For a hand full of Sand, a moroccan AAR

In the beginning

It is hot dry and windy in Fez. To be exact, it is hot dry and windy as almost every day in Fez. The casbah of his majesty the Sultan Yahya al Wattasi stands like a bullwark against the tide of heat and desert wind that blows up from the south. His majesty enjoys the shadows and the relative cold in his private orange grove. To be more precise, he enjoied the shadows and the relative cold of his private orange grove, until one of his personal servants named Ahmad enters:
"Your majesty, there is a stranger who humbly applies for an audience."
Yahya al Wattasi turns his head and faces the servant. The bow is low enough and so he deems the servant to be well trained and there is no necessity to have his head cut of. As for the stranger, we'll see...
"Let him enter but not approach closer than 20 steps."
The palace guard immediately takes position to watch over this 'royal decree'.

Yussuf and Ismael are friends. They are friends when they go out to drink tea. they are friend when they watch a camel race. But they are no friends when Yussuf tries to sell a sabre for 20 Denars more than it is worth. But what could Ismael do. He had heard that the war with Portugal will drag on longer and he certainly needs a new sabre but couldn't buy a new one from a smith. The only one who offered him a sabre was Yussuf. And to be honest, he still owed Yussuf 5 Denar from the last round of Sika and Yussuf never demanded to have these 5 Denar, so maybe the Sabre costs onyl 15 ...

"Your majesty, I have come with an offer."
The strangers bow was deep enough, so there was no need to shorten him by 4 inch. Still, something about the stranger made the Sultan feel uneasy. He tried to ease his mind with a few grapes an then turned to the stranger:
"What is it that you offer?"
"Just an advice. Leave your army in Fez and wait! If you want further advise from me, just call for Abu Abdul Amir."
Before the Sultan could answer the stranger turned away with a bow and left.

In January 1419 the invasion force of 22000 portugeese soldiers under Perreira met the Moroccan home defense under Yahya al Wattasi in Fez. When the battle ended 2000 Potugeese retreaed to Tanger, beaten. 8000 mounted soldiers of the Sultan followed close behind.

(OOC: I have plaied the first thirty years, but have not the time to write more than this. Please turn in for the next episode tomorrow.)

There is blood on the Sand

(OOC: Thank you all for the nice wellcome, I hope I will please you with this. Could someone please tell me how I can make screenshots and include them, it wil make the story all the more interesting.)

"Yussuf, you are the meanest merchant that Allah in his unfathomable greatness ever put under the sun. The Sabre you sold me wasn't even worth bargaining, not to speak of the Denars I paied for it."
"What is it that you complain about Ismael, you are still alive. I never claimed you could acutally use the sabre, it is more of a token of luck. And by the prophets beard, you survived the whole war with Portugal, despite all the losses we had."
Ismael agrees and so Yussuf and Ismael are friends once again, at least until Ismael catches Yussuf cheating at Sika.

On the 25th of August 1419 the Sultan Yahya al Wattasi eagerly expects the stranger named Abu Abdul Amir. The advise had been good and the war with Portugal went well. Only yeasterday the peace treaty was signed and Portugal payed 50 goldpieces in reparation. Although this was an unexpected achievement the Sultan isn't really glad about it. He is a man of deed and proud of all achievements he makes by himself. He leads the army himself, he directs the finances himself. But this victory is somewhat touched by the taint of this strangers influence. If he holds his head too high when entering the room, Yahya wil have it cut of.
Damn, the bow is again low enough and again no reason to behead this man.
"Greetings allmighty Sultan, you have called for me?"
"Yes. As a matter of fact I called or you since your advise was good. Although I must say you only spoke out what I had already in mind."
"I assumed nothing else."
"So maybe you allow me to test you again?"
"As you wish my Sultan."
"What is it that I have in mind now?"
...

