The Mamluks

[MattErickson]

Humble Beginnings
Part One
The Sultanate Emerges
The Sultan sat there in hit palace nestled deep in the streets of Alexandria, his birthplace. He contemplated many things, life, family, the great nation of Egypt. But one thing that kept his mind astray from current events was his legacy. How would the people remember him? Would he be held high as the one who brought a great peace and stability through North Africa, or would he be looked at as the dreaded tyrant. Who started the war against the Order to the North. As he was thinking of this he shot a glance over to a table nearby where he lay. A nice memory as he sees a painted portrait of his eldest son. The Crown Prince Al-Mustansir, he had done so well for himself he thought, just recently being appointed the Caliph of Cairo, the capitol of this great Southern nation. At forty-five the Crowned Prince of Egypt was a strong sturdy man that could well support himself in any situation given. He had an uncanny talent for command and his attacks were stragetically sound. He was a religiously devout man and, although sometimes the control of taxes and money slipped through his hands, he was well loved and praised.

Some distance away Mubarak, the Sultan's younger son sat there as well. Only he was thinking of becoming Sultan one day. Regardless of his older brother's wishes. Mubarak had this discussion many times as a child and still thought thoroughly about it.

"I don't take favourites son, you know that", Al-Zahir let out with a slight chuckle.
"Then why do you let him go to Cairo when I have to stay here in this stink pit of a city!", demanded a childish Mubarak.
"Now son, this stink-pit of a city is where I grew up, it's where legends were born and heroes were made. It's an ancient city withstanding the test of time"
"It's disgusting and it's full of stinking bums and washed up losers."
"I will not have you disregard one of our greatest cities this way, don't you care what the people will think of you when one day, you might become sultan too."
"I will become sultan. I will.", he declared as he stormed off into the distance.

Like his brother in Cairo, Mubarak had recently become lord of Gaza, the Emir. But unlike his brother he not obtain his position fairly. For some unknown reason two of the other candidates dropped out and another two had mysteriously vanished only weeks before the decision came down. He was always in trouble with the law for disregarding the rules of Gaza, and disrespecting the nobles, even going far as punching one of them and cowardly retreating behind his guards. So it came as a shock to the Sultan and the Crown Prince when they heard news of his ascension into politics.

Al-Zahir was getting old, he knew very shortly he would pass on and he decided to leave a mark. Pave a way for a new dynasty. He issued a diplomat to be sent forth to Counselor Gottfried of the Order of the Knights Templar as he was known to more 'reasonable' than his father. Along with those orders he ordered preparations to be made to expand his borders. He was looking to start a campaign into the Middle East provinces and head directly for Mecca with the intention of adding them to the Sultanate of Egypt. He had a lifelong goal to re-establish Jerusalem but it was looking like that would have to be accomplished in his next lifetime as he felt the affects of old age and weariness gaining more hold over him.

When the orders reached the captain of the guard in Alexandria he thought it was a bit out of character for the sultan so he decided to meet with him and discuss his plans further. When he arrived at the palace no one greeted him or held him outside. He strolled in casually through the halls expecting any minute to be apprehended by the Sultan's guards. He he arrived at the Sultan's door he was even more amazed to find no guards. The one place in the palace that usually is impregnable is completely undefended thought Captain Chahine Zaki. Slowly he creaked open the heavy wooden doors to find the sultan laying there in bed. He was about to close the door when he noticed that the Sultan was still fully clothed in what looked to be a dress for political gatherings. He inched over there knowing very well that if the Sultan awoke and he was caught in the wrong light, he would be put to death. No heartbeat. The Sultan is dead!

[MattErickson]

So, any opinions on this?

I added Bolds for the first time a new name/city appears. Should I keep it for every time or is the first time enough?

[normanknight]

Cool keep it up where did all the guards go??????????? when your next instalment

[Janissary]

Good AAR, please continue.

[MattErickson]

Thanks for that input, I'm really glad to see that someone likes it, it's funny because I love writing and I usually get 50's in English and I just failed grade 12 English, maybe I should of submitted something like this for a few of my essays and final .

Maybe I'll work on it a bit later on today.

where did all the guards go???????????

Later on, it will be revealed.

