[b]Tehran, Persia[/b]
[i]Summer, 1836[/i]

	The shade of the palace walkways offered little respite from the summer heat that beat down upon the imperial capital of Tehran. Mohammad Shah Qajar, sweating below the thick imperial robes he wore, wrinkled his nose at the stench of hot garbage and waste wafting up from Tehran’s neighborhoods. The city below had changed dramatically since the installation of the Qajari government. While Tehran had been a small merchant town with only a citadel and bazaar of note, the decades-long expansion of Qajari bureaucracy and government systems had led to an explosion in its population to staff offices, government buildings, and educational centers for all manner of sophisticated administrative techniques now fielded across the empire.

	He made a note to himself to engage with the man responsible for Tehran’s sanitation, lest they become no better than the filthy, sand-covered, and unwashed Afghans to the east. Meetings within the crown city increasingly included public health physicians and engineers, trained in France, who advocated for a sewer system like what was being proposed for European capitals. Although Mohammad Shah had his doubts about the complexity and necessity, the smell of Tehran increasingly bothered him. Besides, Grand Vizier Haji Mirza Aqasi had mentioned that Istanbul had constructed a sanitation system during Byzantine times. Despite the Romans accomplishing this feat, Mohammad Shah similarly did not want to be outclassed in his crown jewel city by the Ottomans.

	He continued through the exquisitely ornamented halls of his palace, now inside and out of the weather. Lines of Persian soldiers stood at the walls, clad in their Napoleonic uniforms – constructed with a lighter material for the heat – and holding muskets ready at attention in European drill posture. He walked past them proudly, having idolized the Persian soldier’s transformation since birth. The uniforms were smart and professional, a far cry from the tribal garb that his eastern vassals still maintained. He had summoned some of them from the east for precisely this reason, as his previous orders to modernize had obviously been ignored. Mohammad Shah was certain that the mullahs held more power than himself in those regions, frustrating him.

	The seat of imperial power, the Peacock Throne, sat in the center of Mohammad Shah’s palace. Inside his court, a wide array of characters had assembled for his planned meeting. As he entered, the men bowed in deference to the Shah, remaining submissive as he marched to the throne ahead of them. The doors to the court shut, and Mohammad Shah called the session to order – something he had become enamored with from French judges. He thought it sounded more official than the raucous meetings of the past.

	“My friends,” Mohammad Shah began. “Thank you for traveling such far distances to convene here.”

	He eyed the vassals from the eastern provinces, standing out in their dress from the fashionable Tehranis closer to the throne. He made no further comment about why they were there: that would come later.

	“I was informed by my foreign minister that our French counterparts have an interesting proposal,” Mohammad Shah said. “I am looking forward to hearing about it.”

	From the crowd, Mohammad Shah’s foreign minister emerged with a French advisor. Mirza Abolhassan Khan Ilchi had been loyal to Mohammad Shah’s grandfather, the venerable Fath-Ali Shah Qajar. A cunning diplomat who had successfully retaken the Armenian and Azerbaijani territories from Russia during the wars of a decade prior, Mirza Abolhassan had delivered diplomatic success to Fath-Ali Shah. Despite the turbulence of succession, Mirza Abolhassan remained loyal to his Shah’s grandson and avoided the purge of officials who had defected to the pretender. To his side, a distinctly European man in a suit clasped his hands behind his back. This was Pierre Amédée Jaubert.

	Jaubert had been described to Mohammad Shah as the favorite orientalist of Napoleon himself. Mirroring Mirza Abolhassan, Jaubert was the French architect of Napoleon’s alliance with Fath-Ali Shah. He had managed the professionalization of the Qajari military, rotating hundreds of French instructors and officers through Fath-Ali’s forces while sending trusted Qajari leaders to French military academies. When the time came for Napoleon to thrust into Russia, Fath-Ali finished his famous reconquest of the Caucasus. Fath-Ali had taken a liking to Jaubert and, with his counterpart General Claude Matthieu, they stayed in Persia to advise the court on Western techniques. Indeed, they had even married Persian women of influential court families and settled down on luxurious estates gifted to them by Fath-Ali Shah.

