they'd been thrown into a Hell of daylight and endless water.

    Yet they soon found places they'd never known before. Days later, the jaevner sailed into a harbour that left the men raising their eyebrows.

    "If the map's right, this should be, uh, Kilwa," one of the crewmen remarked before looking up to join the rest of them in marveling at the sight of the place. They'd never even conceived that the city could be this - a large port with sprawling structures, bustling with ships and packed with colourfully-clad merchantmen, most of them black-skinned and trading in goods they'd seen only from a distance. Luxury items and gold changed hands with shocking regularity.

    Standing at the bow of the jaevner, Anders Thordssen resisted the urge to let his mouth hang open with a mixture of awe and avarice. "So much wealth is changing hands here. It's astounding."

    And even though the Moors have known about this for generations, I may be the first Danish man to get here, he reflected with a certain glee. They won't know what to think when we return home with a hold full of even a small amount of this stuff!


    ~


    Shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand to his forehead, Ramon de Seta surveyed what of the land he could see from the top of the hill. There wasn't a lot of it - even from here, he could see ocean in all directions. The view confirmed what he'd thought: The body of water off to the northeast was no lake, but fed from the ocean by a little inlet.

    Handsome scenery, to be sure, and with a lush climate - but missing one key thing.

    "No people," he observed.

    "None," agreed Balduino de Coruna as he moved to the crest of the hill, just to Ramon's right. The bearded man squinted down at the arcing island sweeping away to the southwest. "This island was always marked as too dangerous. The sea routes just skip by it. They prefer to sail further to the south."

    "And they never bothered to build anything here?" Ramon set his hands at his hips, the wind tugging at his auburn hair as he tilted his head towards the navigator he'd brought with him. The man had come out of Iberia one step ahead of the Moors, claiming to have been a trader and selling his knowledge of seas and trade routes in ports along the Provencal coast. Most had thought him a charlatan, until the Duke of Tolosa had taken pity on him and paid for a saquia and a crew.

    Ramon hadn't trusted him either - and yet, here they were.

    The Santiagonian shrugged slowly. "There are a lot of Moors in the New World. Most of them do not bother with places like this. They say there are rich kingdoms further to the south, peopled entirely by Mohammedans. The places further north, I am less sure of. They don't like to go further north."

    "Why not?"

    "Have you ever seen a Moor in the snow?" Balduino smirked. "It gets cold once you get further north here. They don't like the cold."[3]

    Pacing the hill, Ramon nodded and moved around towards the southwest side to once again squint down what seemed to be the length of the island. "Nevertheless, I can see this place being pretty useful, Balduino. If there is something worth going west from here for, anyway. And if we can somehow justify getting through those damn reefs."

    "Yes, that's the other reason the Moors don't use this place much." Balduino grimaced and scratched at his shoulder. "From what I'd heard, one of their ships ripped its bottom out on those reefs a few years back. I don't know if the wreck's still there. Probably broken up by now."

    Ramon lowered his eyelids irritably. "Thank you for telling me."

    "No charge," the Santiagonian deadpanned.

    The irritation bubbled up for a moment, but Ramon breathed it out through his teeth in a short sigh. "Nevertheless," he said as he stooped to pick up the object he brought with him.

    A tall pole with a red banner flying from it - one blazoned with golden stripes and a flaring cross. With some effort and the help of Balduino and a couple of his crew, Ramon drove the flag into the turf and let it stand there, the wind soon capturing it to blow the banner of the Kingdom of Romania out to its full glory.[4]

    In spite of himself, he smiled. The King would certainly reward them greatly for this - and perhaps even pay out more for another trip.




    [1] The appellation "mahbat" is an Arabization of an Otomi word meaning "the servant."
    [2] The jaevner - More properly, the jævner (Swedish: jämnar, Icelandic: jafnarr, slang for "even-planked knarr") - is basically the Danish/Scandinavian equivalent to the Andalusian saqin and its derivative, the Anglish skene (and the Santiagonian saquia). There are differences: The jaevner is carvel-buil, but it has a bit more Viking lineage and in some ways looks a little like someone tacked a caravel sail and stern structure onto a knarr, complete with shields hanging off the sides of the ship. It's actually an independent design intended to sail the North Sea, but it's just as good in the tropical Atlantic.
    [3] The people of Al-Barshil beg to differ, Balduino. Quit stereotyping.
    [4] Occitan Bermuda.


    SUMMARY:
    1483: Muhammad Mahbat, Emir of the Otomi, conducts his famous hajj. He takes the Mediterranean route, stopping off at ports along the North African coast and evoking wonder and curiosity along the way.
    1483: The Danish explorer Anders Thordssen successfully rounds the Cape of Storms and reaches Kilwa.
    1483: The Romanian explorer Ramon de Seta, guided by the Santiagonian exile Balduino of Coruna, discovers the islands of Setania.
     
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    ACT IX Part II: Muhammad Mahbat's Impact
  • THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA, OFF SARDINIA

    "Would you lay eyes on that," one of the crewmen said to the other in wonder.

    The men from Genoa looked on from the deck of their swift galley at the sight of the flotilla passing by them. The escort ships were splendid, but expected - the typical galley out of Andalusia, armed to the teeth and far too hardened for the Genoese crew to knock over and make off with. They could tackle Moorish merchantmen or fat pilgrims on their way to or from the East, but fighting the Moorish navy would be another matter.

    They were more surprised by the ship in the midst of the escort flock. A zepino[1] for sure, but draped in colourful fabric and painted with ornate colours and patterns of a type they'd never seen before. Even from a distance, they could make out men in colourful clothing milling about the deck.

    They'd seen the ships of rich men before, but an oceangoing ship in those colours was unique - and with an escort of five ships, it must have been someone of high importance.

    "Must be a pretty rich pilgrim," one of the other sailors mused as he leaned on the rail. Some of the men waved from a distance as the Genoese galley slid past the Moors, going in the opposite direction. It was, to be sure, an act of performative innocence - the typical nice-guy act they would pull when they got close enough to realize a target was too hard to actually raid.

    The captain nodded with wonder, staring after the ship. "You know, I would wager my eyeteeth that this one came from the Far West somewhere. There are a lot of stories coming back about that place. Lot of men from Iberia hanging out in taverns and talking about the wealth of places over the sea."

    "I'd heard about that," one of the men piped in. "Something about the Moors finding a land of gold and spices."

    "Yeah, Alasca," another sailor chipped into the conversation. "I heard an Anglishman talking about it once."

    "That so?"

    "Aye. I hear that you can make a tidy profit as an Anglish sailor just by catching a fat Moor and his ship coming across the Ocean Sea. They've got things with them you can't even imagine. Spices you can't find anywhere else in the world except in the hold of a zepino from the Far West."

    The captain scowled as he watched the flotilla bob on past. "They must be pretty rich if they can afford a fancy ship and a big escort like that."

    The Genoese men fell silent, nursing growing sparks of greed as they watched the flotilla of Muhammad Mahbat pass them by and sail into the east.


    ~


    MAHDIA, IFRIQIYA

    "It's a pretty funny-looking tree," one tradesman said to the other.

    "Aye, it is."

    The two stood before a relatively small tree, but a curious one - one different from the date palms they'd see every day. This one sprouted from a circle of fresh earth, ringed by polished stones in dazzling white, each one carved neatly with calligraphics praising God and the Prophet. It had been planted a mere day before.

    The planter had been someone unlike anyone they'd seen before - a man in florid colours, of a race they didn't recognize, arriving aboard a safina in garish patterns, calling himself Emir of a land they'd never heard of. And yet, he'd professed faith in the Prophet, even coming as it did in a curiously-accented Arabic.

    He'd gone on his way before long - but not before planting a single palm in the public garden of Mahdia. This one.[2]

    "I wonder if it'll sprout any dates."

    "Who knows. He seemed excited to plant it, though."

    The first tradesman shrugged. "Maybe palms are different wherever he comes from."

    "I have heard it is so. He was from, where, he called it Anawak?"

    "Yes, the Gharb al-Aqsa."

    The second man's eyebrows came up sharply. "Must be pretty rich over there if he can carry a bunch of trees on his boat."

    The first nodded. "Ah well. It'll be a lonely tree here, anyway."


    ~


    ALEXANDRIA

    "They've left port," reported the eunuch.

    Hunched in his seat, Hasan ibn al-Hakam al-Bayadhi pored over the map that had been delivered to him. "He was an interesting man," he muttered, his mind connecting his visitor of the past week to new possibilities. "And did you notice that he was fluent in his faith? He knew God as any Muslim would. For all his odd accents and fashions, for all his insistence on planting a tree here, he was a Muslim."

    And a rich one, he realized with increasing certainty. A powerful one.

    He traced a finger over the map to circle the oddly-shaped landmass at its western edge. "We've known for a long time that the Banu Umayya and their people reached a new land. I had thought they had mostly found barbarians, but to see a Muslim Emir coming across the sea to us...."

    "The westerners must be more powerful than they appear," mused the eunuch with widening eyes. "Their merchants are rich already. If they have shown the word of the Prophet to people like this Muhammad Mahbat--"

    "--then they may be useful to us." Hasan looked up to the ceiling, scratching at his cheek with a crinkling of his nose.

    "We need an advantage," he observed. "I don't care how much the descendants of Abbas yell at me. I have no intention of being a puppet of Greeks who translate the Quran."

    The eunuch's face twisted in horror. "It's disgraceful, eminence!"

    "Is it not?" Hasan nodded grimly before momentarily going silent.

    "Muhammad Mahbat spoke Arabic," the lord of Egypt pointed out into the moment of dead air.

    The ruler and the eunuch looked at each other in thought.


    ~


    Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996

    As much as historians strive to avoid the fallacy of attributing the course of history too heavily to individual "great men," it is not hyperbole to note that the hajj of Muhammad Mahbat was a seminal event in the history of the world, one which definitively marks the beginning of the Early Modern Period.

    Muhammad Mahbat's itinerary took him on a grand tour of the Mediterranean en route to Mecca. His flotilla stopped in Sale, Isbili, Mahdia, Melita, Alexandria and Asqalan before transferring to land. Muhammad Mahbat went from there to Jerusalem, then traveled south to Mecca itself to complete the hajj. His return voyage followed the Sudani route, with stops at Aden, Warsheikh, Kilwa, Marsa ar-Raha, NsiKongo, and Ubinu before crossing the Atlantic and resupplying in Marayu and Malibu en route back to Anawak.

    The consequences of his voyage range from the minor to the splendid. One of the less discussed elements was his decision to plant an Algarvian palm in Isbili, Mahdia, Melita, Alexandria and Asqalan as he traveled, an homage to the Umayyad leader Abd ar-Rahman I. Scholars believe that the spread of invasive but mostly harmless Algarvian palms in Ifriqiya and Shams[3] is traceable directly to the palms imported by Muhammad Mahbat.

    The social and geopolitical consequences of his visit were more monumental. While knowledge of the existence of the Gharb al-Aqsa was widespread in the Islamic world at the time, most people had never seen an Algarvian before Muhammad Mahbat. His hajj was met with excitement in the places he visited, his ship greeted by huge crowds of curious onlookers interested in seeing the stranger from a faraway land. These visitors - and onlookers who encountered his flotilla at sea - included not just Muslims, but Christian traders from Genoa, Amalfi and Venice, who took away from Muhammad Mahbat's visit a particular impression of the Farthest West as a place of great wealth.

    In Al-Andalus and Ifriqiya, Muhammad Mahbat's visit served to lend prestige to the Umayyad Caliphs by demonstrating that Andalusians could not only discover a new land, but bring its wealthy rulers into the faith. Nowhere was this prestige more keenly felt, however, than in Bayadhid Egypt.

    With tensions with the Bataid Empire remaining high, Bayadhid strongman Hasan ibn al-Hakam was in search of allies to help preserve his realm. While he had put out feelers to the Snow Leopard Khan in Persia, the Irbisids were unlikely allies. The visit of Muhammad Mahbat was followed by the opening of diplomatic overtures by the Bayadhids to the Asmarids as the Egyptians began exploring the possibility of acknowledging the Umayyad Caliph, hoping to recruit a powerful ally with a mutual interest in thwarting Bataid control of the eastern Mediterranean.

    For the Bataids, meanwhile, Muhammad Mahbat's journey was a blow to their prestige. The Bataid dynasty - of Patzinak extraction, steeped in both Arabic and Hellenic cultural norms - had been accused by Arab opponents of being "too Greek" in their ways. In Muhammad Mahbat, elites in the Bataid realm witnessed a visitor from a new world who spoke Arabic and worshipped as a Muslim did. He was seen by many as an example of properly representing Islam, and the notion of a new world of powerful Muslims over the ocean lent an air of legitimacy to the Umayyad Caliph that the Abbasids lacked (despite both Caliphs being effectively powerless puppets of their respective military rulers).

    Bataid resentment of the Umayyad-following world only grew in the ensuing years. People conducting the hajj from Al-Andalus and Ifriqiya were subjected to increasing scrutiny and harassment in the wake of Muhammad Mahbat's journey, though in practice this occurred mainly on the Mediterranean route, with the Hashemite rulers of Mecca continuing to operate more or less autonomously in keeping Mecca universally accessible to all Muslims.

    Tensions between the Asmarids and the Bataids, long simmering in the background, were placed on a slow but steady escalation, and Christian interest in the new world newly enkindled, all by Muhammad Mahbat's innocent passage - an example of one man changing the entire character of geopolitics with no intention of doing so.


    ~


    MECCA

    The journey had been long, exhausting and illuminating - but it had all come down to this place. The holy city. The site of the Masjid al-Haram itself. The destination he'd pursued all his life.

    Muhammad Mahbat's eyes were alight with the sincerity of his faith. Finally, he would complete a duty no ruler of the Otomi before him could complete.

    His entourage moved through the city, making their way towards their destination step by step. The beauty and history of the city astounded him beyond words. Everything seemed both old and new at the same time. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he gazed around at everything there was to see, then ahead, then down.

    Down at the small creature that had walked casually out into his path.

    Muhammad Mahbat blinked at the being. The being, small and white and mottled with a tortoiseshell pattern, blinked back, then approached and looked up at him expectantly.

    "Cat," Muhammad Mahbat murmured in wonder, crouching before the feline.

    The cat mewed at him, practically entreating him for something. A little flustered, Muhammad Mahbat held a hand out, and a servant passed him a scrap of meat - one the cat nipped down eagerly when he offered it up.

    In spite of himself, the Emir smiled, unable to be anything but charmed. "If I did not know better, I would think that you have also come here to complete the journey. Is it so, cat?"

    The cat just looked up at him.

    Gathering the stray in his arms, Muhammad Mahbat rose to his feet and beamed. "Then you shall come with us," he proclaimed. "Come - let us go together!"


    SUMMARY:
    1483: Muhammad Mahbat reaches Mecca and completes the hajj, in the process amazing just about everyone in the Mediterranean, embarrassing the Abbasids and meeting a cat.


    [1] The Italian form of safina.
    [2] Muhammad Mahbat is planting examples of sabal pumos, the royal palmetto, in cities he visits. Just as Abd ar-Rahman I beheld a palm in ar-Rusafa, Muhammad Mahbat beholds a palm of the west wherever in the east he goes.
    [3] The Levant.
     
    Last edited:
    ACT IX Part III: The Meridian War and the Battle of Santa Maria di Leuca
  • Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996


    The high-profile appearance of Muhammad Mahbat in Mecca dealt a blow to the prestige of the Abbasid Caliphs and their Bataid masters. Already facing pressure from the Irbisids to the east, Bataid Kaysar Iskender II was stung by the revelation that the Umayyad world had made unthinkable progress in spreading Islam to a part of the world nobody had any concept of a century and a half prior. Under pressure to make a move against the Asmarid stewards of Western Islam, the Bataids turned their eyes to the hajj.

    It is no coincidence that it took less than a year following Muhammad Mahbat's hajj for the Bataids to implement the so-called Nifaq Tax.[1]

    Eastern Islamic thought viewed followers of the Umayyad Caliph - mainly adherents of the Maliki madhhab - as illegitimate yet still Muslim. Jurisprudence of the time extensively debated whether followers of a "false Caliph" were or were not kuffar, eventually broadly deciding that they were munafiqun, or "false Muslims" practicing hypocrisy to break down the faith from within. It was these groups that were targeted by the Bataids' tax policies.

