Legends Never Die: The Rebellion (ch. 172) (Patreon)

Hadi had many talents. As a younger man, he grew keenly aware of them in the name of survival. At the time, he intended to coast on them. Be good enough in whatever it was so he would hit a sweet spot of being just good enough to get by -- no one would seek to have him removed or see him elevated. Given his current responsibilities, that plan had thoroughly failed, but the information did carry forward. 

Public speaking was not amongst his talents. He wasn’t Charlemagne or Siegfried, who could shout a few words to turn an army on the verge of dissolution into a unified force. He lacked a certain charm. A charisma that separated the greats from everyone else. Something that suited him fine. It was ideal, even. 

When he did have to speak, he usually had Sheba write his speeches. Given how persuasive she was, he just needed to read the words, pretend to believe them, and that was enough to get the job done. 

However, his wife was not here. And Hadi doubted even she would know what to say to Harun given their present circumstances. There probably didn’t exist the right combination of words to… Hadi didn’t even know. In the span of about two months, Harun was nearly assassinated, betrayed by his closest advisors, imprisoned in his own room with his family, and had nearly every Emir declare for the man who nearly assassinated him… Then Hadi arrived, invading Baghdad and taking it within a day. 

It seemed a little much to hope for that everything would just be okay. It didn’t feel like the kind of thing that could be smoothed over with a wink, a smile, and a truly dangerous amount of wine. 

So, Hadi decided actions would have to suffice. Which is why he was already kneeling when Harun entered the throneroom, which had hastily been cleared of the celebrations. Of course, none of the attendants had been captured. Those aware of the plot to free the Caliph knelt behind him, but the rest fled with Jafar. 

It was unsurprising that Jafar managed to escape. He likely planned exactly how he would since the moment he heard of Hadi’s arrival. He would say this about the traitor -- Jafar was clever. And quick to flee when the moment the situation turned against him. 

The sound of a pair of doors opening alerted Hadi to Harun’s arrival, but he didn’t raise his head. Not until Harun sighed and gave the order. “Rise, Hadi al-Gaib. You, above all others, have no reason to bow to me.”

That sounded like a test. “It is only natural to bow to the Caliph,” Hadi replied, lifting his head. Harun… Harun looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, hinting at a lack of sleep. But more than that, he just seemed exhausted. 

It was unsurprising there was a guarded glimmer in his eyes. Yahya and Jafar betrayed him. His Emirs betrayed him, acting on the thinnest excuse to remove a threat to their power. Even if Harun found no fault in him and sincerely believed Hadi acted in his best interest, Hadi didn’t think for a moment he would ever be trusted as he had been. Not because Harun had any reason to distrust him. Harun simply wouldn’t be capable of it. 

“Your former ward is being attended to.” Harun didn’t comment or repeat the command. “I do not yet know if he will live, but my attendants assure me he is strong.”

A knot of tension tightened ever so slightly around Hadi’s heart. Only one of the men sent with Khalid managed to survive rescuing the Caliph, and he would be forever maimed for his efforts. Khalid was whole, but suffered no less than a dozen wounds and a deadly amount of blood loss. There was no promise of survival. It was in Allah’s hands. Hadi could only hope his favor would extend to saving Khalid’s life. 

“Thank you, my Caliph,” Hadi replied, and a loud silence fell upon the throne room before it was broken by a soft sigh. 

“News was sparse during my captivity,” Harun continued. “Jafar would speak with me on occasion under the pretense of consulting with me. He delighted to inform me that the Caliphate was strong, with or without me. He used it as proof of his claim to my title and position. That it was by his hand our dynasty ruled the Caliphate, and he alone administered it while my ancestors were figureheads.” 

Hadi didn't know what to say to that. Or what to make of Harun openly discussing this in the throne room. It felt pointed. Like he was making a point, but he couldn't see what or to who. All the same, he found his voice. “Jafar has an over inflated sense of importance.” 

“He does,” Harun agreed. “And in his envy, he mistakes what a Caliph is.” 

Harun leaned forward upon his throne, “Siegfried and Charlemagne build their empires around themselves. They are the face of it. The driving force. When they do well, the empire does well. When they do not, then the empire does poorly. By Charlemagne's will, Rome has been raised from the ashes against all reason and good sense. Siegfried has forged kingdoms from quarreling tribes and keeps the peace because his people think him a god.” 