Yussuf and Ismael are sitting on their horses just as they should be as good soldiers of Morocco. It is the morning of the 12th of May 1420 and they are looking back on a long trip through the desert following their Sultan to the borders of Songhai. They had to kill a few Touareg here and there on their advance and they assumed that there are not many left of them between here and Anti Atlas, but now there was teh real challenge.
"Yussuf, I think when we are through with this, I have to buy a new saddle."
"You are a lucky man Ismael. Fortunately I have just been to the wedding of my third sister and she married a saddle-maker from Tanger. I promise he will make you a good offer."
Ismael isn't comfortable remembering the sabre but still Yussuf is his friend and so he certainly won't find anything better.

The Sultan looked over to the pagan Kingdom of Songhai. The messenger with the declaration of war had just left. It was folly, utter folly to attack Songhai with only roughly 8000 mounted warriors, but what else yould he do. He was still not sure whether this really was on his mind when he asked Abu Abdul Amir, but now there was no way back.

Khaled Hadj Mahouddin is a humble, modest and honest man. These traits helped him so far through his life and brought him the position of personal scribe of the Sultan Yahya. He knows his duties well and remebering them he takes up the quill and writes:
On the 12th of May 1420 the great Sultan Yahya al Wattasi, having beaten the Portugese back, deiceded that it is time to finally claim the desert for Morocco and declared war on Songhai. Leading the army himself he fought many battles on the distant soil. Deserted by his allies in Tunis and Tlemcen he alone took Gao on the 3rd of Oktober the same year and Say on the 23rd of April 1421. After this Songhai was no more and Morocco claimed its lands.

Abu Abdul amir was as always in time.
"You have called for me, my Sultan."
"Yes, yes. Truth be known, I am bored of my situation. Over the last years we have fought with Tlemcen together against Tunis and with Tunis together against Tlemcen. Meanwhile we have fought alone against Aragon, Navarra, The Papacy and England, the latter having taken Orania a few months before. We have hardly been at peace in all those years and to what effect? Orania is now ours, and Tunis has gained the other wo provinces of Tlemcen, leaving them with their capital only. Still we are nothing more than a leaf in the wind and this wind always carries us to war."
"My Sultan, maybe you have the wrong people who tell you what is on your mind."
"That might be . And you certainly think you know better what is on my mind. But what if Allah has granted me only a small spoon full of wisdom and thus there is always the wrong thing on my mind?"
"Then we have to look for wisdom for you, my Sultan."
"Well spoken. I declare you my personal advisor in the quest for wisdom. So what do you propose? Don't speak to quick, for a rash advise might cost you your head."
"I already arraned something. We exchanged maps with Hausa."
"What does that have in common with my quest for wisdom? Maps are knowledge, not wisdom."
"Please bear with me. We have now maps of the Mali territory."
"That doesn't help me neither. I think I'll just take your head and see whether an alchemist might extract the wisdom from it."
"Please allow me to quote an old saying before I am lead to the execution:
Gold comes from the south, Grain from the east, Slaves from the west, but wisdom comes from Timbuktu!"
"Now I understand you, you are pardonned."

Khaled once again takes up his quill and notes:
On the 1st of Oktober 1430 The Sultan Yahya declared war on the Mossi tribes and crossed the border crushed their armies and layed siege to their capital. But before ending this war he also declared war on Mali on the day exactly one year after attacking the Mossi. On the 6th of June 1432 the Mossi were finally subjugated and included into the Moroccan empire. On the 1st of March 1435 Mali finally accepted their defeat and surrendered the great city of Timubktu with the center of trade and all its riches to Morocco.
But the sultan had not fought enough in his life. After a short time of imperial restructuring and promotion of tax collectors it was on the 1st of May 1426 that Morocco went to war with Dahomey ending in Dahomeys annexation on the 8th of august 1440. Now finally Yahya had found what he sought for, peace.