    The tax would see pilgrims undertaking the hajj required to pay a substantial purse to the Bataid treasury upon landing in their controlled territory en route to Mecca. It would apply not only to followers of the Umayyad Caliph, but to Shia believers making the pilgrimage from areas such as the East Sudan or the highlands of Yemen. Those who could not pay were barred from proceeding to Mecca or outright imprisoned. The Bataids justified the new tax by insisting they were doing their part to keep Islam whole and follow the words of the Prophet to their fullest extent. In practice, the tax was aimed at both generating revenue and creating a massive disincentive to Muslims to follow any religious authority save those affirmed by the Bataids themselves.

    The Nifaq Tax held one glaring loophole: The relative thinness of Bataid power in the Hejaz. While the Bataids had won the allegiance of the Hashemite rulers of Mecca, the city profited enormously from the stream of pilgrims making the hajj, regardless of their affiliations. The Hashemites made surface overtures towards implementing the tax, but in practice, tax collectors in the central Hejaz did not enforce it, and pilgrims of all denominations of Islam were permitted to complete the hajj provided they could get into Hashemite-controlled territory without incident.

    The implementation of the tax spelled the gradual decline of the trans-Mediterranean hajj route following a series of well-discussed incidents: A prominent Isbili merchant and his wife were turned back at Asqalan in 1484 after facing exorbitant tax demands, and a wali from Mahdia was thrown in jail for refusing to pay, much to the outrage of his family. As word spread of the exorbitant taxation being levied by the Bataids, hajj pilgrims began to shift their focus to the shipbound route, sailing directly to the Hejaz by way of rounding the Sudan.

    Tensions between the two competing Caliphs and their military leaders continued to build. Al-Nasr, by now an old man, turned a blind eye to the efforts of Andalusi pirates to ambush Bataid trade galleys in the Mediterranean, and he entertained the envoys of the Bayadhids of Egypt, strengthening relations with them. Iskender, meanwhile, gave his own navy free rein to tax and impound Andalusi trade ships. The escalation of the long-standing cold war between western and eastern Islam was exacerbated by the fallout of Muhammad Mahbat's hajj, but the definitive break would come at the tail end of Al-Nasr's reign, in 1489.

    After a period of relative quiet on the military front following a series of defeats in the Haemus and in Mesopotamia, the Bataids began to mobilize again in the early 1480s. The Battle of Kermanshah in 1483 saw a Bataid army turn back the Irbisids, wreaking significant casualties on the core of Khubilai Khagan's mounted horde and forcing the ruler of Persia to withdraw and lick his wounds for a time. It bought Iskender a period to flex his muscle - something the Bataids, the undisputed military heavyweight in Asia Minor and the Holy Land, were better positioned than anyone to do, with sufficient forces in place to fight a war in the east and a war in the west at the same time.

    *​

    Historiographers differ on the reasoning behind the flashpoint of the Meridian War: The Bataid invasion of Apulia in 1489.

    Iskender himself left no writings to elucidate on his thought process. Contemporaries held a range of views, however, from "righteous jihad against the nonbelievers" to a desire to gain control of the central Mediterranean and leverage Bataid power against religious rivals in Al-Andalus and the Maghreb. Some historians posit a direct link between Muhammad Mahbat's hajj and the Bataid invasion. Nevertheless, after generations of Bataid rulers bashing their heads against Hungary and the Holy Roman Empire, Iskender shifted Rumaniyah's focus in Europe and set out across the Adriatic.

    While Brindisi had long been one of the more important ports in Apulia, an earthquake in 1456 had resulted in Bari rising to prominence as the main southeastern port in the heel of the Boot.[2] Iskender placed priority on seizing the city, along with other key ports along the coast. April of 1489 kicked off with the sudden appearance of a fleet of more than 200 Bataid ships off the Apulian coast, landing blackpowder-armed troops near key cities, most notably Bari, Otranto and Monopoli. Armed with heavy field dragons and jazails, the well-trained Bataid troops were able to reduce Otranto and Bari within three weeks, though the fortifications at Monopoli held out a little longer before falling.

    Word of the Bataid attack spread quickly, and Romania began to mobilize, joined by a loose alliance of Christian powers, mainly Venice and Illyria, with some backing from Italian city-states. The effort was hampered, however, by the weakness of the Papacy at the time, limiting the ability of the Pope to rally allies to Romania's cause. Notably, France sat on its hands, all too content for its southern rival to throw money and manpower into the angry maw of a Bataid invasion; the Holy Roman Empire, in dispute with Romania over the Arelat, similarly declined to send troops, though isolated nobles did rally to the Romanian cause.

    Romania's professional army had proven effective against France, but the Bataids were a far more serious threat, and moving troops from place to place was a challenge given the physical separation of Meridiana from the rest of the realm.[3] The alliance was bought a brief window by the Raid on Bari, a strike by Venetian ships against the Bataid fleet, burning several ships at anchor and retreating before fully engaging - a move which slowed down the ability of the Bataids to supply and reinforce their armies. But with substantial forces already in the field and little in place to oppose them, resistance on the ground was thin. A Romanian army in the region was heavily crushed at the Battle of Lecce that June, outnumbered and outgunned by better-equipped Bataid jazailiers. The city quickly came under siege along with Matera further northwest, with the Bataids hoping to isolate the port at Taranto and gain control of the entire bootheel by the year's end.

    Guy the Great had died in his sleep in 1486, leaving Romania to the rule of his son Guilhem, a man viewed in some respects as less capable and less decisive than his famous father. Guilhem was more a scholar than a military man, and he entrusted his armies to his chief general, Count Bernat of Carcassona. But even as his knights assembled, Guilhem made an unexpected play: He sent emissaries south to Isbili, coming with gifts, flattery - and a request.

    Guilhem was, to be sure, no general, but he was a canny reader of people and politics. Aware of trade frictions between the Islamic powers of the east and west, he reasoned that he could play the two off one another by appealing to Andalusian fear of Bataid domination of the Mediterranean. Guilhem gambled that Al-Nasr would no more want the central Mediterranean under Bataid domination than any Christian power would, despite the difference in faith between Andalusian Islam and Christendom.

    The Bataids, unaware of the negotiations between the two sides, pressed their invasion of the Bootheel, capturing Lecce by August and Matera by September and converging on Taranto in the hopes of seizing it by autumn. Their strategy capitalized on their control of the tip of the Bootheel: They would bring their foot troops to the walls of the city and cut it off from supplies before attacking from the sea with a substantial landing force, hoping to capture the city quickly.

    The attack, on November 9, 1489, ran into an unexpected complication: En route to sailing into the Gulf of Taranto, the Bataid fleet suddenly sighted masts approaching from the southwest.

    The Bataid fleet had run straight into a fleet of Asmarid and Romanian galleys delivering mercenaries to reinforce Taranto. The resulting Battle of Santa Maria di Leuca quickly degenerated into a brutal melee between more than 300 ships, with a slight numeric advantage to the Asmarid-Romanian alliance. Caught out of position by the unexpected encounter, the Bataids lost several ships in the early couple hours of the battle before regrouping into a chaotic withdrawal into open waters, where a group of Venetian ships joined the battle on the alliance's side.

    Effectively the battle was an infantry fight on a series of floating platforms, much of it between professional soldiers: The ghilmans employed by both the Asmarids and the Bataids and the professional Romanian Dragons all came into the fight armed with the best blackpowder weapons their patrons could buy despite their fighting from ship designs optimized for the Mediterranean rather than the open sea. The ship-to-ship fighting saw both sides take losses, but ultimately it would be the allied side that would prevail, sending 37 Bataid galleys to the bottom and killing nearly 15,000 men before the Bataids finally withdrew. Allied losses were roughly 16 galleys and 7,500 men, many of them Andalusian and Transjuranian mercenaries, with the professional armies faring comparatively better. The Allies were able to deliver their troops to Taranto, allowing the Romanian side to break the siege and begin to push out.

    Two days later, a late-running safina put into port in Constantinople with a missive from Al-Nasr, informing Iskender that the Asmarids would not allow "your brand of nifaq" to gain root in Meridiana.

    Not all in 1489 went the Alliance's way: Andalusian troops attempting to retake Lecce in early December were surrounded and destroyed by a smaller Bataid army. But the Battle of Santa Maria di Leuca marked a major setback for the Bataids, while also serving as an important milestone: The first instance of open war between Western and Eastern Islam, and the first well-publicized instance of a Muslim power siding with Christians against another Muslim power. The Bataids denounced the Asmarids as apostates and the Asmarids denounced the Bataids as usurpers, and the rift between the two halves of the Sunni world was widened into a yawning chasm, fueled as much by politics as by history and faith.[4]


    [1] Hypocrisy Tax.
    [2] I really did not want to do an invasion of Otranto, for fear of just having history repeat the Ottomans.
    [3] Meridiana being the southern part of the Italian Peninsula.
    [4] This play is pure calculation on the part of Al-Nasr. The Asmarids are a power, but not quite as powerful as the Bataids, who have the entire Roman Empire and Mesopotamia to draw manpower from. In a one-on-one fight between Constantinople and Isbili over who controls the Med, the Asmarids would probably lose right now. Al-Nasr a) wants a trade route to Egypt open for the sake of bringing the Bayadhids under the White Banner, and b) wants to make sure that if a showdown does come with Constantinople, Isbili won't stand alone. The Asmarids, in other words, have a lot to gain from allying with the Christians here.


    SUMMARY:
    1489: The Bataids invade Meridiana. Scrambling for allies, King Guilhem appeals to the Asmarids to get involved on the side of his coalition, which also includes Venice, Illyria and a collection of Italian nobles.
    1489: The Battle of Santa Maria di Leuca. A Bataid fleet sailing for Taranto is attacked by a fleet of Asmarid, Romanian and Venetian galleys and dealt a convincing defeat, spiking the Bataids' plan to rapidly take Taranto. The Asmarids enter into the Meridian War on the side of Christendom.
     
    ACT IX Part IV: War, Gold and the Water Wheel
  • Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996


    The Battle of Santa Maria di Leuca was pivotal in putting the Bataids on the back foot in their effort to invade Meridiana, and its most important tactical effect was to buy time.

    The destruction of much of the Bataid fleet at the hands of the Asmarids created a window for Romanian armies to make landfall in Meridiana, joined by Italian and Transjurane troops from the north. Aside from the effort to retake Lecce, to which Al-Nasr committed mostly Berber and Andalusi troops rather than the Black Guard, Asmarid contributions were primarily undertaken at sea, in the form of naval attacks against Bataid ships in the Mediterranean or raids against Bataid ports. The strategy was a pretty simple affair of trying to prevent Constantinople from landing a full army in Italia.

    By 1490, however, much of this work was taken over by ships sailing down the Adriatic from Venice, and Al-Nasr withdrew his fleets to the southern Mediterranean. Major Asmarid battles were few, though an Asmarid flotilla managed to intercept a Bataid raiding group bound for Syracuse in early 1490. The battle off Syracuse dealt damage to both sides, ending inconclusively from a tactical standpoint but at least forestalling an outright attack on the Syracusan harbour.

    The primary contribution of the Moors through 1490 was actually the importation of food and common weapons and the provision of transport for mercenaries, largely flowing through Amalfi. Direct operations at the front wound down not long into 1490, after a group of Italian mercenaries opened fire on a Berber raiding party, mistaking them for Bataid troops. Tensions between the Christian and Muslim hosts had been an issue until then, with the Romanian and broader Christian sides not entirely trusting of the Andalusian-Maghrebi armies and the Muslim allies not especially comfortable siding with Christians against fellow Muslims, even those professing hatred of the Umayyad Caliph and his agents.

    With most of the ground fighting taken over by an alliance of Italian, Romanian, Papal and mercenary troops, the Bataids gave up their invasion by the end of 1491, withdrawing back to the Haemic Peninsula before turning their attention eastward to renewed raids by the Irbisids. The last Asmarid engagement of the war was an attempt by a fleet of 40 galleys to sack towns and cities along the coast of Krete, an attempt beaten back after a decisive Bataid naval victory off Loutro.

    From a tactical standpoint, the Meridian War was something of an anticlimax for the Asmarids - it was not a final or decisive showdown with the Bataids by any means, merely serving as the first drawing of blood that would entrench a line between Constantinople and Isbili. Yet its long-term effects went beyond this political hardening.

    Al-Nasr's price for his assistance came in the form of trade concessions from the Romanian throne. While Moorish traders had long used cities like Melita and Amalfi as middlemen to trade with the Christian cities of Italy, the devastation of Amalfi by an earthquake a century prior had limited those opportunities afterward, and the city had not yet been restored to its former glory. In seeking concessions from the Romanians, Al-Nasr sought to replicate the makzan system within Europe, demanding Amalfi as an Asmarid trade zone.

    King Guilhem of Romania was in no hurry to cede sovereignty over a city within his realm, but ultimately the two agreed to a compromise deal. Amalfi was declared an open port, and an Asmarid trade governor was permitted to set up shop there. In Amalfi, Muslims and Jews would be permitted the same trade privileges as Christians and would even be permitted to construct mosques and synagogues, and a small Asmarid garrison would be allowed to remain, subject to the presence of a Christian one. The price for this concession came in the form of gold: Al-Nasr agreed to donate a significant price towards the restoration of Amalfi's harbour, beginning a large-scale building project intended to build the city back to its pre-disaster glory.

    The decisions were not without controversy. A faction of conservatives in Amalfi attempted to revolt and expel the Asmarid trade governor within the first month, an attempt beaten back by the Asmarid garrison. And in Isbili itself, a traditionalist court faction - primarily based around Maghrebi Berbers - sought to engineer a coup that would replace Al-Nasr with a distant cousin. The plotters felt the Hajib had disgraced himself by allying too cozily with Christians. Most of the court failed to be swayed, and the plotters were quickly rounded up and put to death.

    Al-Nasr can, perhaps, be forgiven for splitting his focus somewhat in the early 1490s. Events unfolded rapidly around him, ensuring that the waning years of his life would be, if nothing else, busy.

    *​

    Of just as much concern as Bataid incursions into the central Mediterranean was the growing boldness of Angland in the New World.

    Anglish piracy had been an issue since the Christian arrival in the Gharb al-Aqsa, requiring the stationing of small defensive fleets in the Asmarids' overseas holdings, particularly at Nasriyyah, Kanza and Sharaqah. Some areas, however, were left comparatively undefended, most prominently the island holding of Burinkan. The thinly-populated island was a niche of retreat for followers of the radical Zahiri madhhab and gave no allegiance to the Umayyad Caliph, and the Asmarids generally gave little thought to the island, preferring to direct resources to protecting their own coastal settlements and trade ships from freebooters.

    This vulnerability made Burinkan a prime target for avaricious Anglish fortune-seekers, and none was more successful than John Robinred. A well-known pirate from Bristow, funded by local merchant lords and with the quiet approval of the Anglish nobility, Robinred had made a name for himself as a brazen raider of commerce, eluding Asmarid efforts to track him down even as he plundered cargo ships running between Al-Gattas and the Maghurines and attempted several raids on settlements in Marayu. The prosperous sugar trade in the region made commerce raiding lucrative, but Robinred's objective in the Bahr al-Luwlu was broader.

    In late 1490, Robinred arrived off Burinkan with four well-armed skenes and fifty men armed with blackpowder weapons. The inhabitants of Burinkan were certainly more numerous, but not well-equipped and not ready for a fight, and Robinred and his men were able to easily overwhelm the small militia defending Mahdiyya, the only Islamic settlement of note on the island. The pirate promptly declared himself lord of the island and claimed it in the name of Angland, a claim swiftly recognized by the crown in Grimsby. Robinred was recognized as Margrave of Bouricane, and Mahdiyya was given a new name: Christchurch.