Hadi said nothing, simply listening with rapt attention. 

“A Caliph is meant to be replaceable. Dynasties exist to ensure a stable transition of power from Caliph to heir, but the Caliph himself does not matter. Should not matter.” He seemed to correct himself. “That is my dream. To build a Caliphate so stable that even with my removal, the Caliphate hardly notices my loss. Well, Hadi? Do you believe my dream is possible?” 

“... No,” Hadi admitted with a small pause. It sounded ideal. There would be no golden ages of enlightenment and progress, but neither would there be times of strife and chaos that weakened the Caliphate. Chaos that allowed the first Caliphate and the Prophet Muhammad to rise in the first place, as both Rome and the Sasanian Empire had been shadows of their former glory. 

The issue wasn't with the idea. It was people who were the problem. There was always going to be another Jafar. There were always going to be greedy Emirs and lesser nobles who simply wanted more because they thought they should have it. Men and women would always find themselves in positions they didn't deserve, looking at short-term gains instead of long-term consequences. 

There was no fixing that. Nothing short of taking everyone's free will. 

Harun, however, smiled. “I can always count on you to give me the truth, Hadi. For that, I am grateful. You are correct -- my dream cannot be achieved. It is impossible. So, I am forced to settle for the next best thing.” 

Hadi didn’t like the sound of that. Or how Harun was looking at him. Honestly, he preferred it when Harun was contemplating if Hadi had betrayed him in some way. That was something he could handle. Because the look was infinitely familiar to him- he saw it in his nightmares. 

“My Emirs have forgotten themselves. They cling to petty powers and place their ambitions over the Caliphate. Perhaps they were misled. Perhaps they were deceived. It matters not. They have taken arms against me, and for this, I name them traitors, and they shall be treated as such.”

… Ah. Well, Hadi supposed it wasn’t outside of his expectations. Even if it did brush close to the worst-case scenario. It even made sense. Innocent or guilty -- it was entirely irrelevant. For years, Harun had been curtailing the powers of the Emirs and the nobility. All to centralize power. In the eyes of the Emirs, he did so to centralize power around himself. They felt the balance of power shifting against them, so they reacted how they knew. 

Mostly by throwing tantrums, withholding taxes, and snubbing the Caliph in ways that they could get away with. Admittedly, they weren’t entirely wrong with their suspicions. They just mistook the motivation behind his actions. However, with this disaster, Harun decided to salvage something with it to wipe the slate clean. 

A purge. 

There was no other word better suited to describe what Harun intended. Perhaps a culling would also fit. Regardless of their intent, their guilt, or ambitions… Harun would purge the Emirs and their nobility. He would pluck those worth salvaging, then discard the rest. Something that was meant to take place over decades was instead happening… now. 

“I must lean on your strength once more, Hadi al-Gaib,” Harun said and Hadi lowered his head once more. 

“All that I am is because you rose me up by your hand.” Against his wishes. Against all good sense. It was nothing but a colossal pain in the ass every step away. But he would be damned before he failed here. Especially against that prick Yusuf. “Command me, and I shall see your will done.”

“Then bring me the heads of my enemies.”

…

The local militia of Baghdad was pressed into service by the Caliph's command. They weren't good for much, and they weren't exactly trustworthy, but they did help inflate his numbers when Hadi departed Baghdad. Their one selling point was that they were just a greedy bunch who didn't care who paid them, only that they were getting paid. 

Yusuf and Ahmed's march slowed when word reached them that Baghdad had fallen after a short siege. They didn't retreat outright, but they had built their plan around squashing Hadi and his army outside Baghdad's walls. For that matter, they were nervous about his confidence. That he didn't wait behind the walls of Baghdad.

Ahead of Hadi's army, there were waves of scouts to determine the size of his host. An additional ten thousand men were pressed into service, ballooning his force to forty-five thousand. He was still outnumbered, but only barely. Yusuf and Ahmed managed to assemble a host of forty-eight thousand. 