"Your sabre, the saddle, the boots, the knife, the chelabah, and now the water bottle. allah certainly send you to earth to constantly demonstrate to me that I have a mind so slow that someone could kill my camel by throwing ripe figs at it before I'd notice."
"Please don't speak so much, it only costs you strength."
Yussuf looks into the face of his old friend Ismael. Many a battle the two of them had fought together and only Allah knows how many times they played Sika against each other. But now when death is stepping between them all these times seem to deflate and reduce to a bleak point of misery.
"Did you hear, the war is over."
Yussuf tried to cheer up his old buddy.
"By the prophet, his brother and his donkey, that is me. Getting hit by probably one of the last arrows those damned Dahomey warriors shot in this war. It's just what had to happen to me, isn't it."
"Yep."

On his deathbed the great Sultan Yahya al Watassi is visited by Abu Abdul Amir for the last time.
"My friend, how come i am lying here dying of old age and you look no day older?"
"My Sultan, did you here that Mali annexed the Ashanti?"
"As always, countering my questions with another question. Well, so this one shall remain unanswered then. Please look after my son and try to show him a way to wisdom like you shown me."
"There is only one Timbuktu my Sultan."
"Yes, but there might be other cities with similar standing."
"Yes, tehre might."

And again Khaled takes up the quill:
On the 2nd of April 1452 the Sultanate of Morocco declared war upon the Hausa. A daring decision which later showed to be more than troublesome. Although there were a few early victories, later setbacks led to the war dragging on endlessly. Meanwhile troublesome priests and noblemen tried to undermine the central authority.
On the 4th of August 1457 desaster struck us as Bretagne, Genoa, France and Provence declared war upon on us and we had no ally o stand at our side. The north around Oran, Tanger and Fez was quickly flooded by enemies and we were threatened to be overrun.
Fortunately with a lucky breach in the south we were able to achieve peace with the Hausa (28 the Septermber 1457), depriving them of Zaria, forcing them into vasslization and taking 250 goldpieces.
But before the armies had time to relief the north, Oyo declared war upon us on the 23rd of Oktober 1457. The land was shaken with war and revolts started to show when the year 1459 approached.

(OOC: The end for this time. Morocco in 1457:
Provinces: Tanger, Fez, Orania, Toubkal, Sahara, Anti Atlas, Timbuktu, Gao, Say, Palanas, Zaria)
Trading Posts: Tassaret, Mdenna, Azaouad
Stability: 0
War with Oyo
War with Bretagne, France, Provence, Genoa
Money: 0

Tune in for the next, I promise it will be better. There are a few nasty events for Morocco coming up till 1497)

You are dismissed

(OOC: Thank you Norrefeldt, I will try to do this via yahoo)

Munir abd al Radj is pleased. He streches his legs and scratches his acceptably large belly, uses a little fan to fan a few flies away and enjoys the relative cold in the shade that his new palmtrees which the servants just planted four weeks ago in his garden. It is a good time in Fez.
The recent past had been different, much different. Rebellions, the war with Oyo and the war with the northern alliance had cost him a lot since noone seemed to order food by caravan anymore. But then came the turnaround. On Oktober 1st Oyo was annexed so that war was over. Munir had heard of the cruelty and bloody revenge of the Sultan's warriors in the south, but what did he care about those savages. All that mattered was that the Sultan immediately left the south with his troops and delivered to the invaders in the north, especially those genoan brigands around Fez, a solid beating. After the second peace, the one with Bretagne on the 21st of February 1460, the land had finally reached calm.
Munir loves peace. It is not so much a distaste for war, but more the fact that peace is good for the food buiness. For todays celebration of the signing of the tripple alliance between the Kingdom of Mali, the Hausa tribes, and the Sultanate of Morocco, he was named royal supplier of nutrition and that was as good as a whole chest full of gold...

