Legends Never Die: Foundations of the Future (ch. 98)

Hadi had a plan.

It wasn't an ideal one. Not even close. But, that was to be expected in his trying circumstances. If things were ideal, then he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place -- married to an ambitious and beautiful woman, a regent to a young Emir, and a close advisor to the Caliph himself.

It was awful. Every night, he went to sleep begging that it all be a dream and every morning he awoke to his greatest nightmare made manifest. Some days he wondered if the Pagan had killed him in Crete, and every day since had been a punishment in Jahannam. Yet, hope wasn't so easily snuffed out. Even if it was likely false hope, as Hadi had a plan.

“Do you need any help, Emir Asad?” Hadi asked, looking down at the boy that he had been saddled with. If Emir Muhammad wasn't dead already, Hadi would have killed him a hundred times over for this ‘honor.’ The boy, now eight years of age, shook his head as he solved the math equation with minimal help.

“No, Hadi,” the boy replied, continuing on with no issue.

“You learn quickly, my lord. I am pleased to see it. Well done,” Hadi praised, taking another step in what was likely to be a ten thousand step plan. He was awarded with a small smile as the boy continued to follow his studies as they rode along the coast to their destination. Where they were being summoned.

His plan had two phases, but the length of time between them was long. First, he would follow in his father's footsteps in how he raised both himself and his younger brother -- overbearing, and in his brother's case, heaping praise upon him. This had the intended goal of teaching him what he needed to know, making him competent. But, in a few years time, the boy would become a man.

And like all boys on the cusp of manhood, the word of their father became less than dirt. The boy would rebel from him, seeking to stand on his own two feet. Hadi couldn't wait. In that time, Hadi fully intended to pull back, handing the reins to his dominion back to Emir Asad while making sure he didn't make a mess of it in the shadows. By the time of his sixteenth year, the young Emir would no longer require a regent.

Leaving Hadi free of the majority of his responsibilities. If he was lucky -- HA! -- then a few years after Emir Asad took control, he would reward Hadi with a manor and some servants for his loyal service. But, the point was, in a decade the vast majority of Hadi's political weight would have vanished as he lost the title of regent. That, naturally, would cause issues with his beautiful and ambitious wife as his star would obviously be waning. He just needed to make a fool of himself in front of the right audience at the right time, and the Caliph would have no choice but to revoke any honors he might have granted.

A decade, Hadi thought, looking down at what he hoped to never to see -- calluses on his hands. He just had to last another decade. Ten years. This was merely him front loading all of the hard work he would ever have to suffer in the entirety of his life. Once he entered his early thirties, it would be smooth sailing. He could die in his fifties of his own poor choices and overindulgences. Truly, the ideal death.

He just had to last a decade. One measly decade. It was easier said than done given who they would be meeting.

“Hadi?” Asad questioned, glancing up from his work. “Why are we going to Alexandria?” He questioned and Hadi pursed his lips, pondering how to best explain it to the boy.

His wife found a way first, “Because not all honors are honors, Asad.” To that, Asad blinked, looking to Hadi for elaboration.

Asad was a visual learner, so he decided upon an example. Reaching to the container between himself and his wife, he scooped out a handful of what was inside before handing the container to Sheba, who seemed amused. “Emir Asad, in this example, you are Caliph Harun while I shall be your uncle-”

“But you said he's a poo for brains son of a whor-” Asad started to repeat one of his less than quite muttering under his breath, but Hadi interrupted with a small cough.

Asad's uncle, Ahmed was the ruler of Alexandria and its surrounding territories. For the past few years, the man had been an exceptional pain in his ass -- withholding taxes, snubbing his messengers, and Hadi had a sneaking suspicion that every third assassination attempt he dealt with came from the man. It was to be expected, really. He was a powerful man that assumed he would become regent for Asad upon his brother's death, and from there, Asad was but an accident away from him becoming Emir himself.

“Yes, right. But let's pretend,” Hadi hastily moved on. “As Caliph, it is my honor and duty to house you. You shall be welcomed with celebrations and gifted lavish treasures. Now, what does that sound like to you?” Hadi said, dropping a candied fruit into Asad's hands.

“Fun?” He tried, suspicious of the question.

