Allies and Enemies

Ghazni, 999 CE – The Sultan's Call

The court of Ghazni was alive with discussions, the scent of burning sandalwood lingering in the air as Sultan Mahmud sat upon his throne. His emerald-green robe, embroidered with golden threads, reflected the flickering torchlight. His hawk-like gaze swept across the chamber, where his closest advisors and generals had gathered.

The room held men of different lands and backgrounds—Turkic chieftains, Persian nobles, and Afghan commanders, all waiting to hear their Sultan's decree. The topic of discussion was clear: expansion, alliances, and war.

Mahmud turned to Vizier Abu'l-Abbas Isfaraini, his most trusted aide.

"Jaipal of Lahore refuses to submit," Mahmud declared, his voice calm but firm. "He prepares for war. But I will not strike blindly. Before we march, we must secure our rear, strengthen our supply lines, and ensure that no enemy threatens Ghazni while we conquer Hindustan."

The vizier nodded, stroking his long beard. "Then we must turn to our allies, my Sultan. The Persian nobles of Khorasan and the Turkic tribes of the steppes may prove valuable."

Mahmud's fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne. "Send word to the Persian lords of Nishapur and Balkh. Offer them trade privileges and land grants in exchange for loyalty."

His gaze then shifted to Malik Ayaz, his most trusted general.

"As for the Turkic tribes, we need warriors—skilled horsemen, archers, and swordsmen."

Malik Ayaz nodded. "The Oghuz and Karluk clans are known for their fierce cavalry. If we promise them wealth and honor, they will ride under your banner."

Mahmud smirked. "Then let us ride to meet them."

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The Persian Alliance – Meeting in Nishapur

A week later, Mahmud and a small entourage, including General Arsalan and Vizier Abu'l-Abbas, arrived in Nishapur, the heart of Persian Khorasan. The streets were lined with merchants selling silk and spices, and the towering mosques and libraries spoke of the city's grandeur.

In the palace of Emir Ali ibn Muhtaj, the Persian noble of Khorasan, a lavish feast was prepared in Mahmud's honor. Gold plates filled with dates, roasted lamb, and saffron rice adorned the banquet table.

As they dined, Emir Ali observed Mahmud carefully. "Sultan Mahmud, your father, Sabuktigin, was a man of honor. But tell me, why should Khorasan support your wars?"

Mahmud wiped his hands and leaned forward. "Because Khorasan's future lies with Ghazni. I do not seek mere conquests—I seek empire. Support me, and Khorasan will not just be a province; it will be the heart of my realm."

The emir raised an eyebrow. "And in return?"

Mahmud smiled. "Trade routes through Ghazni will be protected. Your merchants will thrive. And when I conquer Hindustan, the wealth of the temples will enrich us both."

A silence fell over the table.

Then, the emir chuckled. "You are ambitious, Sultan. I see now why men follow you."

He lifted his goblet. "Khorasan stands with Ghazni."

The men in the room cheered, sealing the alliance.

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The Turkic Warriors – The Gathering at Balkh

After securing the Persian alliance, Mahmud rode north to Balkh, where the Turkic warlords of the steppes had gathered. Under a massive black tent, the leaders of the Oghuz, Karluk, and Kipchak tribes sat in a circle, their armor adorned with eagle feathers and wolf pelts.

Mahmud entered, his eyes scanning the rugged, battle-hardened men. At the center sat Warlord Togrul Beg of the Oghuz, a giant of a man with braided hair and piercing blue eyes.

Togrul smirked. "So, the Sultan of Ghazni comes seeking warriors?"

Mahmud did not hesitate. "I come seeking lions."

A murmur passed through the tent.

Togrul leaned forward. "And what will these lions gain?"

Mahmud's voice was steady. "War, wealth, and glory. Ride with me, and you shall not just be mercenaries—you shall be legends."

Togrul studied Mahmud, then stood. "The Oghuz do not fight for words. Show us proof of your strength."

Mahmud grinned. He unfastened his cloak and armor, stepping forward into the open ring. "Choose your best warrior. I will face him."

The tent erupted in cheers and laughter. A brutal Turkic warrior named Batur stepped forward, his arms thick as tree trunks.

The fight was fierce. Batur struck first, swinging his axe, but Mahmud dodged, countering with a swift strike to the ribs. They clashed like thunder, the warriors around them roaring with excitement.

Finally, Mahmud ducked under a wild swing, grabbed Batur's wrist, and threw him onto the ground. The tent fell silent.

Then, Togrul laughed heartily. "You fight like a wolf, Sultan." He extended a hand. "The Oghuz ride with Ghazni."

One by one, the tribal chiefs stood, pledging their warriors to Mahmud's army.

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A United Front

By the time Mahmud returned to Ghazni, his army had grown tenfold.

The banners of Khorasan, the Turkic tribes, and the Ghaznavids now flew side by side.

In the royal palace, Malik Ayaz surveyed the map. "With these alliances, our forces now number over 50,000."

Mahmud nodded. "Enough to break Lahore. Enough to make Hindustan tremble."

As the men around him murmured in agreement, Mahmud stood, his voice ringing with finality.

"Prepare the army. The time for war has come."

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End of Chapter 7