1664-
Tribes across the expanse of desert and mountains were being brought together by the new rule ofMulay r-Rishid, an Alaouite king. Using his followers to carry on the message, "The West" was a country, ruled by a king. A military to defend them from other peoples would form, and new laws which would help hold families together would be made. The only draw back was; if you revolted, death would be your punishment. Some of the messengers were met by resistance, but word was spreading.
1665-
Slowly, the people were coming around, and a few trade routes had been established with Egypt.
1666-
Many people west of the mountains had joined the new kingdom, some were forced, while others came willingly. However, an army in the south was not willing to join, and blood was spilled on the deserts of Morocco.
1667-
Morocco, the small child discovered by King Mulay caused celebration within the walls of the castle. The King cautioned all that if the newly found country was to be spoken of outside, punishment would be dealt accordingly. Which, of course meant torture or death. So not a word was spoken of the small child hidden behind thick doors inside the most heavily guarded room in the palace. Not even the king was so submerged in security, for he understood that without the girl in his charge, there would be no kingdom to rule, and no people to govern. And the girl stayed behind closed doors, in a small world of luxury, although, no matter how Mulay tried to hide it, many of the tribes within his lands were suffering, and it was obvious in the way that bruises would appear on Morocco, or small cut would suddenly start bleeding after the king was forced to destroy a particularly violent tribe which revolted.
1672-
A messenger ran through the streets of Morocco's capitol. "The king has died! The king has died! His brother will rule in his stead! Moulay Ismaïl Ibn Sharif will be the new king! Spread the news!" He shouted, voice ringing as he sprinted towards the palace.
Finally reaching the doors, he alerted a guard. "The king has fallen off his horse, and died, spread the news!" The guard nodded briskly before leaving to inform the other peoples inside the palace.
It was an hour before a small child in a well-lit room heard of the king's passing. She wept, for a country is always sad when it's first ruler dies, especially when they were as kind as this one. A sadness swept through the land, and it grew as the new king, Moulay Ismaïl Ibn Sharif, showed his ugly side.
1679-
A raging battle swept across Morocco's lands. War cries and the clashing of swords rang throughout the country. In the middle of the fray, a small brunet girl was slashing at a much taller man wearing a ridiculously puffy hat and a mask.
"Leave me alone, Ottoman!" The girl growled, earning a chuckle from the older man.
"I'm afraid that I can't do that, Morocco. It seems that you have some great lands here, I don't think I would mind having them for my own." A sinister smile painted itself on his face, as he slashed at Morocco. She blocked it with the small, curving knife held in her hands, before deftly twisting away his sword and piercing his side with her silver dagger, causing him to fall to his knees in pain. Glaring at her through his mask, he yelled at his men to retreat, before stumbling away.
1682-
"I thought I told you to leave these lands!" Morocco yelled, slicing at The Ottoman Empire with her ever present curved dagger.
"I won't be defeated by a mere child!" Ottoman growled out, attempting to stab at Morocco's chest. Morocco danced away from the blade, but her arm still managed to obtain a nice cut that started dribbling blood down her arm at a steady pace. However, despite her young age, she merely hissed and continued with the deadly dance that wove throughout the battlefield. After a few minutes of jabbing, slashing and blocking, Morocco managed to land a blow the sliced deep into his flesh above his heart, causing the older nation to clutch his chest. A call for retreat by The Ottoman Empire rang through Morocco's lands for the second time in the last three years.
1696-
Again, the Ottoman Empire was forced to retreat from Morocco's lands. This time, a limp was apparent as he retreated. "You win Morocco, these lands are yours. Don't make me regret letting you keep them." Was Ottoman's final words, before he left Morocco to her work. He figured she had to recover, from being in a war so early in her life. She had passed his test, now she was ready for the world.
The countries surrounding Morocco heard of her battles with Ottoman, and respect for her was shown in the eyes of the other nations who walked through Africa or sailed by it's coasts. While it was true that she had not fully recovered, indeed, her very own people were in suffering caused by their king, no nations dared attack her, so moved on the most important problems, her people's leader.
For while he created the largest army Morocco ever housed, with over 150,000 men at his command, his legendary cruelty was said to be monstrous, and indeed, it was. When the war with the Ottoman Turks was finished, he ordered 10,000 of the heads of his fallen enemies to hand on the walls of morocco's capitol, where they hung until weather and ware tore them down, their rotting eyes swelling out of their revolting faces until crows picked them out. 25,000 slaves was the number he had under his commands, and his command alone.
Ismail watched from his throne as a slave walked towards him, and presented a gift from his people, which was most likely to placate his horrible temper. The slave bowed down before him, lowering his head and raising the offering above himself, he shook with the effort of holding whatever was inside the parcel up. The slave still bowed under his stony gaze, and after a few minutes of cold staring, the slave dropped the gift onto the floor, and a cracking noise rang through the room. Ismail rose from his seat.
"How dare you destroy a gift from the people to their king? Your disrespect is disgusting, your only fair penalty is death!" He roared, making the windows shudder from their reverbrations.
And so it went...
Lucky's Corner
Hi, a new chapter already! I know their short, but if I make them too long, I get bored... since I have such a horrible attention span. So, at least I update regularly! Not all of this is historically accurate, since I only took about a week to study Morocco, including culture (food, music, traditions, religion, etiquette ect.) history, and international relations. Sooooo... that's a lot to cover, don't expect it to be perfect. This story really is just a way for me to remember my research on Morocco. I'd love it if people R&R (Hint hint), and thank you to ultimatebishoujo21 for reviewing!