The Bawervan Manuscripts

The Kafīl of the Bawervan Nation was a man of honor. He ordered a cadre of his bravest men to escort Marco Polo’s emissaries back toward the Silk Road and protect them until they reached the threshold of what is now northern Syria, then known as the Mamluk Frontier.

“You are part of our history now. Our nation will always be your home.”

When the emissaries finally reached Italy, they became a sensation among noble circles. They spoke of a handsome, earthy people who resembled Europeans in appearance but lived closer to the land. Their account of saving their leader’s son from certain death—and everything that followed—captivated the courts of Europe. The Pope himself summoned the emissaries to hear their testimony.

In Avignon, a Prussian scholar employed by the papal court became completely fascinated by the tale. He retained Marco Polo’s chief delegate, the man who had endured that extraordinary passage through the lands of the Bawervan Nation.

That scholar, Friedrich von Barmen, was a dedicated student of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean civilizations. The accounts of “The Bawervan Kingdom” consumed his thoughts.

Through a series of manuscripts, von Barmen documented the chief delegate’s stories. In "La Prima Battaglia", he unintentionally preserved field tactics that would later be studied by military scholars and adopted across European battlefields in later centuries.

“Crossing into the Bawervan territory was not uneventful. We were met by a group of men armed with long bows, swords, shields, and spears. The son of their king explained to this Vanguard that his detachment had been attacked, and as they were going to be defeated and possibly executed, our group intervened decisively, changing the outcome of the confrontation in their favor.

Entering a valley had turned the entire group vulnerable. To protect their prince—and our company—the Vanguard split in half and moved to each flank in a choreography never seen before.

As night approached, we heard the thunderous advance of a cavalry. Their swords glimmered in the fading light. At the prince’s command, the group adopted a squadrone, forming a protective shield between the terrifying charge and the prince and our men. They shouted something that could be translated as "Ginocchio a terra! Ginocchio a terra!" As the enemy veered away from the squadrone’s arrows, the prince cried "Avanti, avanti. Mantieni lo squadrone!"

This was the beginning of a battle that lasted days.”

In von Barmen’s romantic imagination, the Bawervan possessed a grand king, a vast court of knights, armies, and loyal vassals. The stories told by Marco Polo’s emissaries became the stuff of operas and the heart notes of romantic poetry. He obsessed over their social structure, their methods of trade, and their distinct language. In his mind, they inhabited palaces with coffers full of precious stones, attended by servants dressed in the finest silks and adorned with tiaras of gold and silver.

It was in these manuscripts that von Barmen recorded the first European mention of a figure the emissaries called "Aqilmendtir Baran"—a title, not a name, meaning “the one who carries knowledge forward.”

Conrad Weber had studied von Barmen’s written accounts of Marco Polo’s emissaries. Having traveled extensively through Syria, Egypt, and the Near East alongside Ludolph of Sudheim, a German parish priest from Westphalia, he became infatuated with the idea of returning to the region to find von Barmen’s lost kingdom. He was driven as much by the prospect of immense personal wealth as by the fame and recognition of documenting the Bawervan civilization firsthand.

Weber’s expedition to the Bawervan nation near the Caspian Sea, in the first half of the fifteenth century, lacked any theological justification. Its organizers framed the adventure around a purely secular objective: the economic advantages of securing an alliance with a powerful eastern state positioned directly along the Silk Road. It had been barely two hundred years since the Crusades had flooded Italy and the Papal coffers with immense riches while leaving Central Europe in financial ruin.

It was time for the lands of the Holy Roman Empire to claim their own fortune through an alliance with the East.

With the backing of the Teutonic Order and several ducal patrons, Weber departed Styria in the spring of 1413 to begin his journey east, traveling over land and mountains.

Battling extreme weather and roadside robberies, the expedition reached Tabriz—a major Persian trade hub—after crossing the Anatolian plains. Of the fifty men who began the journey, thirty‑five arrived at this intersection. The men were tired, exhausted, and mutinous.

In Tabriz, Weber contacted guides who claimed to know the territory well, promising to lead the expedition to the frontier of the Bawervan Nation. After spending ten days in the city, the expeditionary group resumed its march toward the southern Caspian Sea. Their objective was to cross the rugged Alborz Mountains, considered by locals a natural fortification barrier protecting von Barmen’s kingdom.

Weber’s diary describes the difficulties encountered with vivid realism:

"The next leg of the trip was notoriously difficult for horses and pack animals, as steep trails were frequently turned into rivers of mud by persistent torrential rains."

"Last night we lost three men. Their tents were washed away by a mudslide. I thank the heavens for their quick passing. No sound came from their camp; they must have been sleeping deeply. The idea that, upon opening their eyes, they saw their passed relatives and their Creator comforts me."