[MattErickson]

Part Two
Turmoil

LogDate: December, 1086

"It had been almost two years since the death of my father, the Sultan Al-Zahir, and I, his loyal son, Al-Mustansir, have taken up my rightful claim as his heir to the throne of Egypt. I now sit atop a throne in Cairo. No longer am I dealing with the petty squabbles of Caliph but now with the greater problems of the nation. My good childhood friend Captain Chahine Zaka has just been promoted to General of the armies of the Northern Provinces. I have taken him under my wing as a student. He is like a son to me. And I, like his overbearing father.

It had been too long since I have talked with my brother Mubarak about the current situation. He has still got it in his mind that he is the rightful heir to the Sultanate. He hates me so much, I just wish we could be brothers. I need him in times like these. The Southern Provinces are getting restless, there are talks of unrest among the governors of the South while anarchy spreads up near the North. Even in Cairo, my city, there is heretics running amok in the streets. Spineless fools they are. Soon they will meet an end. I have brought in my old teacher and Imam, Mahfouz, and along with his pupil, Allam, they are starting to purge this city as I sit here and write.
I miss you father."

With the Sultan Al-Zahir deceased, his eldest son, Al-Mustansir held a ceremony inviting all the nobles, lords, emirs, and caliphs from around the Sultanate to witness his ascension to the throne. This was nothing more than a political tactic his late father had taught him. 'Make them all know who holds the power. Don't let them find weakness. Be kind and generous up front. Love the people and they with adore you.' Only two people had not showed up, the first one he had half expected, his brother Mubarak. The second person was the exalted 'Lord of Dongo', a self-given title by the disgraceful swine Saad Zakariyya. A wealthy merchant of the area that had expanded not by trading and merging, but with a dagger and thugs. He was feared by all other merchants and run anyone who did not pay protection out of the villages. There was nothing this madman did not like more than money. Not even Allah. He will soon suffer his wrath.

***

Meanwhile, across the known world the Imperial Forces expand their borders with extreme force, storming over the meager defences of Hamburg and Vienna. They are uncompromised in battle and leave none standing. Screaming words of a god they praise a man called Christ as they charge into lines with fury like none other. A battle hardened man stares out the window of his castle Innsbruck, towards the south, wondering what untold riches and lands await. The Kaiser walks in and greets this man with a hug, a few words are spoken in silence then he departs. The man resumes his plans of conquest of the Apennine Peninsula and the Eastern Alliance.
"The seas will wait", he mutters as he turns away from the window.

***

Back in Cairo, the Sultan Al-Mustansir has decided the best course of action would to be continue his father's legacy. He requisitioned new economical building across the lands. Farms, markets, ports, and roads. He would rebuild this slowly declining empire, but it will take time. He has effectively put his father's campaign into Mecca on hold for the time being as he will personally lead it. Nerves got the better of him for the time being.

Mubarak storms through the palace door, as guards approach him they are silenced by his retinue. As he approaches his brother's chambers he waves off his servants, pushes past the elite guards, and throws the doors open. Al-Mustansir, being thrown out of his peaceful state of mind while writing in his logbook. He stands up,

"No disturbances!", he roars as his gaze finally settles on his brother. A sigh of relief and dismay overcomes him.
"Why hello brother, how are we doing on this fine day.", he looks like he owns the place as he pushes books aside from a table and sits comfortably on some documents, no doubt important ones.
"I'm sorry, I haven't been myself lately", he calmly replies, "It's all the stress. Please, have a drink."
"No, I don't want to drink anything here, this water isn't as good as that in Gaza.", he sneers back, trying to reclaim some pride of his city.
"Very well, what can I do for you?"
"I've come here to offer my services to the, humble Sultan of Egypt", his pause warrants disgust as he speaks those words. "When will we be marching into Mecca?"
"We won't be, I am leading the campaign and it's been delayed for a few more months."
"You dare to ruin our fathers dream", Mubarak shouts with anger.
"Please, lower your voice."
"I will do nothing of the sort, you sit around in your pompous throne room serving the petty needs of lords and nobles while the South rampages with violence and pillaging, and you have the nerve to abandon our father's goal to take Mecca for the glory of this fine Sultanate", his tone is getting more hostile by the minute as he launches word after word, insult after insult.
"Mubarak, I am sending you to Thebes.", he pauses and waits for the anger to die down, but it doesn't.
"..what, did I hear correctly. You! Sending me to Thebes?", he can feel the anger boiling within as he knows the reason why.
"I'm sorry but it's for the best, the Southern Provinces need a strong leader and..", he was cut off before he could finish.
"Enough! I don't need to here this from the likes of you. I go where I please, after all, I am the Crown Prince, and don't you forget that", he feels a bit of pride start to return as he rests his hand on the hilt of his scimitar.
"Salahud", the Sultan calls out for the general on duty, "Remove this man, he is to be sent to Thebes, make sure he makes it there."

