Origin Story: Rise of a Leader

[Clarenthia]

Tetri Tsqaro, 1947

An aid pushed open a door with all his might as he ran down the hallway into the Executor’s Office. It was considered extremely rude and improper to open the door of the Executor’s Office without a knock or previous appointment, but the aid pushed the doors open, startling Executor Lado Asatiani.

Lado Asatiani was a man who rivaled Mikhail Kalatovoz himself. The Meritocracy under Asatiani changed to being a much farer system and Asatiani worked to quelling the continuous battle between secularists, orthodox, and Muslims. The task was tiring, but Asatiani was succeeding. Asatiani did believe that the Muslims needed the Orthodox’s guiding, more advanced minds if the they were to ever uplift themselves from poverty, although he never went public with this assertion.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Asatiani shouted.

“Sir, your worries were justified, Hajri aircraft have crossed the border and are en route to Tel Keppe,” The aid replied.

Asatiani face immediately turned to horror. He rose from his desk and walked to the door of the Office, “follow me,” he commanded the aid.

Karbala, 1949

The wagon’s wheel climbed over a large rock and crashed back to the ground, the sudden jolt awoke a ten year old Amirzai Ahmadzai. Amirzai had been sleeping almost the entire morning. The sun had barely risen over the mountains; Karbala was still blanketed in the desert’s cold night.

“My apologies, Amir,” Muhammad Ahmadzai, his 35 year old father said.

“Are we going home now?” Amirzai asked as he looked across the streets of Karbala.

“You told me you wanted to come with, we have a lot to do today. You know we can’t get into Karbala nearly as much as we used to,” Muhammad answered.

“Yeah, I know, the war and everything,” Amirzai commented. “When are we going to win?”

“I’m not sure son, I trust we’re doing all we can,” Muhammad said.

Two soldiers then came from what seemed like nowhere. They demanded that Muhammad stop the wagon and allow them to inspect it to ensure that no illegal things were on board. Muhammad immediately cooperated, and took his son by the hand and stepped down from the wagon.

“Do you have any information on the Mujahideen or its operatives?” asked one of the soldiers.

“No, I am loyal to our government,” Muhammad answered.

“What kind of loyalist man doesn’t fight for his country?” the soldier asked.

“I have a family to take care of. My wife is pregnant, there’s no one else to look after her,” Muhammad answered.

“We all have family, fodder. I suppose it’s customary of your kind, why would you fight against the Uroduah anyhow?” the soldier scoffed.

“This is my country, you are my countryman, I support us, not them,” Muhammad answered.

The soldiers finished looking through Muhammad’s wagon. The soldiers threw food and blankets onto the ground and then jumped from the wagon and spoke in Georgian to the other soldiers, assuming that Muhammad couldn’t also speak the language, which he could.

“Where are you taking these?” asked a soldier.

“To the market to trade, I do this weekly,” Muhammad answered.

“Is this the first time you’ve been stopped?” the soldier asked.

“Yes,” Muhammad said, with a rather annoyed tone.

“The Army of his Executor now claims ownership over these goods by grounds of the War Emergency Act of 1948. We will pay you,” the soldier paused, looking back at the supplies “ten marks.”

“Very well,” Muhammad answered before being interrupted by Amirzai who claimed they could get at least twenty in the markets, Muhammad hushed Amirzai.

The soldier walked up to Amirzai and bent down to get a closer look at the boy, and smiled.

“I expect you to make a fine addition to the Army one day, serving your Executor, what greater honor?” asked the soldier.

Before Amirzai could say a word, Muhammad smiled and thanked the soldier for the words. The soldier then asked for Muhammad’s address before they went upon their separate ways. Muhammad and Amirzai returned home, now having nothing to trade and too little money to purchase things.

Hours passed before there was a knock on the door, Amirzai ran to answer it, to find a tall, darker skinned man wearing Akhaltsikhe’s Officer Uniform. The Officer looked down at the boy standing in front of him, before proceeding in, almost kicking Amirzai to the side. By this time Muhammad arrived in the foyer of the home and looked at the Officer.

“Are you Muhammad Ahmadzai?” asked the Officer.

“Yes,” he replied.

“The Executor of Akhaltsikhe demands all able bodied males to join up with the Army in order to stop the Oppressors from taking our grand country from us. By order of the Tel Keppe Defensive Brigade, you have been drafted to fight,” the Officer said, emotionless.

Amirzai’s eyes lit up at his father. “Dad! You’re going to fight?! This is great, none of my friends’ fathers are fighting this war! I knew you were the greatest!”

The Officer’s eyes darted at the boy, as he scoffed. Shaima, Muhammad’s wife overheard the conversation and she came into the Foyer as well, he was nearly due at this point and she looked to her husband with a face of uncertainty and fear, the Officer took note of this.
“You’re welcome to stay at a refugee camp, ma’am,” the Officer replied. “I will be back tomorrow to fetch you. Remember, we don’t appreciate draft dodgers very much. Goodnight.”