Abu abdul Amir draws on his shisha and again reads the reports he received from his agents. The Sufi Muhammad al-Jazuli is certainly a danger to stability, prosperity and his plans for Morocco and thus Abu Abdul Amir will be forced to intervene. But he doesn't like intervening that much anymore, he was a bit bored and desperate. Had Yahya been receptive and quick to understand his son Abd al Haqq II, who now was on the throne, was nothing more than a body trying to supply itself with ist basic needs. Abu Abdul Amir hardly liked the thought of having to deal with this human disgrace once more.
„My Sultan, please allow me to approach you with a matter of utter importance.“
As usual Abd al Haqq was nowhere to be found in the palace except for the harem.
„My friend Abu, young as always. What is it that you need from me?“
„Your royal highness may please forgive me my intrusion, but I need his consent in a matter of state.“
„I fully trust you, where do I have to sign?“
„Just there if it pleases your highness. May Allahs blessing never leave your house.“
That was easier achieved as it should be. Once again the sultan demonstrated his utter inability to achieve anything productive during his reign.

Once again Khaled picks up his quill
On the 9th of December 1464 the Sufi Muhammad al-Jazuli died under more than strange circumstances. The people of Morocco and especially of ist newly acquired south were stirred and from the 2nd of January 1465 on chaos reigned with rebellions and almost civil war.
In the middle of this the Sultan died and his underaged son Muhammad al Jati was named new Sultan. Till his majurity the minister named Abu Abdul Amir took over the state.
In 1470 messengers from Benin visited Fez and offered the Sultan the position of Emir in their Empire. Abu Abdul Amir saw clearly the insult in this and on the 1st of Novemeber 1471 there started a war between Benin and Morocco (we didn't call for our allies).

Today is the second of January 1472 and I, Khaled, personal scribe of the Sultan of Morocco feel that I have the duty to write down what I had to witness at the Sultans casbah today, one day after the majurity of our beloved monarch.
Our monarch Muhammad al Jati had called for the advisor Abu Abdul Amir for the first time during his soliary reign.
„So you are the great Abu Abdul Amir?“
„Your majesty knows me, haven't we met almost every day since your 16th birthday? Wasn't I your teacher in politics over the last years?“
„Be this as it may, did you see the date today?“
„Yes, it is the 2nd of February 1472.“
„And on what day did you start serving my family?“
„The first of january 1419.“
„So you are already serving 53 years?“
„Exactly, but where does this lead us?“
„You are at least 70 years old, but still look like 30?“
„Some Sufis can do that, too. I knew...“
„Nonsense, don't try to kid me. I have my own informants and I know that you are not what you appear to be. You are a Djinn, am I right.“
Abu Andul Amir froze for a moment. He looked in all the faces present and saw fear, awe, disdain and couriosity, but no mirth.
„There is no use denying it anymore, yes I am.“
„You know what Mohammed told us about Djinns like you and you know what I have to do as faithful moslem?“
„Please, do not jump to conclusions. After all...“
„Silence, this is my court. I cast thee from the lands of Morocco and tell you to leave. Noone shall sheler you, noone shall feed you, everyone shall call the guards to kill you or kill you himself and go unpunished. Those are my words, now leave.“
„You think you can rule without my advise, I ...“
„Begone.“
„So be it, like a beggar I will sneak from your table and no spoils will be left for me. It was my shoulders that your grandfather built this kingdom upon. It were my visions and my will to bring Morocco ahead. What was Morocco else than a shelter for those from east and north unable to stand their ground there? What was Morocco but a splinter compared to the magnificent house that was the omayad empire? Whom did the people follow, your weak grandfather or the vision of a Morocco that was in my dreams. Whom are they loyal to, the Wattasid's or the kingdom. What is your house more than a family of brigands washed onto the shores of higher diplomacy by the ill tides of the downfall of the kaliphate? You'd be nothing without me and to nothing you will return! I spit upon your house and curse them to the third generation. May you fall before another Wattasid may be given live from you loins to bismirch the earth. Hear my words, thirty years have to pass till this day shall be forgotten. Now never dare to forget about me.“
With this words Abu Abdul Amir turned around and left the hall.

Munir abd al Radj cursed his fate. It was war again and his income dropped, and now they have killed the Sultan. Today on the 4th of January 1472 Muhammad al Jati found deah by a dagger of unknown origin. Munir fears oncoming anarchy since there is no male heir. Maybe he should move to Tanger and concentrate on overseas trade, at least he heard that that would be more stable.

