I Became The King Of Crusaders [EN]: Chapter 189

< 189. The Third Crusade (4) >

Damascus

Sultan’s Office

“More knights and soldiers than ever before are flocking to the harbor,” Al-Adil announced.

“The ships gathered in Cyprus seem to be mostly Rûm [Byzantine Christians],” he added.

“They’re probably aiming for Egypt. They’ll try to strike Egypt while keeping my attention here in the Levant [Eastern Mediterranean region],” Saladin surmised.

“If you would send me back to Egypt even now…”

“Didn’t we agree to stop talking about that?” Saladin sighed, cutting him off.

“Your presence there now would only create confusion in the chain of command. Taqi ad-Din has done a great job reinforcing Ascalon. We have no choice but to trust him.”

“…If that is your wish, brother, I understand. The preparations for the siege are already complete,” Al-Adil conceded.

Al-Adil nodded. “No matter how many troops they bring, they won’t be able to breach the walls.”

“It’s too early to rest assured. We need to buy more time by any means possible,” Saladin countered, tapping his hand on the table. In one corner of the room, the scribe, Qadi al-Fadil, meticulously recorded their conversation.

“During the Second Crusade, the Franks [Western Europeans] collapsed without a proper battle. We need to create a similar situation.”

“The longer the siege, the more their enthusiasm will wane. And from what I hear…” Al-Adil paused, then continued, “The king of the Franks from Western Europe doesn’t seem to have much will to fight.”

“A king from Western Europe?”

“The Franks call it France.”

“So, it’s the Frankish kingdom after all? The Franks’ internal affairs must be complicated,” Saladin chuckled.

“Find out more details, Al-Adil. If the King of France really has no intention of fighting here in the Levant…” He paused, then added, “He’ll try to return as soon as a suitable opportunity arises. We can create that opportunity for him.”

“An opportunity? How do you mean?” Al-Adil inquired.

“There’s always a way,” Saladin said with a smile.

“Send a messenger to the Assassins of Masyaf. Do it as secretly as possible, so the Franks don’t find out.”

“But haven’t the Assassins already joined hands with the Franks, brother?” Al-Adil questioned.

“No, the Assassins only fight for themselves. Alliances and wars are only temporary,” Saladin said, shaking his head. “If the Franks win this expedition, they know they’ll be next.”

“…”

“And even if they refuse, it doesn’t matter. We can just make it look like the Assassins did it,” Saladin shrugged.

Every force in the Levant was trying to stab each other in the back.

The Caliph of Baghdad was no different. Since the last jihad [holy war], he had been actively sending emirs [princes] and officers.

The stated reason was support, but in reality, it was to spy on and undermine Saladin’s army.

‘They’ll probably retreat to the rear as soon as a battle breaks out,’ Saladin thought.

But that wasn’t the only thing to worry about.

“I heard there are poems circulating in Egypt comparing you to Taqi ad-Din. They say Taqi ad-Din is a much better leader than you,” Al-Adil said, broaching another sensitive topic.

Unlike Al-Adil, who failed to prevent the Frankish prisoners from escaping, Taqi ad-Din besieged and attacked Ascalon, and even retreated without much damage.

But even considering that, the praise for Taqi ad-Din was too organized.

“That Baudouin is spreading propaganda again to sway public opinion. He’s trying to divide our clan,” Saladin stated, his voice hardening.

“Of course, I know that, brother. How could I harbor ill feelings for my nephew?” Al-Adil replied, though his tone lacked conviction.

“…” Saladin looked at his brother and sighed softly. Even as the leader of the kingdom, there were things he couldn’t change.

His brothers and cousins, who were eyeing his position.

If he died now, the kingdom would surely fall apart.

Unlike the Franks, whose succession was clear, the position of Sultan was too unstable.

‘Baudouin is poking at sore spots again,’ Saladin thought grimly.

Baudouin was always shaking him up and attacking his weaknesses. It felt like fighting a persistent viper.

“Family must stick together no matter what. Fighting over more spoils can wait until after we win,” Saladin asserted.

He added, “If we lose the war, all we’ll have to share is death.”

* * *

Jerusalem

“Long live the Crusaders!”

“Long live Jerusalem!”

The streets were filled with cheers.

People lined both sides of the street to watch the procession.

England, France, Zagwe, Germany, Italy – the emblems on the knights’ shields and surcoats were all colorful and beautiful.

The long procession was a spectacle in itself.

Even Philippe, who had been looking sullen, was in a good mood today, waving as he marched.

“What His Majesty has been dreaming of for years has finally come true,” Aygue muttered beside me.

“You’ve essentially gathered crusaders from all over Europe, haven’t you? And the Roman Empire and Abyssinia [Ethiopia] too,” I remarked.

“That’s true,” Aygue agreed.

But the Third Crusade couldn’t last forever. Most of the crusaders were operating with the funds they had prepared.

‘In a few months, they’ll all be broke,’ I thought, a wave of concern washing over me.

From then on, the Kingdom of Jerusalem would have to bear all the costs. No matter how much elixir and donations there were, it would be like pouring water into a bottomless pit.

We had to settle the matter somehow before that happened.

