^ A heinous spelling error at 3 in the morning. That should of course read Moroccan AAR. x_X
Prologue
Throne Room of King Carlos I of Spain, Madrid, Spain
Sweat dripping from his forehead, the nervous Moroccan watched the King of the Spaniards consider his request with great trepidation. This was effectively a one-word answer that might change the course of his homeland for all of time. This was also a question that could get this mere mortal in the presence of a God-King killed.
"And what, Señor Hassan, does your Lord Ahmad intend to do if I agree?"
Almost passing out at drawing the breath, Hassan hesitated, but ultimately decided that honesty was the best policy when dealing with men who could have you killed before them at a moment's notice.
"Quite truthfully, your highness, we intend to punish them."
"I see. In that case, young man...tell Sultan Ahmad that he has my full permission to use Andalusia as his staging point. Let Algarve burn." King Carlos smiled at the sounds of his words, and leaned back with thoughts of vengeance in his heart. 'Twas not only the Moroccans who had vendettas against the Portuguese.
Hassan finally found it fit to breath a sigh of release, and knelt with his nose almost touching the floor in front of the King of Castile, Leon, Aragon (and countless other estates that for the sake of time this author will neglect to mention). "The message shall be delivered, Your Highness. You have the thanks of all Morocco."
Chapter I: "For Tangiers!"
The State of Morocco in 1521
The Palace of the Lions, FEZ, Morrocco
When word arrived at Sultan Ahmed's throne that Spain's King Carlos had agreed to allow his Grand Army to march through Gibralter and Andalusia, he was more than ecstatic. He kept his calm long enough, however, to bark an order to his Military Advisor.
"General Araj! Ready your cavalry immediately! The liberation of Tangiers is at hand!"
The general nearly fell from his chair as he leapt...or rather stumbled to his feet. "Is it so, my lord? After all these years, we shall finally have it back?!"
Ahmad smiled. "Yes, my good young man...yes. You already know the plan. Deliver it to your lessers. Let them carry it out an-"
"My Lord...if I may interject."
"But of course, lad. What is it?"
"When we capture the city...I would like to be there myself."
The Sultan smiled at both his tenacity and bravery. "So be it, then. Tangiers is yours to take. Let Algarve burn beneath your horses hooves!" He shouted with glee, unwittingly echoing the words spoken by the King of Spain only a few short days ago.
The Valley of Fear, Southern region of the Portuguese Maghreb
General Ahmad al Araj sat on his black stallion, pacing it back and forth in front of the army of over twenty-six thousand that stood before him, almost all riding similar horses, clad in black armour and weilding blackened spears and swords. The sun set to the west, and their torches would soon provide their only light along their march to Tangiers, and later to Portugal Proper.
"Gentlemen! This day you know your fate. Tomorrow is what is unclear. There are better twenty-thousand more of us than they that guard Tangiers. The Portuguese will fall TONIGHT!" Upon his shouting the word 'tonight', a shooting star flew overhead, slightly northwest- the direction of Lisbon. "You see?" Araj shouted. "We have Allah Himself on our side! We cannot possibly fail!" With the war cry of his men at his back, Araj set off due north, for the city of Tangiers.
Weeks earlier, central Afrikan nations had declared their allegiance to the Portuguese Crown. Sultan Ahmad decided that he would not have it. Portugal would never take the Maghreb, and he would start by removing them from Tangiers, and re-asserting Moroccan control there. The Portuguese had only recently pulled a ten-thousand man defence force from the city, in order to strengthen their fortifications elsewhere in Afrika. Ahmad was not too stupid to see an opportunity shoved in his face. He ordered his generals to come up with a plot, but without the port they lacked in Tangiers, it would be difficult. Without a navy of any sort, it would be impossible to take the fight directly to the Portuguese.
So Ahmad made good friends with King Carlos I, King of much of Iberia. Without Carlos' support, Morocco might as well have set a powderkeg off in the middle of the Vatican. Europe would have cried 'infidel!' and swept the 'arab scum' from Northern Afrika. Ahmad's heavy interest in Roman Catholicism, and Carlos' tolerance for Islam was a strong tie for the two, and relations between Morocco and Spain soared. They soared throughout this Portuguese war, where the Moroccans busily shattered the defences of Tangiers, and swept the city, while the Portuguese inhabitants finally fled across the Strait of Gibraltar...