    Earlier Anglish efforts to colonize the Gharb al-Aqsa had met with the challenge of both logistics and value for investment. Most of the urbanized settlements in the west were well-serviced by Berber-Andalusian makzans and policed by Asmarid ships. The Anglish settlement at King's Town was a rare exception, but served mainly as a fur-trading stop and a base for pirates. In Bouricane, however, the Anglish got something entirely different: A reasonably well-developed town with prosperous sugar plantations and locals who knew how to work them.

    Robinred and his men took a relatively light hand with the people they'd conquered, mainly because the Anglish had little experience with cultivating sugarcane and could not have done it without local expertise. An initial rebellion by the locals was put down by force, but while the ringleaders were executed, Robinred granted most participants amnesty in exchange for their cooperation. Much like the Andalusi plantation owners in Marayu and Al-Gattas, the Anglish turned to forced labour to populate a growing number of plantations in Bouricane, turning first to Irish and Welsh peasants and indentured servants to work the fields. It would take some time for the Anglish to adopt a slave-based plantation economy, but it would inevitably follow.

    Bouricane had been a tempting low-hanging fruit - a prize outside Asmarid administration, ripe for the Anglish picking - and its potential as a cash crop hub opened up new possibilities for colonization, raising the prospect of more cash crop hubs across the sea. Opportunities certainly existed, for while the Asmarids controlled the bulk of the major islands, the overall population of settlers was not large enough to be everywhere at once, and large swathes of coast - and most of the smaller islands - were either thinly populated or not settled.

    *​

    While Moorish settlers could not be everywhere, some areas of the Gharb al-Aqsa in particular proved to be major lures to settlers, and nowhere moreso than Tirunah. The early conquests of the 1450s and '60s had laid the foundations for spectacular stories to emerge from the region.

    Stories of the Emerald City or the legend of the Golden King had long lured treasure seekers to Tirunah, but the completion of a successful series of kishafa campaigns against the Muisca in the late 1460s and early 1470s resulted in the Asmarids gaining control of the entire gold-rich Tirunah highland. The overseas administration moved rapidly to exploit these new resources, establishing a settlement at Abourah[1] to exploit gold deposits in the region.

    Tales of gold to be found lured both settlers and slaveowners from across the Western Islamic world. Fortune-seekers from Andalusia, the Maghreb and Ifriqiya came as both labourers and fortune-seekers, some coming to work in the mines or on farms, others seeking to dig their own fortunes out of the ground (and most going bust and ending up in the mines anyway). Wealthier arrivals tended to approach the gold-rich region by importing slaves, many of them purchased from the Zadazir region and the Bight of Binu.[2]

    The development of a thriving mining economy in Tirunah laid the groundwork for diversification. Agricultural settlements sprang up as local farmers moved in to service the mines, growing a mix of old-world and new-world crops. Services were established in the region, including a Jewish community settling in Abourah and setting up the first bank in the Gharb al-Aqsa. By the time the conflicts in the Mediterranean died down, the gold economy in Tirunah was booming, and Al-Nasr rewarded veterans from the campaign against the Bataids with land grants in the region, establishing a western jund in the region between Malibu and Abourah to further safeguard colonial gains across the sea.

    The growing importance of Tirunah - and the mineral and cash-crop wealth the Asmarids could extract from it, saying nothing of trade with Iskantinsuyu - demonstrated for Al-Nasr the viability of settler colonies. The lesson, however, would come late in his life, and at a time when he was faced with the challenge of succession.

    While Al-Nasr had hoped to pass his role as hajib to his eldest son Mujahid, those plans crumbled when the promising heir died in 1492 after contracting a severe form of albulab.[3] With the aging ruler seeing his end approaching, he found himself with his surviving sons maneuvering for position in what he feared would be a succession struggle that could fracture both his family and the realm. Cognizant of the power and wealth he had at hand with both Al-Andalus and the Maghreb united under a single hajib, he sought a means to choose a single agreed-upon successor and hold the realm together after his inevitable death.


    [1] OTL Medellin.
    [2] A lot of slaves in this part of the world were originally from groups like the Hausa, Yoruba, Mongo, Luba and others from the interior of the Congo basin.
    [3] "The water wheel" is the name given by Muslim healers to diabetes, a condition which crops up sporadically in the Asmarid bloodline. A few of Al-Nasr's kids are or were type 2 diabetics, though Al-Nasr himself is not. Mujahid was somewhat unluckier and contracted the late-onset form of type 1 diabetes. Medieval medicine, even in Al-Andalus, doesn't have much of an answer for diabetic ketoacidosis, and synthesizing insulin is centuries away.


    SUMMARY:
    1490: The Anglish pirate John Robinred conquers Burinkan.
    1491: The Asmarids begin to set up shop in Amalfi as part of trade concessions gained following the conflict with the Bataids.
    1492: Hajib Al-Nasr's chosen heir, his son Mujahid, dies of diabetic complications. His remaining sons begin to jockey for position to be chosen as heir.
     
    ACT IX Part V: The First Succession Debate
  • "Just get them off my island," Al-Nasr dismissed the generals with a wave of one hand. "And secure the rest of them. That sea is our sea and I will not tolerate a single ingliziyy calling it theirs."

    Saluting their acknowledgment, the generals began to make their way out of the throne room, leaving the old hajib all but alone - save, of course, for his lapful. The black and white cat purred lazily in a half-doze as Al-Nasr slid his fingers through her soft fur, stroking absently as he looked off to one side, not really seeing the elegant blue and white draperies and tiles through the fog of his thoughts. Not for the first time, the background noise of the cat soothed his heart - whetted the edge of the worries that threatened to slice yet more years from the scant few remaining on the tree of his life.

    The Anglish would be little worry, in truth - the fleet in Tirunah could dispose of mere pirates with little issue. The embarrassment of it all bothered him more than the actual expense. He had been content to leave the little collection of schismatics on Burinkan alone, provided they didn't interfere with Andalusian ships watering at the island en route to more prosperous colonies. The Anglish had spotted the mistake and pounced, much to the complaint of mariners heading to and from the Gharb al-Aqsa.

    An annoyance - but a rectifiable one. It would be over soon, and it would no longer vex him afterwards. Not so much issues closer to home.

    With a bitter smile, Al-Nasr curled his finger to scratch lazily behind the cat's ear, evoking a little purr. "How about it, Zahr? Would you like me to leave the realm to you? It would make things easier for us all, wouldn't it?"

    The cat didn't respond. She never did, beyond occasionally begging for food or petting. Shaking his head, he sighed and returned to lazily stroking the cat, looking up again to bury himself in thoughts of his sons.

    Maybe I had too many of them, he reflected for a moment, before shaking his head and biting down to one bony knuckle as he hunched forward. The thought melted away quickly enough. Choosing one over the others would no doubt smack of picking favourites and offend them all - enflame their existing rivalries, worsen their drive to win his favour. More to the point, the choice was simply...

    ...it was simply impossible. To choose Mujahid would have been easy - he was the first of Al-Nasr's sons, after all. To choose from among the others was harder and would amount to picking a favourite.

    "Things would be easier if I could delegate this," he muttered with a twist of his lips.

    Then he paused as a thought occurred to him, like a lantern lit somewhere in the depths of his thoughts.

    "...But can't I."


    ~


    Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996


    Anglish tenancy on Burinkan would be brief but consequential, a two-year period of annoyance in which Asmarid ships bound for Al-Gattas and other, larger colonies would find themselves denied the easiest and most accessible freshwatering station in the Sea of Pearls. By 1492, however, the fleet stationed in Tirunah would move against John Robinred's sugar operation.

    The battle for Burinkan was a brief and relatively bloodless one. Robinred, a pirate by nature, was not given to last stands and not afraid to withdraw in the face of superior force. Hearing word of the approach of a squadron of Asmarid safinas and their associated troops, Robinred loaded as much of his operation as possible onto his ships. By the time Asmarid ships entered the harbour in Mahdiyya-Christchurch, the settlement was all but abandoned, and Robinred and his associates - and slaves - had already set course southward.

    Asmarid administrators promptly set to work securing Burinkan against further Anglish efforts. Veterans of the brief war against the Bataids were granted holdings in the former Mahdiyya settlement, and what locals survived - mostly labourers descended from the original Zahiris who had settled the island - were ordered to submit to direct Asmarid administration. Al-Nasr commissioned the construction of a new fort, Hisn al-Thariyya, named by the expedition commander for the perceived brightness of the stars of al-Thurayya[1] overhead on the day Burinkan was reclaimed. Hisn al-Thariyya would take on renewed importance following the reclamation of Burinkan, rounding into an important watering station and administrative centre and serving mainly as a gateway to more important colonies like Tirunah and Al-Gattas.

    Robinred, meanwhile, took advantage of the fact that there were simply too many islands in the Sea of Pearls for the Asmarids to police them all without breaking their budget. The Robinred Sugar Company found a new home on the island known to the Asmarids as Kurukarah.[2] While Andalusian settlers had tried in the past to settle there, the initial upstart colony lasted scarcely six months before falling prey to conflict with the natives, and no further efforts had been made to settle there. By the time Robinred and his crew made landfall, however, Kurukarah had been largely depopulated by disease and slave raids. The Anglish landings were unopposed, and Robinred set to work establishing new sugar plantations. Robinred named the island for Saint Alban, widely considered the patron saint of the Anglish, and established his capital settlement at New Christchurch, sheltered on the south side of the island.[3]

    The knowledge Robinred gained in Burinkan was put to immediate use: The settlement on St. Alban was organized under the entrustment system, a plantation model in which individuals were granted parcels of land on which to set up cash crop operations, with a percentage of the profits going to Robinred, and through him to the Anglish crown. What natives survived on St. Alban were considered to be wards of the entrustees and expected to work on the plantations, a policy which resulted in the surviving Albanese people being wiped out within a decade and replaced by slaves imported from Sudan. The more organized operation on St. Alban, sheltered from the immediate travel route the Asmarids took into the Sea of Pearls, would flourish and expand, with the Anglish eventually dispatching ships to protect it.

    The removal of Robinred's men from Burinkan did not go without Anglish response: Plans to attack northern Iberia were made, but scaled back due to budget concerns, mainly resulting in a series of raids and counter-skirmishes in the areas of Gallaecia and the Maghurines. Little came of this, serving mainly to further harden relations between the Asmarids and the Anglish.

    *​

    While the establishment of a permanent Christian presence in the Gharb al-Aqsa was a point of frustration for the Asmarids, Al-Nasr's focus was instead on deciding who his successor would be. Unable to choose between his quarreling sons, he turned to a solution that would prove formative in Asmarid politics.

    He dropped the matter into the lap of the Majlis.

    Al-Nasr declared that the matter of the next hajib would be determined based on a recommendation of the advisory council, a group of community leaders he had assembled early in his stewardship. The Majlis had been drawn together in 1452 as the first such advisory council with any real power, a shifting group of vassals, military and religious leaders and members of cultural, mercantile and philosophical communities. By 1492 the Majlis included 45 individuals, including the Bishop of Toledo, whom Al-Nasr would call upon for advice on a wide range of issues.

    The decision to turn the succession over to the Majlis seems somewhat out of character for Al-Nasr, an otherwise decisive leader who had not shied away from making bold decisions earlier in his reign. It's likely that there were ulterior motives behind his decision. On paper, Al-Nasr claimed that it would speak ill of him as a father to choose a favourite among his sons, but in practice he was likely attempting to cut across conflicts between his sons by creating an impression of legitimacy behind whichever successor was chosen. By Al-Nasr's telling, his eventual chief heir would come into office not only with his own sanction, but with the consent and agreement of the ummah, delivered through the Majlis with a clarity never before heard - a clarity Al-Nasr likely hoped would tamp down various power brokers' willingness to throw into future rebellions and coups that might destabilize the Asmarid realm. The forging together of Al-Andalus and the Maghreb had in reality been a lark, with Al-Nasr stepping in to cover for the fracturing Hizamids, and the hajib's mind was no doubt on avoiding the conditions that led to the Hizamids' collapse in the first place.

    The Majlis was rapidly called into session at Isbili, with the qadi al-qudat, Bilayu ibn Hunayn al-Haskuri, called to take the chair. The selection pool was quickly winnowed down to two of Al-Nasr's sons: His third son Tashfin and his fifth son Abd ar-Rahim. While consideration was given to Al-Nasr's second son, Husayn, he removed himself from the process early on, attesting to a greater interest in devoting himself to spiritual pursuits. The debate in the Majlis seems to have pulled the teeth of at least one additional contender: Contemporary reports suggest that a general supporting one of Al-Nasr's nephews withdrew his support as discussions came to centre around Tashfin and Abd ar-Rahim, seeing it unlikely that a coup attempt would find popular backing.

    In the two sons of Al-Nasr, the Majlis found themselves confronted by profoundly different candidates. Tashfin was well known as an ambitious and driven young man with an agile but aggressive mind, and he had made a name for himself as a student of statecraft and philosophy. Abd ar-Rahim was seen as quieter and more contemplative, but more intelligent. The two would find themselves called before the assembled Majlis to be questioned, a succession debate that would become one of the more well-covered events in Andalusian history.





    [1] The Pleiades.
    [2] Guadeloupe, a name derived from the native Arawak "Karukera."
    [3] New Christchurch is located a bit south of modern Goyave, Guadeloupe.



    SUMMARY:
    1492: Asmarid forces kick John Robinred and his sugar operation off Burinkan. The Anglish relocate to St. Alban, setting up the town of New Christchurch.
    1492: Hajib Al-Nasr turns the question of his successor over to the Majlis. The first Succession Debate begins.
     
    ACT IX Part VI: The First Succession Debate, Continued
  • Excerpt: A History of the People and the Court in the Realm of the Banu Asmar - Majluf ibn Zurar al-Qassari al-Ifrani, AD 1544


    The deliberations of the Majlis were of an import and weight they had not seen before. The men chosen to advise the Hajib had provided counsel from within their spheres, but never before had they been called upon to select the one who would carry the powers of the Commander of the Faithful across so much of the world. Called to counsel by the great Al-Nasr, they arrived at the Alcazar and assembled upon the day with immense gravity, within the hall that had been set aside for their meetings.

    It was, moreover, typical of the Hajib to oversee these meetings, but Al-Nasr wisely recused himself from their deliberations, for he said that it would be unbefitting him to influence the decision of the Majlis or to show favour to his heirs and children. As such it was the qadi al-qudat Al-Haskuri who assumed the chair of the Majlis.

    With Husayn ibn Al-Nasr, the second son, electing to forego his consideration in favour of his studies of the Quran, the decision came to two of Al-Nasr's scions. And here did the wisdom of Al-Nasr bear influence, for it was said that the marshal Ar-Rammag had been close with Al-Hajar, a nephew of Al-Nasr who sought the throne, but finding no purchase among the Majlis, Al-Mustakfi withdrew his support, seeing no point in moving in support of a man no one else would back to power.

    Still, there was some concern among the Majlis for the candidacy of Tashfin ibn Al-Nasr, the third son. He was a man of agile gifts and driven personality, but he was known to also be close with Ar-Rammah, who desired to claim greater power for his family, the merchants of Qadis. Ar-Rammah himself sat as part of the Majlis, and when Tashfin approached to take questions from the members, it was Ar-Rammah who spoke first to praise the young man at length. It was said among many that the questions he put to Tashfin were not probing, nor deeply incisive, but so phrased as to give the man ample chance to speak to his own virtues, as though to persuade those in the Majlis who knew him little.

    This worked to Tashfin's advantage, for while he was a sharp-minded man, he was known among the personages at the court for the sharpness also of his tongue. He was, in truth, a man alienated from the virtues of justice and good character, and unwilling to look upon his faults or hear that he did not approach the fullness of virtue in the eyes of God. And indeed, when questioned further by the members, his answers were more clipped and sharp. When questioned by the imam Al-Shuruti of Tawru on his charitable deeds - for indeed, he was known to have given only the minimum to those in need - Tashfin responded most sharply, saying, "I should wonder who within this chamber has given his last dinar. Is what you ask of me not beyond the expectation of any man? For if I were to give away all that I have, what would I have left to give the next man?" But while he could rebuke these questions, he could not answer them with the concreteness of his actions.