“For you, certainly. For myself, housing the Caliph and celebrating him is a great honor.” Hadi said, pleased to see the suspicion. Perhaps, soon, Asad would grow suspicious of Hadi himself and he could be ousted from power sooner than he hoped. “However, what happens when you decide that you like staying in Alexandria? And you decide to honor me not for days, but weeks. Months, even.” As Hadi spoke, he continuously dropped candied fruits into Asad’s hands.

He understood when the last one was dropped, “It's expensive?”

“Exceptionally so,” Sheba agreed. “Feasts and festivities are costly, and providing anything less than the best for the Caliph would be seen as shameful. Likewise, you can hardly complain to the Caliph about his stay. There is nothing left to do but continue to entertain him and bask in the honor of his presence.”

“Once I have run out of funds, I am forced to look to my neighbors and allies,” Hadi continued, looking to Sheba, who graced him with a smile as she tilted the container to him. “Placing myself in their debt as costs climb higher and higher the longer the Caliph honors me.” He took a few candies and dropped them onto the pile in Asad’s hands.

He was young, but he understood. He had a head for numbers as Sheba had all but beat the knowledge into his head. It was a remarkably simple way for the Caliph to weaken his vassals. Once the war with the Romans failed to materialize, on Hadi’s suggestion he underwent a tour of his lands. It had been an offhand remark, so he had been rather surprised when the Caliph did exactly that.

He weakened his greatest detractors and those whose influence grew out of hand in this way, all the while filling his coffers in preparation for what would likely be an extended war.

“Is that why the Caliph ignored us?” Asad questioned and Hadi nodded. It could be considered an insult that Alexandria received the Caliph but they did not. At the start, it had been treated as one by some. But, as the stay went on for the better part of three months…

“It is. Because now we have reason to investigate your uncle's records,” Hadi confirmed. The man was stealing from his nephew, but he was being frustratingly good about it. It was easy to hide gold during an upheaval like Alexandria was going through as its importance as a port was being elevated. To make matters worse, the man was well connected and popular.

Thankfully, the Caliph was amenable to supporting the rightful ruler of the land and aided them in discrediting him. Ahmed's popularity was curbed by his debts as even his friends knew that he was unlikely to be able to repay them all in his lifetime. An audit of his records would reveal that he had been stealing, which would allow Hadi to remove the man from his position lawfully. From there, a much more loyal cousin in Asad’s faction would oversee Alexandria and Hadi would be able to put this headache to rest.

Asad looked down at all the candied fruits in his hands, mulling it all over for just a moment.

Then he promptly shoveled all of the candies into his mouth so he wouldn't have to share. A greedy glutton.

Hadi approved.

…

The city of Alexandria was an old one, with a rich history. There were dozens of cities erected in the honor of Alexander the Great, but few had as storied a history as Alexandria. It was where history had been made time and time again -- where the fate of the Roman Empire, and Egypt itself, had been decided. Hadi knew it was no coincidence that it was where the upcoming meeting would take place. Caliph Harun Al-Rashid was too learned for Hadi to think otherwise.

The old stone walls stood proud and the double harbor was in full swing, in no small part due to the efforts of his wife and the fact that Siegfried had thoroughly sacked most of the other port cities in the area. The city itself almost looked to be under siege by the court that had arrived with the Caliph when he took residence here.

Their retinue was welcomed, and Hadi saw signs of the Caliph's stay wearing on the city. You could only gorge yourself for so long before getting sick, after all. The effect was more pronounced when they arrived at the lavish manor that the Caliph resided in. It was almost enough to make Hadi feel a bit bad about the whole situation -- Ahmed had been put between a rock and a hard place with no good way to get out.

Then Hadi remembered that the petty bastard had nearly killed him a couple of times, and he suddenly didn't feel bad anymore.

Their arrival was announced at the manor, the ceremonies going on without a hitch and Hadi had grown numb to the pageantry of it all. They were greeted by Caliph Harun Al-Rashid, who did not bother with the silk sheet that his father hid behind at all times. Asad was greeted warmly, and the festivities renewed themselves upon the arrival of another important guest.