The Seige of Tangiers by Ahmad Al Araj's Grand Army of the Sultan
Artist's Rendition of the Reclaiming of Tangiers
City of Tangiers, Tangiers, Portuguese Maghreb
Smiling in their victory, the Moroccans poured their joy through the streets of Tangiers. Women of the city, having longed for the touch of real men- Moroccan men -threw themselves at their liberators upon the expulsion of the last Portuguese detachment. Embraces of joy, of love, and occasionally of pure sex echoed in every street and every villa of the recaptured city. The Army would sleep there that night, and move on the following day. They had a long march through Spain upcoming.
Receiving word of this victory, Sultan Ahmad immediately made plans to journey to his new territory. Though technically it was still in European hands, it was truly Moroccan again.
Throne Room of King João I of Portugal, Lisboa, Portugal
"WHAT?!" Screamed the King of Portugal, misplacing, apparently, his King of Tact title somewhere in the deserts of defeat. "Beaten by Afrikan savages?! What nonsense is this?" One of João's servants, a Moroccan herself, slipped out of the chamber in disgust. She made no sound to register her leaving, as that would probably end with her head rolling.
"My Lord...they outnumbered us five times. There is no way we could have been victorious."
"YOU RAN! You tucked tail between your legs at the sight of those uncivilised...wretched...LIONS, and you ran!"
"Your Highness, they are not as wretched as yo-"
"SILENCE! Do not dare defy your King. You will see to the defence of this city. They will certainly come here next. I want men at every port in this province, is that understood?"
"Y-...y-...yes O Lord."
"Out of my sight!"
Scrambling to his feet, the General of the Portuguese Military held back tears. There was no way he would be able to stop them. He wanted to defy his orders...demand to his King that they protect the south. The Moroccans would not toy with the throne. They didn't want the capital...
But it would've been useless. João was unmovable. Better to let him think he was right than to convince him otherwise and end up losing, he supposed. "If I cannot have an army there...I will be there myself." The man decided. He ordered his lessers to carry out the King's orders, mounted his horse, and set off at a gallop for Algarve.
Slave Chamber, Palace of the King, Lisboa, Portugal
"Go...go now!" whispered the young Moroccan girl through the caged window. A flutter of wings told her the bird was flying south. Towards home. "Praise Allah. She is not as dense as I feared."
Her chamber door slammed open, and a spear presented itself to her in a matter of moments, attached to a Portuguese Palace Guard. "Listen here, Queen of Shiba. The King Himself wants all traitors rounded up. You're coming with me."
"Traitors?! What?"
"You're Moroccan. You're a traitor to the throne. Your pathetic excuse for an Army just set foot on Portuguese soil."
"And what if I do not come?"
"My orders are that you come with me, or I kill you."
"Then it appears I have no choice. God save the King."
The guard them whipped the spear around to hit her temple with the butt of its staff. She fell coldly to the ground.
The Invasion of Portugal
Algarve, Portugal
General Araj elated in his army's second victory in as many weeks. First Tangiers is liberated, and now the entire Portuguese south would buckle under the weight of Moroccan might. The Sultan had ordered that troops march no further north. The capital was not their business. Soon, the General would receive word from his messengers that the Portuguese had surrendered governership of Tangiers to Sultan Ahmad, and wanted piece. It was time to go home.
On the long march home, a small dove circled overhead for some time, until about the time the massive army arrived in Gibralter, preparing to board the transports to cross the straight back home. It finally drifted downwards and landed on Araj's shoulder. Raising a brow, the general noticed a small rolled up piece of paper tied to its leg. Taking it with his enticed curiosity, he read it over as he waited to board his ship:
Ahmad, I cannot stand to be parted from you any longer. I implore to you come to Lisbon in your march...I must be yours again. Ever in love with you...Fatimah
All of a sudden a thousand memories flooded Araj's mind. Memories of short days of bliss, relaxing under palms by the Strait, punctuated by sweaty, sordid nights of passion 'neath the desert moon. Of watching the water glisten much as had their bodies moments before. Of Portuguese soldiers ravaging the country, ravaging the people...ravaging his lover, and capturing her.
A thousand emotions filled his heart at the same time. One of rage at her continued imprisonment...one of desire to rescue her, one of shame for thinking to disobey his lord, one of relief to know she was alive.
Finally, he resolved. Scribbling onto the back of the paper, he tied it again to the bird's leg. "Go Aisha. Bring this back to her." As if to nod in reply, the bird lifted up, circled once, and finally set off north.
"I will ever love you, too, Fatimah." Araj sighed. "I only pray to Allah I will be allowed to return to this God-forsaken continent. Existence here would be worth it just to see your beautiful face once more. Life here worth it to kiss your lips once more. Death worth it to hold you in my arms once more. I shall have you again, my Fatimah, my love. I will return you to Tangiers with me, and we shall be together in love again. I shall die otherwise."
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