    It was the remark of Al-Magili, the qadi of Sale, that he saw in Tashfin an evasiveness of character and a nature of deception through grandiosity - that he would stand upon a foundation of a weak character and conceal that fragility with sharpness and hostility, that those who saw through him would be cowed by the boldness he presented. This was the observation of Al-Magili, who was a scholar well versed in the great thinkers, but also a studier of the ancient traditions of the persuasive word. He more than any knew well the ways the word could be twisted into lies and deceit, and he saw this in Tashfin and Ar-Rammah clearly. But such words can be most persuasive, and as the fifth son of Al-Nasr, the young Abd ar-Rahim, approached the Majlis for his days of consideration, Al-Magili is said to have told colleagues that he could see the Majlis slowly being persuaded in favour of Tashfin.

    There was great contrast in the questioning of Tashfin and that of Abd ar-Rahim. The memebrs were surprised when Ar-Rammah once more spoke first, and while his questions to Tashfin had been fawning, those he directed at Abd ar-Rahim were sharp as daggers. His questioning demanded he answer for what Ar-Rammah called a lack of interest in statecraft, a perceived diffidence, and the fact that he had never taken up arms in the jihad, though indeed neither had Tashfin.

    Where Tashfin had spoken with defensive anger, however, Abd ar-Rahim met the questions with a quiet grace. He more than his half-brother showed his humility in his answers. At one point, when asked by the qadi of Lishbuna to speak of why he wished to follow in his father's footsteps, Abd ar-Rahim gave the answer: "Because I have been given the honour of learning much of the ways to best serve the ummah, and it would be selfish of me to let that knowledge go unused. My beloved father has carried the banner of the Caliph with honour and faith for many years. I can but hope to honour his example. Perhaps that will not be so. I accept that. But I wish to give."

    "And what will you give if it is the will of the Hajib that another shall serve?" asked Gharsiya, the Bishop of the Rum of Tulaytulah, who had theretofore been silent.

    "I shall give my utmost unto my brother or any other," answered Abd ar-Rahim without hesitation.

    It was at this point that Ar-Rammah spoke again, saying: "From what you say, you have no need or wish to act as the agent of the Caliph. You come before us to seek this honour, yet you contradict yourself when you say that you would give of yourself without it. Why, then, should this body place its faith in you? Why is it that you ask us to place a faith in you that you do not place in yourself?"

    Again Abd ar-Rahim did not hesitate: "If what you ask is why I desire to serve as God and the ummah will of me, the answer you seek lies in the Quran."

    With Ar-Rammah caught startled by this response, then spoke the qadi of Sale: "I should find this line of inquiry interesting, would you not," said Al-Magili. "That we, speaking here for the ummah, should imply that it is somehow a mark against a man that he would respect the will of the ummah. We have come here to make a determination on behalf of all of the Muslims, as I recall. Is your understanding thus?"

    "My understanding is," said Abd ar-Rahim. "No man who calls himself a Muslim would hear the will of the ummah expressed and then think himself proper in imposing his own will upon it. You come here to exercise the powers of the ulema through this council. Some have said this is a change, but again, the answer lies in the Quran and the precedent set by the companions of the Prophet. We are discussing wielding powers that are delegated from the Commander of the Faithful, and as such it is appropriate for that guidance to come from the mujtahidin,[1] as is convention. Who am I to place my own will above that of the ulema?"

    "Who is any Muslim to do so, for that matter," opined Al-Magili. "But your words are wise."

    The questioning carried on in some measure, but from this exchange, Ar-Rammah spoke no more, and sat in silence.

    The day that passed in the following of Abd ar-Rahim's time before the majlis was one of consideration by the men of the council. No man, in truth, can know the full detail of what was spoken among the wise men, as their deliberations were held in the absence of either of the brothers, with the doors closed to prohibit outside influencers. What is known is that as the sun began to set on the even, the qadi al-qadat emerged from the chambers and read out the decision of the council: That the mantle of hajib would pass to Abd ar-Rahim upon the death of his father.

    Upon hearing word of the decision, Abd ar-Rahim fell to his knees and gave praise to God, and bowed his head in gratitude and humility. But while Tashfin gave him his congratulations, there was a sullenness in his words. And indeed, there was an absence in the room as the members of the Majlis emerged, for the marshal Ar-Rammah was nowhere to be found, and though some searched for him, he was found to have returned home to pray. And it was said among some members of the council, in confidence to their fellows, that the decision in favour of Abd ar-Rahim had not been close - for while Ar-Rammah had been the loudest voice in favour of Tashfin, the support he had felt around him in the prior days had been swept away as dust before a southern wind.



    ~



    "The majlis has made their decision," Saqi the eunuch remarked quietly as he began to pour steaming tea into the little ceramic cup by the bedside. "As expected, it will be Abd ar-Rahim."

    "And is Ar-Rammah going to make an issue of it?" Al-Nasr murmured from where he lay propped up against the pillows. The evening breeze tugged playfully at the curtains of the nearby window, the moonlight dancing with the candlelight in the room to lend a dreamlike air to his evening rest.

    The dusky-skinned eunuch shook his head as he delicately deposited a single cube of sugar into the tea and stirred - just as Al-Nasr liked it. "It wasn't unanimous, but none of the dissenters were willing to be seen as taking up arms against the will of the ummah. Al-Magili made certain of that. His rhetoric really was impeccable. Your son is a little upset by it all, of course. Your tea, my lord?"

    "You're kind, Saqi." Al-Nasr accepted the hot cup, blowing gently across the top of it. "As for Tashfin... he'll live."

    "If I might say so, you and Abd ar-Rahim played a very roundabout game with him, dragging this all out into the public arena." It was hardly the first time Saqi had delivered that sort of frank assessment - but Al-Nasr hardly held it against him. It was Saqi's political wit that had made him invaluable in these latter years of his life.

    The old hajib crinkled his nose. "He made this harder than it had to be. If I had picked anyone other than him, Tashfin would have found allies and pushed his way into position. I spent all these long years trying to keep both sides of the strait from sticking spears into one another over every little grievance. We have powerful enemies now. The last thing we need is another war. Another foolish war with ourselves."

    With a look out through the window, Al-Nasr found his gaze rising towards the crescent of the moon, hanging high over the minarets and domes of Isbili. His thin fingers relaxed a little around the heat of the cup, its fine porcelain from the farthest east a reminder of just how far they had come. "Truthfully, I won't be around much longer," he murmured distantly. "That is why it had to be this way. If I have to publicly shame my son into not throwing a tantrum that would destroy everything I worked for, then so be it. When I am gone, I would much rather be the cynic who outplayed his own son for the sake of his people, rather than the last flicker of honest light shining upon a people slipping from the glow of history. Perhaps it is grandiose of me to think that way." He smiled, thin and self-effacing. "...But allow an old man this indulgence."

    "I promise not to tell God, my lord," Saqi murmured with a perfectly straight face.

    Al-Nasr barked out a short, dry laugh. "I knew I trusted you for a reason! Now, be a dear and pass me a slice of the melon, won't you?"[2]


    [1] Those who practice ijtihad - the effort a legal jurist puts into considering complex questions of fiqh.
    [2] Bold act of democracy, or cynical scheme to keep the realm from exploding on succession? You decide.


    SUMMARY:
    1492: The First Succession Debate ends with the Majlis choosing Abd ar-Rahim as the successor to Al-Nasr. The debate effectively cuts the knees out from under a planned coup by Al-Nasr's son Tashfin and a handful of sympathetic lords.
     
    Last edited:
    ACT IX Part VII: Christendom Enters the Global Trade Network
  • Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996


    The years following the First Succession Debate would lay the groundwork for the Asmarid Empire's entry into an age of change, one in which Moorish economic dominance of global trade lanes would no longer be undisputed. Even as the debate was ongoing, Christian kingdoms across Europe were beginning to make moves beyond their borders, pushing the frontiers of their trading universes beyond the Cape of Storms and over the Atlantic Ocean to delve into Hindustan and the Farthest West.

    In some respects, the new maritime push out of Europe was a consequence of the Cantabrian Wars and the collapse of the remaining Christian kingdoms in Iberia. Most common people in the former kingdoms of Santiago and Navarre had stayed put, lacking the means to emigrate following the conquest of the north by Al-Nasr and the Asmarids. Rich merchants and noblemen, however, had the means and the wealth to leave the Iberian Peninsula. These men and their families scattered throughout Christendom, bringing with them knowledge gleaned from centuries of close contact with their Moorish neighbours. While this knowledge would contribute in areas such as culture and medicine, the most immediate effect was on shipbuilding and navigation.

    The sudden glut of experienced Iberian merchant captains in ports from Italy to Norway provided both new insights into shipbuilding and new revelations on areas of the world theretofore little known by Christians, save the pioneering Anglish and their existing ventures in King Robart's Land, Helenia and St. Albans. Further impetus to explore beyond Europe came from tales carried from the hajj of Muhammad Mahbat, laying the foundation for the myth of the fabulously wealthy Far West. More and more, Christian rulers were inspired to join the Anglish in maritime ventures, no realms moreso than Denmark and Romania.

    The Danish and Romanian kingdoms had made initial strides around the time of Muhammad Mahbat's hajj: That same year, the Danish navigator Anders Thordssen had reached Kilwa on the eastern coast of Sudan, while the Romanian Ramon de Seta and the Santiagonian exile Balduino of Coruna had made landfall on the islands of Setania in the Far West. It would be the Danish who would mount the most ambitious push in the wake of these decisions, funding an ambitious second voyage by Thordssen in 1487. This voyage would stop in Zanzibar before pushing across the sea to reach the Maldive Islands and on to Hindustan before returning to Denmark once more.

    In 1493, the Danish sought to capitalize on their discoveries by establishing their own trading post route to Hindustan, circumventing Bataid tariffs that made trade with the East by land a challenge. An expedition led by the søfarer[1] Markus Simonssen - in fact a Normando Santiagonian named Marco Jimenez - traveled to the Thordssen Channel[2] with intent to establish a waystation for ships passing to Hindustan. The four-ship venture settled on the offshore archipelago now known as the St. Ansgar Islands[3] as an ideal spot to build, well away from potential hostilities from Bantu tribes on the mainland. A location was selected on the west-central cape of the largest island, given the name of Dragenland[4], and ground was broken on the trade hub of Stenby. The Christian church still visible at Cape Stenby is considered the oldest European Christian building in the Sudan.

    Danish efforts to establish makzan-style tributary ports in the cities subject to Kilwa would bear far less fruit - the sultanates along the coastal Sudan were wealthy and well-equipped, and trade with Maghrebi and Andalusi merchants had accustomed them to dealing with outsiders - but the hub at Stenby would prove valuable enough to launch Danish trading ambitions further eastward, into cities along the Hindustan coast. By 1496, another Danish expedition had cut a deal with the Hoysala officials around the city of Kochi, then a thriving hub of the spice trade and a frequent stop for Moorish traders. The city's rulers gave permission for the Danish to erect a fort at what was then a small fishing village outside the city itself. That fort would grow into Fort St. Lucius, the centrepiece of Denmark's trading effort in Hindustan and a particular flashpoint for future grievances between Moorish and Danish mercantile interests.[5]

    Danish efforts in the Far West were no less engaged, particularly when scholars of history began to compare their maps to charts brought north by Iberian seafarers and discovered that some of the old sagas about "Heavenland" might have some basis in fact. A Danish expedition had nosed around Barshil in the 1460s, a few years after the visit of Galin Keats on behalf of the Anglish, but the søfarer Emil Kroon - or rather, Emilio of Coruña, an Iberian - made the first in-depth exploration of Alasca on behalf of the Danish crown.

    Kroon's expedition went beyond known Anglish territory to the south, instead pushing into the gulf south of Barshil and north of Elderbeve - the body of water known today as Assumption Bay, named for Kroon arriving on the Christian solemn day of the Assumption.[6] The expedition traveled a ways down the Great Assumption River[7] and made landfall in a few places, most notably at the site marked by Kroon as Fyrland.[8] The landing party found local Innu seal hunters operating out of the area, managing a peaceful exchange that saw the Danish expedition return home with a modest cargo of seal furs.


    *​


    Romanian interest in the Far West was driven in large part by an influx of Basque whalers and merchants out of Navarre. Gascony had maintained strong ties of language and culture with the Navarrese realm, and merchants leaving newly-held Moorish territory found themselves at home in centres like Bordeu and Baiona, where many of them could carry on previous occupations with little other change. Some of these emigrants found opportunity by lending their navigational skills to the Romanian crown, which built on the discovery of Setania by pressing westward to further scour the coast of northern Alasca.

    The 1492 expedition of Olivièr de Baiona saw a group of four Romanian ships explore the edges of the Pearl Sea and the mainland in the wake of the Meridian War. De Baiona, a veteran of the Battle of Santa Maria di Leuca a few years prior, had picked up a broad selection of good sailing practices from Moorish, Basque and Venetian mariners during the course of his duties, and he'd parlayed that knowledge into service to King Guilhem's cause. His expedition scouted the eastern coast of the Kharshuf Peninsula[9] and continued north from there to chart the coast of the land he (somewhat ephemerally) called New Rome as far north as Guilhem Bay.[10]

    De Baiona's notable landing was at the site of present-day Romulus on Saints Victor and Corona Bay, at the confluence of the rivers named for those two martyrs.[11] While he didn't establish a settlement there, De Baiona marked the site with a large stone cross engraved with the New Rome appellation and the name of King Guilhem. A follow-up expedition in 1495 by Romieu Tierrès would further explore the tip of Kharshuf and scout the Andalusi-controlled islands of the Pearl Sea, stopping first at Mansurat al-Gharbiyah on Al-Gattas, then at Ekab in Al-Quwaniyyah, before looping back around Al-Gattas en route back to Romania proper.

    Anglish and Danish interests in the Farthest West placed greater emphasis on the north, where Andalusian sailors had been reluctant to expand past their enclaves in Barshil for fear of the cold climate. Sailors from Denmark and the north of Angland were far more accustomed to sailing in cold waters, and they translated those proclivities into a preference for exploring cool-temperate areas the Moors largely overlooked. Gascon and Basque sailors, on the other hand, were more likely to visit slightly warmer areas and notable fishing and whaling grounds already favoured by Moorish anglers, whalers and merchantmen, and their loose alliance with the Asmarids gave them more freedom to co-mingle with Muslims in the Farthest West without issue. Explorers under Romanian contract were thus more free to probe the southern reaches of North Alasca, trading more regularly with Far West Moorish communities and relying less on piracy and more on mercantile activities.

    Romanian exploration efforts shared a commonality with the Danish in that both kingdoms were in no rush to begin large-scale overseas conquests or settlement efforts. Denmark, a smaller kingdom, didn't have the capacity to bankroll sending armies or vast numbers of settler expeditions overseas, nor the budget to maintain huge distant colonies. The Romanian concern was more martial: King Guilhem seems to have preferred to keep his men closer to home in the hopes of staving off potential wars with France and the Holy Roman Empire, particularly with territorial claims in Italy and the Arelat continuing to worsen relationships with the German Kaiser. Both powers, in other words, had every incentive to pursue overseas policies similar to those the Hizamids had pioneered generations prior: Setting up coastal trading post empires to swap goods with native populations.

    The Romanians' search for wealth to bankroll future campaigns against their continental rivals would make it all the more vital for them to connect with the prosperous Asmarid-controlled trade networks in the Pearl Sea rim. As such, while the coast of New Rome would see some attention, Gascon sailors continued to largely operate from Setania, establishing the trading station of Saint Saturnin[12] to support ships coming and going into Asmarid-controlled waters.

    One key advantage enjoyed by the Romanians was easier access to the southern half of the Far West. Most Christian exploration had stayed in the Pearl Sea region or further north along the Alascan coast, but in 1496, the navigator Berenguer Marcès traveled much of the southern half of the supercontinent, reaching lands discovered 150 years prior by Ziri ibn Abbad but not truly explored or settled. Marcès' first expedition took him along the coast of Ibn Abbad's Ard al-Wasu[13] and its associated bay. The expedition had access to Moorish charts, but few expeditions had explored much inland following Ibn Abbad's trip, a trend reflected in local placenames: Marcès identified the lands he discovered as part of "Vaçeu," but the bay itself was renamed Princess Isabeu Bay in honour of King Guilhem's oldest daughter.

