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The sound of cannon fire rumbled like thunder in the distance. The capital city of the Zulu nation now lay in ruins. Thekwini, which means “the place where the earth and ocean meet”, was once the most beautiful coastal city on the western continent. Ten thousand people had called this paradise by the sea home. The attacking Persians had reduced the city’s population by a third in less than a week with their deadly bombardments. Thekwini was the last remaining stronghold of the proud Zulu people. When the city fell the following week, the Zulu nation was no more.
Nkosi, a wealthy merchant who called Thekwini his home, witnessed the destruction of the last defenders of his homeland. Hundreds upon hundreds of the feared Persian “Immortals” swarmed over the city walls and began slaughtering the inhabitants in the mist of their blood lust. Persian riflemen, with their deadly repeating rifles, shot citizens indiscriminately. The killings finally ceased and the surviving populace was rounded up in the city square. Nkosi was among these unfortunate souls that now numbered less than 2000. The amount of death and destruction Nkosi had witnessed was numbing to the senses. As they stood and watched the city governor’s execution, he could only hope that his death was as quickly administered.
“Inhabitants of Thekwini; You have been liberated from the tyrannical rule of the criminal Shaka” general Darius announce to the conquered survivors that stood in silence in the town square. “Our supreme ruler Xerxes welcomes you to his eternal kingdom. All of you are to journey to the eastern part of the Persia Empire where your final destination will be determined in the righteous service of Ruler Xerxes.” Nkosi immediately felt a sinking sensation. His fate was now clear; he was to be a slave.
Nkosi had lived in Thekwini since childhood. His father had made the family fortune exporting ivory to Russia in the north and Babylon to the south. When saltpeter was discovered just outside of town, he was the first merchant to trade with their Persian neighbors to the east. It was ironic that Nkosi’s current situation was largely the result of the saltpeter his father had traded to Persia years ago. The life of luxury he had enjoyed seemed a distant memory as he and all that remained of the Zulus began their 1500-mile trek to coastal cities of the Persia Empire situated on the great sea of the east.
What had once been Thekwini had been far removed from the other cities of Zululand. In the months that followed, Nkosi traveled through places he had only read about in his youth. The devastation that he witnessed of once sleepy towns and hamlets was appalling. In the rare cases that a Zulu city was not burned to the ground, occupying Persian forces now patrolled the streets. It was apparent by the mass graves that ringed the countryside that the citizens of these cities had initially resisted. It was only later that he had learned that the cruel conquers had starved the resistors into submission. Any Zulu that survived the takeover of their city was now a broken individual existing only to serve his master from the east. It was about midway through his journey east coast that he witnessed a massive movement of Persian troops heading toward the north. The entourage he was in was forced to wait 2 weeks in order to allow the juggernaut to pass as it made its way to the plains of the north. It was apparent to Nkosi that Russia would soon feel the heavy hand of Persia.
Nkosi arrived in Persepolis the second year of his captivity. Persepolis was a thriving port town nestled in a cove off the snaking Persia coastline. The great eastern ocean stretched out from the town as far as the eye could see. There were literally hundreds of galleys anchored in the bay. Nkosi witnessed ship after ship leaving for the new Persian colonies located on the other side of the eastern sea. The galleys destination was the malaria-infested plantations of the Americas. Each Galley had in its cargo hundreds of enslaved Zulus destined to live out the rest of their lives working in the fields of their Persian masters.
The life expectancy of slaves condemned to work in the Americas was less than 2 years. Slave gangs would spend months at a time clearing the jungles that surrounded the new Persian cities. The laborers working in these jungles were exclusively Zulu slave labor. The American Nation to the north had chose not to inhabit this hostile region due to the heavy death toll incurred by its workers. The Americans initially had welcomed the Persians that had settled in the south. Word of their treatment of the Zulus soon reached Washington, and Mr. Lincoln was not pleased. Lincoln decided to allow the Persians to occupy the inhospitable jungles to the south, but he would keep an eye on his militaristic neighbor on the other continent.
The slave galley that Nkosi was on had been away from port only two days when the powder keg on the Persian / Russian border exploded. Persia, after years of preparation, had invaded Mother Russia. Nkosi was unaware of this fact until a Russian Frigate attacked the ship that was transporting him to certain death. Nkosi was among the survivors that were pulled from the icy ocean by the Russian crew. All the Persian sailors were put to the sword and dumped overboard. The Zulu women and children were offered passage back to Russia and the men a place in the Russian army to fight the Persian menace. At the age of 21, Nkosi joined the Russians in their desperate fight for survival.
