EgyptWaters before Damietta
Dozens of ships surrounding the harbor turned their prows toward the open sea.
On the opposite side of the harbor, wooden warships cut through the current.
Sailors carried ropes and barrels, shouting as they moved.
"Prepare the fire!"
"Watch it over there! Do you want to burn alive?!"
"Don't just focus on that—handle what's inside the pottery carefully as well!"
Each time the ships rocked, seawater splashed across the deck.
"Soon more than a hundred ships will clash. Does it not make your blood boil just thinking of it?"
Ruaak muttered, looking up at the mast.
Water dripped from the axe in his hand.
"Stop changing the subject and admit it."
Hugh shouted with a grin.
"In the end, was I not right? The moment we laid siege to Damietta, they turned back at once."
"…."
Ruaak frowned.
"We could not be certain until we sent reconnaissance vessels. To say it like that—"
"A wager is a wager. Is the warrior of warriors, the Viking, going to speak with two tongues?"
"Very well, I was wrong. Are you satisfied now?"
Hugh shrugged with a playful smile.
At that moment, a member of the Holy Sepulchre Guard approached them.
"The fleet is fully prepared, Commander. After sitting idle for days, the men were itching for action. I passed around a drink to keep them sharp."
He handed over a horn cup.
"I set one aside for you."
"…I am fine. My stomach is not in good condition."
Ruaak replied, staring at the cup.
Hugh burst into laughter beside him.
"It has been decades since I felt this refreshed. Thank you. Truly, thank you."
Hugh said to the bewildered guard.
Ruaak let out a deep sigh.
"Have we made contact with the ships from Tripoli and Venice?"
"Yes. Thanks to the Angel's Eye, we were able to form formation first. They have only just discovered us."
The subordinate continued excitedly.
"We can strike while they scramble to form ranks. Victory is as good as ours."
"The training was not in vain."
Ruaak said.
He recalled the drills in Cyprus.
Communication and fleet formation using the Angel's Eye.
Those exercises were bearing fruit now.
What greater advantage could there be than seeing farther than the enemy?
"And with the Archangel Michael at our side, how could we possibly lose?"
"The Lord grants victory only to those who are worthy."
Hugh said.
"In the end, it is we who stand and fight them face to face. Do not forget that."
"Sir Hugh speaks rightly."
Ruaak said.
He raised his hand and shouted.
"Do not grow complacent! During Cyprus, our guard alone suffered many casualties. We must not repeat that."
"Blood must be shed for victory—"
The subordinate lowered his head at Ruaak's sharp gaze.
He shouted,
"I will remind them. Move, you sluggards! Do you want it said that the great Roman fleet lagged behind Tripoli and Venice?!"
"No!"
"Then move!"
Ruaak and Hugh both stood on the deck, looking ahead.
"It will not be an easy fight."
"I think the same. The Egyptians will try by any means to lift the siege of Damietta. Though merely pressuring them here fulfills our mission."
"The Prince must be in Assassin territory by now. I wonder what he is doing."
Ruaak fell into thought.
How many years had it been since he left his homeland?
Countless seas and cities.
Even Constantinople.
Yet he had never encountered someone like Baldwin.
Those eyes burning with ambition and drive.
The moment he first saw the Prince, he knew.
I must follow this boy.
That was why he had volunteered to lead the Holy Sepulchre Guard.
Hugh laughed.
"He will be flying about like a hawk hunting prey. He has been that way since Eilat."
At that moment, the sailors' cries shook the deck.
Seawater sprayed once more.
"When they enter range, burn every last one of their ships!"
Dark night.
Shadows moved through the brush.
Footsteps without hesitation.
The faint clinking of chainmail echoed.
"No abnormalities ahead."
"Remain vigilant. This is enemy territory."
The shadows halted at a single point.
On a hill overlooking the road.
"This is the place Brother Arnan mentioned."
"Tomorrow the Saracens will pass here. We strike at the loosest part of the caravan."
Pelagius said.
His helmet and mail glinted under the moonlight.
"Check your arms and move behind the rocks. The information about the caravan is certain?"
"The center consists only of Saracens. Prince Baldwin's escort remains at the front."
"It must be certain. Killing Saracens is no matter, but…."
One subordinate approached him.
"Brother Pelagius. Even if it is the Order's command, this means raising our swords against Prince Baldwin—"
"The ones we raise our swords against are Saracens."
Pelagius said.
"We follow the Grand Master's orders. There is no need to think deeply. Understood?"
"…Understood."
"Good. We must leave no trace that we attacked. Wear black cloaks. It must appear as though we are the Hospitallers."
Pelagius said.
"Anything we cannot carry, burn. No prisoners. All for the Knights Templar."
"For the Holy City and the pilgrims."
"For the Holy City and the pilgrims."
Faint birdsong.
The carriage swayed from side to side.
"Sitting like this all day makes me feel ill."
Joscelin stretched.
"I would rather ride a horse."
"Then they will not take the bait. They will observe from afar and flee."
I said.
The swaying carriage was bearable.
Compared to seasickness and sleepless nights, this was nothing.
The Hospitallers, Joscelin, my direct knights.
Hunters waiting to capture the Templars.
We were hidden inside the Assassin supply wagons.
I looked at Count Joscelin.
I had not expected him to agree so readily.
He was firmly of the King's faction.
Upon hearing of Guy and the Templars' scheme, he had joined without hesitation.
The trap itself was simple.
We would deliberately create a vulnerable point in the caravan to lure the attack.