If the expedition failed, the danger would be even greater. The crusader fervor in Europe would immediately subside.

That was the atmosphere after the failure of the Second Crusade in actual history.

Lost in thought, Valian approached me. “Your Majesty, the spies in Damascus have sent new information,” he announced.

“Saladin has sent an envoy to Masyaf. It seems he’s trying to contact the Assassins.”

“The Assassins, huh,” I muttered, my mind racing.

‘Is Saladin up to something again?’

It’s almost time.

“Then they’ll pass through Hama and Homs. Tell Count Joscelin to monitor the envoys,” I instructed.

“If you give the order, I’ll capture them all,” Valian offered.

“No, there’s no need to do that. They’ll just send another envoy,” I reasoned.

The Assassins.

Sending an envoy to the Assassins.

There can only be one reason.

“Even Saladin wouldn’t want an alliance with them. Considering the Assassins stole gold and jewels from Egypt…”

“Saladin isn’t one to dwell on the past,” I countered, shaking my head.

The Assassins were like a balancing force in the Levant.

The reason they joined hands with me was only to check the Sunni [branch of Islam], Saladin.

Unlike then, the situation is now favorable to Jerusalem.

If I drive out Saladin and unify the Levant…

“They’ll probably think they’re next. Then they can fully join hands with Saladin. Saladin would know that and send an envoy,” I explained.

It would be more of a temporary cooperation than an alliance. The Assassins would want to remain a third force between the Franks and the Sunnis.

“If the Assassins know their place, it’s fine, but…” I trailed off, a sense of unease settling in.

I can roughly guess how they’ll turn out. There were no guys like the Assassins in Last Crusaders.

As soon as one side became favorable, they shook the board with assassinations and instigation.

The reason I recklessly chose the ‘Sixth Sense’ trait was to avoid such Assassins.

“It’s better to prepare for a situation where they don’t,” I concluded.

* * *

Masyaf Fortress

“Oh, sacred Imam [religious leader], will you really accept Saladin’s request?” one of his followers asked.

“Saladin sent an envoy openly. The Franks have probably spotted it by now,” Sinan replied, his gaze distant.

As he gestured, the women around him rose. All with half-open eyes and naked bodies.

The harem in this garden was not something anyone could enjoy. Only a select few warriors could come here. There were no restrictions or taboos here.

The warriors experience heaven here and risk their lives to return.

“Even if we refuse, the Franks will suspect us,” Sinan said, his voice low.

“What if Saladin sends an assassin to the Frankish king?”

“He’ll probably fail… but they’ll think the Imam did it,” Sinan mused.

“Yes, that’s what Saladin is aiming for,” the follower confirmed.

Sinan stroked his beard. Of course, Baudouin might believe the Assassins’ words, but he had already betrayed them in Egypt.

‘He lost all the gold and jewels he had worked so hard to get,’ Sinan recalled with a hint of satisfaction.

Baudouin was not an easy opponent. We couldn’t let him unify the Levant.

“It’s better for the Kingdom of Jerusalem to survive, but the Third Crusade must fail,” Sinan declared.

“And the center of the Third Crusade is Baudouin. If he’s gone, all the kings and lords from across the sea will scatter.”

“But if the plan fails, Baudouin will immediately lead a large army and advance here,” the man said, sweating profusely. He looked at Sinan with fearful eyes.

‘It’s better to kill such a stupid guy,’ Sinan thought to himself with a sneer. Even to show his authority as an Imam, punishment had to be carried out consistently.

The weak die, and only the strong warriors survive.

“Didn’t the sea tribes also attack Baudouin this time, and all the chiefs became prisoners?” the follower asked, changing the subject.

“Those guys paid the price for their ignorance. It’s not strange that they died after rushing at the Frankish cavalry without knowing anything,” Sinan scoffed.

Sinan leaned forward. As the women bit into the fruits in the garden, the juice dripped down their lips, chins, and bodies.

“But this place, Masyaf, is different. Saladin brought a large army a few years ago and only suffered a bitter defeat,” Sinan said, his voice laced with pride.

“Even if Baudouin brings a large army and lays siege, we can easily hold out for several years. In a year or two, all the crusaders will scatter.”

“Th-Then we just have to hold out until then,” the follower stammered.

“Yes, go now and tell them to prepare for the siege. Gather more supplies and evacuate the farmers into the castle,” Sinan instructed.

“Yes, sir!”

“And select the most outstanding of the warriors and prepare them. No matter how lucky Baudouin is, he can’t be lucky forever,” Sinan said, his eyes gleaming.

“He has to be lucky every day, but we only need to be lucky for one day.”

“As expected, the Imam has more excellent insight than anyone else,” the man said, bowing deeply.

The man waved his arms and waddled out of the garden. Sinan smiled as he caressed the woman’s body.

“They probably think they have the leash,” he murmured.

Saladin and Baudouin.

Both thought the Assassins were at their feet.

But the ultimate winners were always the Assassins.

Stabbing the victorious king in the neck and placing the desired successor on the throne.

‘Maximum effect through minimal killing,’ Sinan thought with satisfaction.

That was the Assassins’ long-standing creed: Reverence for the powerless, fear for the powerful.

The Assassins were the ones who set the standard.