Chapter 3: Meeting the Warlord

The village air was thick with tension as Faisal followed the soldiers deeper into the heart of the settlement. The musket he had crafted had impressed them, but that was only the first step. The real challenge lay ahead—convincing the warlord. These men ruled with an iron fist, and Faisal knew he had to be careful. His Hazara heritage would be a problem, especially in an Afghanistan dominated by tribal politics and centuries-old conflicts.

But Faisal had never cared for tradition or the past. He had a single goal: to rise, to dominate, and to rule.

[Mission: Gain the warlord's favor. Time Limit: 24 hours.]

[Reward: 200 System Points + Workshop Expansion Blueprint]

As the soldiers led him toward a larger building at the center of the village—likely the warlord's quarters—Faisal kept his head low, playing the role of a respectful outsider. He knew better than to display arrogance at this stage. The system's mission was clear: he had to gain the warlord's favor, but that didn't mean he would bow down forever. Submit for now. Strike later.

The lieutenant who had been overseeing him, Rustam Khan, glanced back at Faisal as they approached the entrance. Rustam's eyes were sharp, calculating. "You've made an impression, foreigner," he said, switching from Pashto to a dialect closer to Dari, likely to accommodate Faisal's limited Pashto. "But the warlord… Rahim Khan, he's not easily impressed. You better choose your words wisely."

Faisal nodded, keeping his face neutral. "I understand."

Rustam said nothing more as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors, revealing the dimly lit interior of the warlord's hall.

The Warlord's Presence

Inside the hall, the air was heavy with the smell of incense and sweat. Warlord Rahim Khan sat on a cushioned seat at the far end of the room, surrounded by a small group of advisors and soldiers. He was a thickly built man in his mid-forties, with a beard streaked with gray and eyes that gleamed with ruthless ambition. He was the kind of man who ruled by fear, not respect.

Faisal kept his expression carefully blank as he approached. He had seen men like Rahim Khan before—men who believed power came from the number of weapons they owned or the number of men they could command. But Faisal knew better. True power came from something deeper. Control. Knowledge. The ability to manipulate others to achieve your own ends.

Rustam gestured for Faisal to stop a few paces from the warlord, then addressed Rahim in a deferential tone. "My lord, this is the man I spoke of. The one who claims he can make weapons far superior to what we have."

Rahim's eyes shifted to Faisal, his expression hard. "You look soft," he said, his voice a low growl. "A Hazara, no less."

The words hung in the air like a blade. Hazara. Faisal had expected the insult, but it still struck a nerve. Hazaras were a marginalized group, often looked down upon by the Pashtun majority and other tribes. Even in the 18th century, ethnic tensions ran deep. To Rahim Khan, Faisal's very presence was an affront.

But Faisal didn't flinch. Cunning. Calculated. Control the situation.

"I may be Hazara, my lord," Faisal replied smoothly, keeping his voice steady, "but what I offer transcends tribe or blood. I bring knowledge that can make you the most powerful man in this land. Give me the resources, and I'll show you."

Rahim's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed. "And why should I trust a Hazara?"

Faisal knew this was coming. It was time to play his part. He lowered his head slightly, showing just the right amount of deference. "Because, my lord, I have no allegiance to anyone but myself. My people have always been treated as second-class. I have no loyalty to any tribe. My only loyalty is to those who give me what I need."

The hall was silent for a moment as Rahim considered Faisal's words. It was a gamble—showing that he had no ties. He needed Rahim to see him as a tool, not a threat. For now.

Rahim finally let out a low chuckle. "A smart man knows when to submit. But if you cross me, Hazara or not, I'll have your head on a pike."

Faisal smiled inwardly. Good. He was in.

Rahim waved a hand dismissively. "Show me what you can do. If your weapons are truly as good as Rustam says, then perhaps I'll have use for you."

Proving His Worth

The tension in the room eased slightly as the warlord's threat hung in the air. Faisal knew that now was the moment to solidify his position. He stepped forward, presenting the musket he had crafted the night before.

"This," Faisal said, his voice steady, "is a more advanced musket. It fires faster, more accurately, and with greater range than any weapon you've ever seen." He handed the musket to one of the soldiers standing nearby, who examined it curiously.

"Prove it," Rahim said, gesturing toward an open window that faced a distant target—a wooden post set up outside the village, far enough away that a normal musket shot would miss or lose power. "Let's see if your claim holds."

Faisal nodded to the soldier. "Fire."

The soldier aimed the musket, pulling the trigger. The sharp crack of the shot echoed through the hall, and moments later, the wooden post in the distance splintered under the force of the bullet. The room went silent, all eyes turning to Faisal.

Rahim leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. "Interesting."

[Mission Update: Gain the warlord's favor.]

[Success: Warlord's favor obtained.]

[Reward: 200 System Points + Workshop Expansion Blueprint]

The system's voice echoed in Faisal's mind, confirming the mission's success. 200 points. It wasn't much, but it was a start. More importantly, the Workshop Expansion Blueprint would allow him to build more advanced technology. He was already thinking ahead—guns, cannons, infrastructure. This was just the beginning.

Rahim stood from his seat, walking toward Faisal with slow, deliberate steps. "You have my attention," the warlord said, his voice low and thoughtful. "Tell me—what else can you make?"

Faisal saw his opening. This was his chance to push for more. "Anything you need, my lord. Guns, cannons, siege weapons. I can build it all. But to truly make your army unstoppable, I'll need resources—a workshop, men, materials. Give me those, and I'll turn your forces into the most feared in all of Afghanistan."

Rahim's eyes gleamed with interest, but there was caution there too. "You ask for much, Hazara. And why should I give you what you ask? What's to stop you from using my resources to turn on me?"

Faisal smiled, keeping his voice calm. "Because, my lord, I have no interest in ruling. I'm an engineer, not a leader. I'll leave the politics to men like you. All I care about is building. The more power you have, the more I gain."

It was a lie, of course. Faisal fully intended to take everything. But Rahim didn't need to know that. Not yet.

Rahim stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Very well. I'll give you what you need. But you'll be under Rustam's supervision. One false move, and you'll die."

Faisal bowed his head again. "I understand, my lord. You won't regret it."

New Opportunities

As Faisal left the warlord's hall, escorted by Rustam and the soldiers, his mind raced with new possibilities. He had the warlord's favor, the promise of resources, and the system to guide him. It was all coming together.

Rustam walked beside him, silent for most of the way, before finally speaking. "I don't trust you, Hazara," he said, his tone flat. "But the warlord does, for now. If you cross us, I'll be the one to kill you."

Faisal didn't even glance at him. This was the reality of his situation, and he accepted it. Rustam was an obstacle—nothing more. Eventually, he would be dealt with.

For now, Faisal would play his part. He would build weapons for Rahim Khan, gain the warlord's trust, and strengthen his position. And when the time came… he would take everything.

The village stretched out before him, the mountains looming in