There were dancers, fire spitters, plays, and every source of entertainment one could hope to find in one place. The whole affair had to have been extraordinarily expensive, so Hadi was content to wait for his spies to find all the evidence that they needed.

The more important meeting happened hours later, in a private room. And, it truly was a sign of how wrong his life had turned out when he found the thought of sharing a room with the Caliph along with the son of the Vizier no longer sent him into a blind panic. In fact, it almost felt mundane as they discussed decisions that would guide the Caliphate for decades to come.

“My spies have confirmed the Frankish king’s mobilization,” Hadi said, seated at a lounge chair directly across from the Caliph while Yahya stood behind him. Harun, for his part, appeared to be the picture of a dignified Caliph. He had grown into himself -- by his nature, he was still soft spoken and shy, but he wore a confident and serene mask to the public. “It is a significant increase from what he usually invades with -- fifty thousand men in total.”

Charlemagne had been using Iberia as his personal coin purse for decades by this point. He would invade, sack a number of cities, pillage the surrounding area, then he'd leave a token force behind as he returned home with the spoils. Those spoils then went to the various projects he financed. Largely religious institutions, but also wars like the ones he waged on the pagan lands.

“Then he is serious about it this time,” Harun said, leaning back into his chair, unsurprised by the development. “My father was under the impression that he invaded for prestige. A way to show his vassals that he is strong.”

That likely had its part to play too. Until now, Iberia, and perhaps all of Hispania, had been a convenient target. A land to bully. Hadi knew that the Abbasids, for their part, only cheered the Frankish king on as he weakened a rebellious dynasty. “What eats at me is the question of what has changed? Even without our involvement, Charlemagne must know that he will be stuck suppressing the lands for decades to come.”

“That,” Caliph Harun began, “I may have an answer for.” He said, and Yahya stepped forward to pass Hadi a letter. Opening it, his brow at first furrowed before his eyebrows began to inch up to his hairline until they would have vanished behind it if they could.

It was a translated copy of a letter between Charlemagne… and Irene of Athens. A personal letter. Nothing of true substance was discussed, but the language used was informal.

“Your spies are much better than mine,” Hadi admitted, mulling it over. The Caliph chuckled as Hadi reread the letter, putting the pieces together. By the language used, it couldn't have been the first time they exchanged letters. Irene was widowed and had been for two years. It would be improper for her to remarry, but from all he had heard of her, Irene was too power hungry to care about what was proper. As for Charlemagne… “Is this an affair, or…?”

“Queen Hildegard of the Franks has birthed eight children, with a ninth on the way. But, she has taken ill, and hopes are not high that she will survive the birth,” Harun informed and Hadi fought off a grimace. It was to be expected, in the end. It was a woman's lot in the world, especially when it came to kings and emperors. Still, to be looking for your next wife even as your current one was at risk of dying to deliver you a ninth child…

Unsavory as it was, the prize was tempting enough for Hadi to understand the decision.

“The Roman Empire wishes to rise from its ashes,” Hadi concluded, earning a single sharp nod from the Caliph. The terms of this union were up in the air as, to Hadi's knowledge, Charlemagne’s succession was rather secure. Peppin the Hunchback was disqualified due to his condition, but of the eight children Queen Hildegard had birthed, several were boys -- Charles the Younger, Carloman, and Louise. All young, so their survival to adulthood was not guaranteed, but…

“The resurrection of the Roman Empire will happen, either by marriage between Emperor Constantine and one of Charlemagne's daughters… or between Charlemagne and Irene,” Caliph Harun ventured, his voice grave. “It completely depends on the nature of the alliance they strike.” But one way or another, an alliance would be struck. It was just a question of what form it would take.

And Hadi had a solid enough idea, “Charlemagne desires a legacy. Irene desires power.”

“You expect them to wed?” Harun questioned and Hadi offered a small nod, reluctant to give such a definitive answer but he was fairly confident.

“Charlemagne is conquering Hispania to solidify his position as the king of the western half of Rome. He may lack the titles and bloodline, but possessing something is nine tenths of ownership,” Hadi said, looking down at the table that divided them. It was Asad's fault, but he had gotten used to visual examples. So he started moving things around. “It would also give him a direct border with us, which he could use as leverage for the alliance. I imagine that joint invasions into the Caliphate is how the divide in their cultures will mend -- with us acting as the common enemy.”

