Personally, I’ve never quite agreed with the saying, “Even if you’re caught by a tiger, stay calm and you’ll be fine.”
Sure, I understand the sentiment that the more dire the situation, the more you need to keep your wits about you.
But let’s be real—if a tiger’s got you, you’re as good as dead.
The only surefire way to survive is to take out the tiger before it gets you.
In other words, don’t wait until the last minute to deal with a problem; nip it in the bud before it even starts.
This situation isn’t much different.
Trying to find a way out after the battle’s begun is the worst of all plans.
Converting to Islam and running away might be slightly better, but it’s still a lousy option.
Sure, it might save your skin for now, but you’ll be branded a traitor in the Christian world.
And the Muslims might just use you as a pawn and discard you when you’re no longer useful.
The best plan is to find a legitimate reason to escape before the battle even starts.
I hadn’t thought of a way until now, but thanks to the [Homosexual] trait in front of me, a path has opened up.
Who would’ve thought this ridiculous status screen would actually come in handy? The world is truly a strange place.
“Just one last thing to check, and then I’ll act. If I play my cards right, I can pull this off.”
And if I fail? Well, then converting to Islam might be my only option.
Not that I want to pray towards Mecca five times a day, so I’ll approach this with no room for failure.
I told the quartermaster I needed to step out for a moment and left the tent.
To execute this plan, I need to know exactly what kind of background the quartermaster has.
It would be nice if I had all the memories of the body I’ve possessed, but that’s just wishful thinking.
Then again, considering I can speak the language fluently, maybe I can recall some memories too.
Perhaps it’s just that my consciousness hasn’t fully settled into this body yet.
Anyway, every second counts now, so I can ponder this later.
I said I’d be gone for a while, so I can afford to be late by 15 to 20 minutes.
If anyone questions it, I’ll just say I have constipation.
Bathroom issues are one of the few things humanity has respected since prehistoric times.
As I entered the tent across from mine, a gluttonous fellow named Jang waved me over.
“Hey, the quartermaster said he was going to check on you. You’re back already?”
“No, I just came out to find something. I’m grateful for his concern, so I thought I should show some appreciation… What family is the quartermaster from again?”
“What? You’ve been with the order for almost two years and you don’t know? Quartermaster Alberic is from the Kingdom of France. Some say he’s a direct descendant of the Count of Dammartin, others say he’s a distant relative. Hard to tell since he doesn’t flaunt it.”
“The Count of Dammartin?”
I figured he was from a notable family, but this is bigger than I expected.
The Count of Dammartin is a noble family so close to the French royal family that they grew up as childhood friends with the king.
I’ve heard that even Guy de Lusignan, the King of Jerusalem, showed respect to the quartermaster before he became king.
A noble from such a prestigious family serving quietly in the order without any airs… My suspicions are becoming more certain.
“I remember the quartermaster being very devout. Would a religious gift be appropriate? What do you think?”
“Wow, thinking about gifts before the battle’s even over. That’s what sets you apart. The quartermaster’s faith is well-known, so I think you’re on the right track. He prays at the cathedral almost every dawn, so you could give it to him then.”
“Prayers of repentance, huh? Now everything fits. Thanks, you’ve been a big help.”
“Glad to be of help. I’m getting really thirsty, though. If we’re going to reclaim the well from the Muslims tomorrow, I need to conserve my strength. You should get ready for bed too.”
The supply lines are cut, and the only water source in the area is controlled by the Muslim army.
Logically, we’re already in a dire situation, yet they still believe they can win.
It might be courage in the face of death, but to me, it seems like sheer recklessness.
This guy, so confident in victory, will likely be a cold corpse by tomorrow.
But I owe him a bit, so letting him die without a word feels wrong.
“Hey. I’m about to tell the quartermaster something important. If you want to hear it, come with me.”
“Something important? Like what?”
“If you hear it here, you’ll have to follow my lead from now on. Swear in the name of God, and I’ll tell you. It’s about your future too. Want to come and listen?”
“Why make such a big deal about swearing to God? I’m tired, I’m going to sleep.”
“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t hear this now.”
Even after several attempts, Jang just waved me off and lay down on his bed.
If he’s that uninterested, there’s no point in trying to convince him further.
That’s fate for you.
Even when the moment of life and death is right in front of them, only a few can recognize it.
Logically, would the Muslim army really engage the Crusaders, who are like rats in a trap, at dawn tomorrow?
It would be easier to just wear them down with thirst and fatigue.
And unfortunately, the Sultan leading the Muslim army, Saladin, knows this all too well.