	“My counterpart, Monsieur Jaubert, has informed me that there are a great many rumors about the health of King Charles,” Mirza Abolhassan said. “I know these have been circulating for many years, but they have intensified over the last few months. The French people are convinced that their monarch is going to perish soon.”

	Mohammad Shah stroked his beard, leaning on an arm of the Peacock Throne. “I have heard these rumors, yes, but why do you believe that they are more relevant now?”

	“Mohammad Shah,” Jaubert said, his Persian accent coming through as incredibly sterile and academic, “I still retain contacts from the old regime in Paris who are deeply skeptical of the Bourbons. Charles has not been seen in public in many months, and those who are still inside the government report that he has not been involved in policy decisions lately. Truly a man on his deathbed, if I were to predict these things.”

	Mirza Abolhassan nodded. Aqasi similarly tutted in agreement while turning to Mohammad Shah: “Your grandfather was, despite our best doctors’ work, in a similar state before his passage.”

	“I have taken the liberty of messaging my counterparts in our territories east of Africa. Many of them are good friends of myself and General Matthieu. As you may well know, these men were instrumental in reestablishing control over these territories during King Napoleon’s return. They were sold out by the French before and have no desire to become traded to the British for a one-time payment again.”

	“Yes, Mohammad Shah,” said Mirza Abolhassan. “The French governors have all expressed interest in continuing their business under the Qajari banner. Minister Jaubert and General Matthieu have all extolled your generosity to the comrades of Napoleon. They would be honored to further our cause.”

	Mohammad Shah raised an eyebrow. “Truly this would disrupt what little relations we have with the Bourbon regime. What benefit would this gain for us?”

	“Mohammad Shah, while the Indian colonies are a mere shadow of their former selves, they provide us with financial opportunities in terms of their factories there. More importantly, there is a substantial income that comes with the island colonies. While some of them grow coffee, tobacco, and other exotic crops that you cannot find in your kingdom, the true value lies within the East Indies trade route. Ships of all flags must stop at some of these islands where the governors there tax provisions, crew rest, and maintenance. We may even see business from the British, if the Egyptians follow through with their threat to close the Sinai to British overland transfers.”

	Aqasi leaned in to Mohammad Shah’s ear. “There are accountants working on the total amount of profit, if you care for the details.”

	“I do not,” handwaved the Shah. “But it sounds like a tempting opportunity.”

	He turned back to the court ahead of him. “Do we have any predictions of how the Bourbons will react?” he asked Mirza Abolhassan.

	“I suspect they will be too embroiled in domestic turbulence to do much about it, besides economic means. But, it is better to become self-sufficient than to keep ourselves tied to Europe. In their own words - [i]mieux vaut être seul que mal accompagné[/i].”

	Jaubert smirked, but remained silent in the court. He composed himself: “Mohammad Shah, if you give me the approval, then I shall send a clandestine message to the governors to prepare for Charles’s death.”

	“I agree,” declared Mohammad Shah. “Make your preparations.”

	He waved away Mirza Abolhassan and his French advisors, who politely bowed out and shuffled to the rear of the court. Mohammad Shah turned back to Grand Vizier Aqasi: “I would indeed like to visit one of those islands, perhaps next spring.”

	“Absolutely, Mohammad Shah,” Aqasi replied. “Now, let us attend to the Khorasanis.”

	Mohammad Shah, from the Peacock Throne, dismissed the foreign minister and his French counterparts. As the court rearranged itself to allow for these men to leave, the eastern vassals trudged forward to Mohammad Shah’s feet and stood, bracing for the admonishment that they were about to receive. As the doors closed behind Mirza Abolhassan and Amédée Jaubert, they could hear the faint sounds of the Shah shouting. But what happened behind closed palace doors was none of their concern.