Hmmm.... Was Mesetano a little bit different from OTL Spanish? And also, what happened to Frisian? Lastly, forgive if I'm too ignorant BTW, Sahu language was related to what other languages?
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The Rise of the White Huns
- Thread starter Practical Lobster
- Start date
Hmm, I guess Frisian is still around. A bit of an oversight. As there was no Moorish invasion TTL, there never was any kingdom called Castille; thus the dialects that became Castillian Spanish are slightly less widespread and confined to the central plateau of Spain, the meseta. Sahu is an Iranic language like Eftal with a lot of Greek and Gothic loanwords that is increasingly being Turkified.
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So Mesetano would probably have a significant Basque influence, am I right?
Possibly, but I think it's still fairly similar to Castillian Spanish of OTL, minus the Arab influence. It's possible Basque influence has replaced that to some extent. I expect it has some features in common with OTL Aragonese as well.
I see, although since the southern region of Meseta shared a border with Andalucia, which could possibly reflected in the dialects spoken there, well I thought if there would be an indirect Amazigh and/or Mauri influence on the rest of the Mesetano dialects later on.
And speaking of Gothic, in what part of Europe where was actually spoken?
I expect it would be *Mozarabic with Amazigh instead of Arabic influence.
That's a wonderful map, Hobelhouse
Thank you so much!
Isn't the division of Old Norse a bit anachronistic?
Thank you so much!Isn't the division of Old Norse a bit anachronistic?
Bear in mind this is a dialect map as much as it is a language map. All the Norse dialects are mutually intelligible - as the Norse languages are OTL!
Gascon, Arlesien, and Catalan all form a mutually intelligible dialect continuum too, for instance... though if you put three people from the far ends like Bordeaux, Valencia, and Genoa in a room they might have some trouble understanding each other.
What is Arben, in amongst the Sklavenian?
Edit: Khardi and Parsi represent two other very similar dialects of the same broader language group. I think a speaker of each would largely understand the other.
The differences between them are mostly cultural, with the Khardi being descended from semi-pastoralist people and the Iranians being settled agriculturalists.
Edit: Khardi and Parsi represent two other very similar dialects of the same broader language group. I think a speaker of each would largely understand the other.
The differences between them are mostly cultural, with the Khardi being descended from semi-pastoralist people and the Iranians being settled agriculturalists.
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Arben is proto-Albanian. Apparently before the 13th century the Albanians lived in Serbia.
..and speaking of Catalan in this scenario, well are their speakers predominantly used salat (e.g. es/so/sa, ets/sos/ses instead of el/lo/la, els/los/les) just like in Sardinian?
Narrative is a thing
Narrative Interlude: the Nowbahar in the Reign of Mitradharma
Both conqueror
And vanquished
Are as shadows in the dawn
Are as dew in the desert
Are as bolts of lightening
So too is this world
-Last words of the martyr Narseh (apocryphal)
Taghavar was not a siege but an extermination.
There were horsemen outside their walls, and their drumbeats echoed through the cavernous Vault of Holy Knowledge. The soldiers, led by a stern Turk with a scarred face, had come against the defenses twice, men sheeted in scale bearing rams and ladders. When night fell, their fires burned in the distance and the valley was alight like the night sky with stars. Every dawn the defenders prayed for liberation. They prayed that one morning they might awake and see the accursed blue banners thrown down and their attackers dispersed.
Every morning they were inevitably disappointed.
Taghavar was an old place, a monastery built in the ancient era of the Eftal, during the reign of Mihiragula who warred against the Rhom. Its thick walls of mortared stone had held against the horrors of the Egyptian plague and the depredations of the Mahadevists. But then the Eftal had always respected holy places, seeing them as oases in the desert to be preserved at all costs. The Khardi had no such respect.
The defenders were partisans of the martyred arhat Narseh, and they were fewer with each failed attack. Artakhser, their leader, knew this well. Too many of their number where monks, sworn to nonviolence. Too many of their number were peasants, armed with rudimentary tools and unarmored. They had held Taghavar as much because of the impatience of their foe as any skill with arms.
Artakhser, for his part, was no fanatic. He had been a god-worshipper himself, in a time far removed from this one. The Nowbahar meant nothing to him. But he was an Eftal of the Panjidar clan. This place was holy. And the Padishah Mitradharma wanted to murder all within and torch it to the ground. It was his duty as one of the Panjidar to defend it. He’d gathered all he could. Twenty of his wife Anahid’s kinsmen, half-Arabs from Syria. Six men he’d fought with in Balkh. He’d ridden from village to village, asking those he found to lay down their plows and take up arms defend the monks of Taghavar.
And somehow, impossibly, they had followed him.
Zaratuxsht, his brother in law, kept the morning watch with some Sogdian merchant whose name he’d never learned. Artakhser met him on the Tower of the Eagle, and Zaratuxsht clapped him on the shoulder with a mailed hand.
“Did you sleep well?” Zaratuxsht asked, white teeth cut to a rare grin.
“Not at all.” Artakhser replied with a weary sigh. He was not a young man, and yet he found himself not quite ready to die.
“A shame. I think they will mount another assault today. They were preparing in the predawn light, making wicker shields wrapped in hide to defend their battering ram. It would have been better if you were rested.”
“It would have.”
“Then again, it is no matter, truly. I suppose tired men die just as naturally as rested ones.” He laughed hoarsely. “Tell the monks, brother. They should prepare themselves. If any among them are willing to fight, tell them to go to the main doors.”
Artakhser hurried down the stairs. All of them had known from the beginning this defense was impossible. All of them had known that they cast away their lives. And yet from the Tower of the Eagle, he had begun to realize the truth of that statement. If anything the Khardi army had swelled in numbers. As he crossed the central courtyard, he could hear the clamor of war. The incessant drumbeat had begun again, wild and ecstatic.
