Chapter 70 : Whispers of Defeat, Roars of Revenge

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---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Under the cover of darkness, Shah Abbas rode his horse with a face that radiated both fury and determination. The remaining guards around him were silent; everyone could feel the weight of defeat on the battlefield. The loss against the Türkmen forces had deeply shaken Shah Abbas's reputation. However, he was determined to see this defeat not as an end but as a beginning.

He cast one last glance at the mountains and passes behind him. "I will not forget this defeat," he muttered to himself. "But this was just a battle—the real struggle is only beginning."

By the time they reached the capital, Isfahan, the first light of dawn was striking the golden domes of the palace. Crowds had gathered in the streets to witness Shah Abbas's return. Yet, upon seeing the procession, curiosity quickly turned to concern. The small number of guards and the weary state of the soldiers made the outcome of the battle clear.

Arriving at the palace gates, Shah Abbas dismounted and strode inside with determined steps. One of his viziers approached cautiously and spoke:

"My Shah, we had hoped for your triumphant return. News of the Türkmen is spreading, and fear is growing among the people."

Shah Abbas silenced the vizier with a fierce glance. "Fear? The Türkmen are nothing but a peasant army. They may think they've won today, but it won't last. The glory of Isfahan will crush their dreams of victory."

The vizier bowed his head and withdrew. Shah Abbas took his seat on the throne and commanded one of his guards:

"Summon my generals and commanders here. We will build a new army. This time, the Türkmen will not just face defeat—they will witness their complete destruction."

In the grand hall of the palace, generals and viziers gathered around a table covered with maps depicting Türkmen lands and the recent battlefield. Shah Abbas sat at the head, his hand tracing the map.

"Halil Khan... he proved that we underestimated him. But they've made a mistake. They've become intoxicated by victory, while we've learned from defeat. Now is the time to build a stronger army."

One of the generals spoke:

"My Shah, we can recruit new soldiers from the surrounding provinces to replace our losses. Additionally, we can impose new taxes to strengthen our weaponry."

Shah Abbas nodded. "Yes, gather soldiers from the provinces. But don't just focus on numbers—prioritize their training. I don't want just a large army; I want a disciplined force. I will allocate the necessary funds from the palace treasury for new cannons and rifles."

Another general highlighted the Türkmen's source of strength:

"My Shah, the Türkmen have become strong by gaining the support of the local people. We must also win over our people; otherwise, internal unrest may arise."

Shah Abbas acknowledged the warning and spoke firmly:

"You are right. The people crave victory and power. When we march against the Türkmen, we won't just achieve a military victory—we will break their spirits and will. Every village, every town must feel our strength."

Following the meeting, Isfahan's military barracks became a hive of activity. New recruits began their training, while foundries worked day and night to produce cannons and rifles. Shah Abbas personally visited the barracks, overseeing the soldiers' training.

One day, while observing a new unit in training, he turned to his vizier and spoke with determination:

"I will forge this army into such a powerful force that the Türkmen won't even dare think of opposing us. We may have lost this battle, but I still hold the final word over these lands."

The vizier, seeing the fire in the Shah's eyes, bowed respectfully. "My Shah, when these preparations are complete, we are certain you will return with a victory even more glorious than Isfahan itself."

Shah Abbas felt the fire of his anger and determination once more. He knew he had gained time to rebuild his army and strategy against the Türkmen. This time, it wasn't just a battle—the fate of an empire was at stake.

In the streets of Isfahan, the sound of drums from the barracks began to echo. The people sensed that a new war was approaching, believing once again in victory under Shah Abbas's leadership. But this time, Shah Abbas had more than just the Türkmen in mind; he intended to redesign the entire region.

Isfahan had begun preparations for a new war. Shah Abbas's fury would become the blade of his new army. The Türkmen had no idea they would face an even more formidable foe this time.

As the golden domes of Isfahan gleamed under the first light of dawn, Shah Abbas paced the vast halls of the palace. His generals and viziers gathered around, discussing preparations against the Türkmen. However, the atmosphere in the meeting shifted abruptly with the arrival of a message.

A palace guard bowed and spoke:

"My Shah, an envoy from the Ottoman Empire has arrived. They bear gifts and a letter, requesting an audience with you."

The room buzzed with whispers. The Ottoman Empire's interest in the war sparked questions in everyone's minds. Shah Abbas, deep in thought, considered the matter carefully. Relations with the Ottomans had always been turbulent. A gesture like this in such a time smelled more like a strategic move than an offer of peace.

"Bring them in," Shah Abbas said at last, his voice cold but composed. "Let's see what intentions the Ottomans carry."

The Ottoman envoy entered with measured steps. His tall turban and richly embroidered robe reflected the grandeur of the Ottoman Empire. Behind him, ornate chests caught the eye with their gleaming decorations. The envoy bowed respectfully before Shah Abbas.

"What wind has brought you to Isfahan?" Shah Abbas asked, his tone calm but watchful.

The envoy responded respectfully:

"My Shah, I bring a letter from the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Our Sultan, emphasizing the importance of stability in the region, has ordered me to deliver gifts as a gesture of friendship. We wish to contribute to the strength of your army with weapons, cannons, and military supplies."

These words captured the attention of everyone present. Shah Abbas's generals eyed the chests behind the envoy, trying to decipher the Ottomans' intentions. Shah Abbas fixed a suspicious gaze on the envoy.

"We are grateful for the Ottoman's support," Shah Abbas said with a subtle hint of mockery. "But I am curious—what is the reason for this generosity? Do you wish to be friends with us or with the Türkmen?"

The envoy answered carefully:

"My Shah, the Ottoman Empire desires peace in the region. The strengthening of the Türkmen opposes not only your interests but ours as well. Our support is a gesture of friendship in this regard."

Though Shah Abbas did not appear entirely satisfied, a faint smile crossed his face. The Ottomans' strategy to balance the Türkmen threat was evident. However, rejecting this assistance would mean losing a significant opportunity for military preparations.

After a brief silence, Shah Abbas spoke to the envoy:

"Convey my gratitude to the Ottoman Sultan. I accept these gifts. However, remember that our friendship is not guaranteed by words alone but by future actions. Keep in mind that we, too, have our own interests to protect."

The envoy bowed, and the chests were opened. The weapons, cannons, and ammunition within astonished Isfahan's generals. The Ottomans appeared to have shared their most advanced technologies.

That evening, Shah Abbas held another meeting with his generals. The Ottoman gifts were placed at the center of the table. One general suggested that this aid might be a trap:

"My Shah, such generous aid from the Ottomans is suspicious. These weapons might be intended to weaken us."

Another general objected:

"But these weapons could strengthen our army. Rejecting this aid now would be a grave mistake, especially with another war against the Türkmen on the horizon."

Shah Abbas spoke thoughtfully:

"The Ottomans clearly have a plan. But we need time to understand their strategy. We will use these weapons but remain vigilant for any moves they make. The Ottoman Sultan may appear as a friend, but this is a game of chess. We must calculate every move carefully."

As night fell, Shah Abbas stood on the palace balcony, gazing over Isfahan. The gifts from the Ottomans could indeed strengthen his army. But acting without understanding their true intentions could be a fatal mistake.

He murmured to himself:

"The Ottomans' friendship... What will its cost be? Time will tell. But one thing they should remember—Isfahan's lion is always watchful."