"The local guides have proven their worth daily. They are humble, simple men, hardened by work, wars, and the harsh environment of these mountains. They understand and communicate with us in a mixture of Persian and Arabic. In addition to their precise field skills, they can read and write their own language, which surprised and impressed me deeply. Beyond their mastery of the mountains, they are beginning to learn our language quickly. Their appetite for knowledge of our group is as intense as our desire to learn more about them."

By the end of the second week of their travels through the mountain passes, the guides announced they were in the Bawervan forest frontier.

However, Weber had fallen seriously ill, to what his fellow explorers thought was scrofula. This cast a mantle of superstition among his crew, which, in a mutinous burst of terror, attempted to take Weber’s life, trying to burn him alive to eliminate the consumption threat.

The guides intervened and, using their knowledge of German, declared that such an act was impossible in their presence. The guides were outnumbered, and this moved the explorers; because in spite of their adversity, the natives had shown restraint and honor while under danger, and this was foreign to them.

As Weber’s condition continued to deteriorate, his feverish body could not support itself and had to be carried in a makeshift stretcher.

Under these extraordinary new circumstances, the guides decided to stay with the group until they made contact with the Bawervan Vanguard, feeling that now they were responsible for Weber’s life. They requested no additional compensation for this work.

Two days after the assassination attempt on Weber’s life, the expedition made contact with the Bawervan Vanguard responsible for protecting the nation’s edge. Although the mountain guides were free of their contract, they remained with the group, performing beyond all expectation, until the group reached a village.

On arrival, the Bawervan welcomed the explorers hospitably. The medical doctor of the village devoted himself to the care of the Europeans, in particular to Weber’s illness. Weber was treated with steam, herbal vapor, and concoctions. Nothing seemed to work, and Weber’s health continued its unstoppable downturn. His mind would wander in and out of consciousness.

Weber’s condition deteriorated further on the second day at the village, as he remained unconscious. Remarkably, on the third day, Weber was able to stand up, nourish his body, and stand at the window contemplating the outside world.

After regaining his strength, Weber summoned the scribe of the expedition. He did not feel he had the strength to put the pen to work.

He dictated:

"Today I opened my eyes in a modest village. This must be a border town part of a much larger territory. It was surprising to wake up on a floor bed. The mattress is thick and cradles my weak constitution very comfortably."

"The three Persian guides were waiting outside the room I was in until I opened my eyes. They wanted to make sure I could see that they had fulfilled their contract because they carried me unconscious before the territory was found. They had been paid already by our treasurer. Before they left, they prayed to their God for me to have a safe journey and protect my anima."

"Shortly after, I was visited by the doctor of the village accompanied by its leader, an elder man, a middle‑aged man, and a young boy."

"The Bawervan doctor has assured me I am not suffering from scrofula, but from Mountain Cold. He believes it is serious and that my breathing will continue to deteriorate. However, his care has given me a lucidity and clarity of mind I did not have a few days ago. He has prescribed herbal vapors and a rich broth, which could have been based on a corral animal. I have heard of such ailments before and during my travels. Some people recover and some don’t, but I feel stronger today, and I have hope."

"The man who was the leader of the village spoke and pointed at the elder person, addressing him as “Aqilmendtir Baran” — a sort of historian or philosopher, a scribe of stories, someone who spoke and understood different languages, including ancient dialects."

"As I felt strong enough to sit on my mattress, I inquired if these younger men were his children. He said no. He said that they were also Aqilmendtir Baran, and pointing at the middle‑aged man he said something that translates as — he is Aqilmendtir Baran, my replacement — and pointing to the child he said — he is Aqilmendtir Baran, his student.”

"Their leader then said something I could understand as “they are the soldiers of history.” Before leaving the room, he used both hands, gently, signaling that I should now rest."

It had taken the entire day for Weber to dictate his experiences. Before following the leader’s advice, Weber gathered all his strength and, with the help of the scribe, managed to stand on his feet and approach the window of his room.

Outside, a tall waterfall could be seen in the distance. The jump of water was very pronounced, revealing the awesome force of the river that fed it. The waterfall was so distant that the water seemed frozen on its way down.

“We are here,” Weber said and returned to his resting place as night approached.

When morning came, Conrad Weber had died. A fulminant pneumonia had claimed his life. He was buried where the Bawervan buried their dead, same honors, same respect.

From the remaining thirty‑two explorers, only ten returned to the Holy Roman Empire; the scribe was among them. The rest decided to stay and spend the remainder of their lives with the Bawervan.

In Europe, the story of the adventure experienced by Conrad Weber and his men spread like wildfire through the Holy Roman Empire. Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish between history and legend, but it has been said that someone who witnessed the Duchy of Saxony exclaimed after reading the manuscripts—“We shall return.”

Today, there is a headstone in the cemetery of Munich. Its inscription, written in old German and almost imperceptible from the erosion of time, reads:

“An Conrad Weber: Unser Körper stirbt, doch unser Werk überdauert.”

The Bawervan