The Officer turned and walked out of the home, closing the door behind him. Amirzai’s face of admiration turned form the Officer to his father, his smile was immaculate. Muhammad, however, had a worried look about it.

 

[Clarenthia]

Along the banks of the Kalatovoz, 1950

The sun reined a terror mightier than ever before on the small village a group of refugees have built a few miles out of Karbala, away from the war. Amirzai had turned eleven only a few weeks earlier, his birthday present was being forced out of his home due to the Akhaltsikhi Army more or less evacuating the entire city as Hajri planes began bombing runs across the border.

The village was made up of about seventy people; only around fifteen of them were adult males who managed to escape the war and were capable of actually working. As a result of the shortage, the younger boys were forced to help with the day to day activities to keep the village running. Women were also playing a significantly greater role in things that were traditionally male jobs. The refugees were all suffering in some way, shape, or form. Many of them were forced to leave after the father of the house was drafted by the Army; such was the case with Shaima and Amirzai. Others were afraid of the war hitting too close to home and fled.

The Akhaltsikhe-Hajr War was raging on with no end in sight. Executor Asatiani, who was rather popular with both Muslims and Georgians, gained a huge amount of popularity for leading the war effort. Asatiani was known for numerous things to the Muslims; many called him the Second Kalatovoz and held Asatiani in good respect.

Back in 1910, when Mikhail Kalatovoz returned to Akhaltsikhe, he led the abolition of the Monarchy and replaced it with what he viewed as the perfect, flawless government, Meritocracy. Kalatovoz argued against democracy and monarchy, saying that a middle ground needed to be met in order for perfection. Kalatovoz argued that Democracy would put too much money into politics and make it so only those with the best presentation as opposed to the best skills would become the leader of Akhaltsikhe. He also argued that a Monarchy was a step in the right direction, but said that it is illogical to say leadership be determined by heritage and not a particular set of skills.

Kalatovoz’s Meritocracy was considered the middle ground. Upon his inauguration as Executor, he worked to create a perfect society: A code of conduct, secular government, equality, and abolition of Georgian and Muslim culture in order to grow an Akhaltsikhi Culture. When Kalatovoz died in 1920, things went downhill. The Georgians secured an unfair advantage in Government; they locked in the Council and secured power. From 1920 to the day of Asatiani, the divides in Akhaltsikhe grew exponentially. Asatiani changed that, he returned to the policies of Kalatovoz, and he was successful. For the first time in a long time, the divides were weakening. Economic improvement was shared by all people for the first time in history, but now, Hajr had unleashed a hell storm upon Akhaltsikhe and threatened everything.

A group of men pulled into the village in an old, beat up truck. Young Amirzai, who had been playing around with the copious amount of children in the village, ran up to the familiar faces of the men who stepped out. There were about six men in total; they wore traditional Arianan clothing with guns strapped onto their backs. They went to the back of their truck and flung open a cover, revealing a huge amount of food and water, which they distributed to as many people as they could.
Amirzai darted his way through the crowd until he met up with Hasan, the two smiled at each other and ran up to the visitors. Amirzai and Hasan held out their hands, their faces gleaming at the opportunity presented. One of the soldiers walked up and smiled, kneeling down and handing both the boys bread. Hasan and Amirzai cheered as they ran off together.

Shaima was the only pregnant woman in their entire village and people often brought her food because she was due at any second and could barely walk. Amirzai and Hasan dashed into the makeshift hut and ran to Shaima, who was heavily sweating and huffing, Amirzai and Hasan stood, dumbfounded.

“Go, go Amir, get help!” Shaima exclaimed “It’s happening now!”

Amirzai gained a smirk on his face and he ran out and screamed cheerfully that it was time and it was happening. The men with guns looked over, confused as numerous people rushed to Shaima’s house, including a doctor. Amirzai and Hasan were forced to stand outside, despite the protests of Amirzai.

Inside the hut, a doctor immediately came up to Shaima, who was lying on the floor, screaming in pain. A few hours passed before the doctor came out and allowed people to enter the hut, people crowded in, encircling Shaima, Amirzai and Hasan popped out in the front of the crowd to view Shaima holding a healthy baby boy. Amirzai’s face lit up as he looked at his mother.

Shaima, smiling looked up at her son, “meet your brother, Mirwais,” Shaima said, softly.


Karbala, 1956

Three years had passed since the bombs stopped falling and the glorious armies of Akhaltsikhe succeeded in defeating the Hajri hordes and showed the world once again the nation’s resolve to be independent. A strong feeling of glory came after victory, however, in these three years, all of that unity and strength had been decimated.