The Khardi were advancing. He knew it. It seemed pointless to inform the monks. Most of what he had felt towards them was frustration, anger at their unwillingness to take up arms. He could not fathom why they would die for a cause they would not fight for. Instead, he rode to the main gate of the compound, a stout wooden door reinforced with metal slats and ringed by graven reliefs. His fellow veterans were waiting. Rostram, who’d taken an arrow in the siege of Herat. Espendiyor, who saved his life twice in Syarzur. Jemshir, a hulking giant of a man whose lance had never missed on the charge.
These were the people he wanted to be with in the end. “I spoke to my brother Zarsha.” He said softly. “Apparently… we’re outnumbered.”
His companions laughed, drawing the attention of the other defenders. Then, together, in silence, they waited for the end. They waited for the ram to come forwards and punch through the gate, and when the hole was widened Jamshir hurled a javelin through, striking the first Khardi warrior in the clavicle.
“Toe to the line, boys!” Rostram called as the gate came crashing open. Men were thrown aside and the mail-armored Khardi charged forwards, spearpoints shining in the early morning sun. It was incredible, Artaksher though, how they seemed to move as a single wave, like an avalanche of steel. He waded into the melee, striking indiscriminately until his sword was knocked from his hand. A spear caught him in the ribs but it did not break his armor and even as it drove the breath from him he pushed past it and grabbed the owner and wrenched him to the earth, grappling for a knife at his belt. He felt the hot breath of the Khardi warrior as he brought the knife up, punching aside a steel-rimmed shield to bring the blade into the man’s throat.
Even as he rose the world became impossibly bright and sharp with sudden pain. He had been stabbed beneath the arm, and he sank against the weight of the impact. And then as suddenly as it had come it was gone and he looked about, the world a blur of motion. Supine and bleeding, the Khardi paid him no heed in their haste. They rushed onwards, around him. He could not see any of his friends. The fighting, it seemed, was already over.
He knew that it would not take them long to find the sanctuary in which the monks remained, nor long at all to batter in whatever rudimentary defenses had been arranged. He knew also that the Khardi would leave no survivors. There would be no record of Taghavar, nor their defense. And he still wasn't quite ready for death. He thought of Anahid, and their home by the great river. All long gone.
So much bloodshed over icons. If he’d been able to move, he might have shook his head. The pain was beginning to subside, and the world grew dark.
Both conqueror
And vanquished
Are as shadows in the dawn
Are as dew in the desert
Are as bolts of lightening
So too is this world
-Last words of the martyr Narseh (apocryphal)
Taghavar was not a siege but an extermination.
There were horsemen outside their walls, and their drumbeats echoed through the cavernous Vault of Holy Knowledge. The soldiers, led by a stern Turk with a scarred face, had come against the defenses twice, men sheeted in scale bearing rams and ladders. When night fell, their fires burned in the distance and the valley was alight like the night sky with stars. Every dawn the defenders prayed for liberation. They prayed that one morning they might awake and see the accursed blue banners thrown down and their attackers dispersed.
Every morning they were inevitably disappointed.
Taghavar was an old place, a monastery built in the ancient era of the Eftal, during the reign of Mihiragula who warred against the Rhom. Its thick walls of mortared stone had held against the horrors of the Egyptian plague and the depredations of the Mahadevists. But then the Eftal had always respected holy places, seeing them as oases in the desert to be preserved at all costs. The Khardi had no such respect.
The defenders were partisans of the martyred arhat Narseh, and they were fewer with each failed attack. Artakhser, their leader, knew this well. Too many of their number where monks, sworn to nonviolence. Too many of their number were peasants, armed with rudimentary tools and unarmored. They had held Taghavar as much because of the impatience of their foe as any skill with arms.
Artakhser, for his part, was no fanatic. He had been a god-worshipper himself, in a time far removed from this one. The Nowbahar meant nothing to him. But he was an Eftal of the Panjidar clan. This place was holy. And the Padishah Mitradharma wanted to murder all within and torch it to the ground. It was his duty as one of the Panjidar to defend it. He’d gathered all he could. Twenty of his wife Anahid’s kinsmen, half-Arabs from Syria. Six men he’d fought with in Balkh. He’d ridden from village to village, asking those he found to lay down their plows and take up arms defend the monks of Taghavar.
And somehow, impossibly, they had followed him.
Zaratuxsht, his brother in law, kept the morning watch with some Sogdian merchant whose name he’d never learned. Artakhser met him on the Tower of the Eagle, and Zaratuxsht clapped him on the shoulder with a mailed hand.
“Did you sleep well?” Zaratuxsht asked, white teeth cut to a rare grin.
“Not at all.” Artakhser replied with a weary sigh. He was not a young man, and yet he found himself not quite ready to die.
“A shame. I think they will mount another assault today. They were preparing in the predawn light, making wicker shields wrapped in hide to defend their battering ram. It would have been better if you were rested.”
“It would have.”
“Then again, it is no matter, truly. I suppose tired men die just as naturally as rested ones.” He laughed hoarsely. “Tell the monks, brother. They should prepare themselves. If any among them are willing to fight, tell them to go to the main doors.”
Artakhser hurried down the stairs. All of them had known from the beginning this defense was impossible. All of them had known that they cast away their lives. And yet from the Tower of the Eagle, he had begun to realize the truth of that statement. If anything the Khardi army had swelled in numbers. As he crossed the central courtyard, he could hear the clamor of war. The incessant drumbeat had begun again, wild and ecstatic.
The Khardi were advancing. He knew it. It seemed pointless to inform the monks. Most of what he had felt towards them was frustration, anger at their unwillingness to take up arms. He could not fathom why they would die for a cause they would not fight for. Instead, he rode to the main gate of the compound, a stout wooden door reinforced with metal slats and ringed by graven reliefs. His fellow veterans were waiting. Rostram, who’d taken an arrow in the siege of Herat. Espendiyor, who saved his life twice in Syarzur. Jemshir, a hulking giant of a man whose lance had never missed on the charge.
These were the people he wanted to be with in the end. “I spoke to my brother Zarsha.” He said softly. “Apparently… we’re outnumbered.”
