1921 – Southern Arabia
The valley was choked in morning fog, and dew clung like sweat to the stone terraces. Malik stood barefoot in a cold stream, his robe soaked from the knees down, arms folded as water rippled past. Behind him, men chopped wood, cooked millet over open fires, and trained with wooden rifles. Chickens clucked somewhere behind a tent.
The sound of civilization.
But in Malik's head, the voice was still quiet.
You haven't asked me anything in three days.
"I wanted to see what I could do without you," he replied, not looking up. "To see if I'm the man or the echo."
The voice was patient. And what have you discovered?
Malik took a slow breath. "I'm both."
Later That Day — First Camp, Wadi RimaThe tent Malik had made his office was woven from goat hair. A battered map sat on the floor before him—inked by hand, dotted with symbols for water, trade, danger, and allegiance.
A courier entered, young and sweating. "Sir, messengers from Al Hudaydah and Zabid. They want to negotiate entry into the alliance."
Malik nodded. "Send them food and water. Let them rest. We'll talk at dusk."
He turned back to the map. His fingertips traced the coastline from the Gulf of Aden to the Red Sea.
Control the coasts, and you control the traders, the voice said. And traders control the cities. The cities shape the world.
He nodded. "We'll begin laying roads. Cut through the tribal borders. Force the geography to unify."
You're thinking like an engineer.
"No," Malik said, smiling faintly. "I'm thinking like a surgeon."
1922 — The Treaties of Fire and Sand
Over the course of a year, Malik signed eleven major tribal treaties. Not with blood or threats, but through meticulous negotiations.
Every meeting began the same way: he sat at the same height as the tribal sheikhs. No throne. No guards.
He made three promises:
Justice under Islamic law — fair, swift, and without favoritism.
Shared wealth from trade and agriculture — taxed equally and reinvested locally.
National education for all children — boys and girls, free of charge.
"And what do you ask in return?" an old sheikh from Tihama once asked, eyeing him skeptically.
"Your loyalty to a future none of us have seen, but all of us will build."
1923 — Meeting the Sufi General
In a windswept plain north of Taiz, Malik was introduced to a man called Amin ibn Rumi — a retired soldier from the Ottoman wars, turned mystic, known to followers as "the Wandering Sword."
Amin was dressed in a patched cloak and carried a rusting French saber. He eyed Malik with curiosity.
"You wear no armor," he said. "No ring of power. And yet men cross deserts for your name."
"I carry something heavier than armor," Malik replied. "Responsibility."
The general laughed. "Responsibility doesn't stop bullets."
"No," Malik said. "But it makes people willing to stop them for you."
They spoke for hours under moonlight, and when dawn broke, Amin placed his sword at Malik's feet.
"Teach me what you know. I will protect what you build."
1924 — The First Military Academy
It was built not with stone but with principles.
Malik refused to model his forces after British or French colonial armies. "We do not exist to project power," he told the first class of 120 cadets, "but to preserve dignity."
The academy's oath was simple:
"I serve not a man, nor tribe, nor ambition — but the people, the land, and the justice of God."
Cadets studied:
Qur'anic ethics
Engineering and logistics
Tactical history
Foreign languages
Desert survival
Civic law
Women were admitted to medical divisions. By year's end, the academy had doubled in size.
1925 — A Letter from Palestine
A smuggled letter arrived from Jerusalem.
Malik read it alone, beneath the crescent moon.
"They tear the land, Malik. They sell homes to strangers. They hang flags on buildings they did not build. You speak of unity, but I ask you: can it come fast enough?"
Malik folded the letter slowly.
You're not ready for that front, the voice said quietly. Not yet.
"I know. But I will be."
1926 — Dust Storms and Dreams
That summer, sandstorms swept the western provinces. Crops failed. Wells dried. Discontent spread.
Malik didn't send emissaries.
He went himself.
He stood in front of starving families and dug trenches for irrigation. Carried sacks of barley. Slept beside farmers in broken tents. Delivered sermons on hope, not punishment.
One boy asked, "Are you the king?"
"No," Malik replied. "The king eats before his people. I eat after."
1927 — First Coins, First Anthem
The southern confederation was growing fast — in land, people, and complexity. Bartering no longer served a nation that now traded salt, textiles, and copper with ports in Berbera and Bombay.
So Malik formed the Bayt al-Māl al-Markazi — the Central Treasury of the Kingdom — to mint the realm's first true currency.
It wasn't gold-plated flash. It was practical.
Copper fils for market stalls.
Silver dirhams for savings and wages.
And a limited run of solid gold dinars — not for spending, but for vaults, diplomacy, and legacy.
And then came the paper.
Printed in Istanbul under tight security, the first Dinar al-Fajr notes bore no faces. Only verses in calligraphy, geometric latticework, and a watermark of the rising sun over a crescent and book.
1 Dinar al-Fajr: For daily use — secure, modest.
5 Dinars: For trade — cotton-linen blend with threaded ink.
10 and 50 Dinars: For banks and state transfers — stamped, signed, and sealed.
Their slogan?
"Issued by the Central Treasury of the Kingdom. May it serve justice and trade."
The people trusted the paper because they trusted Malik. A national anthem followed, written by a blind poet from Aden, scored by a Persian convert who had fled Russian pogroms.
The chorus rang:
From ash and river, we rise as one,
Not by the whip, but by the sun.
O Land of the Fajr, we kneel to none.
1928 — The Failed Assassination
It happened in the city of Kawkaban.
A knife, thrown from a rooftop, grazed Malik's shoulder. His guards tackled the would-be killer. A young man — barely 17 — eyes wild with panic and shame.
Malik did not order his death. He ordered tea.
"Why?" he asked the boy gently.
The boy wept. "I was told you would destroy Islam. That you were a puppet. That you…"
Malik handed him water.
"I speak the same shahada you do," he said. "But I don't worship fear."
The boy later became a teacher in one of Malik's new schools.
1929 — A Nation from Dust
By the end of the decade, the Southern Islamic Confederation stretched across modern-day Yemen, parts of Oman, and southern Saudi Arabia. It had:
A functioning postal system
1,000 km of new roads
4 military academies
300 schools
A central bank
Civil courts based on Qur'anic law with public oversight
Foreign powers mocked him in private. "A barefoot prophet with camels and slogans."
But their diplomats kept arriving. Quietly. Curious.
Vision Beyond Mountains
Malik sat beneath a fig tree, looking out over the city of Zabid. Minarets pierced the skyline. Children laughed in the distance. Smoke curled from kitchen chimneys.
You could stay here, the voice said. You've done enough.
"No," he whispered. "This is only the ribcage. The heart hasn't been born yet."
Then where do we go next?
He pointed north.
"The Hejaz. Medina. Mecca. If we can win the heart, the body will follow."
And after that?
Malik closed his eyes.
"All of it."