Executor Asatiani, the once godsend hero who lead the nation to victory, had turned his back on his previous goals of equality and realized what all other Executors had already known. When the war ended, Asatiani immediately turned his soldiers on the Mujahideen, who were indeed guilty of helping the Hajri and receiving funding from them in order to make Akhaltsikhe’s efforts even more difficult. Asatiani had gone on a new, ridiculously intrusive campaign to hunt down all those associated with the Mujahideen, killing them publically and denouncing all of them as traitors and sympathizers as traitors as well. Islam’s worship took an incredible hit with mosques being burnt down or seized as areas of Mujahideen operation. Asatiani, the hero, turned into one of the worst oppressors. He had numerous efforts to have all those who openly call themselves Muslim to wear a tag stating that fact; however, the council stopped these efforts. It was a time of great silence amongst the Muslim population. All signs recognizing Karbala by Karbala were destroyed and replaced with Tel Keppe, its Georgian name. If anyone reffered to Suchumo or Tel Keppe as Ariana or Karbala, they were to be jailed.

Amirzai Ahmadzai, now seventeen, was carrying his six year old brother Mirwais on his shoulders as they were walking back to their house in Karbala. Amirzai, despite his mother’s warnings, refused to ever utter the words “Tel Keppe.” While walking, Amirzai passed a sign where Tel Keppe was spray painted with an “X” over it and “Karbala” written on it, Amirzai smiled.

“Why do they call this city two things?” Mirwais asked.

“Well, there’s a Georgian name, Tel Keppe, and an Arianian name, Karbala,” Amirzai answered.

“Then why don’t the signs say both?” Mirwais asked.

“The Georgians would like us to call it Tel Keppe from now on,” Amirzai said. “Just, don’t get into a fight about small things like that.”

“Why would I?” Mirwais wondered.

“I’m just saying. Some things in life aren’t exactly fair, but that’s the way it is, at least for now,” Amirzai said “I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“I won’t,” Mirwais stated “I promise.”

Amirzai smiled and then a familiar face walked up to the two while they were looking at the sign.

“Amirzai, Abdul asked me to get you,” Hasan said.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate time,” Amirzai responded and continuing to walk, Hasan followed.

“Why?” Hasan asked.

“Why do you think?” Amirzai responded.

“Him?” Hasan asked “its better that they’d start young-“

“Stop talking, now,” Amirzai answered, turning to Hasan “I’ll be there, but I’m not talking about it now.”

Amirzai then turned and walked, ignoring Hasan’s protests. The sun was beginning to descend behind the mountains, Amirzai picked up his pace otherwise he would be late. His mother wouldn’t be pleased if he brought Mirwais home at such a late hour.

“What was Hasan talking about?” Mirwais asked.

“I and a few friends have plans for later tonight,” Amirzai answered, looking back and smiling at his brother.

“Can I go?” Mirwais asked.

“I don’t think mother would want you out so late, Mirwais, besides, you wouldn’t want to be with my friends, it’s boring,” Amirzai said.

“Does mom even want you out that late?” Mirwais said with a smirk.

“I suppose not, and that’s why she isn’t going to find out, right?” Amirzai asked.

“Do I have to lie again?” Mirwais asked.

“Just this one last time,” Amirzai answered.

“You said that last time,” Mirwais shot back.

“Alright, I guess you’re right. I’ll tell you what, you do this for me and I’ll make it worth your while, I promise,” Amirzai said.

“No worries Amir!” Mirwais exclaimed “I have your back; I’m your brother, that’s what I’m for!”

“Same to you, I’ll always have your back,” Amirzai said “One day; I want you to live in a world I never had the chance to.”

“There’s only one world Amir,” Mirwais answered.

“Exactly, and that’s why it is up to us to make sure it is the best world. Can you promise me you’ll create the best world one day?” Amirzai asked.

“Of course,” Mirwais answered.

The two arrived at the house, where Shaima was sitting on the front porch. The sun had practically gone down completely now and Shaima was not a happy woman. Amirzai picked Mirwais off his shoulders and set him on the porch, Shaima immediately told Mirwais to go in and wash up, and she then turned her attention to Amirzai.

“I don’t ask of much from you. The least you can do for me is listen when I tell you things,” Shaima said.

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” Amirzai said.

“We’ll talk about it later, just go inside,” Shaima said.

Amirzai and Shaima walked into the house. Mirwais came back out of the bathroom and ran to bed, waiting for Shaima to walk in. Shaima tucked in Mirwais and walked back into the kitchen, where she looked at Amirzai and just sighed.

“I just want you to be safe, okay? You and Mirwais mean the world to me and if anything happened, I don’t know what I’d do,” Shaima said, Amirzai just smiled at her. Shaima then walked into her room and closed the door. Amirzai sighed, walked the closet where he pulled out a black trench coat. On the arm of the trench coat was an image of a rooster stitched in. He then pulled out black gloves and a black scarf, when he put them on, he noticed Mirwais standing at his door, laughing quietly.

“Is that what you wear to see your friends? You look like a goon, and why a rooster?” Mirwais said, smiling.

“A rooster ushers in a new day Mirwais, without them, people would never wake up,” Amirzai answered.

Mirwais just laughed, “roosters are stupid.”

Amirzai smiled and hugged his younger brother. “Listen to me, go back to bed. I’ll be back before morning, I promise.” Amirzai then poked Mirwais on the forehead then he stood up and walked out the door.