Khaled must once again pick up the quill:
When I write this it is the first of January 1499 and times are dire. We were successfull in our campaign against Benin and in 1477 the once mighty empire bowed and was absorbed. Also in 1499 the Hausa tribes finally acknowledged the superiority of Morocco, but that is just about all that has to be said about the positive sides, except maybe the entrance of Tlemcen into our alliance with Mali on the 1st of January 1494. From the day of Muhammad al Jati's death on several factions have made Morocco their playground for petty warfare. I haven't counted the so-called Sultans and I don't even know when we had just one for the last time. Treachery among the nobles and stubborn faith among the priests held the country in a frosty grip which was paired with peasant revolts and periodical outbreaks of the plague. I am writing this in deep despair, but also hope for better times to come.

Old man as he is Munir abd al Radj longs for nothing more than a quiet place to rest his head and look back on his long life in pride. The quiet place is hard to find as the other beggars in the great souk of Fez are either never quiet or unwilling to surrender their own quiet space to an old man. Looking back in pride is also hard to do since there isn't much he could be proud of. Once a rich merchant he is now at the place that Allah has forgotten or doesn't care about. The only positive side of this is that he certainly did not see if Munir drank another glass of wine.

Khaled carefully prepares the room. First of all all windows are barred and the cracks through which even the smallest beam from allah's ever shining and benevolent sun could break are filled with layers of thick black cloth. Several candles lighten the room and five more wait for their use. Khaled checks once again, he has the doves and the cat ready, he has the chalk and most important the tome. Slowly he lifts it high, mumbles the words and opens it. Even Khaled, accustomed to various books and arts of scripture shivers at the writings and pictures of the old madman from Oran. Abdul-al-Hazred was truely well informed when he lived, it is good that he died the way he did and noone ever checked whether he had spoken true. Khaled begins with the ritual...

„So I am woken, who calls me.“
The Djinn known as Abu Abdul Amir rubs his eyes as if called from a long sleep and tries to make out the room. It is a dark room with barred windows, only lightened by candles. He can't make out the shape of it against the flickering light of several candles. 'Candles?' he thought by himself. 'a circle of chalk, blood, words of power and magick?'.
„Not again one of you fools who run for the tricks of old al-Hazred. Can one like me not mind his own business without being summoned by one of you morons to the earth? What is it that you imbecile want from me?“
Khaled steps out of the shadows.
„You?“ Abu abdul Amir can't hide his utter surprise. Jumoing as if to attack Khaled he crashes into an invisible barrier that is surrounding him.
„As always, forgetting the basics.“ He cursese to himself
„Good Morning fiend, it was me who summoned thee.“
„I curse Al-Hazred and his breed. How could the book with the ritual for me fall into the hands of Khaled the Eefreet? So what are you planning now, kill me?“
„Although we are enemies and it would be nothing short of normal to kill you I have something else in mind. You will serve me.“
„Me, serve you? I would laugh at you if I weren't bound by this peace of chalckdust and witchcraft.“
„Laugh if you must, but it is my will that you stay in this circle till you either serve me or die of boredom.“
„I see, one hundred and one days is it then, as usual.“
„No.“
„What else vould it be then?“
„I am stronger than the usual summoners, you know. I will bind you longer. Three times one hundred and one years shall be your punishment.“
Abu Abdul Amir struggles violently to free himself crying „Never“, but miserably fails. After only a short period of relapse he attempts again and fails again.
„It is senseless my enemy, surrender.“
„What are your demands?“
„Serve me three times one hundred and one years as soulbound advisor for the best of Morocco. Never attempt to kill or betray me in this time, never advise against the best of your knowledge. Come back to me to report your progress. If you swear this, I will let you leave the circle and you shall go for this time, only to return soon.“
Abu Abdul Amirs eyes send invisible darts towards Khaled.
„I don't know what petty interests you have in this land, i left it and cursed it years ago.“
„Your curse was for thirty years, those have passed. We have the year 1504 as the christians count it and it is time for Morocco to rise again, with your help.“
„So I must swear it to leave this cage?“
„Yes you must.“
„So be it, I swear.“
Instantly Abu Abdul Amir is released from his prison, but he knows that his words bind him, like they would bind any Djinn, to his master. Three hundred and three years from now on, there is a lot of work to do.
„In what state is the kingdom of Morocco currently?“
„You will see yourself, although I should tell you that we didn't have a king for over thirty years, so maybe kingdom is the wrong word.“
„So my curse worked, I am impressed.“
„Do not try to play down your powers servant, I know what you can do.“
„Yes master.“
„I have a gift for you to start with, please follow me to the next room.“
In the next room a child of ten years waits frightened for Khaled to return.
„Abu Abdul amir, may I introduce to you Muhammad I Al Qua'im, the hope of the wrinkled Wattasids.“
The child and the Djinn eyed each other.
„You know my name child, do you?“
„Yes, my family curses it in their prayers for years.“
„That is good, but now you will have to live with me, thanks to your friend Khaled.“
„Without Khaled I wouldn't be alive, so I will live with you. Khaled told me I can learn a lot from you?“
„Khaled sometimes is a wise man. However if he is wise in respect to my person we'll see. Let us get to work and make you again King of a strong Morocco, child.“
„To you it is Muhammad al Wattasi, Soultan of Morocco, protector of the Niger delta.“
„Is it? Then we'll leave now.“
Khaled happily turns to clean up the ritual room. With this achieved he hopes to be able to write better stories, soon.