The Caliph followed along, a frown tugging at his lips as he followed Hadi's hands -- a water map of the rough landmass with trinkets pushing in from Anatolia and the west from Hispania. The Greeks wouldn't like it. The Franks wouldn't like it either. But with the Christian faith healing itself, and a common enemy to unite against… they very well could get along long enough for the rifts to mend.

“What of their children?” The Caliph questioned, and to that, Hadi's lips thinned.

“It wouldn't surprise me to hear that Emperor Constantine suffered an untimely death,” Hadi admitted. Irene was ambition wrapped in flesh. “Charlemagne’s children are a question, but from what I know of the Franks succession laws… they'll likely be passed over. Perhaps granted some lands, but the throne of the Roman Empire would likely go to the children born between Charlemagne and Irene.”

It helped that Charlemagne had several daughters that he could use to further bind the eastern half of the Roman Empire to what would become the western half. As well as several sons. The line of succession could get messy if Irene failed to have children with him, but she was still quite young and her fertility was proven.

The Caliph wasn't disagreeing with Hadi either. “It would seem that I was not destined for a peaceful reign,” he sighed, also not sounding particularly surprised by the news. Then he gestured to Hadi, “With all of this revealed, what do you say of Siegfried's offer?”

That was the issue at hand. Honestly, he wished Ahmed was the greatest of his concerns. “I… would say that it would be in our interest…” Hadi admitted, feeling the urge to start coughing up blood as he did so. “In the end, what Siegfried hopes to do is to distract the Franks from interfering with his homeland. Bogging them down in Hispania would be a good way to do that. But with a potential restoration of the Roman Empire on the horizon…”

Having an ally in the Mediterranean, especially one that could be as problematic as Siegfried had proven himself to be… it appealed. The Abbasids had always lacked a particularly powerful navy, more so now than ever. From the plans that Siegfried had detailed, the island nation that he would be leaving behind would be the most powerful naval force in the Mediterranean. There was just one issue with the whole thing.

Such alliances needed to be made in blood as much as they did in ink. If not more so.

“I wish to think of him as an honorable man,” Harun remarked, his lips thinning. Hadi only got to see a glimpse of it, but there was love between the siblings. They were close. “It is difficult now, because of this secrecy.”

That much he agreed with, but unfortunately, he also understood. “It pains me to say it, but if Siegfried was dishonorable, he'd be far more helpful to both our goals.” For better or worse, he was upholding the contract he made. He would take no direct action against the Romans until it ended. It was irritatingly pigheaded of him, but if he had done something as brazen as open the gates to Anatolia for them… then this alliance would be dismissed out of hand entirely. “He came here to find a way to coexist with the Christians. Now he knows that is a pointless endeavor, so he seeks an alliance with a common enemy instead.”

The Caliph hummed -- Hadi wasn't telling him anything new. He just didn't want to hear it.

Hadi himself saw the advantages of such an alliance. They would have an ally in the Mediterranean, and have the Romans pinned between the Abbasids in the South and the Norsemen in the North. It would be best if they could prevent Francia and the Roman Empire from conjoining in the first place, but anything short of an assassination was unlikely to do that. The alliance seemed the best way forward.

It just came at the cost of Princess Jasmine.

There was a knock at the door before the Caliph gave permission to enter. A servant came to Yahya, whispering in his ear before Yahya repeated the words to Harun. The Caliph’s lips thinned even further, “It seems that the Pagan has arrived. He awaits us at the Pyramids.”

Hadi decided he wouldn't confess that he likely gave Siegfried the idea for such a meeting place.

Despite himself, Harun did seem intrigued. “It is as good of a place as any. I always wished to see them myself,” he admitted.

…

One of the benefits of being the Caliph was that you didn't need to explain yourself to anyone, Hadi noted. Ahmed nearly fell to his knees with relief when he learned that Caliph Harun would be departing to see the Pyramids of Giza. Then he nearly wept when Harun informed him that he planned to return.

The fact the man would be relieved of his position went unsaid, as it had been painfully easy to find the evidence that Hadi desired. When you stole in the amounts that Ahmed did to keep himself afloat, it became very difficult to cover your tracks.

