Scared
The Majlis - February 20
Naqsh-e Jahan Square formed the center of Isfahan’s political, economic, and cultural scene, by design. It was constructed in the 17th century by Shahbanu Furuzan I, who was remembered in the modern day as Furuzan the Architect for her role in funding the construction of almost every major Isfahan landmark seen today. To the public, her city revitalization projects, funded and supplied by Persia’s small colonial empire, were a symbol of early national pride. A charismatic negotiator who kept Persia out of the Roman Anarchy and the early decades of the Fifty Years’ War, her projects also showed her neighbors the splendor of Persia and Isfahan’s status as an equal to Berlin, Constantinople, Nanjing, Kyiv, and Delhi.
However, Furuzan’s ulterior goal with remaking Isfahan, as evident from the layout of Naqsh-e Jahan Square, was to consolidate her own power. Her father, the notorious Saltuk I, died when she was 4, after only five years on the throne. For the next ten years, regents ran Persia, and Furuzan watched as her regents made corrupt deals with powerful businesses, aristocrats, and religious leaders to enrich themselves at the people’s expense. By the time she was crowned Shahbanu at age 15, the Persian monarchy had been reduced to being a figurehead of the regents and their backers in the merchant and noble classes, who carved up Isfahan between them and left the provinces to be tormented by regional governors and military officers. She immediately corrected that. Using her charisma, she convinced loyal generals to march into Isfahan and purge those she considered responsible for her kingdom’s current state.
Once she had eliminated all of her enemies, she made sure such a situation would never happen again, particularly as her western neighbor descended further into the Anarchy. The construction projects she funded across Isfahan aimed to physically centralize power on herself and the Persian monarchy, breaking the power structures that led to her disastrous regency council. She built Ali Qapu Palace on the west side of the square as her new home. The east side opened into the Grand Bazaar, allowing her personal troops to regulate business and ensure no merchant grew powerful enough to create a monopoly or to directly challenge her.
On the south side, she ordered the construction of a new Imperial Fire Temple, where the Zoroastrian high priesthood would conduct services under her watchful eye. Although built with Islamic architectural influences, this temple was the first state-sanctioned fire temple of the Seljuk era to not double as a mosque, as all mosques and fire temples since Alp Arslan’s reign had been combined as such. Alp Arslan and his successors had adopted a policy of gradual conversion away from Islam, attempting to reinterpret Zoroastrianism through a monotheistic lens with substantial Islamic influences to make it palatable to Persia’s Muslims. However, there were many Muslims who saw such practices as heresy and the Seljuks as apostates. In the centuries after the Pagan Resurgence, known as the “Return of the Old Ways” by Persian historians, countless Muslim communities resisted the state-sponsored Zoroastrian resurgence, and some had powerful backers among the nobility and merchant class. Knowing that many powerful Muslims opposed her famously anti-Muslim father, who as crown prince in 1570 had sacked Baghdad and brutally executed the two caliphs living there, she suspected at least a few of those individuals may have sat on her regency council to undo Saltuk’s legacy, particularly his religious edicts. In response, Furuzan fully embraced and expanded her father’s anti-Muslim edicts, dropping her predecessors’ gradual conversion and pursued an aggressive Zoroastrianization policy, with the Imperial Fire Temple, and accompanying theological reforms restoring the dualism of mainstream pre-Seljuk Zoroastrianism, as the first step in eradicating a perceived Muslim fifth column. This policy largely worked. Persia’s Muslim communities declined over the next century and almost ceased to exist by the 19th century. Many remaining Muslims subsequently joined growing revolutionary movements. While most of these Muslims simply wanted an end to aggressive suppression and conversion efforts, some embraced more radical goals and joined ideologues like Iskandar Yinal.
That left the east side. Originally, Furuzan had a second fire temple built there, but during the Persian Revolution it had been burned down by Yinal’s revolutionaries. Afterwards, a new building took its place. The Majlis Building was to be a symbol of the modern meritocratic Persia. Its existence was intended to placate the remaining revolutionary groups. One of the first laws it passed was to recognize Persia’s remaining Muslim community and end state-sponsored conversion. However, its location on the square was another reminder that this early legislature was still subordinate to the shah. The first Majlis was little more than a unicameral consulting body for the shah, much like the Diet under Sigismund II. The Muslim tolerance law was passed only with the approval of the shah. By the turn of the century, it had taken on similar legislative powers as the Diet of Franz Joseph’s later years. The first two world wars, along with the rise of Reza Khan and his fascist movement, caused the decline and ultimately destruction of the Majlis, both politically and physically, by 1944. A new building for the reborn Majlis opened in the 1950s, but that was destroyed during World War III by a Soviet airstrike.