While an additional three thousand men wasn't too great of a consideration, it was the disparity of cavalry that worried Hadi. Yusuf had escaped the first battle with all of his cavalry, some four thousand of them. Altogether, his enemies possessed nearly ten thousand cavalry units, comprising horse archers, skirmishers, and heavy cavalry. It contrasted to Hadi's composition, where he primarily had infantry. 

All the worse, Khalid was still bedridden by the time of their departure. He survived the surgeries to save his life, but now it was only a matter of time to see if he would fall ill to infection. 

Hadi only realized how much he relied upon Khalid once he was gone. His most trusted commander was gone when he faced the most pivotal of battles. He had no choice but to continue on without him, and could afford nothing less than a victory. 

The battlefield would be the deciding factor, but that added a complication in itself. It couldn't be too obvious. Yusuf was a fool, but he could still learn from his mistakes. The dust trick would make him wary. Alert for something similar. To make matters worse, they lost their driving force to engage Hadi. Before, they acted in the name of ‘rescuing the Caliph.’ It was a lie, but a compelling one. One that forced them to engage when they otherwise might not, shy from their strings of defeat.

Which left only one option. 

To lose the battle. 

Their armies met on a flat field, which heavily favored Yusuf and Ahmed. There were hills in the near distance, the river which flowed into Baghdad weaving between them. A white flag waved, prompting Hadi to ride out to meet with his opposing generals. 

He felt more outnumbered then, seated across from Yusuf, Ahmed, Yayha, and Jafar. The latter two had been forced into the background, losing what leverage they had within the army but not so much so they were discarded entirely.

Jafar looked as Hadi remembered. A tall thin man with a thin mustache and goatee. He adorned himself in stolen jewelry, giving the impression he was still an equal at the table. Yahya stood by him, deferential, with his gaze cast low. 

“I doubt this comes as a surprise, but you have been labeled traitors by Caliph Harun al-Rashid,” Hadi began without preamble, only then turning his gaze to Yusuf and Ahmed. “He has commanded me to bring him your heads. It is your choice if they remain attached to your shoulders or not.”

“Of course the Caliph has labeled us traitors. That serves you quite well, does it not?” Ahmed questioned, a little smile on his face that Hadi was tempted to smack off. He likely believed Harun was sealed back in his quarters, and Hadi was playing the same game they were. Only better, because he actually won his battles. 

“It would serve me better if you were to surrender now,” Hadi replied, not bothering to correct them. Not bothering to negotiate either. There was no point. With a series of manipulations, he put the two most bullheaded, hot-tempered, short-sighted fools in charge of the army. One of whom was glowering at him with his lone eye as his face adopted a furious shade. “I don’t believe you will be granted mercy, however. Caliph Harun al-Rashid has grown quite tired of your games and ambitions. I suspect your choices are a quick death and an exceptionally creative and painful one.”

“I expected more from your famed silver tongue,” Jafar spoke up, a slight frown tugging at his lips. He didn’t miss the tightening of expressions from Yusuf and Ahmed. Neither did Hadi. He was overstepping, and he knew it. “I have known the Caliph since he was a child. He does not have a vengeful bone in his body. You use him to claim your own vengeance.”

Hadi expected the response. He even counted on it. Yet, hearing it still stoked a simmering frustration in his chest. The sheer fucking gall to utter those words… accusing him of the very thing Jafar had done… It was almost impressive how utterly shameless it was. 

“And you overestimate your importance,” Hadi rebuked. “I would much rather be home, with my wife, than be on this field. Instead, because of your stupidity and greed, I am here. You have never been my enemy nor my friend, because to imply either would mean I gave you a thought at all.”

“Is that it, then?” Yusuf suddenly spoke up, an edge of anger in his tone. A restrained edge. It was unwelcome to Hadi’s ears. It meant he realized Hadi managed to provoke him into rash action during their last battle, and he was taking caution to avoid the same fate now. 

“I believe so,” Hadi replied. “I have nothing more to say to any of you.”

“Then let our actions speak,” Yusuf replied, turning his horse away. Ahmed’s gaze lingered on Hadi for a moment more before he joined his co-commander. 