His companions laughed, drawing the attention of the other defenders. Then, together, in silence, they waited for the end. They waited for the ram to come forwards and punch through the gate, and when the hole was widened Jamshir hurled a javelin through, striking the first Khardi warrior in the clavicle.
“Toe to the line, boys!” Rostram called as the gate came crashing open. Men were thrown aside and the mail-armored Khardi charged forwards, spearpoints shining in the early morning sun. It was incredible, Artaksher though, how they seemed to move as a single wave, like an avalanche of steel. He waded into the melee, striking indiscriminately until his sword was knocked from his hand. A spear caught him in the ribs but it did not break his armor and even as it drove the breath from him he pushed past it and grabbed the owner and wrenched him to the earth, grappling for a knife at his belt. He felt the hot breath of the Khardi warrior as he brought the knife up, punching aside a steel-rimmed shield to bring the blade into the man’s throat.
Even as he rose the world became impossibly bright and sharp with sudden pain. He had been stabbed beneath the arm, and he sank against the weight of the impact. And then as suddenly as it had come it was gone and he looked about, the world a blur of motion. Supine and bleeding, the Khardi paid him no heed in their haste. They rushed onwards, around him. He could not see any of his friends. The fighting, it seemed, was already over.
He knew that it would not take them long to find the sanctuary in which the monks remained, nor long at all to batter in whatever rudimentary defenses had been arranged. He knew also that the Khardi would leave no survivors. There would be no record of Taghavar, nor their defense. And he still wasn't quite ready for death. He thought of Anahid, and their home by the great river. All long gone.
So much bloodshed over icons. If he’d been able to move, he might have shook his head. The pain was beginning to subside, and the world grew dark.
Very interesting map! I just have some questions : in the east, nobody speaks aramean anymore? I would have thought that at least in Lebanon, it would have survived. Also there is no more greek community in cyreanica, lower egypt and the levant?
Otherwise, interesting devellopements all around, just why are there so many more bretons? English people were more successful?
The world you built is really interesting, keep up the good work!
Otherwise, interesting devellopements all around, just why are there so many more bretons? English people were more successful?
The world you built is really interesting, keep up the good work!
Hobelhouse could probably answer better but my understanding is that the map roughly shows the dialect of the majority for any given area.
The history of this timeline has not been very kind to the middle east, and accordingly I'm not surprised he chose to not represent Aramaic speakers. You're probably right though that some large communities would survive in OTL Lebanon and Palestine.
The history of this timeline has not been very kind to the middle east, and accordingly I'm not surprised he chose to not represent Aramaic speakers. You're probably right though that some large communities would survive in OTL Lebanon and Palestine.
I don't believe I have posted in this thread before, but like all the other commenters, I find myself immensely enjoying this world-wide medieval extravaganza. Several matters I wonder about though, such as:
1) seeing as how the christian world has been dominated by the Franks to a seeming greater extent than OTL, will later historians consider it a less vibrant doctrine than, say, Buddhism, and more in line with how we think of Confucianism as inherently Chinese?
2) what inspired you in writing the development of the Indian guild republics, and what kind of butterflies justify its rise compared to OTL? I'm not saying its implausible, just wondering if there is a deeper logic behind it?
3) have you made any decision on the butterfly net surrounding the Americas? Speaking of which, without telling us what it might hold, do you have a plan for the TTL Columbian exchange? From known history and TTL developments, I can see several possibilities:
3.1) As Vinland still happens, the vikings might get lucky and be able to sustain it through the end of the medieval warm period. Even if not, they could use the knowledge of a route to Newfoundland a few hundred years later, under a more prosperous regime.
3.2) It might go more like OTL, with European expeditions starting in Iberia discovering a route west, via Brazil or the West Indies. But then that would be boring right?
3.3) The rise of West Africa, perhaps combined with Canary Buddhist Viking sailing knowledge (an admittedly absurd phrase) might allow for a foray into South America. Consider this the wacky approach.
3.4) The Cape settlements could get lost getting to West Africa.
3.5) Maybe it could be a result of Indian merchants rounding the cape to get to Europe, in a bit of an ironic twist to OTL.
3.6) Lastly, there is the oft-neglected but simultaneously more difficult route from East Asia. Seeing as how Japan and Polynesia have not been talked about much, there is fertile ground for butterflies here. Though an admittedly remote chance, there are supposed signs of contact between Pacific Islanders and the Americas IOTL. I'd consider this the 'interesting' option. Seeing as how such a route would be inherently more difficult, the initial contact might be of the right intensity for 'awakening' the New World, where through a few centuries of sporadic contact they can regain their strength from the diseases that will undoubtedly result from any kind of Columbian exchange.
Feel free to disregard all of those options and settle for something entirely different, that would be all the better! Nevertheless, any kind of New World contact would be a nice paradigm change for TTL. I'd even suggest starting a new thread the moment that happens, a sort of rebirth where everything can be put in its place in some extensive recap posts before starting this leap into the New World. But don't let me lecture you on how to write this, I'm eager to see where this goes
1) seeing as how the christian world has been dominated by the Franks to a seeming greater extent than OTL, will later historians consider it a less vibrant doctrine than, say, Buddhism, and more in line with how we think of Confucianism as inherently Chinese?
2) what inspired you in writing the development of the Indian guild republics, and what kind of butterflies justify its rise compared to OTL? I'm not saying its implausible, just wondering if there is a deeper logic behind it?
3) have you made any decision on the butterfly net surrounding the Americas? Speaking of which, without telling us what it might hold, do you have a plan for the TTL Columbian exchange? From known history and TTL developments, I can see several possibilities:
3.1) As Vinland still happens, the vikings might get lucky and be able to sustain it through the end of the medieval warm period. Even if not, they could use the knowledge of a route to Newfoundland a few hundred years later, under a more prosperous regime.
3.2) It might go more like OTL, with European expeditions starting in Iberia discovering a route west, via Brazil or the West Indies. But then that would be boring right?