The modern building standing before Julian was designed by Gunduz’s husband in the 2010s, after decades of being stuck in bureaucratic red tape. Shahrokh had gone for a blend of traditional and modern designs, just as the Imperial Fire Temple, despite being an exclusively Zoroastrian temple, was built with Islamic designs. The end result was something that featured a strange yet oddly appealing mix of Islamic domes and geometric patterns, Persian acoustic designs and naturalistic murals, and Roman columns and façades. The Majlis Building’s striking mix of modernity and tradition stood in contrast to the historical buildings around it, a symbol of the postwar Persia that had left Reza Khan behind and taken up the torch of meritocracy. Yet there were many reminders of the past incorporated into the design. The flag waving over the main dome was made up of a royal lion and sun over the revolutionary tricolor, which was decided on in the 1880s after decades of violent debates. Large constantly burning Zoroastrian braziers flanked the entrance. The naturalistic motifs and acoustic designs were inspired by those in the palace, while the geometric patterns came from the Imperial Fire Temple. Finally and most egregiously, a statue of Furuzan the Architect, portrayed with a solar halo like Mithra in Zoroastrianism, stood watch in front of the entrance, much like how Saint Gunhilda’s statue used to stand in Augustaeon Square.
Honestly, that’s way too on the nose, even by the Seljuks’ standards.
Julian ignored the statue and braziers and murals and entered the building. The Majlis was in session today, and he could hear the politicians bickering inside the chamber, like they usually did. The modern Majlis was a bicameral legislature based on the Roman model, with an upper Senate and a lower Consultative Diwan. The Diwan’s name always threw Julian for a loop, because the Persian chancellor was also referred to as a diwan in Persian. Then there was the Diwan of Mithra, the judiciary. In Julian’s book, that name was a bit pretentious and full of double meanings—Mithra was associated with justice, but his place in the name cast doubt on Persia’s official status as a secular nation and the judiciary’s independence from the monarchy’s will.
As he got closer to the chamber doors, the arguments became clearer, allowing him to recognize voices and make out phrases. It was easier to recognize voices. He reliably identified Izinchi’s voice among the others, but her accent made it hard to hear what anyone was saying.
“Now ye listen ‘ere—oi, ah said listen ‘ere!”
There she goes again. Is she not even trying with her accent now?
“No, you need to show some respect!”
“Respect? RESPECT, YE SAY?!”
“Lower your voice!”
“Why din ye haud yer weesht instead! Ah dinnae like say’n this, but A’m scunnered with th’ way tis ‘ere Majlis is treating meself and th’ right an’ proper lads an’ lassies of Our Lassie’s Guv’ment.”
“We just want accountability, Chancellor Ochimeca. Accountability for who is responsible for the war crimes committed by Roman forces in Mesopotamia—“
“We lost our country an’ our families, an’ ye want tae talk ‘bae accountability fer
us?! Ye listen ‘ere, ‘cause ay dinnae want to repeat meself. This ‘ere’s Jerusalem’s dirty work. They mean to split us an turn us ‘gainst each other. D’vide an’ conq’er.”
“Chancellor, it makes it seem like you’re dodging the question. Did Roman forces commit war crimes in Operation Huma?”
“Let me ask ye tis: did other forces—Persian, Turkish, Indian, Afghan—commit the same crimes in the same operation?”
Please don’t go down that route…
“We have no evidence establishing such crimes yet—”
“Stop yer havers, if ye’ve got enough tae accuse us Romans, there’s plenty tae accuse th’ rest o’ us. An’ ah ken th’ we’ve nae conducted ourselves in Mesopotamia as we should’ve. If ye really want accountability, ye should’ve looked at everyone. But it sounds tae me like ye want a scapegoat. Someone tae shift th’ blame onto, tae distract from yerselves.”
Fair point, but the way you got there…
“That’s not what I was implying.”
“Tha’s ‘xactly wh’ yer implying.”
“This blatant disrespect for proper Majlis procedures cannot go unpunished.”
“A’m merely expressin’ meself the way ay normally dae. A’m merely defending meself and mae nation. Th’ Reich’s a shadow of it’s auld self. Just a dozen lads an’ lassies holed up in Ali Qapu. We just want tae go home.”
“Speaking of Ali Qapu, when can we expect the Roman government in exile to stop subsisting on taxpayer expenses? Currently, the budget allocates—”
“Ach, fer cry’ng oot laud! Dinnae ye listen tae wha’ ay’ve said? Let me make meself clear again…”
The argument went on for another half an hour. Julian patiently waited outside the door until the session ended and Izinchi stormed out, her face flush red with anger. “Sorry ‘boot that. Damn politicians, always th’ same.”
“You’re a politician too.”
“Ah ken that, aye. Always thought ay’d be different. Maybe a’m not. Ye must’ve heard everything ay said, right?”
“Caught part of it. Tuned out after a couple minutes.”
“A'm fair wabbit with these idiots.” Izinchi glared back into the Majlis chamber, where the Persian senators were filing out and returning to their offices. “They ken ‘boot wha’s happening wi’ Huma, and ye ken wh’ they dae? Blame
us. Like we’ve a free ride tae commit atrocities on their dinars.”
“Let’s just go, Izinchi, before you give the tabloids more fuel.” Julian pushed Izinchi towards the entrance.
