Eternity RPC Board
09-16-2018, 12:09 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-26-2019, 03:12 AM by Seperallis.)
Winter: 21 March, 1780
"My brothers, it has been six years since our dear Karim Khan Zand's death, may God preserve his soul. In that time we have gone from being captains and herdsmen in Mazandaran to great Khans of Iran. We have driven our Zand rivals into deserved irrelevance and we have your efforts to thank."
Mohammad raised his cup to the howls of agreement and celebration from his guests, who returned the gesture in kind. Before them on the table was the finest spread Persia had to offer at this time of year: a bounty of nuts and preserved fruits, as well as a wide assortment of meats both fresh and cured. All around him sat his brothers: Morteza, Mostafa, Reza, Mehdi, Abbas, and Ali, with himself at the head; only Jafar remained absent, fulfilling a request around Isfahan.
Reza was the first to speak, placing his own cup upon the table, "Without your leadership though, none of us would be here. You have led us to greatness."
A couple mumbled and grunted agreements followed. Abbas nodded along; Morteza remained silent, sipping his drink. Mohammad, for his part, frowned past the flattery and dismissively shook the notion aside with his hand as one who shakes off water, "Some of my ideas may have led us here," he conceded with feigned humbleness, "but not even Nader Shah, curse his name, could have conquered as he did without good men surrounding him. So in reality God has gifted us all with the skills to succeed, and the great fortune to have come together and use our skills for great benefit. So I say, raise your drink in honor of us, and to our God who has brought us together!"
"To God!" The rest agreed, and made their merriment.
Morteza however, who had not touched his food and instead gave a smartly discerning eye to Mohammad. After a respectful several seconds had passed after the toast, he pried, "Surely though, brother, as grand as it is to see the family together again, truly you wouldn't call us here just to make merry. Not while your campaign remains...incomplete?"
The question hung in the air for a pregnant second, laden and bloated with accusations over the existing deal with the Ottomans and subsequent failure to reclaim the northwest of Iran. Mohammad and Morteza met eyes in that second, and the former cracked a broad smile. "Indeed, you know me well! There are a couple important matters of state to address, and it is probably best to handle them while we are all still somewhat cogent."
Mohammad set down his drink, and leaned into the table. The others did likewise, for when Agha Mohammad Khan spoke, one did well to listen. "First, is the matter of succession. Let us not be like the snakelike Zands, fighting over scraps of a legacy to murder each other over avarice; for the good of our children and our family, we must be united behind a successor. Sadly Hussein, may he rest with God, whom my father chose to follow him, is no longer with us."
"Who do you have in mind," challenged Morteza.
Mohammad nodded, "Yes, you're right to assume I have a plan in mind: I feel it only right and respectful, to my father's wishes and to my dear departed brother, to continue the logical line of succession and name Baba as the next Khan of Qajars."
An air of surprise filled the room, as Baba was Hossein's second son, and had not yet even come of age.
"He is only a child, he cannot lead us."
"I was once a child, and I now lead us."
"What of his older brother, Hossein?"
"Hossein is an idiot, he can neither rule nor have children," Mohammad pointed out with finality. "Zands too wished for a puppet on the throne, and now they are all dead."
A moment's pause in the outbursts. Morteza slowly stood, looking down over the table and its guests. "I, for one, agree with dear Mohammad's choice. It is true any of us would make a better leader than a child, but the decision is for the future, not for now. Hossein is declared incapable; Baba is the most just choice for all our futures."
Dissent in the room quieted, for when Morteza agrees with Mohammad, there isn't much more to be said on the matter. Looking over the room with a nod, the leader of the Qajars gave the call for a vote: all in favor, and none opposed.
"Excellent, excellent," chimed Mohammad, "then let it be known that Baba Khan, son of Hossein Khan, shall be recognized as inheritor of our great Iranian Kingdom." The others gave their assent and approval.
When all was completed, Mohammad leaned into the table once more, a smile on his face. "Now then, as our next order of business, let us settle the matter of a little Zand rat they call Lotf-Ali..."