3.3) The rise of West Africa, perhaps combined with Canary Buddhist Viking sailing knowledge (an admittedly absurd phrase) might allow for a foray into South America. Consider this the wacky approach.
3.4) The Cape settlements could get lost getting to West Africa.
3.5) Maybe it could be a result of Indian merchants rounding the cape to get to Europe, in a bit of an ironic twist to OTL.
3.6) Lastly, there is the oft-neglected but simultaneously more difficult route from East Asia. Seeing as how Japan and Polynesia have not been talked about much, there is fertile ground for butterflies here. Though an admittedly remote chance, there are supposed signs of contact between Pacific Islanders and the Americas IOTL. I'd consider this the 'interesting' option. Seeing as how such a route would be inherently more difficult, the initial contact might be of the right intensity for 'awakening' the New World, where through a few centuries of sporadic contact they can regain their strength from the diseases that will undoubtedly result from any kind of Columbian exchange.
Feel free to disregard all of those options and settle for something entirely different, that would be all the better! Nevertheless, any kind of New World contact would be a nice paradigm change for TTL. I'd even suggest starting a new thread the moment that happens, a sort of rebirth where everything can be put in its place in some extensive recap posts before starting this leap into the New World. But don't let me lecture you on how to write this, I'm eager to see where this goes
Quite likely. The one problem with the map is it doesn't represent dialect continuums very well. The Suevan dialect around OTL Lisbon for example probably has many more characteristics in common with Mesetano and Andalucian than the dialect around, say, Galicia.
As of recent updates probably some Berber and Anglisch loanwords are entering Suevan and Mesetano dialects due to the settlers there.
In a waaay earlier update, from before the Khirichan came into the picture, PL mentioned that Crimean Greeks and Crimean Goths were both being absorbed by the Sahu. Some Crimean Goths may still be around- they seem to have lasted to the 1600s OTL... but they probably aren't a majority anywhere.
That would be a pretty good summary of Andalucian, yes.
LOL, I have no idea. I don't speak Catalan and while I can get by in Spanish I'm still not exactly the world's greatest scholar of Iberian languages. What makes you think this would happen TTL?
Hmm, you're probably right, there should probably be some Aramaic pockets in the Levant. TBH I wasn't quite sure what to do with the Heshanid lands other than have Coptic be dominant.
Probably not in the Levant, but now that I think about there might be a lingering community around Alexandria and Cyrenaica, seeing as Greeks must have been continually fleeing the distasters in the ERE over the last two hundred years or so. When I make a new version I will include them.
Well, those were the boundaries of Breton culture in the 8th century, at least according to CK2.
With no Normans I think they may have held onto these areas longer TTL.
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That's a tough one.
The biggest thing that lets it happen is, obviously, the fact that the White Huns were distracted with westward adventures and the Roman Empire - while the Gupta maintained a strong frontier up until their collapse. While yes, the latter Gupta began a process which in OTL would lead to feudalism, in this timeline, large parts of India were spared devastation and warfare and instead the Maukhani takeover was akin to a dynastic transition.
This prosperity led to the revival of the guild as an important institution, and thus a revival of the Indian republican tradition once a power vacuum emerged. It may not be the most plausible path the story could have taken, but I believe it is a possible one.
It's not a perfect butterfly net, I'll say that much. Things will look somewhat different, but I think recognizable. However all of this is very much tentative so far.
These are all fun and interesting, but I don't want to spoil anything. Some of them are very creative and those are the ones I won't comment on to keep my cards closer to the chest. So I'll tackle the obvious or as you put it the more "boring" ones.
I will say that the current Iberians have basically no obvious incentive to cross the oceans.
The Vinlanders and their kin by contrast do, but logistically they'll end up taking a very, very northern route, which is hardly efficient.
You'd have to get really lost to find South America from Cape Watya. And there's relatively little incentive for the Izoariaka. They're getting absurdly rich on their current colonial ventures and there's a decent chance further colonization would be seen more as a boondoggle than anything else.
Feel free to disregard all of those options and settle for something entirely different, that would be all the better! Nevertheless, any kind of New World contact would be a nice paradigm change for TTL. I'd even suggest starting a new thread the moment that happens, a sort of rebirth where everything can be put in its place in some extensive recap posts before starting this leap into the New World. But don't let me lecture you on how to write this, I'm eager to see where this goes
The Alt-Columbian Exchange probably does deserve a new thread. I hadn't thought of it, but you're very right. The discovery of the New World will obviously change everything forever. And this history/story has long stopped being about the "Rise" of the White Huns. Someone who is new to the story might be shocked to find out how quickly, relatively speaking, the White Huns implode, actually.
At that point, I'll have to do a LOT of new research. So there will probably be a brief hiatus.
I guess every part of history needs its religious fanatics, but lets hope the future of Iran will be more calm.
Hmm, the coptic language wasn't well exported during the whole time Egypt was a great power. Maybe have Arabic and Aramaic dominate in the levant and greek and Berber in cyrenaic. Coptic might be spoken in the cities however.
Haha no, Breton itself was not spoken east of Rennes and Nantes and not in those two cities. The demographics were simply against them, so if there is no massive migration and incentive, there will be no advance of the Breton language.
Hmm, the coptic language wasn't well exported during the whole time Egypt was a great power. Maybe have Arabic and Aramaic dominate in the levant and greek and Berber in cyrenaic. Coptic might be spoken in the cities however.
Well, those were the boundaries of Breton culture in the 8th century, at least according to CK2.
Haha no, Breton itself was not spoken east of Rennes and Nantes and not in those two cities. The demographics were simply against them, so if there is no massive migration and incentive, there will be no advance of the Breton language.
Well to be fair Coptic is the language of the Heshanid administration in this timeline, so it may well have caught on to a larger degree. Although you're probably right - not as universally as the map might hint.
Breton hasn't seen any larger migrations than OTL. And indeed hasn't been very notable yet.
Breton hasn't seen any larger migrations than OTL. And indeed hasn't been very notable yet.
