Accounts of the Fall

A record of Kamalshahr after the downfall of Babkha. As told by Hesam the Jahandar.

Account II

The detail of the ledger in the BLCP media company was good, but not great. It's last note was a broadcast from the agriculture minister stating the inevitability of the collapse of the Kingdom. Speaking as interim Vice-Roy and Grand Vizier, his suggestion was for the good citizens of Babkha to summer in Rapsur, given the excellent climate.

Many citizens did and convincing themselves they boarded up the windows of their town homes, paying their house servants enough money to maintain their homes until the winter. Most believed that they would be returning when the riots ended, and naturally the world would return to normal. Some were more pragmatic and could see the obvious. Moving their assets abroad and burning their properties for the insurance and anonymity.

The night that the last media broadcast was made, anyone in kamalshar that could afford a television or radio was focused and attentive. The oligarchal families had long since left to Shireroth, and those that remained in Kamalshar remained dutiful to protect the value of the state.

In the security sector south of the river of the palaces, the officers of the IBAF Air Base held a morale ball for the families and close friends remaining. The Grand Viziers palace had been abandon the year before, and SAVAK, had bricked up or blown up the tunnels that connected it to the base. The Shah's palace had been ransacked, gutted and burned. Now it was an illegal domicary for the river gypsies that had previously lived in shanties along the bridge banks.

The IBAF Commander had also since left. As had his deputies, and anyone with any means of escape. A Logistics Colonel had been elected by the remaining officers, simply because he was the highest ranking officer remaining. While the closest riots were a kilometre away at the university, the families on base were naturally concerned. The mess hall was decorated, and the senior non-commissioned members were asked and paid to 'source' alcohol, and any Treesian red that might be available. They were naturally successful, with everyone knowing they would inherit the base after everyone else had left. But the point was now. Now, the porters and clerks patched their mess dress, aired out what was needed and did their best to regain the spirit of lost good days. The polish on shoes was only matched with the polish of smiles against otherwise anxious faces. Under a few flickering halogen lights, the mess hall was transformed into the last bastion of civilisation within 400km of Kamalshar. It was a hot summer, and there wasn't enough power for the ceiling fans. The fine and few put on their best, and sustained themselves against embarrassing patches of sweat and clothing that nearly fit well, only a year before. It wasn't important. After months of chaos, the IBAF ball was a welcomed palate cleanse of normalcy against an otherwise rotting city.