Omar and Ibrahim are two guards of the old Sultans Casbah in Fez. For years now this has been one of the safest jobs in the Moroccan army. There was no Sultan to guard and there was noone who could care to try to attack the casbah. But now times are changing.
„Ibrahim, did you hear the word that there is still a Wattasid alive?“
„Yes, I heard it, but I don't believe it. Morocco didn't hhave a Sultan all my life, why should it have one now?“
„But what if? Just think about it. Guarding the Sultan once more. Wouldn't it make you proud and give your life a new meaning.“
„A full belly and a place where you don't get killed for nothing, that is the meaning of life. All beyond that is in Allah's hands and as easily lost as it is hard to win.“
„Messenger!“
Omar pointed at a rider at the door.
„Guards, let me through, I have to speak to the Sultan.“
Laughter
„It is urgent, so please, open the door and let me go to the Sultan.“
Laughter
„I come from the lands of Tlemcen, we are attacked by Tunis and Egypt, we need the help of our allies. Mali is already on the march, but now we need the answer of Morocco.“
„Listen, there is no Sultan here. There was none for thirty years. Take your horse and turn. I pledge by the honor of the Casbah Guard that Morocco will honor the alliance and come, but do not expect to see a Sultan, we don't have one.“
The messenger feels that there is nothing more he can do and turns to ride back to Tlemcen. He will always remember this day, the 22nd of September 1509, on the steps of the deserted Casbah.

Khaled takes up the quill and writes:
The deed is done, Morocco once again is under the lead of the Djinn Abu Abdul Amir. Although free, he is not completely unleashed for it is me, Khaled fo the Eefreets who has him bound by word. So may we both work for the best of the land that we have to prepare.
As I write this it is the morning of the first of January 1513. Not much has to be said about the dark years that lie behind us, but something about the recent days. On the 1st of January 1511 Abu Abdul Amir finally decided to go out in the open and install Muhammad I Al Qua'im on the throne. The two of them still don't like each other, but accept each others skill. So for two years we have a monarch once again.
It appears to me that Morocco only waited for a monarch to be found and anarchy be brought to an end. With Muhammad I on the throne, the revolts ended and noone seemed to be willing to contest his right to rule or assassinate him like it happened so many times over the last years. Personally I believe that it was Abu abdul Amir and his tactics of intimidation that protected the kid-Sultan, but whatever it was, it worked.
On the 6th of july 1512 a peace was wrought between Tunis and Egypt on one side and Tlemcen, Mali and Morocco on the other securing us a hefty tribute to fill our coffers.
Adn today on the 1st of January 1513 the King of Mali and the Sultan of Tlemcen come to the court at Fez and bow their knee before our Sultan and accept their lands from Moroccan hands as vassals. So that is where Abu Abdul Amir wants to lead us....