    Marcès would return in 1498 with four ships and a charter from Guilhem, establishing the first permanent mainland trading post in the Far West: The city of Sant-Laurenç, overlooking Princess Isabeu Bay. The settlement continues to be populated today, but its earliest days saw it existing primarily as a Romanian trading post and timbering station where ambitious traders could gather Pernambuco wood and dye for sale back on the continent. Romanian attention would remain closely focused on the Pernambuco-wood trade, with Vaçeu becoming their main centre of new settlement and expansion.

    As for Marcès, his charts of the coast would prove far more accurate than Ibn Abbad's. His exploration of the region was so thorough, including a third voyage further south, that the southern half of the Far West eventually came to bear his name: Berengaria.[14]


    *​


    The Anglish would remain the most potent rivals of the Asmarids in the Far West, largely owing to their combination of funding, manpower and a lack of major continental rivals ready to go to war with them on a lark. Anglish ambition in the west brought them into contention not only with the Asmarids, but with Romania and, later, with other powers with eyes on Atlantic Continent territory. Tensions with Romania emerged as early as 1494, when the Archbishops of York and Roskilde ratified the Treaty of Granham, an agreement between the Anglish and Danish monarchies to divide Alasca between them. Danish claims to the continent north of Helenia were recognized, with the Anglish granted the right to claim all land from a line equidistant between Elderbeve and Helenia on south to "the lands settled by the Mohammedans" - a claim which ignored De Baiona's claims in territory the Treaty ceded to Angland.

    The Treaty of Granham would be one of many wedges that would widen the growing fractures in Christian unity, testing the concepts of council ecumenism introduced following the Council of Imola. The Pope himself would weigh in on behalf of Romania in the matter: The bull Inter alia res, issued in 1496, recognized the Anglo-Danish dividing line but acknowledged Guilhem Bay as the northern bound of a Romanian claim, while putting off claims in the south of the new continent to a future council. Clergy in most of Mediterranean Christendom accepted the bull as valid, but ecclesiastical councils in Angland and Denmark issued their own rulings declaring the Pope's ruling invalid in the face of the preexisting Granham accord.

    Irrespective of Romanian and Papal complaints about Granham, the Anglish continued to press their interests in the Far West. Their initial settlement at King's Town[15] had struggled in its first decade, but new settlers began to arrive in the 1490s, helping to grow the fledgling colony from a simple pirate base into a trading post dealing particularly in furs. The most notable infusion came in 1496, when 1,000 Anglish soldiers arrived following an attack on King's Town by the Wampanoag the year prior in which several settlers had been killed or captured.

    Tensions with the native peoples of the region had run high almost since the Anglish settled. While initial trading relationships had been fairly cordial, native groups like the Wampanoag and Narragansett were heavily afflicted by diseases introduced by the Anglish settlers, and disputes between the two sides increasingly tended to end with the Anglish demonstrating the considerable advantages brought by steel and blackpowder weapons. The 1495 attack was apparently sparked by a severe outbreak of disease among the Wampanoag, which tribal leaders blamed on the Anglish. The arriving soldiers established a garrison outside King's Town - the fort of Prince Edgar - and proceeded to mount a punitive campaign against the Wampanoag.

    The Anglish campaign was short and brutal. Disease had taken its toll on the Wampanoag already, and the professional Anglish troops arrived with modern armour, horses and blackpowder arms. The bloodiest battle of the conflict - the Battle of Arvid's Hill, against the Assonet clan - saw nearly 500 natives slaughtered at a cost of just twelve Anglish. Before long, the settlers had forced the surrounding tribes to humiliating submission agreements, obliging them to abandon ancestral hunting grounds to Anglish settlers and traders. New farming settlements began to grow as Anglish settlers moved into these newly-conquered lands, solidifying the Anglish presence in the region.

    More directly concerning were continued Anglish pushes into trade lanes controlled until then almost exclusively by Asmarid-chartered merchants. In 1494, an Anglish expedition led by Darwin Kennericksson reached Warsheikh. The following year, a force of six Anglish skenes ambushed several Andalusian trade ships in the area before making landfall at the River Pra, establishing the first Anglish fort along the Sudani coast: Fort Darwin.[16]

    In Berengaria and the Pearl Sea, meanwhile, the sugar plantations established by John Robinred at St. Albans would spur further colonial interest, while driving Anglish interests in the slave trade. Robinred's operation was the first to begin importing slaves from the Sudan, first via Muslim traders, later coming through traders operating out of Fort Darwin. The profits realized through the sugar trade spurred more Anglish efforts to explore the Berengarian coast, scouting for areas sufficiently outside the Asmarid patrol routes that new operations could be settled there.


    *​


    In mid-August of 1494, two years after the First Succession Debate, hajib Al-Nasr finally died in his sleep. The seeds he'd sown in the Debate did their job: Abd ar-Rahim was appointed the new hajib the next day without contestation, though contemporary histories report that Tashfin withdrew from court life thereafter before sailing overseas to pursue his fortune in the sugar industry on Al-Gattas.

    It would fall to Abd ar-Rahim to manage the complexities of these new challenges to heretofore-uncontested Asmarid mercantile monopolies, but he had the advantage of doing so with the support of the greater bulk of the court and the public behind him. Most histories reflect on Abd ar-Rahim as less dynamic and transformative a hajib as Al-Nasr, interpreting his rule primarily as a period of stable governance by a steady hand - itself a remarkable situation given the tendency of governments to weaken substantially following the death of a great ruler. The fact of Asmarid stability and unity in the wake of the First Succession Debate speaks to the success of Al-Nasr in pulling the teeth of potential succession disputes, albeit at the cost of giving the Majlis a louder voice in the affairs of state.

    Abd ar-Rahim responded quickly to word of Anglish piracy extending into the coast of Binu by sparking the micro-conflict known as the Pepperbight War. A fleet of twenty safinas was dispatched to the Sudani coastline, and a new Asmarid qasbah was set up at Mushtari on the island of Mihwaria, transforming the long-standing waystation and makzan into a major Asmarid holding in the region. The newly-established Mihwaria flotilla engaged about a dozen Anglish ships at the Battle Off Adoakyir, sinking several of them and scattering the rest at a loss of two safinas. The force sailed on to attack Fort Darwin, but the Anglish held out despite losses and damage to their fleet, ensuring that the fort would remain a nuisance in the region. A subsequent agreement signed in 1498 saw the Anglish pay a nominal sum of gold in exchange for losses and agree on paper not to plunder ships on the Sudani trade routes, but in practice no pirate alive was going to give much respect to the paper agreement, and Anglish freebooters continued to harass Asmarid (and increasingly Nasrid, Simala and Romanian) ships - a trend of piracy which drove further growth to Mihwaria to support the naval garrison.


    [1] Seafarer.
    [2] The Mozambique Channel
    [3] The Bazaruto Islands, off Mozambique.
    [4] Bazaruto Island boasts a large population of crocodiles.
    [5] This fort is named for Pope Lucius I. His relics wound up in Denmark in this timeline, too.
    [6] The Gulf of St. Lawrence.
    [7] The St. Lawrence River, of course.
    [8] The area of Tadoussac, at the confluence of the Saguenay and St. Lawrence Rivers. The name means, roughly, "pine land."
    [9] Florida.
    [10] The US Atlantic coast roughly from northeast Florida to Onslow Bay, North Carolina.
    [11] Charleston, South Carolina. The rivers in question are the Ashley and the Cooper.
    [12] St. George, Bermuda.
    [13] Coastal Bahia, Brazil, centred on the site of Salvador.
    [14] The Atlantic Continent is divided into two halves in Christian telling: Alasca in the north, Berengaria in the south. The Cawanian Isthmus connects them.
    [15] King's Town is a trading post located roughly at the site of New Bedford, Massachusetts.
    [16] Not far from the OTL Portuguese fort at San Sebastian.


    SUMMARY:
    1487: The Second Thordssen Expedition reaches the Maldives and mainland Hindustan.
    1488: The Kroon Expedition sails down the Great Assumption River and mounts the first serious exploration of Fyrland, marking first contact with the Innu.
    1493: The Danish establish the ship servicing hub of Stenby on Dragenland Island near the Thordssen Channel.
    1494: The Anglish establish Fort Darwin near the Pra River in the coastal Sudan.
    1494: The Treaty of Granham divides Alasca between Angland and Denmark.
    1495: The Battle Off Adoakyir sees Asmarid ships operating from a new qasbah at Mushtari score a naval victory over Anglish freebooters. They are, however, unable to dislodge the Anglish from Fort Darwin.
    1496: The Danish break ground on Fort St. Lucius near Kochi, establishing their central spice-trading hub in Hindustan.
    1496: The Anglo-Wampanoag War sees Anglish troops brutally put down unrest among the disease-ravaged Wampanoag of Helenia. The resulting massacres and concessions push Wampanoag tribes out of prime hunting land and create new growth opportunities for Anglish colonists.
    1496: The Pope, supported by Romanian bishops, issues a bull nullifying the Treaty of Granham and recognizing Romanian claims in Alasca. The Anglish and Danish clergy proceed to nullify the bull through their own ecclesiastical councils.
    1498: The Pepperbight War concludes with the Anglish paying out paltry reparations to the Asmarids and agreeing (with firmly crossed fingers) to be very good boys and not engage in piracy in the Sudan anymore. No pirate alive listens.
    1498: The Romanian Berenguer Marcès founds the Pernambuco wood trading post of Sant-Laurenç on the Vaçeu coast.
     
    ACT IX Part VIII: The Blossoming and War in the Sahara
  • Excerpt: Wisdom, Hatred and Change: The Blossoming and Western Islam - 'Amra Gharsallah, Falconbird Press, AD 2011


    The reign of hajib Abd ar-Rahim ibn Al-Nasr is, more profoundly than any other hajib, tied inextricably to the rapid onset of the Blossoming in Western Islam.

    Generations of trade with China and the civilizations of the New World had introduced new ideas and technologies to the trading powers in Iberia and the Maghreb, from Chinese printing presses to foodstuffs from the Gharb al-Aqsa. But it was during Abd ar-Rahim's reign that many of these ideas came to the forefront with renewed strength and vigor, kicking off a wave of societal change in the Western Islamic world. The greatest driver of this societal change was the printing press developed by Ibn Al-Jazuli and Ibn Sa'd decades prior, but refined in the 1470s by the development of Iftenic text.

    While Ibn Sa'd had developed a workable woodpanel printing method for Arabic text, printing of books was still an expensive process limited by the cursive, flexible nature of standard Arabic printfaces. The key refinement was pioneered by Ahmad ibn Iften al-Muthaq al-Sabti, an assistant to Ibn Sa'd from the 1450s to the 1470s who went on to establish his own printing house. Ibn Iften simplified the printing process by developing a set of stamps utilizing a printface similar to the script historically used in Kufa. His printface was blocky and simple, but it could be applied to a printing press far more flexibly than Ibn Sa'd woodblock-based solution - and it proved useful enough that modern Arabic is still heavily based on Iftenic script.

    The flexibility of the Iftenic printface made Ibn Iften's printing house the stop of choice for those looking to publish. While official religious texts, particularly the Quran, remained the domain of the scribes, other documents proliferated rapidly. Printing dies using Iftenic characters became widespread from about 1473 onward, proliferating through the Maghreb and into Andalusia. By the time of Abd ar-Rahim's succession, the Andalusian marketplace was flooded with books on topics ranging from naturalism and astronomy to love poems and civic business.

    Ideas, in other words, were able to spread like they never had before. The period following Abd ar-Rahim's succession was marked by a number of key publications by philosophers, theologians, naturalists and artists. Some of the notables are listed here (Latinizations of their names are marked with an L):

    • Sa'dan ibn Hamid al-Tazi (L: Benamides): An astronomer from Taza in the Maghreb, Ibn Hamid's 1491 publication entitled Against Almagest: A New Model of God's Cosmos is the first printed treatise dismantling the Ptolemaic model of a fixed and unmoving Earth. While the fact of the Earth's rotation had become fairly widespread over prior centuries, Ibn Hamid followed that argument down lines not fully explored since the works of Aristarchus of Samos in the classical Greek period, though it's unclear if Aristarchus's works were known to Ibn Hamid. Against Almagest has survived in its entirety: It leads in with a brief discussion of the philosophical implications of a heliocentric order of the universe, then outlines pages and pages of geometrical and observational calculations that demonstrated the model mathematically. By the onset of the 16th Century, Ibn Hamid's theories were well-known in Western Islamic astronomical and theological circles, sparking some consternation in more conservative communities.
    • Abd al-Basir ibn al-Husayn al-Shilbi (L: Azilves): Equal in importance to Ibn Sajr in his impact on Western Islamic theology, Ibn al-Husayn, a theologian from Shilb in the Gharb al-Andalus, was remarkable less for his originality of thought and more for his commentaries on Ibn Sajr's works. Centuries prior, Ibn Sajr had argued in The Philosophy of Faith that philosophy was not heretical and that the world operated on natural laws set out by God - and therefore, if God had not intended for humans not to utilize logic in their determinations, He would not have given them that capacity in the first place. Ibn al-Husayn's seminal publication On Qiyas and the Faith is a detailed commentary on Ibn Sajr's arguments, using his basic argument as a framework for analyzing a number of societal changes and innovations discovered in the Gharb al-Aqsa and in China. The theological framework he put forward positioned the world as a divine creation, but one in which God rewarded inquisitiveness rather than what Ibn al-Husayn described as "a stillness of thought." His work introduced Sajri thought to a mass audience for the first time - and earned him the ire of more traditional imams and jurists.
    • Elbira bint 'Ubayd Allah al-Jamila (L: Elvira): Elbira is remarkable as the first woman writer to see wide publication in the Andalusian mainstream, a rarity both at the time and afterward. The daughter of a wealthy merchant of the Banu Angelino, she lived her life in Isbili and was apparently well-known as a social figure, remarked on in a few surviving accounts for her uncommon outspokenness, her sharp intellect and her tendency to eschew covering her hair. A short text attributed to her - Songs to Awaken the Heart and the Faith, printed in 1503 - consists mainly of musical notation and lyrics to several songs apparently common in the region, as well as a brief treatise on the value of music and song. The text spread mainly among women in the mercantile and urban classes but served to further the spread of music outside of devotional purposes.
    • Waslas ibn al-Sagir al-Mu'allim al-Qafsi (L: Benascirus): Contributing to the Blossoming by way of Nasrid Ifriqiya, Ibn al-Sagir was a well-known teacher and scholar of the natural world. His travels took him to Hindustan sometime in the 1490s. When he returned, he spent the next several years penning pamphlets before finalizing his key 1509 manuscript, The Methods of Studying the Natural. Methods builds on the works of generations of past Islamic scholars, particularly Ibn al-Haytham, by codifying the basis of naturalistic study[1] - namely the use of experimentation and reproducibility to form conclusions about the natural laws. Notably, Ibn al-Sagir was aware of contemporaries in other fields: Methods cites the arguments put forward by Ibn Hamid in Against Almagest to present a model through which Muslims can explore what Ibn al-Sagir describes as "the natural laws God has written into the material of the world."
    • Gharsiya ibn Ma'bad al-Qarmuni (L: Avembade): While highly influential in his time, Ibn Ma'bad is generally held in ill regard for the spinoff effects of his 1494 treatise entitled The Races of Man and the Quality of the Spirit. Ibn Ma'bad, from a wealthy family in Qarmuna, had traveled much of the Gharb al-Aqsa and the Sudan during much of his career as a merchant, encountering many of the various cultures Andalusis and Maghrebis had met since the discovery of the New World. Races of Man codified many beliefs that had emerged over the years, essentially putting religious chauvinism down on paper. He described a selection of peoples mainly in spiritual terms and presented an argument, based primarily on inflammatory rumours of practices like human sacrifice in Anawak and alleged cannibalism in the Sea of Pearls, that civilizations in the Far West and parts of the Sudan were spiritually inferior to Muslims and other People of the Book. He further attributed this status as the reason civilizations in the Far West appeared less advanced than those in the East. Essentially Ibn Ma'bad's text is a massive justification for ethnoreligious chauvinism, and its influence coarsened attitudes towards pagans among the general public.

