The Sultanate of New Persia

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Tithe
Tithe councils select Persian children to be taken back to the Vedas. Candidates range between the age of twelve and twenty, all of them considered ‘gifted’ within their society, whether by lineage, obvious talent, or unique omens. Vedas make no distinction over genetics, sex, race, or culture, but the member civilizations themselves often do. The Tithe is both an act of respect for the Accord, and a symbol of immense honor toward youth who are Chosen. Shuttled off-world, many from places where the sky is the domain of gods to be feared and adored, these youth begin their alien life in the Vedas with nothing but endurance and intuition. Four intensive years of education in the assembled wisdom of all known eras and nations awaits them. Toward the end of this term is a series of grueling tribulations which determine their natural affinities and developed skills. Often, more than sixty-five percent of all Chosen fail to withstand the trials. These who do not are returned to their community, and their family, with a volatile mix of prestige and shame. None can say the trials don’t affect them. Yet most form the bulwark of military ranks, fill the greatest seats of major art and builders guilds, become accomplished statesmen, or respected philosophers. Many join isolated cadres of sages who guide their towns and people. The science, history and ethics of their tutelage often buckles under the pressure of folk convictions and societal beliefs, but the status of being one of the Chosen never fades.

Those who stay, join the Castes.

Mystics, Artificers, Sultans, and Mubarizun. There is no formative hierarchy of the castes themselves. While each have their own ladder of ascendancy, none are officially enforced, and differ from Veda to Veda. Like human torsos, if the Sultans removed the Mystics, it would be an act of decapitation, if they removed the Champions or Artificers, an act of severing the entire left or right set of limbs, eyes, and ears.  In the final weeding of the chaff, those who remain are separated into several different general castes: the Architects, the Mystics, the Sultans, and the Champions. Specialized mentors train them in their fields, chosen by the correct combination of genetics and physical affinities. The Mystics, beginning with the wandering dervishes, are wise tacticians and artists who direct the society toward the correct and ethical ways of living, driving society into the inclusion of All, and each other. Promoting the edicts of the Accord is their infinite task. Sultans enact these methodologies outward through the mandala. Ezerains, pseudo-vassals of the Sultanate, provide very basic tribute to Sultans in order to show gratitude and respect, as well as to afford future benefits and send emissaries with specific assistance requests. This exchange is called the Tithe. At this time, children are also selected. Champions, such as the Mubarizun, enforce the will of the Sultans against those who threaten citizens of the mandala. Architects construct the machinery, palaces, barracks, and other general inventions as required of the Sultanate at large.

'''The Vedas '''Massive satellites roosting above the Lunars like watching eyes of the All. KOZMA is one such, levitating 85,000 feet into the atmosphere of Anatolia, slowly careening from Samarkand to the Badlands and back. Each one mimics the wisdom of all others, and enjoys a perfectly unbroken line of communication to each other for several centuries.  

Worlds of Interest
Anatolia; the Kozma Satellite: Samarkand of Anatolia, several large cities of the Badlands, and the North Marsh Traverse are vital to the Sultanate.

Barail: 

Kartika: 

History
“Long ago, we Persians know, the Worlds of Empyrean lay on the precipice of ruin. Children torn screaming from us, stripped of their memory, only to be driven as slaves in the Rasa mines. Everywhere, the thousandfold prophets clamored; the foretold a horrific annihilation of the human race. Speaking in tongues, they mislead us down paths of false honor, these priests and imams and gurus, lulling us into a mirage of false justice. Inherited sin, caste, eternal wheels driven by gods who communed only with the most wealthy and powerful... and all the while, these prophets sang their doomsong. Our imminent extinction, we were meant to believe, was at hand for we faithless few, standing pure in the knowledge that Truth could not exist among their many lies. Now, brothers and sisters, together as children of the All-Truth, we sing yet a new song. Rejoice! If Armageddon was ever come, still, we remain!

For many years, our craftsmen, our diplomats, our warriors, our holy men, the wisest among us, secured themselves with government leaders from what are now the Persian worlds within the orbital defense satellite and library, Kozma. This heaven-bound temple is said to have existed long before Anatolians ever discovered Samarkand. Know this; there were those who believed we were lost, forsaken by our leaders, abandoned the wolves called Anarchy and Dissolution. Rejoice in their error, brothers and sisters! Rejoice!

On the morn of their return, the Thousandfold Revelation of the Catechism was delivered thrice by the holiest choirs of Sultans, in every province and every world that is now Persia. Thus it was recited, thus it shall be broadcast upon the wake of every Persian dawn until the closing of the last page of Time. The Catechism is wisdom incarnate; the assembled faiths born of mortal minds freed from the restricting chains of dogmatic blindness. Can you believe it, comrades? We laid down our guns, brothers and sisters. We met one another at last, all of us together as unified refugees and mutual children of the All. Meanwhile, amongst the stars, our leaders embraced one other likewise. Finally, our worlds found the unification it so craved: The Persian Accord. Surely, this agreement to eternal peace and dignity must be the truest glorification of the All! If only we could have been there to see it.

Those damned Apocryphals deny us this truth, and so they shall. It has been foretold yet always these betrayers shall resist the Catechism's truth. May the force of their denial be as a grindstone upon the blade of the Sword of Truth they may yet be our salvation and a service to All.

Unfortunately, a dire few may not be saved. Violent sects, the Conquering Ones, shepherds of a cannibal flock, Apocryphal perhaps even by genetic predisposition, the Crusade of Lusitania wages vengeful holocaust against us, knowing not why they resist. Children in tantrum. Abhorrent souls intent on the subjugation of All in opposition to their nonsensical system of enslavement and brutality. Vermin, however resistant. May All crush them beneath civilization's bootheel, and banish them to the Hell they so desire. Do not cry for their dead; they are victims only to the disease self-piety. ”
 * Razi Farza, wandering dervish of Kartika