Aloysius and Sebouk
A Look to the North
The changes taking place in Transuralic Asia [Eastern Europe] during the tenth century would be some of the most profound and transformative in the region’s history. In the deep forests and across the windswept plains, the Slavic peoples were unifying – but around a culture that was fundamentally alien to them.
The two Hanates, that of the Black Rusichi and the White Rusichi, were called by a name adopted from the Gardaveldi, who referred to the indigenous peoples universally as “Rothsmenn” or “those who row” on account of the importance of riverine transport to their civilization. Despite their adoption of the Slavicized Khirichan word Han to describe their ruler, the Rusichi must not be mistaken for steppe nomads. Much like their western cousins, the Rusichi civilization was built around fortified settlements, or grads. These isolated pockets of civilization were typically built along the major trade arteries of the region, and were separated from each other by vast tracts of relatively uncultivated land.
The development of the Hanates began in earnest roughly at the same time as the Khirichan-Sahu slave trade stopped almost entirely. The Khardi, eschewing planation agriculture in Mesopotamia in favor of small-scale cultivation, simply lacked the demand for slaves that had slowly diminished during Aghatsaghid rule in any case. Furthermore, the expansion of naval trade in the south meant mass demand for timber, and the growth of Asia Minor’s population after centuries of stagnation meant a new demand for grain. The slave trade became a smaller scale enterprise, and the north, long a breadbasket, became an even larger one, particularly in the Sahu ruled south.
Buddhism also spread like wildfire, and unlike in Poland, the Rusichi adopted a far purer form of the religion. Some of the missionaries who interacted with the Rusichi were exiles of the Nowbahar movement, and accordingly deities received less emphasis, and many of the more traditional ones were denounced outright as the Buddhist priesthood gained power. Only certain deities survived. A synthesis of the Mithra and Svarog was one of the chief surviving deities, while Tangra was equated with the minor god Stribog and thus took a less important role. Certain deities, such as Rod and Perun, who feature heavily in early East Slavic rituals and writings, found their cults diminished immensely, to the point that they were ultimately cast as enemies of the Buddha who sought to maintain their power through mankind’s ignorance.
The groundwork for these fundamental changes had been laid for centuries. Those who became powerful within the Hanates were those who had long been complicit with the Khirichan dominance of the region, and Buddhism was their religion, and a way to ensure that the favor of the Khagan did not switch to a different petty ruler. Mithra had a wide appeal in his traditional Persian incarnation as a god of war and fire, a protector of hearth and home in the long, cold night. One of the first of the “Dharma Hans” or the earliest royal patrons of Buddha even took the ceremonial name Mitraslav, or Glorious Mithra.
The Hans were above all else city-builders. Cities such as Cernigov in the east and Sviatapolk in the west became large and rich off trade, and with the growth of these significant urban regions came increased autonomy from the Khirichan, who began to see their longtime subjects increasingly as equals. Cross-border raids and tokens of tribute stopped.
Meanwhile, to the north, the Gardaveldi under Arnmundr, were undergoing a similar cultural and religious transformation, but one moderated by the continued arrival of fresh colonists from Scandinavia. While even among their subject peoples the Slavic gods had largely fallen by the wayside, and the yellow robed poet-monks of the court enjoyed great favoritism, new believers in the old Norse Gods still arrived frequently, and they refreshed the oral traditions of the Norse. Unlike amongst the Rusichi, where many traditional gods slowly shifted into folk tales and legends over the next three or four centuries, continued contact with Scandinavia would have a profound effect on the Gardaveldi. Especially among those who gradually moved East as their homelands Christianized, there was a necessity to preserving traditions. In time, most of these traditionalists would convert as well, however they would ensure that the chief gods of the Norse pantheon endured, if in an adulterate form. Odin, for example, was recast as a figure whose ordeal on the Ash Tree was a profound moment of enlightenment in Buddhist language.
The Gardaveldi continued to expand in this era. Many Norse colonists had settled in territories once belonging to the Livonians, weakening the coast-dwellers and leading to the rise of the Latgalian tribe, whose rise in turn sparked conflicts with the Lithuanians along the Daugava river. While historical details are spotty, it appears the Latgalians won a major victory, and were able to turn north and attack the Norse in concert with the now subdued Livonians in 946. The Gardaveldi King Arnmundr in turn launched punitive raids against the Latgalians, securing a broad coastal territory and founding the city of Darmagard on the Livonian coast. [OTL Haapsalu]
The Gardaveldi also had a profound impact on the politics and culture of their homelands. Buddhist missionaries would find relative safety to preach in Sweden, although their audience was never as substantial. However, commerce between the two kingdoms led to alliance and close relations. When the Danes moved against Sweden in the Northern Votive War (982-987) Gardaveldi would come to their aid. Wheel-ruler Arnmundr’s son Bjarnhedinn would fight alongside the Swedish King Solmundr the Blue-Black at the 983 battle of Skara against the Danes. Fighting the Danish King Eirk Haraldson, the war was waged over the fate of Geatland, and would be immortalized in a series of epic poems by the Anglo-Danish author Torbjorn.
In the eyes of some revisionist historians with a more religious bent, the Northern Votive War can be seen as a proxy war in a clash of civilizations, a battle to decide the spiritual fate of the north. In the eyes of others, it represents a new and more martial phase of the Christianization of Scandinavia, part of a continuous cycle of cultural exchange and war. However, Torbjorn’s account tells a different story, involving a murdered Christian missionary and a sordid drama involving King Erik’s daughter and a Geatish Jarl. Whatever the case, the battle of Skara was fought primarily by pagan Norse. The ostensible religious affiliations of the rulers aside, Scandinavia was very much a pagan country. Frankish holy mercenaries and Gardaveldi aside, most who participated in the battle seem to have seen it as a secular conflict for territory and plunder.
