Who says I wouldn't do for Bulgaria what I did for Poland?
Fear of Croatian retaliation.
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The Fatimid Caliphate: The Afzali Edict
The mighty throne room of the Fortified Lighthouse-Palace of Pharos. A strong light shines from above the throne of the Emir al-Mu'minin, casting shadows among the aged pillars that bear the ancient wonder like Atlas upon its shoulders.
Strong men stand at rigid attention along the walls holding the Great Emerald Banners of the various Guard regiments, bearing litanies, trophies and marks commemorating the various great victories of their respective histories.
The Emirs, representatives of the various Guilds, high clergy and other factions have taken their seats among divans and pillows at the feet of the massive throne, its gold and jewels reflecting upon their faces in the light.
There is murmuring and hushed discussion over the meaning of this audience, some asking if the old bugger has finally decided to descend from his mountain of gold to at last deal with the Greek menace. Others fear it is the end of their low taxes, or that he will demand costly reorganizations of the armies. The older amongst them reassure that he must intend to take action against the growing influence of the exiled Prince Sayyid of Beirut, and his dark organization's unconscionable doings amongst those who have stood against the Fatimid line.
The harsh sound of iron staff against marble floor quiets the assembled Saracen lords.
"All hail Calipha Afzal! Light of Pharos, Righteous Blood of the Prophet, Slayer of Greeks, Vanquisher of Crusades, Great Imam of the Dar al-Islam and Allah's Appointed Representative on Earth!" Bellowed the graying but ornate Rafzul Fatimid, Master of the Courts, smashing his staff into the floor thrice.
"Guide us oh light of Allah" The response echoed as the assembled dignitaries and Guardsmen bowed down, faces to the floor.
A solitary figure entered through the great bronze doors. Dressed in the resplendent golden armour of the Sayyedi Guard adorned with additional emeralds and safires, the broad cloak billowing behind him a glimmering green and a pointedly plain cavalry scimitar hanging by his side. Afzal was the very vision of a victorious ruler of a continent straddling empire. His vassals waited patiently as he slowly made his way through the packed grand hall, a bit to regally slow in the mind of the arthritic Emir of Sicily. The Calipha took his place on his throne, paused for effect, and responded.
"Arise ye faithful"
There was a rustle as the men again took their places. There was some impatience as Rafzul droned through the pleasantries and went through the motions of etiquette. After some business of rabbling he finally got to the last piece of official business.
"..blaming us for causing the death of half of the Polarian royal court." The Master of the Courts unfurled one last scroll "To the business of founding a second Academy of War in Palermo, as well as a seat for the Engineers guild in Siracusa. Approach, lord Sayaddin ibn Isa of the Seventh Branch Fatimids."
A grizzled old man clad in the Guards armour approached the throne with a second carrying a mostly plain Emerald Banner, both marching in lockstep at a pace somewhat unsuited to the hallowed halls. They stopped in well practiced sync, kneeling before the throne and lowering the banner before the Calipha.
"ibn Isa" Afzal began walking down to the commander "For your command three times at Messina, we grant you in addition to your commands the title of Master of the Western Recruits. And solemnly charge you with the preparations and doctrine for repelling the Infidels as well as the protections of all the faithful, wherever they may live." The Calipha finished, placing a simple diadem of silver upon his head. Servants scurried to him with the prepared decoration as he turned to the second "And to the Banner of Palermo we add to your glories the crown of Croatia for your repeated valorous repelling of the infidel crusaders" he said as he affixed the trophy taken from the barbarian kings head to the Banner "Let your zeal and faith never fail or falter, arise ye faithful."
"The light of Allah guide us" The two men responded, as they straightened and turned to take their place amongst the others.
As Afzal took again his place the dignitaries awaited in nervous anticipation, a new academy surely foretold the beginning of preparations for a long anticipated showdown with the archenemy.
"Emirs, lords Fatimid" The Calipha began in a low voice, forcing them to lean in "As you know Allah has put upon me the holy work of speaking his word, for the purity of my blood flowing from the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon his name. The command of his realm upon earth and the protection of his faithful could fall on no other than my line, by his command. It is a burden laid on the Fatimid line, for which he has blessed us with the wisdom and fortitude to carry out his work according to his will. Can any man deny his blessings?"
There was a murmur of approval from most the assembled, who had indeed been blessed with much riches since the days of Ala'i's reconquests. Amongst some of the older and wiser emirs however a sense of foreboding chilled the spine.
"It is therefore that I now reveal yet another step in Allah's most blessed intent and will for his people to prosper; That the consecrated line of the Prophet shall rule in all the lands of the dar al-Islam! Henceforth no man who is not of the Fatimid line shall hold the title of Emir, and no man who is not Fatimid or the son or sons son of a Fatimid shall hold command of a Banner. Such is the will of Allah, his light be upon us!" Afzal lowered his arms and awaited the expected response, which was not late in coming.
"You strip us of our lands and titles, in one fell swoop you mean to revoke the positions and privileges of thirteen Emirs?" the gray old Raymond al-Auteville, who had believed his realm would be protected from Fatimid usurpation by his proven merit of command at Messina, bellowed in typical Normand outrage "You mean to tell us the kings of the two Romes, or the Franks are more rightful in commanding the faithful than I, because their father got a Fatimid wench in some diplomatic deal? And you expect us to quietly sit here and accept this as the word of Allah"
"I do" The Calipha answered and flicked his finger
A man clad in plain robes stood up, walked over to the Emir of Sicily, and unceremoniously cut his head in twain.
The assembled lords and retinues gaped aghast first at the slain Emir, then at Afzal himself.
"No one has ever accused us of being subtle"
Quoth the Calipha.