    This is by no means an exhaustive selection of early Blossoming works, but represents some of the most influential ones.

    Publications like these circulated widely - even more widely than the Quran. A consequence of the ban on printing Qurans was that, once printing presses came into wider use, everyday readers were more likely to read commentaries on the Quran than read the Quran itself. The ban thus worked against its own aims, serving to undermine orthodox Islamic thought by cutting off a broader audience from the easiest means to get ahold of the book.

    This discrepancy was by no means lost on critics of Blossoming ideas. Indeed, the sheer volume of Blossoming works often leads new scholars to assume a near-unanimous trend towards reconsidering core values of Islamic society. Most analysis suggests a more nuanced picture, with the broader public not always invested but with elite and educated opinion divided, only trending towards the Blossoming side generationally. Anti-Blossoming texts certainly existed: The Zahiri imam Ibn Ziri of Anfa published a particularly notable opinion purporting to debunk Al-Shilbi. However, especially early in the Blossoming, many of these Anti-Blossoming works had something in common.

    They were almost universally handwritten.

    Much of the early pushback against various Blossoming ideas came from orthodox theologians and jurists, but also from scribes, who viewed the printing press as undermining their role in society. For these thinkers, part of the root of the spread of unorthodoxy was the willingness of certain thinkers to publish in print - a medium deemed unfit for the Quran, and therefore, argued the scribes, also unfit for other ideas of moral and spiritual consequence. As such, the early wave of anti-Blossoming thinkers wrote almost exclusively by hand, in classical printfaces of Arabic. While this produced a number of beautifully handwritten documents, it also slowed down their production and drastically limited the ability to distribute them in any number. The advantage of the printing press was mass production, and reformists willing to utilize it were able to simply swamp traditional critics relying on the old methods.


    *


    Change was not only afoot in the immediate Asmarid world and among the Nasrids and Sofalas. The key military conflicts early in Abd ar-Rahim's reign were not the grand colonial conflicts that would characterize later decades. Rather, Abd ar-Rahim's attention on the foreign relations front was first drawn to the Sahara and the reaches beyond it.

    The takeover of the Kanem Empire by the Hussenids destabilized much of immediate Subsahara. The Hussenids, being of Arabo-Nilotic stock and heavily invested in a semi-nomadic lifestyle, damaged a number of old cities in the region of Lake Chad. As the Hussenids settled into the ruins of Njimi, an outflow of formerly-settled Kanembu and Kanuri people ensued, pushing west into the lands of the Hausa and on north. Most of these migrants were integrated into the various Hausa kingdoms, though some of the more martial, marauding into Hausa lands, were defeated by the combined armies of the Sultanates of Kano and Zazzau at the Battle of the Hadejia River sometime between 1470 and 1475.[2]

    These clashes and migrations seem to have sparked off additional movement of people through the Saharan rim and has been theoretically linked to a large migration of Zarma people[3] into the rump Manden Kurufaba in the back fraction of the 15th century, though scholarship on the matter remains vague. What's clear is that the Zarma arrived in the Mande realm in force, finding the locals weakly governed and internally divided after years of sleepy decline following the loss of the Bambuk and Bure goldfields to the much wealthier and more prosperous Simalas of the coast. Key inland trading posts were quickly overrun as the Zarma, led by a Zermakoy by the name of Gazari Ali, who drove out the Mande rulers of Gao in 1491 and established a new capital at the city now known as Niabe, for which numerous conflicting etymologies have been proposed.[4]

    The Zarma Empire rapidly overran most of the Mande city-states in the region, largely due to innovations the Zarma seem to have picked up from the Hausa and Kanuri. Zarma military power was centred on a corps of elite barikoyo, horse-mounted cavalry equipped with tinkuuru - quilted leather similar to the lifidi armour worn by Hausa cavalrymen of the time - as well as iron helmets and steel chain mail. The barikoyo were well-armed, primarily with javelins and curved swords, and made liberal use of poisoned arrows from horseback, but it was mostly their use of higher-quality armour and cavalry tactics that gave them an edge over the Mande polities of the period, then well past the halcyon days of Sansama Konaté and his immediate heirs.

    The emergence of the Zarma on their inland frontier caused trouble for the largely coast-oriented Simalas: While the most prosperous reaches of their empire lay along the Dahab and in riverine areas easily accessible to trade routes on the Atlantic, that trade still relied heavily on gold mined from the inland fields at Bambuk and Bure, fields coveted by Gazari Ali and his leadership group. The fall of Djenne in 1495 was met with an expedition eastward by the Simala, their army mostly composed of Fulani troops and Sanhaja Berbers. Appeals were similarly dispatched north to the Maghreb. Abd ar-Rahim gave consent in 1498 for the amir of Aghmat, whose territory included the former trans-Saharan megahub at Sijilmasa, to mount an expedition across the desert to aid the Simala in keeping the gold trade secure.

    The Trans-Saharan expedition launched in 1500, consisting of just 3,500 men: A thousand Berbers on horseback, 1,500 infantrymen armed with blackpowder weapons, and another 1,000 troops equipped with swords, javelins and bows, as well as a dozen cannons. This expedition made it across the Sahara in 1501 and established control over Oualata and Aoudaghost, holding the latter against a significant Zarma attack in 1502. The force, despite being outnumbered two to one, inflicted sufficient on the Zarma attackers to deter an attempt at a second attack, but found itself unable to advance much deeper into Mande territory, in part due to a lack of both provender and budget. Most of the troops would be sent home, leaving the Asmarids in control of these trading waystations but unable to do much to prevent the Zarma from capturing Niani and gaining control of the Bure goldfields.

    It would fall to the Simala to hold the Bambuk gold fields - a feat they accomplished without Asmarid aid, scoring a decisive win against the Zarma at the Battle of Kofe. The Simala came to the fight in similar circumstances to the Asmarid expedition, outnumbered but with a core of troops equipped with blackpowder weapons, and dealt a more decisive blow to Gazari Ali and his men. The losses the mostly-Fulani Simala force inflicted were enough to blunt Zarma momentum and leave Bambuk's gold resources firmly in Simala hands. A later effort to retake Niani met with stiffer Zarma resistance, resulting in the gold supply effectively being split.

    The conflict with the Zarma, at least to that point, was something of a wash for the Simala - it neither knocked them out of the gold trade nor solidified a monopoly, particularly with the Bambuk gold field being the closest and most easily accessible to their core territory - but it marked the appearance of a sub-Saharan economic and military rival for the first time in awhile. The Simala rulers' continued reliance on the Fulani to form the backbone of their military would only continue, as would conflict over Bure and Niani. These conflicts would serve mainly to irritate Asmarid gold traders to a degree, while otherwise giving Isbili control over an immense swath of Sahara down to Aoudaghost and Oualata, which served mainly as outposts through which they could potentially move against any attempts by the Zarma to gain too much of a hold on the gold market.



    [1] The scientific method.
    [2] Written records are hard to come by in this part of Subsahara. A lot of history from the region is conveyed through oral chronicles.
    [3] The Zarma are fairly closely related to the Songhai. OTL they predominate in western Niger.
    [4] Niabe is just north of Diré, Mali, near where the Niger passes by a few transient lakes. Its etymology comes from two Zarma words, "ɲa" (mother) and "birni" (city), and comes from Gazari Ali waving at his attendants and ordering them to build "the mother city of our realm" The name was probably closer to Nyabirni originally but has drifted with time and dialect. The pronunciation is roughly what you'd get from the Japanese word yabe, with an N in front of it - nyabe.


    SUMMARY:
    1470s: The introduction of Iftenic script - a takeoff of Kufic adapted to the printing press - creates the first flexible and easily standardized printface for Arabic, kicking off a wave of publications that usher in the Blossoming.
    1491: The astronomer Ibn Hamid publishes Against Almagest: A New Model of God's Cosmos, the first widely-publicized heliocentric model of the universe.
    1494: Ibn Ma'bad's The Races of Man and the Quality of the Spirit provides the first written introduction of ethnoreligious bigotry against pagans as a codified and coherent philosophy.
    1496: Ibn al-Husayn's On Qiyas and the Faith hits publication, reviving interest in the philosophical and deductive reasoning-fronted take on Islam pioneered centuries earlier by Ibn Sajr. Sajri thought finally begins to enter the mainstream thanks to this new exposure.
    1501: As the Zarma Empire devours the last of the carcass of the Manden Kurufaba, the Asmarids push their control down to Oualata and Aoudaghost, holding them in 1502 against a Zarma advance.
    1503: The songwriter Elbira - the first widely-printed female author - publishes Songs to Awaken the Heart and the Faith.
    1503: The Simala Emirate holds the Bambuk gold fields against the Zarma Empire at the Battle of Kofe. An uneasy pease ensues, with the gold fields split between the coastal-oriented Simalas and the inland Zarmas.
    1509: The eminent naturalist Ibn al-Sagir publishes The Methods of Studying the Natural, introducing the evidence-based method of naturalistic study.
     
    ACT IX Part IX: Famine, Setbacks and Kitu
  • Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996


    While it's worth being somewhat skeptical of narratives that try to draw too much of Al-Andalus's experience in the early 1500s back to the Famine of 1505, there is certainly evidence that the crop failures of that year, and a series of poor harvests in the ensuing years, kicked off trends that would trouble the reign of Abd ar-Rahim and create challenges that would influence the Blossoming.

    Sources in the Western Islamic world and elements of Latin Christendom attest to poor harvests spanning from the Maghreb through Andalusia, lower Romania and the Italian peninsula. The famine is largely attributed to global cooling trends active since the discovery of the Gharb al-Aqsa and population rebounds since the Great Plague 300 years earlier, but while much of that scholarship dwells in the realm of speculation, what is evident is that crop yields in the Mediterranean world dropped enough to spark unrest among the commons and propel movement of peoples to areas where better farming was to be had.

    In the Asmarid world, common people had the advantage of a decently-developed network of colonies to move to in search of more fertile land, a trend reflected in the movement patterns of the time. Official records and archaeological research reveal a spike in population growth in the overseas wilayahs of Tirunah, al-Gattas and Quwaniyyah - the latter receiving relatively less settlement at the time due to its hostile karst terrain. These settlers tended to drift towards certain areas:

    * In Quwaniyyah, settlers gravitated to the relatively decent conventional soils along the north coast of the peninsula, between Iqab and the northwestern townlet of Sisal. The use of the name "Alminah" for Sisal seems to originate from this period in that new migrants to the region tended to refer to the town generally as "the port." These farmers largely adapted to native Mayan crops, with farms in the north primarily growing local staples - mahiz, long beans[1] and gourds[2] - supplemented by a blossoming industry in sisal fibres as cash crops for sale as products like twine and cording. Interestingly, the name "sisal" was retained for the crop, but not for the town of Sisal itself.

    * In Tirunah, settlement concentrated most heavily between the settlements of Kanza and Malibu and pushing on down the Tirunah River. Many of these farmers brought eastern crops and animals with them, primarily goats, horses and chickens as well as wheat, with primary cash crops including kakaw, mara,[3] sugarcane and tea. The greater fertility of the region made it far more prosperous than Quwaniyyah at the time, with more migrants choosing to settle there than among the Maya.

    * In Al-Gattas, agriculture was broadly similar to that in Tirunah, but with a particular focus on the island's most notable cash crop: tubbaq,[4] which grew rapidly in popularity in the East. While unpopular with religious authorities, various attempts to outlaw it over the years proved unsuccessful - a 1502 fatwa against it by the mufti] of Tanja, for instance, was widely ignored.

    The famine further drove inland Berbers to seek travel overseas to Azaniyah, where a farming and herding culture had begun to develop around Marsa ar-Raha, oriented towards both sustainining the local population and supplying ships bound for both Mecca and for China and the Farthest East. A smaller number of migrants would trickle towards Mubaraka, primarily trading in spices and tropical cash crops. Still other colonists settled in the area of Mawfilah[5] and began to explore the peninsula of Kharshuf in earnest, with exploratory expeditions pushing up into the riverlands of the Meshishib in search of gold and valuable trading partners, but with none being found, the area was seen mainly as a swampy backwater in comparison to the prosperous Pearl Sea colonies and the lucrative cash crop trade with the increasingly Arabized Otomi Emirate.

    Other farmers seeking relief from the famine moved somewhat closer to home. The Famine coincides with a movement northward of Muslim Andalusis and Christian Mozarabs into the occupied territories north of the central Iberian mountains, into old Santiago and Navarre. Settlement of Muslims in key cities was met with deep discomfort among the Catholic population, leading to unrest and fear of displacement. This came to a head a few years later with the Astorga Uprising of 1509, in which Catholic rioters in the city of Astorga drove out the Asmarid governor and spent weeks looting Muslim homes and mosques. About 300 Muslim and Jewish citizens were killed, on top of contemporary reports of sexual violence against Muslim women by the rioters. The rioters claimed their motivation was "the reconquest of our homeland" in the name of the legendary Hidden King of the northern kingdoms, from whom their ringleader - for whom about four different names are given in various sources - claimed descent.

    The Astorga Uprising was put down fairly brutally by Asmarid troops; about 50 ringleaders not killed in the fighting were publicly beheaded en masse in the centre of the city, with hundreds more exiled to labour camps overseas, and their properties were doled out to Muslim citizens as compensation for the violence. Smaller-scale rioting would follow over the years, mostly contained by local junds but similarly motivated by Latin Catholic fears of Muslim, Jewish and Mozarabic migrants from the more arid south moving into the northern forests and highlands in search of more temperate lands to farm.


    ~


    An area not particularly attractive to Muslim settlers, meanwhile, was the island of Barshil. While the island had value as a fishing colony, its harsh winter climate and heavy winds made it deeply unappealing to settlers looking for a place to grow crops and live a settled life, and the settlement at Jadida remained fairly small throughout most of its life, with no settlements expanding beyond the Sayadin peninsula.

    The tenuous nature of life on Barshil was overlaid by the proximity of the island to foreign powers. The island was part of land claimed by Denmark under the Treaty of Granham, and while it was not at the time recognized as the exact site of the mythical Hofnland, it was known to be the nearest region accessible to Danish sailors and a necessary gateway to the Great Assumption River, sought after by the Danish since the Kroon Expedition of the late 1480s. By the 1500s the Danish had begun to figure out the potential of the region as a fur trading area, and control of the island was seen as vital to their interests in Alasca.

    The Danish Capture of Brasil was something of an embarrassment to the Asmarids for how much of a fait accompli it became for the Danish. In the summer of 1507, a squadron of 16 skenes sailing out of Iceland swept into Barshil and attacked the token Asmarid defensive force of two combat safinas, sinking one and capturing the other, before making landfall at Jadida and capturing the city after a short siege. Several fishing boats were sunk and captured in the fighting, while others were forced to scatter. About 200 settlers were captured by the Danish and given the choice to either convert to Christianity or leave under their own power; most chose to leave, but weren't actually provided ships, mostly ending up exiled into the cold hinterlands.

    As the Danish consolidated the island as the Duchy of Brasil and renamed Jadida to Olafsstad in honour of the expedition's leader, word was slow to trickle back to Isbili. Only in 1509 did Abd ar-Rahim get around to organizing a relief effort, gathering a dozen safinas and armed men and sending them northwest to reclaim the island. The effort would be ill-fated: The flotilla was largely destroyed after sailing into an Atlantic storm, with only three ships surviving to limp back to the Maghurines. Another effort in 1510 saw a smaller flotilla defeated by a Danish detachment at the Battle of Olafsstad. The Danish allowed the remaining Muslims to return to Andalusia after the battle, but the price was a truce that secured the Danish foothold on the island and ended Asmarid ambitions in the cold north.

    Brasil - and the newly-established outposts on the tip of Greenland - proved most accessible to Danish sailors looking for toeholds on the new supercontinent, largely because the outpost they captured at Barshil was nevertheless fairly well-appointed. The Danish throne placed a premium on exploring this new region and others. The relatively small size of Denmark proper created a ceiling on how much land could actually be farmed, and while their holdings in Norway and Iceland were geographically impressive, they weren't particularly rich in good growing land. The Danish crown viewed the Farthest West and the Southeast as potential sources of both cash and housing - places for their growing population to expand into in a nation where good land was harder to come by than in Angland or the lower mainland.