The Northern Votive War ended in a white peace with mutual exhaustion and simmering hostility remaining. Across Scandinavia, the battle lines of a complex and multifaceted conflict were drawn, and both sides entrenched. However, the end of war meant a resumption of trade (although many would assert that the war never stopped trade). Outright conversion to either Buddhism or Christianity was as much a personal choice as it was a political one. Those who had to interact with either the Danish monarchy or the Franco-Germans frequently saw great benefit in conversion, but they needed to be flexible, and willing to associate with traditional pagans nonetheless if they were to trade with Sweden or the Geats. Furthermore, as German colonists came to dominate the Baltic coast, even some among the Geats converted to Christianity at least notionally, in the pursuit of favorable trading privileges. Buddhism, meanwhile, was a way to gain favor with the Gardaveldi, who controlled the European end of an extensive trade route with the eastern world. Rare luxury goods travelled thousands of miles to reach Sweden, but this hardship often only inflated their value.
A Khagan with Foresight
After the Council of the Isonzo in 937, Shiqar Kulujogul had a free hand to do as he pleased in the Hypatate of Nikaia, and many assurances more valuable than that. He could feel relatively confident that the Franks would be distracted for the foreseeable future, and that gave him precious time. The Westerners were numerous, and convinced that their god had given the entire world over to them. He was not so blind to the rumors which reached his ears that their high priest in distant Rome had been calling for war. Aloysius III was a gift – a sensible pragmatist who played the game of politics well.
That the Polish would ultimately survive the Franco-German onslaught was an accident of history. The Khirichan Khagan would gladly have sacrificed them entirely. Where Sebouk Arslan had been a brilliant commander of men and tactician Shiqar Kulujogul was an administrator and a strategist, whose personal journals reveal a sophisticated understanding of the bigger picture. Sebouk Arslan had always trusted in the strength of his cavalry and his sacrifices to the gods. Even when he made strategically clever decisions, such as retaking Konstantikhert (Constantinople), they were done out of a need to keep winning, to keep expanding at all costs.
He had then been succeeded by a spate of uninspiring warlords. Shiqar Kulujogul, however, was an educated man, who according to his own boasts spoke twelve languages, including Rhomaniki and Frankish. He knew that Europe was effectively divided into two great empires – his and the Frankish Empire, and of the two, the Frankish Empire was far and away greater. It was more unified, more populous, better organized, and wealthier. Furthermore, Aloysius III had showed an interest in the Balkans, one which would invariably lead to a clash, likely over some damn fool thing. One of his sons would have to fight to preserve their hegemony, in all likelihood.
So Shiqar Kulujogul made allies, binding two of his many daughters to the crown princes of the Rusichi. In 939, he invaded Nikaia, transporting a huge army across the Hellesponte and besieging the city. After three months the Hypatos submitted, followed shortly thereafter by the Hypatos of Nicomedia. The treaties Shiqar Kulujogul signed were primarily focused on securing trade rights for Sahu merchants, however they also included key aspects of political submission. Permanent Khirichan embassies were established, changing the traditional policy of sending envoys, and key hostages were taken from major families to be raised in the Khirichan palace.
Khirichan casualties had been light, so before returning home, the Khagan fabricated a diplomatic slight by the Pontic League and invaded it as well, riding along the coast. Here, there were small but significant Sahu merchant communities which had existed since late Roman times, and it was these groups that the Khagan elevated after a stunning victory in the Battle of Amastris (940) which ensured the submission of a wide territory from Herakleia to Trapezous. Furthermore, he established military garrisons in the major cities and carved out land grants for the construction of Turkish settlements along the northern coast of Asia Minor. Those who would travel were a mix of migrating Qangli Turks, Bajinak, and Sahu, and while their numbers would be far fewer than the Khagan had imagined, they played a key role in allowing the Khirichan to maintain their control of the region, as did the token submission of the Alan Khan.
After his return, Shiqar had sufficient military credentials to begin overhauling the army. The Xasar, Rumana, and Bulgar peoples in his empire were largely settled and agricultural in the tenth century, but their military contributions were raised primarily from a diminishing herder class who traditionally supplied mounted warriors. Local monks and nobles were tasked with performing a census and establishing levies which could be raised in times of crisis, a system perhaps modelled off of that of the Franks. Meanwhile, further from the frontier, the Khirichan and Sahu systems remained unchanged – the former were divided into clans expected to answer the Khagan’s call to war, and the latter were generally exempt, with the exception of the major landholders, who fought regardless.
Shiqar Khagan oversaw building projects as well. The critical cities of Biharabad [otl Zagreb] and Shahidjan [Budapest] received extensive repairs to their walls, which for Shahidjan involved the construction of a double circuit of walls, the inner one significantly higher and topped with engines of war. In general Shiqar avoided prestige projects in favor of strategic fortifications and the construction of a newer, larger naval arsenal in Tangrabad. However, the latter years of his reign were spent in Konstantikhert overseeing the resettlement of the city and the rebuilding of the Rhom Shahdom era palace, which he christened Nowitaxta, or “New Throne.”
In 956, however, with Constantinople burgeoning and the Khirichan growing in strength and power, Aloysius III died, and Shiqar Kulujogul gathered his five sons to a council in the newly finished Nowitaxta.
Aloysius III had almost no luck with heirs. His eponymous firstborn died at the age of five, and Thierico, the secondborn, died at the age of sixteen. For a time it seemed that his only daughter, Matilda, and her husband, the Count of Toulouse Majorian would take power. Most were satisfied with this notion. Majorian was young, handsome, and popular with all who met him, although few would have called him wise or intelligent. However, in 932, Aloysius’ wife gave birth to another son, who despite being sickly and unlikely to live, would ultimately survive. Aloysius IV would ascend to the throne at the age of 24. Even at a young age he had a reputation for bookish temperance and a certain sternness. He disdained frivolity and was widely unpopular on account of a stutter. In short, he was everything Majorian was not.
On his traditional campaign into Italy for the coronation, he seems to have had a sort of “Road to Damascus” moment. A cynic in his youth, the pilgrimage to Rome changed him. Aloysius IV, surrounded by his nobles and newly-crowned by the Pope, declared that he would wage a Votive War to reclaim Constantinople from the Khirichan.