“Tabloids, tabloids, tabloids,” Izinchi said, “Never thought a’d miss dealing wi’ them. And now th’ ay’ve got to deal wi’ them, ay miss when ay didn’t.”
“You never know what you’ll miss until it’s gone.”
“Wha’s that, another o’ yer sis’ words?”
“No, that one’s mine. Look, I know your heart’s in the right place, but being
that confrontational is only going to prove their point more.”
“Ye havering now or wha’?”
“It’s my observation. It’s fair to suspect certain members of the Majlis are trying to shift the blame for Huma’s conduct onto Gebhard’s troops—”
“Gebbers would never allow it.”
“Putting that aside for now, you made an error by trying to deflect and turn the question around. Blaming the other armies in Huma for the same thing. Sounds like whataboutism to me.”
Specifically that used by the committee.
“Ah dinnae want tae deny any wrongdoing.”
“I get that, but the way you said it sounded like you were. It was as if you were doing the same thing, but to everyone else.”
Izinchi tried responding, but she couldn’t. “So wha’d ye want me t’dae?”
“Nothing right now, but when the topic comes up again…sound nicer?”
“Ye ken ‘boot my accent!”
Julian shook his head. “I’m not talking about your accent. I mean your words. You can keep defending our government against those who’d want to make us scapegoats. But as everyone says, we need accountability. Same goes for the other governments with troops in Huma. And you’re right. An investigation into every nation’s troops equally would go a long way to uncovering the truth, without hanging anyone out to dry.”
“Tha’ sounds fine. Ay can handle tha’.”
“People are scared, Izinchi,” Julian said, “Everything’s going crazy lately, even by this war’s standards. India’s a giant chemical wasteland, Pesah’s killed thousands in the Eimericas and is now spreading in Central Asia, our vaccine still isn’t fully ready yet, the Crusaders are making moves to invade Sweden, a dozen navies are about to duke it out in Hawaii, we’re risking almost everything we have on Operation Huma, and oh, our intel suggests Jerusalem may be about to make a move on Persia proper. It feels like we’re at our limit. If something doesn’t give in the next two months…”
“We’re frakked, ain’t we?”
Julian nodded. “It reminds me a lot of my last days in Bremerhaven. A feeling of impending doom looming over everything we did. Knowing that none of our efforts were going to matter.”
“But ye still fought, eh?”
“Eva refused to give up. Not even when it seemed all was lost. You know, there was this old reporter who was with us. Dr. Humboldt’s father. The man who exposed Sentinel all those years ago.”
“Ye knew Anders Humboldt?”
“Not much. But I do remember something he told Eva, shortly before his disappearance. As long as there’s at least one person standing against the committee, not cowed by its propaganda or threats, there will still be hope that we can win. That we can still emerge from this disastrous decade and build a better future. That the truth will ultimately come out, and evil will get its just due.”
Izinchi didn’t answer for several seconds, lost in thought. “Aye, ah dae wish tha’d happen. Really dae. But wha’ we’re seeing these last couple weeks…a’m nae confident.”
To be fair, I don’t feel confident either. There’s me, her, Gebhard, and Wilhelmina. It’s just us against the world. I know Gebhard has his Liberation Legion and Wilhelmina has Gunduz and those scientists, but…I don’t know. “I’m not either. Like I said earlier, we’re all scared.”
“Right ye are, Jules.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “Jules?”
“Wha’, ye dinnae like it?”
What’s with this lady and nicknaming everyone around her? Granted, it’s just me and Gebhard so far since Wilhelmina already had her nickname, but still…. “It’s just…it’s just so sudden.”
Izinchi snickered. “Aye. So, wh’d ye think?”
“Might take some getting used to.”
“Well, better get used t’ it, Jules!”
Julian sighed. “Can we
please get back to the palace and start talking policy? I’m honestly very scared.”
“Ye are?”
“I know, I know, I’m the Vice Chancellor, and I’m supposed to lead by example and project strength, but I’ll be damned if I’m not scared,” Julian said, “Wonder how Eva used to do it, standing up to the committee for years on end. I really need some of her courage.”
“We could’ve used som’ne like her, aye,” Izinchi said, “Could’ve used a lot of people. We need everyone.”
“So do you understand why I’m concerned about your words earlier?” Julian said. “We can’t afford to make a single mistake. It could cost us everything.”
“Aye, course.”
They left the Majlis Building and passed the statue of Furuzan the Architect. Julian’s eyes wandered up to the sky, which remained cloudy as usual. A light snow had started to fall. “I have a strange feeling.”
“What’s it?” Izinchi asked.
“I feel…” Julian stammered, trying to translate it into words. “That whatever happens in the weeks to come…will decide how this war ends.”
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The references to Saltuk weren’t supposed to mention what he did in 1570 and directly tie in with Furuzan’s policies. I actually forgot about Saltuk other than him being there in the lead up to the Anarchy and a general feeling he was pretty bad, and it was just a coincidence that Furuzan was his daughter. But after rereading that chapter as a result of our previous conversation, I added it in, as it’s reasonable Furuzan would follow in her father’s footsteps.