Episode 184
“So, the strategy Marshal mentioned is that one…?”
“Yes, the one I said might stir some controversy.”
It was a plan that had been discussed several times before, but no final decision had been made.
Beyond the question of right or wrong, the method of execution hadn’t been firmly decided either.
A different kind of silence settled over the room for a moment.
Al Adil, having just returned from a conversation with Saladin, was the first to break it.
“We’re all in, no questions asked. Those Mongol scoundrels deserve no mercy, so there’s no point in debating the method. If anyone objects, I’ll personally ensure they stay silent.”
For parents who had witnessed their children being brutally murdered, there was nothing left to see.
It was already expected that the Islamic side would welcome this with open arms.
On the Christian side, Philip II nodded in agreement without much resistance.
“I have no objections either. In war, the most important thing is to win. If we hesitate and lose, we’ll be worse off than a half-cooked stew. Winning when we can is the greatest virtue, wouldn’t you agree, Emperor Heinrich VI?”
“Uh, yes… well, winning is indeed the priority. Of course.”
“We can’t hear the Byzantine opinion right away, but since they’ve entrusted all decisions to our prophet, they won’t raise objections later. So, with almost unanimous agreement, there’s nothing more to discuss, is there?”
“Hold on. I haven’t given my opinion yet.”
Richard, the only one with a sullen expression, interjected, causing Philip II to smile wryly, as if he had forgotten.
“My apologies. So, does that mean you oppose it, Your Majesty Richard?”
“Not exactly… I just have a small concern. We’ve come together with such strength; wouldn’t it be more meaningful to crush them head-on? Could this be criticized as less than a perfect victory in the future?”
“Whether it’s perfect or not depends on the outcome. If it’s a Pyrrhic victory with heavy losses, that’s one thing. But if our prophet’s ingenious plan minimizes our casualties, wouldn’t that be the true perfect victory? Fighting head-on would only increase our losses.”
Though it seemed like a backhanded compliment, Philip II’s words were likely sincere.
No matter how strong the Crusader-Islamic alliance was, the enemy was formidable too.
Whoever won would suffer significant losses, which was not the outcome Philip II or Heinrich VI desired.
For the Islamic side, repelling invaders was worth any sacrifice, but for the Christians, it was different.
They felt a sense of urgency that if Islam fell, they would be next, but it was more of a feeling than a real threat.
Even if they won, if their forces were decimated, returning home might not yield much benefit.
It would be like trading practicality for honor.
“Your Majesty Richard, consider the lives of the tens of thousands of soldiers we command. A perfect victory in war is minimizing our losses while maximizing the enemy’s. You know this well.”
”…That’s true.”
“The reason we can even consider this method is because of your exemplary leadership, Your Majesty Richard. History will remember your achievements.”
I had stepped back, thinking it would be too obvious if I spoke up, and it was the right choice.
Philip II, who was more concerned about avoiding any personal harm, was advocating for my plan more vigorously than anyone else.
Once I made him a proxy, he proved to be quite effective.
Though I didn’t say it myself, Philip II voiced everything I wanted to say.
In the end, history is written by the victors.
This isn’t the modern or contemporary era; in the medieval times, winning was all that mattered.
If they don’t like it, they should win themselves.
“Oh, but Prophet, we haven’t discussed the most crucial part. Who will carry out the plan? And, well… even if it’s your idea, will there be enough volunteers for what could be seen as an experiment?”
“Your concern is noted, Philip II. But rest assured, I have a plan for that as well.”
When planning something, having people willing to do the dirty work is essential.
In that sense, I can confidently say there are few in the world with more influence than me.
I have at least two groups ready to jump into the fire at my command.
Opposition? I never worried about that.
I’m more concerned about having too many volunteers eager to prove themselves.
“If it’s such a task, leave it to us! Serving as the Apostle’s arms and legs is our greatest joy!”
“No, no, no! This is a job for us in Syria. We’re more thorough than Alamut!”
“What did you say? You young fool. I’ve been in this field at least twenty years longer than you. How can you claim to be more thorough?”
See what I mean?
As soon as I mentioned needing help, Nasr from Syria and Muhammad II from Alamut were foaming at the mouth, eager to take on the task.