Once they bit the bait, we would seize them on the spot.
The important thing was preventing information from leaking.
I had shared it only with a few whose loyalties I had confirmed.
"The arrest of the Templars at the fortress troubles me. If word spreads that they were detained…."
"It will be difficult for the strike force to learn of it so quickly."
I said.
Just before departing, we had confined the Templars within the fortress.
There were few means of communication in this age.
Carrier pigeons perhaps.
But they traveled only between fixed locations.
The knights already sent out to attack would not receive the news.
"To think they would commit such an act over reduced tribute."
Joscelin spat outside.
"I must see it with my own eyes to believe it."
"Perhaps gold matters more than defending the Holy City."
I said.
The irony was stark.
The formal name of the Templars was "The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon."
Individually, the knights were poor.
The Order itself was not.
From estate management to investment of donations.
They reached for anything that yielded profit.
The deposit scheme I had proposed was no different.
"Do you believe they will resist, Count?"
"If we surround them on site, they will not think to fight. Killing Saracens is one thing…"
Joscelin shrugged.
"But raising a blade against one of royal blood would send them straight to hell."
"Still, let us prepare."
I said.
They had already bent their principles once.
There was nothing preventing them from doing so again.
"When cornered, one cannot know what choice they will make. Instruct the knights to remain cautious."
"Yes, Prince."
I leaned my head against the carriage.
It had been a long time since I had rested like this.
Jerusalem to Eilat.
Constantinople, Cyprus, and now these Assassin mountains.
It felt as though I had already traveled enough for a lifetime.
How much farther must I go?
Drowsiness came over me.
I closed my eyes to the rhythm of the carriage.
I awoke in the late afternoon.
My entire body burned.
Tension. Hostility.
Clear murderous intent.
I shot upright.
My body was drenched in sweat.
"What is it, Prince?"
"They are right ahead."
"But how could you know that from inside the carriage—"
"I can."
I glanced outside.
The sun was setting.
Orange light stained the mountains red.
The hostility came from the mountains to the right.
"Tell the lead wagon to slow to a stop. As though there is trouble with a wheel."
"You mean to lure them."
"Yes. We must appear as appetizing as possible."
Garnier approached the rear of the wagon, dressed as an Assassin.
"I will order the men to dismount. Of all times, they chose sunset—"
"Not yet."
I raised a hand.
"We must wait until they come closer."
There was still distance between us.
If we revealed ourselves too soon, they would flee.
Timing was everything.
The wagons slowed to a halt.
I focused my senses.
The scent of dry earth and weeds.
The cooling ground beneath.
And through it—excitement and hatred.
The faint smell of sweat.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Knights and soldiers gripped their weapons, awaiting my signal.
Just as I was about to speak—
A shout rang out.
Almost like the roar of a beast.
"Deus vult!"
"God wills it!"
Latin and Occitan.
As expected, Templars.
Deus vult, indeed.
They attach God's name to anything—but this was excessive.
At my signal, everyone burst from the wagons.
I leapt out as well.
The clash of steel rang out.
Joscelin shouted,
"Halt!"
Silence fell.
Faint birdsong echoed.
I looked at the attackers.
Black cloaks.
Hospitaller garb.
So they meant to frame the Hospitallers.
Remarkable.
Their confusion was palpable.
They had not expected allies to emerge from the wagons.
"You fools! And you call yourselves knights of the Holy City!"
Joscelin broke the silence.
He strode forward.
"Throw down your weapons! We already know you are Templars!"
His voice echoed across the mountains.
The attackers flinched.
"To disguise yourselves as Hospitallers and commit such a vile act. Did you think you would escape unscathed?"
"Templars? What are you saying?"
The man at the front spoke.
Unexpectedly calm.
But his emotions churned violently.
"We were pursuing Saracens who attacked a nearby fortress and arrived here. Why is the Count defending these infidels—"
"You pursued Saracens from a nearby fortress all the way here? From which fortress did you travel such distance?"
"If you do not step aside, Count, we will consider you allied with the infidels."
"So now you threaten me."
Joscelin scoffed.
He gestured toward me.
"Do you truly not recognize who stands before you?!"
I removed my helmet and stepped forward.
Even if they ignored Joscelin, they could not ignore royal blood.
Garnier and Aig followed close behind.
A soldier raised the banner of Jerusalem.
"Prince Baldwin?"
The attackers murmured.
I met their gaze directly.
"If you possess the resolve to kill both a count and a prince, I would almost commend you."
"…."
"You have all heard the stories of me. A few days ago, the Archangel Michael spoke to me…"
I said.
No one was more devout than these knights.
A little embellishment would suffice.
"He told me there were apostates who had turned their blades against Christ. Did you think I would not know your plan?"
"…."
The effect was immediate.
They recoiled.
The sun dipped beneath the horizon.
Orange light faded from the mountains.
Then a shout broke through the silence.
"Retreat!"
"Retreat!"
"What are you doing?! Seize them!"
The attackers turned and fled.
Knights and Assassin fighters pursued them.
Several at the front were captured.
But dozens escaped into the mountains.
The terrain made pursuit on horseback difficult.
Both pursuers and fugitives cast off armor and ran.
Joscelin approached.
"In this darkness, we cannot pursue for long. These are mountains…"
He added,
"We may have to abandon the attempt to capture them all."
"The night is long, Count. Tell the men to prepare torches."
I looked into the darkness.
Darkness meant little to me.
"Even if we must run all night…"
Let us see how far they can flee.
I focused my senses once more.
"Not a single one will escape."