(Morocco after we have a new Sultan)

23 Skidoo

Zacharym87: Thank you for the reply, I am glad you like it so far. Tomorrow there will be a new insallment for the years 1513 to 1555.

P.S.: Wouldn't Zacharym23 be better according to the law of fives?

Like hot desert wind

And Khaled once again takes up the quill:

After the quick takeover of Muhammad I and Abu Abdul Amir together with the peace and the two vassalizations things calmed a bit and the moroccan development changed. Abu Abdul Amir saw to it that colonists were sent out to settle in the desert oasises connecting our southern holdings with mainland Morocco. Also scores of firebrand sunni-preachers were sent south to teach the heathens one or two things about Allah and his prophet. Then something unsettling happened, our Sultan, though still young, started to whither and age at rapid speed. Finally on Dezember the 31st 1516 Muhammad I died, leaving the throne for his son Ahmad A'Raj. This youth is certainly less promising than his father and I get the impression that all this has something to do with an obscure plot by my Djinn servant. I wil have to call for him.

„I am here, my master.“
„Speak and speak quickly and truthfully. Do you have anything to do with the death of our beloved Sultan Muhammand I?“
„But of course I have my master.“
„Servant, must I remind you that you swore to do your best for Morocco.“
„I must protest. Although my methods seem to irritate you, I guarantee you that I never did anything that doesn't further the moroccan Sultanate.“
„To be honest, servant, I don't want to know the details. I think i already know too much to sleep well. Begone.“
„As you wish my master.“

On the 1st of January 1527 after two years of construction the academy of Fez is finally opened. Imam Hassan Hadj Ibn Aslan, head of the great Sultan Yahya Mosque of Fez and certainly most influential cleric in all Morocco can't sleep the whole night. What an idiot this Sultan is. Not only that he is once again one of those Wattasid's who completely fell prey to the whispers of the well known Abu Abdul Amir, whom onyl few believe to be an Eefreet rather than a Djinn, but now he also embraces the so called 'sciences'. This academy certainly isn't in accordance with Allah's plan and will be the first step towards falling away from the right believe and towards christianity. But he, Imam Hassan, sees through this and he will rather see the new built academy be burned down before a single non-moslem sets his foot into it to teach or learn there.

It is the morning of the first of January 1529. His majesty Ahmad al A'raj is bored, truely bored. At the moment he finds it interesting to watch the slow, greaselike stream of golden honey which is slowly dripping from his spoon onto a piece of white bread which by the time he is finished with the spoon full of honey he certainly will not eat. Breakfast is a tiresome and more than boring affair for his majesty. As always he tried to distract himself by thinking of the possibilities a man in his position and age does have when the day has progressed a bit farther, but a gentle yet to him unpleasant voice pulled him back.
„Your majesty, I am here to be the first to bring you the great news of the day.“
„Good Morning Abu Abdul Amir, at least I hope it is a good morning. After all what do I know about good or bad mornings, I can jsut tell the difference between good honey and bad honey and this one here is certainly one of the worst I have ever seen. As for the news, I think I know it already, the Sultan of Tlemcen has died leaving no heir and thus the crown falls in our hands.“
Abu Abdul Amir takes a bow and utters with a look of surprise
„I see your majesty has already been informed. So I wil leave now.“
„Wait, I am not finished. Is it true what I heard, the Sultan was sitting on his throne when desaster struck him? They say he was eaten alive by an invisible curse.“
„Your majesty, you really shouldn't pay too much attention to what 'they' say. After all 'they' also claim that Allah lets hops grow out of your ears if you drink beer, just to let everyone else know you broke the alcohol rules.“
Turning to go Abu Abdul Amir holds on for a moment. Looking back over his shoulder onto the Sultan he asks:
„Your majesty, may I visit you this evening? I have a matter on which I need your consent.“
„What is this matter?“
„I will tell you this evening, suffice to say that it is an old deal that your father already made with me.“
„So be it, see you tonight.“