The changes taking place in Transuralic Asia [Eastern Europe] during the tenth century would be some of the most profound and transformative in the region’s history. In the deep forests and across the windswept plains, the Slavic peoples were unifying – but around a culture that was fundamentally alien to them.
The two Hanates, that of the Black Rusichi and the White Rusichi, were called by a name adopted from the Gardaveldi, who referred to the indigenous peoples universally as “Rothsmenn” or “those who row” on account of the importance of riverine transport to their civilization. Despite their adoption of the Slavicized Khirichan word Han to describe their ruler, the Rusichi must not be mistaken for steppe nomads. Much like their western cousins, the Rusichi civilization was built around fortified settlements, or grads. These isolated pockets of civilization were typically built along the major trade arteries of the region, and were separated from each other by vast tracts of relatively uncultivated land.
The development of the Hanates began in earnest roughly at the same time as the Khirichan-Sahu slave trade stopped almost entirely. The Khardi, eschewing planation agriculture in Mesopotamia in favor of small-scale cultivation, simply lacked the demand for slaves that had slowly diminished during Aghatsaghid rule in any case. Furthermore, the expansion of naval trade in the south meant mass demand for timber, and the growth of Asia Minor’s population after centuries of stagnation meant a new demand for grain. The slave trade became a smaller scale enterprise, and the north, long a breadbasket, became an even larger one, particularly in the Sahu ruled south.
Buddhism also spread like wildfire, and unlike in Poland, the Rusichi adopted a far purer form of the religion. Some of the missionaries who interacted with the Rusichi were exiles of the Nowbahar movement, and accordingly deities received less emphasis, and many of the more traditional ones were denounced outright as the Buddhist priesthood gained power. Only certain deities survived. A synthesis of the Mithra and Svarog was one of the chief surviving deities, while Tangra was equated with the minor god Stribog and thus took a less important role. Certain deities, such as Rod and Perun, who feature heavily in early East Slavic rituals and writings, found their cults diminished immensely, to the point that they were ultimately cast as enemies of the Buddha who sought to maintain their power through mankind’s ignorance.
The groundwork for these fundamental changes had been laid for centuries. Those who became powerful within the Hanates were those who had long been complicit with the Khirichan dominance of the region, and Buddhism was their religion, and a way to ensure that the favor of the Khagan did not switch to a different petty ruler. Mithra had a wide appeal in his traditional Persian incarnation as a god of war and fire, a protector of hearth and home in the long, cold night. One of the first of the “Dharma Hans” or the earliest royal patrons of Buddha even took the ceremonial name Mitraslav, or Glorious Mithra.
The Hans were above all else city-builders. Cities such as Cernigov in the east and Sviatapolk in the west became large and rich off trade, and with the growth of these significant urban regions came increased autonomy from the Khirichan, who began to see their longtime subjects increasingly as equals. Cross-border raids and tokens of tribute stopped.
Meanwhile, to the north, the Gardaveldi under Arnmundr, were undergoing a similar cultural and religious transformation, but one moderated by the continued arrival of fresh colonists from Scandinavia. While even among their subject peoples the Slavic gods had largely fallen by the wayside, and the yellow robed poet-monks of the court enjoyed great favoritism, new believers in the old Norse Gods still arrived frequently, and they refreshed the oral traditions of the Norse. Unlike amongst the Rusichi, where many traditional gods slowly shifted into folk tales and legends over the next three or four centuries, continued contact with Scandinavia would have a profound effect on the Gardaveldi. Especially among those who gradually moved East as their homelands Christianized, there was a necessity to preserving traditions. In time, most of these traditionalists would convert as well, however they would ensure that the chief gods of the Norse pantheon endured, if in an adulterate form. Odin, for example, was recast as a figure whose ordeal on the Ash Tree was a profound moment of enlightenment in Buddhist language.
The Gardaveldi continued to expand in this era. Many Norse colonists had settled in territories once belonging to the Livonians, weakening the coast-dwellers and leading to the rise of the Latgalian tribe, whose rise in turn sparked conflicts with the Lithuanians along the Daugava river. While historical details are spotty, it appears the Latgalians won a major victory, and were able to turn north and attack the Norse in concert with the now subdued Livonians in 946. The Gardaveldi King Arnmundr in turn launched punitive raids against the Latgalians, securing a broad coastal territory and founding the city of Darmagard on the Livonian coast. [OTL Haapsalu]
The Gardaveldi also had a profound impact on the politics and culture of their homelands. Buddhist missionaries would find relative safety to preach in Sweden, although their audience was never as substantial. However, commerce between the two kingdoms led to alliance and close relations. When the Danes moved against Sweden in the Northern Votive War (982-987) Gardaveldi would come to their aid. Wheel-ruler Arnmundr’s son Bjarnhedinn would fight alongside the Swedish King Solmundr the Blue-Black at the 983 battle of Skara against the Danes. Fighting the Danish King Eirk Haraldson, the war was waged over the fate of Geatland, and would be immortalized in a series of epic poems by the Anglo-Danish author Torbjorn.
In the eyes of some revisionist historians with a more religious bent, the Northern Votive War can be seen as a proxy war in a clash of civilizations, a battle to decide the spiritual fate of the north. In the eyes of others, it represents a new and more martial phase of the Christianization of Scandinavia, part of a continuous cycle of cultural exchange and war. However, Torbjorn’s account tells a different story, involving a murdered Christian missionary and a sordid drama involving King Erik’s daughter and a Geatish Jarl. Whatever the case, the battle of Skara was fought primarily by pagan Norse. The ostensible religious affiliations of the rulers aside, Scandinavia was very much a pagan country. Frankish holy mercenaries and Gardaveldi aside, most who participated in the battle seem to have seen it as a secular conflict for territory and plunder.
