Azeez Campaign Successful: How One Man Destroyed the RepublicJuly 4410In the last days of June, Sultan Wiqar Azeez’s boats landed firmly on Medinese shores.
The media had stationed themselves not too far away, broadcasting pictures across the globe of the boats coming into dock, the elite soldiers marching out onto the land, first with heavy shields, then with sniper rifles, then with ceremonial swords — all facing off against a solid wall of 200 of the highest ranked Medinese Republican troops there are, headed up by the Commander himself, under the watchful eye of the President herself there in person. Hundreds of guns, a sea of faces, a handful of tanks, snipers perched on vantage points, all of them staring down at the troops, ready to shoot at the first sign of danger.
And yet they did not flinch. After the last tussle of a ceremonial Royal Guard’s overcoat slipped out, their hands planted firmly on their razor sharp sabres, there came he — the self-proclaimed Sultan, the myth, the legend — Azeez.
He stood, stone cold and with a sense of unstoppable sangfroid, his back as straight as ever. He was dressed in his utilitarian Commander’s outfit, no doubt a smart and calculated PR move. He surveyed what he faced. A voice came from a loud speaker, not far in front of him: it was the Commander: “Prince Wiqar, you are under arrest. Place your hands over your head now, slowly, or we will shoot.”
Nothing.
“Prince Wiqar—” it began again.
Then came his voice, booming louder now more than ever: “I am not Prince Wiqar.”
“I am Sultan Wiqar Azeez,” he proclaimed calmly. “And I order you to stand down.”
Nervous glances from the troops.
The loudspeaker, now the voice of the President: “We do not accept the orders of traitors.@
This enraged Azeez. He launched into a brilliant speech, a spectacle to behold that was so convincing, the enemy laid down its arms: here is just a sample of that momentous oration.
Traitor? Traitor? You call me a traitor? The President, who has sold out her nation to ‘republicanism,’ who maintains nothing but a puppet government for our enemies, who is content with listing this continent languish in military and economic shambles for eternity, who quivers at the arrival of just one man to the degree that she sends nigh on a whole division to stare him down, calls me a traitor?
This is what you have created. Countryman turned on countryman, Medinese ready to shoot their brothers and sisters dead in the name of republicanism or nationhood, chaos and unrest. This is yours. You are the traitor, not I. I have done nothing but serve my country. I brought about success after success, and even when we failed, I stuck by our Sultan, because I believe in Medina. I did not run off and support some, some — some fool in a suit proclaiming herself President because she made some fancy speeches.
What do you know of statesmanship? Of leadership?
Nothing. You and I both know that you’re nothing but a stand-in for the New Endralonian, Lourennais puppetmasters so happy to placate this great nation with your insufficiency. What we need isn’t strong leadership — true reforms — and a leader who believes in Medina, in Dovani, once more! Not a President who sits around and waits while Xsampa marches across the north, and Lourenne ships to our ports...
I look across into this sea of faces, and what do I see? Brothers — comrades. Friends. I see generals who fought side by side with me, I see recruits who know better than this..
The speech continued, uninterrupted by the stunned crowds, for several minutes, growing ever more rousing, powerful and, eventually, reaching a stunning crescendo: “Lay down your arms! I implore you. Do it for me. Do it for yourselves. Do it for Medina. Change is coming. No longer can we wait — no. Now is the time to act. Now is the time to reclaim our nation from these traitors. So I ask you — turn your weapons not towards me, but to the ground, and join me in this crusade. And all those watching across the nation, I implore you, join me. Please, brothers — don’t let this be the end for Medina. Lay down your weapons.”
A few seconds of silence passed, and then, one by one, the weapons started to fall, in a silent wave. Azeez had won.
Azeez had done it. The Commander turned his gun on the former President, and she was taken into custody. The military was Azeez’s. The Bloodless Coup had ended — and Azeez was free to reclaim his throne.
Tomorrow he is to be crowned Emperor, joined finally by his wife and son. Unlike the Sultans before him, Azeez is to be a powerful constitutional monarch, leading the nation at its highest levels, leading it through war, leading its government, yet embracing the representation granted by democracy on domestic issues.
With this revelation, he has struck a chord with voters in the polls: any doubt about Azeez’s popularity has faded. Azeez is the ruler Medina has always needed. Medina is back, and this time, it’s more prepared than ever before.
Long live Emperor Azeez!
I go by Ashley now and use she/her pronouns. This is a really old account, I don’t play now.
I was a mod in classic for a bit, then I helped make Marcapada and WM there for a while. As of 2020 I’m co-ordinating Pachapay’s development.