That was one problem nicely dealt with, but another would take its place, Hadi knew. Within the hour, he was off with the Caliph to cut off a particularly troublesome head from the hydra.

Sailing down the Nile River shortened their trip significantly, and it wasn't long before Hadi saw a monument to the ancients. It wasn't the first time he’d seen the three great Pyramids, but the sight of them still stole his breath away. He had heard of them, growing up as a boy. But what no one told him was how massive they were. Each stone was about the height of a man, and there were tens of thousands of stones piled up.

Time had weathered the stone, but they remained standing thousands of years after they were built. And they likely would for thousands of years more.

Hadi never considered himself a humble man. He was no braggart either of course, he was perfectly aware of his own strengths and faults. But the Pyramids humbled him in a way that was hard to describe. Whoever ordered their construction must have died long before they were completed, yet they were completed all the same.

It was also there that they found the party of the Pagan. The same man who had been with Siegfried when they met in Acre simply pointed up at the top of the Pyramid, his intent clear.

“Hadi, Yahya -- follow me,” Harun decided, killing any hope that he could be left at the bottom and not risk falling to his death. A rope ladder had been wedged in the chafing stone, helping their ascent.

And it was there they found Siegfried waiting for them. Along with an unexpected guest.

“Brother!” Princess Jasmine exclaimed, nearly knocking Harun off of the Pyramid when she slammed into him for a hug. He nearly took them both down because he returned it just as fiercely.

Siegfried sat at the top of the pyramid, his legs crossed. He wore a traveler's garb with a turban covering his hair, but a short red beard covered his cheeks. He kept it well trimmed, likely as to not hide the vicious but fading scar on his neck. He had also grown significantly since they last saw one another. Before, Siegfried was in that awkward phase between boy and man. Now the baby fat had been shed entirely.

“My apologies for the summons here, but I had to see this monument with my own eyes. And even then, I thought they were playing tricks on me,” Siegfried said in Arabic. He wasn't armed. Then again, he didn't need to be. Hadi had taken up swordsmanship merely because he didn't wish to fall into the same pitfall as his father.

His father had constantly harped on him about learning how to fight, but he never once saw his father holding a sword in his life. So, he trained alongside Asad, to surprising results.

Yet, it wouldn't be enough. If Siegfried wanted them dead, he didn't need a blade to see that done. But the fact that Princess Jasmine was here with him spoke of his intentions well enough.

“It does cut an impressive figure,” Hadi acknowledged while the siblings quickly spoke to one another in hushed tones. “It feels like the oldest thing in the world. The Pyramids were ancient by the time of Alexander the Great, Rome, or… any of it.”

“I can only imagine,” Siegfried admitted, patting a hand on the top of the Pyramid. “On how such a thing was built. On how much time took, or by whom it was built. Or who would be worthy of such a monument.”

Hadi offered a thin smile, “I can answer the who. The men that built this place did so freely.” That seemed to surprise Siegfried, and for good reason. For this kind of work, Hadi too had expected it to be the work of slaves. Because he couldn't imagine anyone willingly choosing to do the back breaking labor needed to construct even one of the Pyramids. “The Egyptians believed that deeds and memory sustained a person in the afterlife. By aiding the construction of this great work, they would be remembered for as long as it endured.”

“I like that,” Siegfried quickly voiced his approval, but there was a calculating glint in his eye. He planned to use that information somehow, but Hadi could only guess how. Not that he had any desire to.

Siegfried was the kind of great man that made waves everywhere he went, and as far as Hadi was concerned, if he went to the other side of the world it wouldn't be far enough.

“However, none of us are here to swap tales of deeds gone by. We are here to speak of the future,” Siegfried said, turning his attention to Caliph Harun.

The Caliph looked at Siegfried for just a moment, giving his sister's hands a small reassuring squeeze before he sat on the ground across from Siegfried with his head held high. “That we have, Lord Siegfried.”

And Hadi cursed his own rotten luck, because he knew that he was party to a discussion that would shape the world for decades to come. History may never know of what was said, much like how history had forgotten the names of those who built the Pyramids, but much like the Pyramids themselves, the impact would be lasting.