As his brother walks out, Al-Mustansir wonders what is happening. His nation is falling apart. Surely sending Mubarak to the Southern Provinces won't solve anything, and in time it will come back to him. Cairo is on the verge of revolt. Open conflicts between peasants and guards, between the heretics and imams. This will be one heck of a struggle, but, after all, he is the son of Al-Zahir, who was recognized as the greatest Sultan by the people. Surely it can't be that hard to rule an empire. His hopes quickly fade as he sits back at his desk and continues to write.

[bomberboy]

I wonder if he ever will sort things out. keep the good work.

[MattErickson]

I wonder if he ever will sort things out. keep the good work.

Thank you, I read your General's Diaries, they are good, I like the second one better. It's excellent and a bit more in depth.

[bomberboy]

Thank you, I read your General's Diaries, they are good, I like the second one better. It's excellent and a bit more in depth.

Why thank you MattErickson your AAR is good too. I agree with Janissary though, you do need some screenies, but not a lot. Good luck.

[MattErickson]

Eight miles away from a convoy of militia leaving from Gaza to suppress the uprising in Cairo and the Southern Provinces, Hans Karolinger signals for the attack. Templar Knights, both mounted and on foot, supported by the longbows made by England, and Noble Spearmen of the Templar capital of Tortosa pushed onwards.

Captain Aly received a letter less than three days ago requesting additional supports in the South. He was a bit confused as the messenger claimed to be from the Sultan himself but did not bare the royal seal. Regardless he knew it was better to follow the orders than to ignore them and face the chopping block like his former captain did. He quickly mustered up his men and set march following local feast held by families of the militia. He wasn't aware of what await him. He had no clue that he would be leading his men to their deaths.

Back at Cairo the Imams were doing their job, less than half of all heretics had been ejected from the city walls, or stoned and beaten to death by angry mobs formed covertly by Allam. He, unlike his teacher Mahfouz, had a divine hatred for all things not Muslim. While Mahfouz would try to convert or accept outsiders, Allam would set out and remove these infidels by force.

Mubarak had complied after being forcefully ejected from the palace by the Sultan's guards. He was furious when a messenger came to him telling him that the sultan had generously given him pack mules and supply caravans for his trip along with four militia. He laughed as he saw the four boys the Sultan had sent. "I could snap them in half like twigs with my bare hands", he thought as he inspected them, "Although, they will make useful fodder along the way." As he set off he did not know who he would meet along his way, and how drastically it would change his life, and the lives of the whole Sultanate.

While marching Captain Aly had wondered if maybe it was a bad idea to leave his support units at Gaza, with no scouts, no calvary, and limited archers, he feared that an ambush would surely end in a slaughter of him and all his men, but he could not keep the Sultan waiting. The convoy slowly made it's way up to Jerusalem to drop off a number of supplies to local merchants before returning down to the road to Cairo. He was worried as it has been considered contested territory as no one has laid claim to the city in over a decade. Men are constantly dieing over who the next ruler of the city shall be. As he made his way up the road to Jerusalem he stopped thinking all together. His mind was wandering, thinking about his family, the families of all his men, the lovely feast they had all thrown day earlier before they left. He just wished he could bring them all back home one day, alive.

His silence was broken with the sound of a clink as an arrow pierced his leg mail. "Ambush!", he cried out, hastily preparing his men for combat.

The battle was hard fought but the Order's longbows and knights were far superior to the simple militia and Nubian spears. The Egyptians held their ground for as long as they could until the Nubians broke and fled leaving the militia unprotected on the left flank and they too, eventually broke and fled.

The remaining men were slaughtered as Captain Aly and his guard stayed for as long as they could. Trying desperately and hopelessly to hold the attacker off, in order to buy the troops enough time to flee. After his guard was cut down Aly turned tail and fled. He and only a few men survived the ambush and returned to Gaza, broken men.

[Janissary]

Can I suggest adding more pictures? Example: Campaign map, Epic battles and important figures potraits.