Nkosi, a wealthy merchant who called Thekwini his home, witnessed the destruction of the last defenders of his homeland. Hundreds upon hundreds of the feared Persian “Immortals” swarmed over the city walls and began slaughtering the inhabitants in the mist of their blood lust. Persian riflemen, with their deadly repeating rifles, shot citizens indiscriminately. The killings finally ceased and the surviving populace was rounded up in the city square. Nkosi was among these unfortunate souls that now numbered less than 2000. The amount of death and destruction Nkosi had witnessed was numbing to the senses. As they stood and watched the city governor’s execution, he could only hope that his death was as quickly administered.
“Inhabitants of Thekwini; You have been liberated from the tyrannical rule of the criminal Shaka” general Darius announce to the conquered survivors that stood in silence in the town square. “Our supreme ruler Xerxes welcomes you to his eternal kingdom. All of you are to journey to the eastern part of the Persia Empire where your final destination will be determined in the righteous service of Ruler Xerxes.” Nkosi immediately felt a sinking sensation. His fate was now clear; he was to be a slave.
Nkosi had lived in Thekwini since childhood. His father had made the family fortune exporting ivory to Russia in the north and Babylon to the south. When saltpeter was discovered just outside of town, he was the first merchant to trade with their Persian neighbors to the east. It was ironic that Nkosi’s current situation was largely the result of the saltpeter his father had traded to Persia years ago. The life of luxury he had enjoyed seemed a distant memory as he and all that remained of the Zulus began their 1500-mile trek to coastal cities of the Persia Empire situated on the great sea of the east.
What had once been Thekwini had been far removed from the other cities of Zululand. In the months that followed, Nkosi traveled through places he had only read about in his youth. The devastation that he witnessed of once sleepy towns and hamlets was appalling. In the rare cases that a Zulu city was not burned to the ground, occupying Persian forces now patrolled the streets. It was apparent by the mass graves that ringed the countryside that the citizens of these cities had initially resisted. It was only later that he had learned that the cruel conquers had starved the resistors into submission. Any Zulu that survived the takeover of their city was now a broken individual existing only to serve his master from the east. It was about midway through his journey east coast that he witnessed a massive movement of Persian troops heading toward the north. The entourage he was in was forced to wait 2 weeks in order to allow the juggernaut to pass as it made its way to the plains of the north. It was apparent to Nkosi that Russia would soon feel the heavy hand of Persia.
Nkosi arrived in Persepolis the second year of his captivity. Persepolis was a thriving port town nestled in a cove off the snaking Persia coastline. The great eastern ocean stretched out from the town as far as the eye could see. There were literally hundreds of galleys anchored in the bay. Nkosi witnessed ship after ship leaving for the new Persian colonies located on the other side of the eastern sea. The galleys destination was the malaria-infested plantations of the Americas. Each Galley had in its cargo hundreds of enslaved Zulus destined to live out the rest of their lives working in the fields of their Persian masters.
The life expectancy of slaves condemned to work in the Americas was less than 2 years. Slave gangs would spend months at a time clearing the jungles that surrounded the new Persian cities. The laborers working in these jungles were exclusively Zulu slave labor. The American Nation to the north had chose not to inhabit this hostile region due to the heavy death toll incurred by its workers. The Americans initially had welcomed the Persians that had settled in the south. Word of their treatment of the Zulus soon reached Washington, and Mr. Lincoln was not pleased. Lincoln decided to allow the Persians to occupy the inhospitable jungles to the south, but he would keep an eye on his militaristic neighbor on the other continent.
The slave galley that Nkosi was on had been away from port only two days when the powder keg on the Persian / Russian border exploded. Persia, after years of preparation, had invaded Mother Russia. Nkosi was unaware of this fact until a Russian Frigate attacked the ship that was transporting him to certain death. Nkosi was among the survivors that were pulled from the icy ocean by the Russian crew. All the Persian sailors were put to the sword and dumped overboard. The Zulu women and children were offered passage back to Russia and the men a place in the Russian army to fight the Persian menace. At the age of 21, Nkosi joined the Russians in their desperate fight for survival.
It quite refreshes the story bank with at least one story that's not about "how I conquered that city" and "how I beat these guys up". Great style (and very fine english as well I might add), keep it up! I'm looking forward to your next story 
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