The funny part is, I haven’t even explained what the task is yet.
“Shouldn’t you hear what needs to be done before volunteering?”
“The details don’t matter. You command, we execute. That’s the Syrian way.”
“Apostle, if I may. Syria is essentially a branch that split from us. Just as in art, a copy can never surpass the original.”
“Oh, really? Then tell me who got fooled and thoroughly beaten by that ‘copy’ in the last war?”
“That was only because the Apostle was with you. Do you really think it was because you’re superior? That’s laughable. There’s a limit to delusion.”
Nasr and Muhammad II seemed to have gotten along better after the war, but their fierce exchange proved that was my misconception.
It’s not like they’re trying to exclude each other’s organizations entirely, but more a prideful struggle not to yield the position of my trusted right hand.
In reality, even if their organization’s history is shorter, Nasr’s side, having been with me longer, seemed more relaxed.
“Muhammad II, I understand why the Assassins of Alamut are anxious. They want to make up for the time they didn’t recognize the Apostle by devoting themselves now. But just as water flows from high to low, there’s an order to things. No matter what anyone says, I’m the one who’s served the Apostle the longest.”
“Who decided you’re the chief disciple…?”
“Is there anyone in the Islamic world who’s served the Apostle longer than I have? Even by timing, I was the first.”
Really? I wasn’t aware, but it seems such things are quite important among Muslims.
As I nodded absentmindedly, Fatima, who had been quietly serving tea, suddenly spoke up.
“Actually, haven’t I been with the Apostle the longest?”
“What?”
“Chronologically, my brother and I were first, but while he was in Syria, I was the one constantly attending to the Apostle. In terms of time spent together, I’m definitely the longest.”
“Ahem! Foolish sister, your thinking is shallow. Measuring by physical proximity is a sign of poor judgment. The most important thing is the spiritual connection, not the physical. I’ve achieved so much for the Apostle in Syria…”
“That’s funny. You just parroted the Apostle’s words to take over the organization. Anyone could’ve done that. What’s more important is making sure the Apostle is comfortable, like serving another cup of tea or washing his feet.”
With the pride battle between Syria and Alamut now joined by a sibling rivalry, it’s chaos.
Hey, guys. I haven’t finished speaking yet.
Here they are, lining up for titles like chief disciple, without even knowing what I’m thinking.
Watching this, I suddenly understood why Islam split into so many factions after Muhammad’s death.
If I don’t sort this out and end up dying, the current Islamic world might fracture even more than in the original history.
“I was curious to see how far this would go, and the topic just kept expanding. Quite entertaining.”
”…”
”…”
“Ah, Apostle. Well, you see…”
Just moments ago, the three of them were bickering, each trying to outdo the other. Now, as if by magic, they fell silent, heads bowed, watching me for a reaction.
“Have you been having these discussions behind my back? A ‘grand disciple’? Funny, because I don’t recall officially taking on any disciples. So how is it that there’s a ‘grand disciple’ I know nothing about?”
Of course, it’s quite common for prophets or apostles to have disciples. It’s been that way for ages. Even without a formal declaration, those who follow an apostle often become disciples naturally.
In that sense, it’s not surprising that the Assassins of Syria, who were the first to serve me, consider themselves my first disciples. But if they go around flaunting that notion, it could become problematic.
“Nasir, Fatima. I would never disregard the contributions you made when I had no power to speak of. I’m always grateful for your dedication and hold you in high regard. But you must realize that using that as a pretext to claim superiority over other followers could sow discord, right?”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been so preoccupied with the war that I neglected these issues. I’ll make time soon to address the conflicts among the Islamic factions, so be prepared for that.”
“Yes. But Apostle, are we enough for this task?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard that it’s not just us. There’s also unrest among the Christians about who you recognize as your disciple. Shouldn’t that be addressed too…?”
What kind of nonsense is this?
Here I am, ready to wade through the muck for the sake of world peace, devising strategies to win the war, and behind my back, they’re busy forming a prophet-less prophet team?
Whether it’s Christianity or Islam, it seems people are the same everywhere.
I suddenly understand why Jesus wielded a whip in the temple.
Ah, I’m itching for a whip myself.