    The loss of Barshil was viewed in the Asmarid court as an embarrassment more than a major blow. The territory was seen as an inhospitable northern frontier and one of the less profitable frontiers in the New World - and its loss came at a time when the Asmarids were making inroads elsewhere.

    Trade contacts with Iskantinsuyu had been sporadic and informal since the arrival of Muslim settlers in the Farthest West, but in 1509, Abd ar-Rahim sponsored a formal diplomatic mission across the Andes Range by way of Tirunah, aiming to reach the court of the Sapa Inca at Cusco. The mission went overland, as the over-Andean coastline hadn't been particularly well-mapped even by 1509, but merchants out of the colonies had well-charted the land passes into the Andean highlands.

    The mission was derailed fairly quickly when it arrived in the northern city of Kitu.[6] Evidence of Precrossing life in Kitu is sparse, but what information exists suggests the Cara people of the region had held out against efforts by the late Kingdom of Chimor to annex the area, only to fall victim to the same virgin-field epidemics that decimated Chimor and the rest of the trans-Andean region. By the time the 1509 expedition arrived, Kitu was a sparsely-populated semi-ruin, only beginning the earliest stages of a slow population rebound.

    While the core of the expedition continued on to try and reach Cusco, eventually succeeding in an exchange of gifts with the Sapa Inca, several of the delegates remained behind in Kitu, most notably the imam known primarily as Al-Thagri. He remained in Kitu for years, preaching Islam to the small group of locals and winning several converts in the community.

    Broadly, Islam would have more luck catching on in the northern Andes than in the south, where even the depleted authority of the Sapa Inca still held sway through a model rooted in traditional Inca beliefs. Merchants in Kitu, meanwhile, would grow to act as intermediaries between traders from Iskantinsuyu and Tirunah, many of them adopting Islam with the aid of Al-Thagri. By 1514, another expedition returned to Kitu and continued on towards the coast, establishing a trading port and village at Al-Mantiyyun.[7] The settlement there, once the site of a native village, would eventually grow to prominence as a hub of trade as more and more of the western coast became known.


    [1] The common bean, P. vulgaris.
    [2] The famous Three Sisters. The Yucatan is notoriously hard to farm, and Maghrebi-Andalusi farmers are basically forced to adapt to Mayan crops to make it work.
    [3] Cacao beans and coffee.
    [4] Tobacco.
    [5] Mobile, AB.
    [6] Quito.
    [7] In the area of Guayaquil, in this case named for the Manteno people of the region.


    SUMMARY:
    1505: The Famine of 1505 sparks a large increase in migration to the colonies from Andalusia and the Maghreb.
    1507: The Danish capture Barshil with little resistance and set it up as their first toehold in the Farthest West.
    1509: An Asmarid effort to recapture Barshil fails when most of the fleet runs square into an Atlantic hurricane.
    1509: An Asmarid expedition reaches Cusco, with a stopover in Kitu, where the imam Al-Thagri begins proselytizing to the Cara and Kitu peoples.
    1509: The Astorga Uprising. Angered by immigration to northern Iberia by Islamic and Jewish settlers, Christians in Astorga revolt, capture the city and begin a series of pogroms against the settlers. The revolt is brutally put down and its surviving ringleaders beheaded.
    1510: The Battle of Olafsstad. An Asmarid flotilla is defeated by the Danish in a bid to recapture Brasil. The Asmarids withdraw their efforts to retake the island.
    1514: An expedition across the Andes sees the makzan of Al-Mantiyyun established.
    [/i]
     
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    ACT IX Part X: Horse Railways and the Race to Steam
  • Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996


    The period of relative peace in the Mediterranean world in the early 1500s can in part be attributed to the Little Fitna of 1509 - a major earthquake that shook Constantinople at a time when the Bataid Empire was considering another campaign in eastern Europe. The impact of the quake went beyond the initial death toll of anywhere from 1,500 to 20,000 people across the broader Bosporus region: It forced the Bataids to divert funding towards repair of Constantinople and other infrastructure in the area, sending soldiers home to fund building repairs and road work.

    In a Bataid realm already frought with simmering cultural stresses between Arab and Persian Muslims and more Hellenized Greeks and Patzinaks, the Little Fitna was viewed among traditionalists as a sign of the impending Day of Reckoning. By now the printing press had begun to proliferate through the Bataid world, and much literature was written tying the quake to other signs. The work of one Abu Bakr ibn Sadiq al-Baghdadi stands out as the most frequently discovered print from the period, outlining numerous alleged signs of the coming apocalypse: Al-Baghdadi describes the Little Fitna as a predicted "shaking in the east" and describes numerous habits of the Bataid upper class, including permissiveness of Greek copies of the Quran and perceived breaches of Islamic doctrine, as among the greater and lesser signs. In particular, many apocalyptic writers of the time emphasized the division of Islam between Umayyad and Abbasid caliphs with no real temporal power as a sign that no ruler in the Islamic world was truly ruling according to God's law.

    In the wake of the Little Fitna, the Bataids found themselves mired in a period of civil unrest and discontent as little rebellions flared up here and there, worsened by threats from the Irbisids to the east.

    The Christian north, meanwhile, found itself embroiled in an unlikely conflict with the Holy Roman Empire over the status of Brabant and Holland. The twin duchies, long operating under the Imperial umbrella but somewhat at arm's length, had fallen through inheritance into the rule of Guillaume de Rouen, Count of Flanders - cousin of King Emilien I of France.

    The issue of the Low Countries had put France and the Empire at odds for generations: Flanders had recognized the French monarch and the northern duchies the German Emperor, but intermarriage between the Reginarid House of Antwerp and the De Rouens of Flanders had given both families claims on the other. These came to a head when the last of the Antwerp Dukes, Frederick IV, died a sickly child at 14. A contested succession followed, with a distant cousin dying under mysterious circumstances before Guillaume and a substantial army arrived to press his claim.

    The dispute between France and the Empire simmered at a low level, with Guillaume dancing between two lieges but holding loyalty primarily to his cousin. So long as Guillaume continued to remit taxes and recognition to the German crown, the Geroldsecks tolerated the situation, but when a distant Reginarid claimant - the Count of Limburg - raised an army to press his claim, the Holy Roman Emperor backed him with money and some dispatch of men. French troops followed into the field in 1511, sparking the first of the Lowland Wars - one that would see the Holy Roman Empire make gains in the first two years before being rolled back when the Count of Limburg died and a major French counteroffensive pushed Imperial troops far enough out of the area to prompt a truce, recognizing an imperial zone around Limburg but leaving the claim issue itself unsettled.

    All of this worked in the favour of the Asmarids to the west: With no immediate danger of a Bataid invasion of key allies and continental Christian politics largely diverted into other conflicts, Andalusi and Maghrebi society had a great deal of room to spread its wings. While threats did loom, none were existential, and the humiliating loss of Barshil early in Abd ar-Rahim's reign gave way to new advancements that would shift Islamic society steadily away from its eastern origins.


    ~


    With piracy a growing concern for trade with the East and the West alike, Asmarid shipbuilders responded by refining the design of the older, lighter saqin into new levels of effectiveness. What emerged from this trend was the rafaq, or escort.

    The typical rafaq was not as large as the typical safina of the time, but it was fast and well-armed, usually with a distinctive overhanging bow and two masts as well as facilities for oars. While the demands of cargo trade had seen safinas gradually increase in size to 1,000 tons or more, a typical rafaq tended to displace no more than 200 tons. The ships were built less for cargo carriage and more to defend safina flotillas and hunt down pirates, with hulls constructed to carry naval dragons capable of striking with blackpowder from range.[1]

    The introduction of rafaq escorts drastically improved the piracy situation in both the central Atlantic and the Southern Sea, where pirates from the Bataid realm, Hindustan and Nusantara had increasingly come to see fat Andalusi cargo ships as easy targets. Versions of the ship were used in the Mediterranean as defense against pirates as well.

    Beyond the ability of ships to move goods, however, Andalusi merchants and businessmen were making advances on land.

    Iberia has long been a major source of slate for construction[2] as well as a provider of high-quality architectural stone and marble. The fall of the northern Christian kingdoms opened up the particularly rich mineral deposits of Gallaecia to Andalusi merchants, and wealthy families quickly moved into the area and staked claims. A particular area of focus lay east of the city of Uransh (Ourense), a historic centre of slate and gold mining.

    The Famine of 1504 and the subsequent movement of people overseas did this sector no favours, nor did general discontent among the majority Catholic population of Gallaecia. Many locals refused to work for Muslims, and small brushfire rebellions were not infrequent. Mining operations in the area struggled for manpower, both to excavate massive slabs of slate and to move them out of quarries - both labour-intensive tasks.

    It was in the area outside the town of Bawduras (Valdeorras), east of Uransh a ways, that the first horse railway was constructed at a slate quarry operated by an Andalusi merchant, one Haidar ibn Abd al-Malik al-Shereshi. The son of a grape-growing family from Sheresh, Haidar had migrated north to pursue a change of trade, investing much of his inheritance into a slate-mining operation. But with workers hard to come by, Haidar sought ways to reduce the amount of manpower and horsepower actually needed.

    The rail system set up at Haidar's quarry allowed slate to be loaded onto a relatively simple cart and pulled uphill to be processed, requiring fewer men and horses to move the materials than otherwise. The system used wooden rails ridden by carts with simple wooden wheels and a rudder plate designed to slot neatly between the rails. The cart system, first noted in 1512, was fairly primitive - but it was a first for the Christian and Islamic world, and it allowed Haidar to transport larger quantities of slate out of the quarry to be prepared for sale.

    Mines throughout the north rapidly caught on to the idea of using tracks and horses to haul loads. Over the next couple of decades, horse railcarts proliferated in the mining sector and nowhere else. On average, these rail systems increased the output of mines dramatically: A single horse could carry three to four times as much per load as a mine without a rail system. Mine and quarry operators recognized the profit potential readily, and the system would eventually expand: By 1521, a mine in the area extended a wooden line straight into Bawduras and up to a dock on the Wadi as-Sil, where slate could be loaded onto barges and shipped downriver to Uransh.


    ~


    While horse railways marked an important element of advancement, uptake of steam power proved much slower, both in China and worldwide. Manufacturers in China had been using them for some time, but they had struggled to spread outside of particular industries due to two factors: The expense of setting them up, and the uneven spread of adequate metallurgy.

    Outside of China, the first known steam engine was actually constructed in the Lavo Kingdom by rich landholders along the Irrawaddy River, intended to try and pump floodwaters back into the river. The engine appeared around 1508 but does not seem to have caught on outside a narrow area, eventually falling into disuse due to exacting maintenance requirements. An engine was constructed around the same time in the court of the Maharaja of the Janggala Kingdom, driving a spectacular carousel similar to one first observed in the Song court decades prior.

    However, China's general advantage in metallurgy slowed down the spread of the engine outside the far east. Chinese steelmakers had been able to manufacture steel at higher grades than the rest of the world since the Song period,[3] and while the rest of the world had made advancements, China remained well ahead of the curve.

    Increased contact between China and the Islamic and Christian worlds stood to bridge that gap, particularly with Andalusi and Maghrebi Sinophiles beginning to document more information about China and compile it into printed works. In the early 1500s, the groups with the largest headstart on unlocking the secrets of Chinese naturalism were the Asmarids, the Janggalas, the Lavo Kingdom and to an extent the Bataids, with Christian Europe trailing behind in their understanding of the east.


    [1] These ships are roughly analogous to an early light xebec with more optimization for ocean trade.
    [2] OTL, Spain produces 90% of Europe's roofing slate.
    [3] Song metallurgists were using a process akin to an early Bessemer process as early as the 11th century.


    SUMMARY:
    1508: The steam engine reaches the Irrawaddy Delta.
    1509: The steam engine reaches the court of the Maharaja of the Janggala Kingdom.
    1509: The Little Fitna. A major quake rocks Constantinople, sparking a wave of anti-Bataid apocalyptic unrest.
    1512: Horse railways are invented in Asmarid Gallaecia by slate miners looking to overcome a labour shortage. Material output of Asmarid mines begins to increase as the technology spreads.
    1514: The first round of the Lowland Wars, prompted by France's inheritance of the Low Countries.
    1521: The first large-scale horse railway connects a major quarry to barge ports in the town of Bawduras, allowing slate to be shipped downriver for sale.
     
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    ACT IX Part XI: The Otomi on the Rise
  • Excerpt: Anawak in Retrospect - Mahbat Albilatini, Western Libro, AD 2019


    In the central Gharb al-Aqsa, no group emerged from the disease-induced wave of mass death, bloody purges and societal upheaval than the Otomi. But not even their society could avoid massive transformation even in the face of survival.

    By the 1490s, years of constant warfare with the various Chichimeca tribes to the north had forced the Otomi to increasingly rely on the military assistance of imported kishafa. The formation of a powerful military caste of Berbers and Andalusis had profound impacts on society, leading to a steady Andalusization of the Otomi upper class and a concentration of power in the hands of both the kishafa and the Andalusi-Otomi upper class - those Otomi who most readily acculturated to the norms of their advisors and soldiers.

    The conflict with the Chichimeca hit its most decisive stroke in 1494, when an army of kishafa and Otomi soldiers successfully defeated the Zaqat Chichimeca tribes[1] at the Battle of Taj al-Jamil.[2] The ensuing victory saw the Otomi extend their direct control into a silver-rich valley they had long coveted. Upon concluding peace agreements with a number of surrounding Chichimeca tribes, the Otomi and the Eastern merchants driving their economy quickly moved in and set up a mining settlement in the area, the largest of several mining towns aimed at exploiting the area's rich deposits of silver.

    The Otomi initially came into the Andalusi economic orbit as providers of rare cash crops like shukutil,[3] but the addition of the rich silver mines of the Jamil Range would further balloon their economy, creating a new source of both wealth and inequality. Efforts to put local pagans to work in the mines were quickly overridden by a preference for importing slave labour from overseas, largely from the south-central Sudan. Slaves arrived by way of the Simala Kingdom, Ubinu and NiKongo in particular, many of them captured in the numerous inter-tribal wars of the time.

    This steady influx of people created a distinctively mixed demographic system organized along a hierarchy, from top to bottom as follows:

    * Andalusis, Berbers and Andalusi-Otomis (known as wassiyyun, after an Otomi term for "mixed")[4] - the ruling class. By this point, it had become common for Otomi of stature to forge Arabic-style genealogies for themselves, particularly among the merchant class.
    * Otomi Muslims who had not fully adopted Andalusi-Berber cultural norms - that is, a large part of the urban working class.
    * Native Muslims from non-Otomi or Manguean groups. In particular, speakers of Nahua languages were considered of lower status than Otomis, often thought of as less sophisticated or less intelligent.
    * Pagans in general. Treatment of pagans was uneven in Otomi lands; in cities where pagans were most numerous, they were treated like dhimmi and taxed, while in more Islamized centres they were broadly discriminated against and treated as an underclass.
    * Slaves, mostly from Sudan.

    Conflict with the Chichimeca continued even after the Battle of Taj al-Jamil, largely without decisive battles, but by 1517 it had wound down in a series of peace agreements and suzerainties that saw the Chichimeca broadly acknowledge the Otomi Emir at Danin as their ruler and protector. This process paved the way for the integration of the vast Nahuatl-speaking north into the Otomi cultural complex. The Chichimeca would convert to Islam at an uneven pace, but the cultural gap between the Nahuatl-speakers and the Otomi would see many of them adopt heterodox forms of Islam, largely owing to the efforts of Sufis or independent imams from other parts of the Islamic world. In particular a percentage of the more northerly Tebwan[5] tribe would convert to a sect led by a local zealot, Muhammad Ixlan al-Uthami, who claimed he was the Mahdi and that the mosque the Prophet Muhammad was transported to during the Night Journey was actually Teotihuacan. This group was never particularly large in number, but would prove a minor regional headache for years to come.