"My brothers, it has been six years since our dear Karim Khan Zand's death, may God preserve his soul. In that time we have gone from being captains and herdsmen in Mazandaran to great Khans of Iran. We have driven our Zand rivals into deserved irrelevance and we have your efforts to thank."
Mohammad raised his cup to the howls of agreement and celebration from his guests, who returned the gesture in kind. Before them on the table was the finest spread Persia had to offer at this time of year: a bounty of nuts and preserved fruits, as well as a wide assortment of meats both fresh and cured. All around him sat his brothers: Morteza, Mostafa, Reza, Mehdi, Abbas, and Ali, with himself at the head; only Jafar remained absent, fulfilling a request around Isfahan.
Reza was the first to speak, placing his own cup upon the table, "Without your leadership though, none of us would be here. You have led us to greatness."
A couple mumbled and grunted agreements followed. Abbas nodded along; Morteza remained silent, sipping his drink. Mohammad, for his part, frowned past the flattery and dismissively shook the notion aside with his hand as one who shakes off water, "Some of my ideas may have led us here," he conceded with feigned humbleness, "but not even Nader Shah, curse his name, could have conquered as he did without good men surrounding him. So in reality God has gifted us all with the skills to succeed, and the great fortune to have come together and use our skills for great benefit. So I say, raise your drink in honor of us, and to our God who has brought us together!"
"To God!" The rest agreed, and made their merriment.
Morteza however, who had not touched his food and instead gave a smartly discerning eye to Mohammad. After a respectful several seconds had passed after the toast, he pried, "Surely though, brother, as grand as it is to see the family together again, truly you wouldn't call us here just to make merry. Not while your campaign remains...incomplete?"
The question hung in the air for a pregnant second, laden and bloated with accusations over the existing deal with the Ottomans and subsequent failure to reclaim the northwest of Iran. Mohammad and Morteza met eyes in that second, and the former cracked a broad smile. "Indeed, you know me well! There are a couple important matters of state to address, and it is probably best to handle them while we are all still somewhat cogent."
Mohammad set down his drink, and leaned into the table. The others did likewise, for when Agha Mohammad Khan spoke, one did well to listen. "First, is the matter of succession. Let us not be like the snakelike Zands, fighting over scraps of a legacy to murder each other over avarice; for the good of our children and our family, we must be united behind a successor. Sadly Hussein, may he rest with God, whom my father chose to follow him, is no longer with us."
"Who do you have in mind," challenged Morteza.
Mohammad nodded, "Yes, you're right to assume I have a plan in mind: I feel it only right and respectful, to my father's wishes and to my dear departed brother, to continue the logical line of succession and name Baba as the next Khan of Qajars."
An air of surprise filled the room, as Baba was Hossein's second son, and had not yet even come of age.
"He is only a child, he cannot lead us."
"I was once a child, and I now lead us."
"What of his older brother, Hossein?"
"Hossein is an idiot, he can neither rule nor have children," Mohammad pointed out with finality. "Zands too wished for a puppet on the throne, and now they are all dead."
A moment's pause in the outbursts. Morteza slowly stood, looking down over the table and its guests. "I, for one, agree with dear Mohammad's choice. It is true any of us would make a better leader than a child, but the decision is for the future, not for now. Hossein is declared incapable; Baba is the most just choice for all our futures."
Dissent in the room quieted, for when Morteza agrees with Mohammad, there isn't much more to be said on the matter. Looking over the room with a nod, the leader of the Qajars gave the call for a vote: all in favor, and none opposed.
"Excellent, excellent," chimed Mohammad, "then let it be known that Baba Khan, son of Hossein Khan, shall be recognized as inheritor of our great Iranian Kingdom." The others gave their assent and approval.
When all was completed, Mohammad leaned into the table once more, a smile on his face. "Now then, as our next order of business, let us settle the matter of a little Zand rat they call Lotf-Ali..."