When I returned, having prepared everything, Alberic the quartermaster was still waiting for me in the tent.
That’s good, but why is he brushing his hand over my bedding?
Maybe he’s just cleaning it because it’s dusty?
I’m not jumping to any weird conclusions, am I?
“You’re back? I was starting to worry you might have collapsed.”
“Ah, yes… I have a bit of constipation.”
“Really? That must be tough. Did you manage to take care of it? Having issues with bodily functions before a crucial battle is no small matter.”
“Yes. Fortunately, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Enough about that.
I took a deep breath and spoke in a more serious tone than before.
“The reason I seemed unwell earlier wasn’t dehydration. It was something far more unsettling.”
“Unsettling? Did you notice any suspicious movements in the Muslim camp?”
“It’s something far more serious. What I’m about to say might sound crazy, but I have evidence to back it up, so please hear me out.”
“What are you going on about? Just say it.”
Now it’s time for some self-hypnosis.
If I don’t deliver an Oscar-worthy performance, no one will take me seriously.
So from now on, I am Jonah, Samuel, Joseph, and Elijah reborn in the Middle Ages.
“While praying today, I heard the voice of God.”
Alberic looked at me, then chuckled and nodded.
“Oh… really? And what did the Lord say to you?”
Claiming to have heard from God during prayer isn’t unheard of in this era.
Alberic seemed to think my experience was similar, but I shook my head to correct him.
“It wasn’t just a feeling. I heard His voice directly. God said our sins are too great for us to enter His kingdom, so He will pass judgment to make us repent.”
”…”
Alberic looked at me with a mix of disbelief and amusement.
“It’s natural to doubt. But I can provide evidence that I received a revelation, so please hear me out.”
”…Alright. Let’s hear it. What kind of judgment did He say He would pass?”
“God does not see the Kingdom of Jerusalem as fulfilling His will. He said He would support the Muslims tomorrow, allowing them to defeat us and reclaim Jerusalem. Only about 3,000 of us will survive.”
Predicting defeat before a battle is taboo in any era.
Naturally, Alberic’s eyes began to show signs of anger.
“Do you realize you’re cursing your comrades on the eve of battle?”
“I’m not comfortable saying this either. That’s why I seemed so out of it earlier.”
“From where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve genuinely lost your mind. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear this…”
“No! I need your endorsement, quartermaster.”
If I spout this alone, it will just sound like the ravings of a madman. But with a credible witness, the story changes.
Especially if that witness is from a prestigious noble family recognized throughout Europe.
“God told me exactly how we will lose tomorrow, who will survive, and how each person will die. I plan to write all this down and seal it with wax. I want your seal and those of other nobles to prove it was recorded a day before the battle.”
By tomorrow, most of the nobles here will be dead.
If I can get their seals in advance, it will serve as undeniable proof that this record was made before the battle.
I carefully wrote down the outcome of the Battle of Hattin as I knew it.
[The Islamic army sends thick, acrid smoke billowing towards our camp, while the soldiers of Jerusalem attempt to advance towards the distant Sea of Galilee, only to be thwarted.
Saladin.
Known in Europe as Saladin, the Islamic leader drives the Jerusalem forces to the brink, earning the grudging admiration of even his enemies for his relentless tactics. Ultimately, he delivers a devastating blow.
King Guy de Lusignan, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Gerard, and the king’s confidant, Reynald de Châtillon, are all captured.
Reynald, who instigated the massacre of the Muslim caravan that sparked this war, will be personally beheaded by Saladin in front of the king.]
As I detailed the fall of Jerusalem, Alberic’s eyes widened in shock.
“This is madness. You’ve completely lost it. The moment this cursed prophecy reaches the higher-ups, you’re as good as dead…”
“It’s not a curse, but a prophecy from God. And it was He who commanded me to share this with you, Quartermaster. God sees your journey from France to Jerusalem to join the crusade as a noble act of repentance.”
“It sounds like you’ve twisted my constant prayers into some wild tale. So, tell me, did God reveal what I’m repenting for?”
“You never confess to a priest, always praying silently, so no one in Jerusalem knows. But God does. Quartermaster, you…”
In a voice both solemn and calm, I whispered the message that had so shocked me, straight into Alberic’s ear.
“You prefer the company of men, don’t you?”
The color drained from Alberic’s face, which had been flushed with anger and scorn.
Bingo.
There are two types of people in this world: those whose emotions are written all over their faces, and those who keep them hidden.
The man standing before me, mouth agape, was so clearly the latter that I almost felt embarrassed for him.