„Servant, come here.“
„Yes master Kahled?“
„I hear you made a nightly visit to the Sultan?“
„You ears are sharp as always.“
„I also hear you left his rooms with three drops of the Sultan's blood, is that true?“
Not for the first and certainly not for the last time Abu Abdul Amir cursed the oath he had to swear which binds him to honesty.
„Yes master, it is true.“
„Servant, I know for what you use those drops and I don't like it.“
„Again you are incontent with the means I use. That was to be expected. Now pelase tell me, shall I stop it.“
„Do not try to fool me, I know that you can not stop the process.“
„So why do you call me for such petty matters?“
„I am your master and I will have no further activity in this direction.“
„As you wish my master.“
Although he has made his point clear, Khaled gets the impression that Abu Abdul Amir left with a smile on his faith

„Time, all I need is time my friend. Time and patience.“
Abu Abdul Amir strokes the head of a black cat he has gown fond of over the last days. It is the year 1539 and Morocco has entered a period of consolidation. The traces of the long drawn anarchy and the resulting econocmic deficits are curretnly being made up, but there is still a lot of work to do. Luckily the Sultan hasn't been much of a hinderance so far and now he has started to mysterously age and whither away. Abu Abdul amir doesn't give him more than thre more years.
„Patience.“



Khaled once again takes up the quill:

On the first of January 1541 Muhammad II al-Shaikh ascended the throne which his father had vacated only two days before. The „old“ Sultan had found almost the same fate as his father, the grandfather of the current monarch. If it wasn't for other signs that were already pointing in that direction this was the final evidence that Abu Abdul Amir was again sunk in kneedeep into his hideous schemes and ruthlessly lost all traces of humanity he sometimes displays when nt involved in politics. I, Khaled of the Eefreets start to question the basis on which I decided to reinstall the Djinn. But now it is too late, simply too late. But I disgress. The kingdom has indergone years and years of consolidation and economic growth. Settlers and preachers lead to an increase in children of Allah all over the territories ruled by the Sultan. Finally on teh first of January 1554 the Sultan laid down the old name of his dynasty, Wattasi, and changed it into Sa'di. To my astonishment this seemed like a liberation for his body and soul since from that day on the Sultan was more energetic and vigorous than I had seen him in years before. I must find out whether Abu Abdul Amir has something to do with this.

„Your majesty, Abu Abdul Amir is here.“
„He shall come in.“
The Sultan Muhammad II hs no great love for this Djinn, but it is the best weapon he has. The mind of this immortal spirit was the key to eternal greatness for Morocco and his dynasty. So he swallowed the bitterness that usually turned his tounge into a dry piece of old meat and waved him closer.
„I hear you come to me bearing news.“
„Yes mylord, the King of Mail is dead.“
„That is bad to hear. We will have to arrange the ceremony for his son to take over our vassal kingdom.“
„I am afraid your majesty will have problems with that. There is no heir left.“
„Interesting. That means Mali will now be a part of Morocco. I would name this splendid, thinking about the goldmines and other riches, but it leaves an unpleasant smell behind.“
„I don't know what you mean my lord.“
„I could swear the King of Mali had two sons.“
„That is correct my liege.“
„Where are those two?“
„Vanished into nothing, just the same as the King. Not even their corpses could be found.“
„Then I can not accept the throne without seing proof of their death.“
„That will be hard to come by.“
„Do what you can.“
„I am afraid it is too late. If I heard it right the leaders of the different tribes in Mali are already proclaiming you the new King.“
„I see, so you have won.“
„Oh no my lord. Of course it is you who won, a completely new kingdom with all ist riches.“