“Hadi-” Yahya started, but Hadi silenced him with a look. Their eyes met, and with a glance, Hadi conveyed everything. There was a flicker of shame in Yahya’s expression, but he wiped it away. Hadi’s gaze followed him and his father as they joined the others before he too turned away, riding back to his own battle lines. 

The plan was quite simple. Exceedingly so, because Hadi could not afford anything else. It was also exceptionally difficult because it relied upon his non-existent charisma. Perhaps if Khalid was here, then Hadi could go with another plan, but he wasn’t, so he couldn’t. He just had to hope self-interest was enough motivation. 

A horn blast began the battle, and it began with an exchange of missiles -- arrows released from bows, javelins, and stones from slings. Hadi’s horse archers and light cavalry were helplessly outnumbered, almost three to one. However, they were doing exactly what Hadi needed of them. And that was to buy time. 

Because Hadi immediately called for a retreat. The back lines of his army began to form up under commanders who had been informed of the plan. Under the cover of dust and the mass of bodies, they withdrew without difficulty. The middle lines weren’t informed of what was happening before it happened, but they followed the back line. 

There were exactly two reactions to what Hadi was doing. Aggression and caution. There was nothing in between. Either Yusuf and Ahmed would press the advantage, attacking their retreating army, or they wouldn’t. Because they would grow cautious of the man who had bested them already and wary of the unusual tactic. After all, who retreated from a battle as soon as it began?

Wiser men would choose caution. They would suspect a trap. And that was the exact wrong thing to do. Sometimes, rash but decisive action was the correct choice. Even an idiot was right on occasion, after all. 

His cavalry covered their retreat from the field, allowing them a hasty but organized withdrawal. Yusuf saw vulnerability, even if he didn’t understand why Hadi was retreating. The first attacks that nipped at their heels were a mixture of caution and aggression. Sending outriders wide and in small groups to sniff out a trap that wasn’t there. It was only when the attacks commenced without issue that Yusuf and Ahmed started to commit. 

Their cavalry rode ahead of their infantry, harassing Hadi’s retreat towards the hills. Some units of his army fared better than others, of course, and those that fared poorly were chosen in advance. Such as the militia, the mercenaries, and the men who were sworn to Yusuf’s family. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, but… no, it was because he didn’t trust them. 

But even if he didn’t trust them, they still served his interest. Of course, when they didn’t fare well, they naturally quit the field. They broke off from the main force in an attempt to save their own lives, or they threw down their weapons to surrender. Some of them were even welcomed into the army and sent against Hadi’s retreating rear. 

It was a chase that lasted two days. 

In those two days, the flatlands gave way to rolling hills spotted with sparse forests. Less ideal for cavalry, so Yusuf pulled back the cavalry. He pressed forward with the infantry, intent to chase Hadi until the end, even as his army disintegrated around him. Groups of a thousand or more broke off, splitting away from the whole. 

Wiser men would have seen the trap coming. The lack of resistance, how easily Hadi fled, or how Hadi was retreating to grounds that favored him significantly. However, Yusuf and Ahmed were not wise men. They were arrogant and short-sighted, and they were convinced of their own superiority. If they had doubts, then they were set aside after two days of success. Two days of watching Hadi’s retreating army grow smaller and smaller and smaller. 

If Yusuf and Ahmed ever suspected they were walking headfirst into a noose, they gave no indication of it. Not even when banners appeared in the spaces between the hills and trees, flanking their army from both sides. The split-off portions of his army weren’t deserters. They simply appeared as such, and in their haste for Hadi’s head, they dismissed them as no threat. 

They announced themselves with a great war cry when they spilled between the hills to strike at the marching army. Trees fell, crushing men and wagons alike to make a retreat that much more difficult. By the time the ambush arrived, Yusuf and Ahmed’s army was vastly outnumbered by Hadi’s. However, caught out of position, confident in their victory, they were poorly prepared to handle the twenty-five thousand men Hadi still commanded. 

Hadi watched the battle unfold, seated upon his horse as he munched an apple. He watched standards fall one by one, men surrendering and those who tried to flee falling to arrows or captured. 

A small sigh escaped him. “That was entirely too easy,” he muttered. 

He could only hope that this time spent fighting fools wouldn’t dull his wits when it came time to wage war against Rome.