The Northern Votive War ended in a white peace with mutual exhaustion and simmering hostility remaining. Across Scandinavia, the battle lines of a complex and multifaceted conflict were drawn, and both sides entrenched. However, the end of war meant a resumption of trade (although many would assert that the war never stopped trade). Outright conversion to either Buddhism or Christianity was as much a personal choice as it was a political one. Those who had to interact with either the Danish monarchy or the Franco-Germans frequently saw great benefit in conversion, but they needed to be flexible, and willing to associate with traditional pagans nonetheless if they were to trade with Sweden or the Geats. Furthermore, as German colonists came to dominate the Baltic coast, even some among the Geats converted to Christianity at least notionally, in the pursuit of favorable trading privileges. Buddhism, meanwhile, was a way to gain favor with the Gardaveldi, who controlled the European end of an extensive trade route with the eastern world. Rare luxury goods travelled thousands of miles to reach Sweden, but this hardship often only inflated their value.
A Khagan with Foresight
After the Council of the Isonzo in 937, Shiqar Kulujogul had a free hand to do as he pleased in the Hypatate of Nikaia, and many assurances more valuable than that. He could feel relatively confident that the Franks would be distracted for the foreseeable future, and that gave him precious time. The Westerners were numerous, and convinced that their god had given the entire world over to them. He was not so blind to the rumors which reached his ears that their high priest in distant Rome had been calling for war. Aloysius III was a gift – a sensible pragmatist who played the game of politics well.
That the Polish would ultimately survive the Franco-German onslaught was an accident of history. The Khirichan Khagan would gladly have sacrificed them entirely. Where Sebouk Arslan had been a brilliant commander of men and tactician Shiqar Kulujogul was an administrator and a strategist, whose personal journals reveal a sophisticated understanding of the bigger picture. Sebouk Arslan had always trusted in the strength of his cavalry and his sacrifices to the gods. Even when he made strategically clever decisions, such as retaking Konstantikhert (Constantinople), they were done out of a need to keep winning, to keep expanding at all costs.
He had then been succeeded by a spate of uninspiring warlords. Shiqar Kulujogul, however, was an educated man, who according to his own boasts spoke twelve languages, including Rhomaniki and Frankish. He knew that Europe was effectively divided into two great empires – his and the Frankish Empire, and of the two, the Frankish Empire was far and away greater. It was more unified, more populous, better organized, and wealthier. Furthermore, Aloysius III had showed an interest in the Balkans, one which would invariably lead to a clash, likely over some damn fool thing. One of his sons would have to fight to preserve their hegemony, in all likelihood.
So Shiqar Kulujogul made allies, binding two of his many daughters to the crown princes of the Rusichi. In 939, he invaded Nikaia, transporting a huge army across the Hellesponte and besieging the city. After three months the Hypatos submitted, followed shortly thereafter by the Hypatos of Nicomedia. The treaties Shiqar Kulujogul signed were primarily focused on securing trade rights for Sahu merchants, however they also included key aspects of political submission. Permanent Khirichan embassies were established, changing the traditional policy of sending envoys, and key hostages were taken from major families to be raised in the Khirichan palace.
Khirichan casualties had been light, so before returning home, the Khagan fabricated a diplomatic slight by the Pontic League and invaded it as well, riding along the coast. Here, there were small but significant Sahu merchant communities which had existed since late Roman times, and it was these groups that the Khagan elevated after a stunning victory in the Battle of Amastris (940) which ensured the submission of a wide territory from Herakleia to Trapezous. Furthermore, he established military garrisons in the major cities and carved out land grants for the construction of Turkish settlements along the northern coast of Asia Minor. Those who would travel were a mix of migrating Qangli Turks, Bajinak, and Sahu, and while their numbers would be far fewer than the Khagan had imagined, they played a key role in allowing the Khirichan to maintain their control of the region, as did the token submission of the Alan Khan.
After his return, Shiqar had sufficient military credentials to begin overhauling the army. The Xasar, Rumana, and Bulgar peoples in his empire were largely settled and agricultural in the tenth century, but their military contributions were raised primarily from a diminishing herder class who traditionally supplied mounted warriors. Local monks and nobles were tasked with performing a census and establishing levies which could be raised in times of crisis, a system perhaps modelled off of that of the Franks. Meanwhile, further from the frontier, the Khirichan and Sahu systems remained unchanged – the former were divided into clans expected to answer the Khagan’s call to war, and the latter were generally exempt, with the exception of the major landholders, who fought regardless.
Shiqar Khagan oversaw building projects as well. The critical cities of Biharabad [otl Zagreb] and Shahidjan [Budapest] received extensive repairs to their walls, which for Shahidjan involved the construction of a double circuit of walls, the inner one significantly higher and topped with engines of war. In general Shiqar avoided prestige projects in favor of strategic fortifications and the construction of a newer, larger naval arsenal in Tangrabad. However, the latter years of his reign were spent in Konstantikhert overseeing the resettlement of the city and the rebuilding of the Rhom Shahdom era palace, which he christened Nowitaxta, or “New Throne.”
In 956, however, with Constantinople burgeoning and the Khirichan growing in strength and power, Aloysius III died, and Shiqar Kulujogul gathered his five sons to a council in the newly finished Nowitaxta.
Aloysius III had almost no luck with heirs. His eponymous firstborn died at the age of five, and Thierico, the secondborn, died at the age of sixteen. For a time it seemed that his only daughter, Matilda, and her husband, the Count of Toulouse Majorian would take power. Most were satisfied with this notion. Majorian was young, handsome, and popular with all who met him, although few would have called him wise or intelligent. However, in 932, Aloysius’ wife gave birth to another son, who despite being sickly and unlikely to live, would ultimately survive. Aloysius IV would ascend to the throne at the age of 24. Even at a young age he had a reputation for bookish temperance and a certain sternness. He disdained frivolity and was widely unpopular on account of a stutter. In short, he was everything Majorian was not.
On his traditional campaign into Italy for the coronation, he seems to have had a sort of “Road to Damascus” moment. A cynic in his youth, the pilgrimage to Rome changed him. Aloysius IV, surrounded by his nobles and newly-crowned by the Pope, declared that he would wage a Votive War to reclaim Constantinople from the Khirichan.