    For all that the line of Muhammad Mahbat remained in power in Danin, however, this was largely at the suffrance of the ruling family's overseas allies. The most well-known ruler of the 1500s besides Muhammad Mahbat - his grandson Muhammad II, or Muhammad ibn Mindahi ibn Mahbat - was the son of an Andalusi mother and a half-Berber father, Muhammad Mahbat's son by a woman from the Maghreb, and he spoke both classical and Nanyu-dialect Arabic as his primary languages, with the Otomi tongue being secondary. His genetic situation was far from unusual. As more and more of the Otomi upper class intermarried with allies from the Asmarid world and with slaves imported from the Sudan, the culture and genetics of the ruling class drew ever closer to the overseas network of western Islam.

    Muhammad II, ruling from 1515 through 1549, notably finalized the last of the treaties with the Chichimeca, bringing an end to constant wars in the north. The Otomi polity under his rule evolved steadily into less an informal alliance and more a solidified, centralized Emirate, extending to absorb small kishafa city-states around it and exact tribute from the rulers of Zapotlan and from Yucu Dzaa.

    The most serious threat in those days was conflict with the Mexihca Kingdom to the northwest. The last organized holdout of pagan rule in Anawak, the Mexihca had migrated to the areas around the city of Xalixko and subjugated the local tribes en route to carving out the most organized of the Chichimeca kingdoms. Their access to eastern weapons and technology was limited, but they had managed to equip a few units of cavalry, many of them originating from migrating Guachichil groups who had aligned themselves with the Mexihca after years of attritional conflict with the Otomi.

    It would fall to Muhammad II to deal with the Mexihca, and he did so by leveraging the advantages of the Otomi's alliance with the Asmarids: Money and technology. Otomi silver and vanilla taxation was poured into upgrading the military, extending the use of Eurasian technologies to wassiyyun soldiers. What emerged was the first semi-modern military fielded by an indigenous power in the Gharb al-Aqsa - quite small compared to even middling European powers, owing to the demographic decimation of Anawak, but effective.

    *​

    Muhammad II's modernized army consisted of several elements:

    * Light infantry, always the core of the Otomi military even after the introduction of the horse. These were mostly men drawn from the common classes and equipped with a combination of local equipment and Andalusi gear. The typical line infantryman was equipped with quilted upper body armour and round shields patterned with feather trim, similar to the ichcahuipilli quilted armour and chimalli-type shields fielded by the Mexihca and other more organized Chichimecas. However, upgrades came in the form of conical iron helmets similar to those fielded by Andalusi troops. Obsidian weapons were phased out in favour of iron-based spears, short curved swords and bows.

    * Heavy infantry, usually drawn from the ranks of the wealthy. These troops were closer to the baseline Andalusi infantryman of the pre-blackpowder period, reflecting a preference for metalwork not found in the Gharb al-Aqsa prior to the crossing. Crack infantry typically wore long mail hauberks and steel helmets and carried crossbows and curved swords, with some making use of spears. The patterned shield was always carried. These troops also inevitably wore the tilma, usually over the right shoulder and always boldly displaying the colour yellow.

    * The kishafa, typically retained by the Emir as a professional army. This group consisted almost entirely of Andalusi and Berber explorers and was dominated by cavalry and foot-mounted jazailchis.

    * Professional dragoons, typically overseas imports and those trained in the use of artillery. These were relatively few among the Otomi, but Muhammad II's forces could usually bring a couple of field tanins to bear in larger engagements.

    While the Mexihca had made some headway in trying to adopt iron and steel, these tools were highly irregular among their forces, leaving the Otomi and their eastern allies to come up against well-drilled and aggressive enemies that nevertheless largely came at them with quilted armour and traditional obsidian weapons, with no artillery or blackpowder. The Otomi-Mexihca War's outcome was relatively predictable.

    From 1519 through to 1524, the Otomi made steady headway into Mexihca territory in a series of seasonal campaigns, marching primarily during cooler weather. By the end of the 1524 season, Mexihca troops had been driven out of Xalixko and Tepic, and the area was formally declared a protectorate of the Otomi. Much of the Mexihca ruling class would either die or scatter in the fighting, but disorganized resistance movements would continue in the hinterlands for decades, and the area would remain a hotbed of paganism and resistance to rule from Danin for quite some time.

    The war ably demonstrated the superiority of metal weapons and cavalry over any local resistance - and it opened up more of the land north of Anawak to exploration. Voyages into the interior had been few and abortive, stymied by oppressive heat and humidity, weather and hostile Chichimeca tribes. But as colonization presure increased, more and more would-be kishafa found themselves tempted by the possibilities of going beyond the known areas of the Farthest West.


    [1] The Zacatecos - that is, the Chichimeca of the zacatl, or the grassland.
    [2] "Camel Hill" - Bufa Hill, named in this timeline by a Berber because of its humped appearance. Basically around Zacatecas.
    [3] Vanilla.
    [4] The term is wants'i.
    [5] The Tepehuan.

    SUMMARY:
    1494: The Battle of Taj al-Jamil. The Otomi Emirate gains control of rich silver mines in the Jamil Range.
    1517: Otomi Emir Muhammad II, grandson of Muhammad Mahbat, concludes the last peace agreement with the Chichimeca. The Otomi-Chichimeca Wars end.
    1519: The Otomi-Mexihca War begins.
    1524: The Otomi-Mexihca War ends, on paper, with the Otomi seizure of Xalixko and the scattering of the Mexihca ruling class.
     
    ACT IX Part XII: Cancelling Ibn Sajr, 400 Years Later
  • Excerpt: Blackpowder Empires: The Early Modern Age - Guigues Montpelhier, Epic Libropress, AD 1996


    The most fundamental conflict that emerged in Al-Andalus in the 16th century was not an external war, but an internal clash of ideologies. The rule of Abd ar-Rahim would see the opening of a fierce debate over the future of Islam, sparked by a confluence of old and new ideas brought to life by technologies and ideas imported from Sinophiles and academics with a broader view of the world and the Umayyad sphere's place within it.

    By the 1520s, religious and political elites in Al-Andalus were beginning to divide into two camps: The conservative Usulids and the reformist Ghimarids. The dispute between these two camps boiled down to conflicting views on the nature and practice of Islam in the modern world.

    *​

    The rapid advancement in technology and society since the Crossing Era had steadily trickled down into broader Andalusian society, bringing prosperity and new luxuries with them. The Al-Andalus of 1524 was not the same as the Al-Andalus of 1324 in any respect: Not only were people by and large wealthier, but they were increasingly in contact with people from across the ocean or beyond the Sahara who took different views of Islam and life. Merchants from Al-Andalus and the Maghreb routinely deposited money with Golahi Jewish bankers in the Simala Emirate, ate foods like tomato, shukitil[1] and waya[6], tolerated women moving about without veils in cities, read religious commentaries printed in Iftenic characters on printing presses that were increasingly threatening a religious orthodoxy once enforced through armies of scribes writing at the behest of imams and qadis controlled from courts. More and more, the merchant-dominated society of the Asmarid realm had grown increasingly cosmopolitan.

    The writings of Abu'l-Qasim ibn Ubayd Allah al-Ansari represent the backlash to this trend of cosmopolitanization. Descended from a family that had come from Mecca in the 1400s, Al-Ansari was a religious scholar living in Qadis and a fierce opponent of the printing press. His tract, entitled The Folly of the Innovators, can best be understood as the most articulate pushback against what conservatives interpreted as the moral decay of Islam in the face of society.

    While coming from a Maliki tradition, Al-Ansari's viewpoints were broadly conservative and traditionalist, framed in opposition to major societal trends. Citing broadly from the Quran and supplementary Hadith, he goes through a series of grievances and argues that they represent deviation from the sunnah. His grievances include, but aren't limited to:

    * Misrepresentation of God's teachings through the proliferation of printed tracts, which Al-Ansari dubs "nifaq scrolls;"
    * Toleration of sumptuary breaches, such as the proliferation of silk clothing among men and lack of veiling for some women;
    * A failure to consistently wage the jihad, even against pagans;
    * Toleration of pagans in the same respect as People of the Book;
    * Toleration of usury;
    * Disrespect for the Caliph by a succession of hajibs.

    Al-Ansari couches his critique around a central theme of "the worship of money over God" and a degradation of societal discipline. To Al-Ansari, the various sins he saw in society represented a loss of control over the nafs - the soul - of society, and its regression in turn to an animal or even devilish state, just as an individual may be incited to commit sin by the nafs at its most basal. His proposed solution is essentially a restoration of rigorous adherence to the sunnah and a renewal of faith, represented by the abolition of the "all-powerful hajib" and the restoration of the Caliphate along with a general renewal of traditional faith-based education. He calls for the abolition of printing presses and a new infusion of Islamic scholars and elders into governments at all levels to ensure that society returns to the practice of the law as written.

    The Folly of the Innovators was likely penned sometime before 1520, but the earliest surviving version comes from that period. Its circulation was slowed somewhat by the fact that Al-Ansari wrote it by hand and hired scribes to grind out copies along the old method. Copies of the tract are relatively sparsely illuminated to try and save time, but producing them en masse still required time and effort. Nevertheless, the book found its way through religious circles at a steady pace, eventually becoming influential in some circles and providing fuel for traditionalist arguments against modern innovation.

    Al-Ansari himself died in 1526, but his arguments long survived him, largely because a 1528 edition of Folly was produced using the printing press he hated. The document went on to form the ideological backbone of the conservative pushback. Followers of his ideologies called themselves Usulids - that is, those who understood the fundamentals of the law - and almost invariably described themselves as supporters of law, faith and tradition in the face of a decadent and degenerate society.

    *​

    Opponents of this arch-traditionalism had the advantage of being early uptakers of the printing press. None, however, was so influential as Yujamir ibn Hammad al-Ghimari. Unlike many modernists, Al-Ghimari - hailing from Ghimar on the island of Ajinit, central in the Kaledats[2] - was not part of the merchant class. He was part of a group of progressively-minded imams who looked on modernity as an expression of naturalism and reasoning rather than as a frightening change.

    Al-Ghimari's 1525 text, The Philosophers and the Discovery of God's World, is not an explicit shot across the bow of Al-Ansari, but it accomplishes much the same through its subject matter: It's an extended commentary on Ibn Sajr's 12th-century work The Philosophy of Faith.

    In his lifetime, Ibn Sajr was considered unpopular in intellectual circles and was denounced as a Mu'tazilite by his contemporaries, landing fairly outside the mainstream. While some of his students and influenced individuals would take on powerful places in society, most notably the Hizamids, his actual teachings would remain quietly in the background until Al-Ghimari's commentary. The Philosophers revives Ibn Sajr's notion that philosophy and reason are not heretical so much as they are means to analyze the laws that govern the world.

    Al-Ghimari takes Ibn Sajr's conclusions and expands upon them with an argument that centres pure reason as a profound expression of faith. He argues a vision of natural law in which God creates laws not only for humans, but for all aspects of creation, and that things like weather and disease are not so much active acts of God as they are God's creations operating within their own laws. Further endorsing Ibn Sajr, Al-Ghimari reiterates that if God had intended for humans not to utilize logic, He would not have given them the capacity for logic in the first place - but he goes a step further by arguing against the abdication of reason in favour of blind faith.

    "The things that God has put into place are there because He has wished it," Al-Ghimari offers. "Ibn Sajr is correct when he tells us that our capacity to reason inductively is something we have been given by God. While God knows all that exists within creation, our own vision is obscured. Reason, then, must be given to us by God that we may not only understand the new to search for what is true, but also to sort the true from the untrue, the rightly-guided from the false. To turn away from that understanding and seek the comfort, without reason or insight, is to sin against God, for we are turning our backs on the gifts He has intended for us to use to their fullest."

    Through the centrality of reason, Al-Ghimari interprets Ibn Sajr against the advancement of technology since the 1100s. He argues that embracing new advancements is not bid'ah, provided care is taken to exercise those advancements in the name of God, with moderation, compassion and humility. In fact, Al-Ghimari considers discovery an act of drawing closer to faith in that it is an exercise of a gift God gave to humans alone. To not use it, he asserts, is a recession towards the animalistic self.

    The Philosophers was widely reprinted and circulated throughout the Islamic world, even making its way across the ocean and east to the Bataid Empire. It is this book that brought Ibn Sajr to a wide public consciousness and elevated his ideas from fringe speculation to transformative mainstream notions. In the Asmarid realm, followers of Al-Ghimari's teachings are broadly identified as Ghimarids, or sometimes Sajris.

    *​

    Through the 1520s and into the 1530s, even as explorers began to push up into the Alascan interior deserts north of the Chichimeca lands, Usulid and Ghimarid ideas steadily proliferated through the upper echelons of Asmarid society. Hajib Abd ar-Rahim himself took no position to either side, preferring to busy himself with the everyday concerns of government - namely improving the network of roads and fortifications throughout Al-Andalus and the Maghreb. While Abd ar-Rahim himself floated above the fray, however, the tension between conservative and rationalist ideas steadily manifested in his circle of advisors and courtiers.

    Abd ar-Rahim had relied heavily on the Majlis to legitimize his ascent to the office of Hajib, and he continued to assemble its members annually for periods of variable length to consult them on matters of public interest. This may have been intended as a show of populism - portraying himself as listening to the broader ummah - but it did expose Abd ar-Rahim to a broad cross-section of opinions from intellectuals across the Asmarid world. The decisions of the Majlis were not binding, and its role was purely advisory, but it seems to have guided some of Abd ar-Rahim's decisions, with infrastructure programs in towns and cities outside the Asmarid core credited to leaders known to sit on the Majlis at one time or another.

    Increasingly, these councillors came to stake out positions along the new political spectrum. With many of these leaders drawn from the ranks of merchants, philosophers and the nobility, the majority of the Majlis held positions broadly consistent with early Ghimarid thought, while a smaller group of religious leaders advocated the more traditionalist Usulid position. Arguments in the Majlis grew increasingly bitter as the 1530s dawned, though these remained advisory.

    More concerning was the proliferation of these arguments into court circles. In 1529, Abd ar-Rahim arrested and exiled six members of the nobility for an alleged plot to kill the Hajib and abolish the office in favour of the Caliphate, annoying arch-traditionalists at court. But beyond courtiers, the disputes filtered down to members of the broader Asmarid family.

    By the 1530s, Abd ar-Rahim had begun to withdraw more from public life, dogged by age and the common form of albulab.[3] He arranged for the Majlis to acknowledge his eldest son, Shurayh, as his successor.

    Fate would intervene. On April 7, 1534, Abd ar-Rahim died while preparing for his breakfast. Shurayh would not long outlive him.

    As the members of the Majlis were recalled to Isbili, word suddenly came down that Shurayh's body had been fished out of the Wadi al-Qabir. Al-Ifrani, writing in 1544, reports that his death was declared an accidental drowning, but that his body was discovered blackened in the face, as if he had been strangled. Later chroniclers attibute the death to the court eunuch Souda, acting on behalf of traditionalists at court. Nevertheless, the death occurred before Shurayh could be sworn in by the Caliph, leaving a power vacuum that was briefly filled by a regency council.

    The council would soon be dismissed by the order of Abd ar-Rahim's nephew Tariq ibn Mujahid, a late son of Al-Nasr's departed first choice of heir. Tariq had been a mere infant when Abd ar-Rahim took power, and he emerged into the office of Hajib in his forties, backed into the position by a power bloc at court consisting largely of military men, religious authorities and conservatives. His views were expressly Usulid: Tariq was an outspoken critic of what he saw as licentiousness and godlessness, and he dismissed the regents with the stated intent of setting a traditionalist agenda.

    The Majlis assembled in time to find a majority-reformist advisory body set to advise a new Hajib who made no secret of his traditionalist viewpoints - views at odd with many in society beyond the court.


    [1] Vanilla.
    [2] The Canaries, as you may recall.
    [3] Diabetes is pretty common in the Asmarid gene pool. Abd ar-Rahim dodged it most of his life but is a type 2 in his older years.


    SUMMARY:
    1534: Hajib Abd ar-Rahim dies of a combination of age and type 2 diabetes. His immediate heir, his son Shurayh, is strangled and thrown in the Wadi al-Kabir, and power is seized by his nephew Tariq ibn Mujahid, part of a traditionalist conservative court faction.
     
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