Episode 44

I sipped the last of my wine, pondering how to react to the situation at hand.

The assassin, who had revealed the name of his client, sat with his head hung low, as if he had given up on everything.

Even if he were released from here, returning to his homeland was out of the question.

The fate of someone who betrays their client is all too predictable.

Especially when the client is the brother of a ruler so talented that even the Sultan of the Empire is wary of him.

“Can I dig a little deeper?”

I knew quite a bit about Al-Adil.

While Saladin was alive, Al-Adil was overshadowed by his brother’s name and didn’t receive much attention, but he was a hero with abilities comparable to his brother.

His military skills were decent, but his diplomatic acumen was particularly outstanding.

After Saladin’s death, the weakened Ayyubid dynasty realized they couldn’t defeat the Franks head-on and sought coexistence.

Of course, the Crusaders, blinded by their holy war, continued to form crusades, but Al-Adil managed to hold them off until his strength waned.

This was the first time such a significant figure had shown direct hostility towards me.

But he’s not right next to me; he’s across the Mediterranean. What more could he do?

At most, he could send assassins like this, but even that doesn’t work on me.

So, instead of acting rashly, it’s better to deduce his intentions.

“What did Al-Adil say about killing me? Did he insist on bringing back my head?”

“He said it didn’t matter since it would rot anyway. If someone as significant as you dies, rumors will naturally spread.”

The more I heard, the stranger it seemed.

It was a plausible reason, but I didn’t sense any deadly intent from Al-Adil to ensure my death.

Yet, he didn’t seem to want failure either, as I confirmed earlier.

Let’s mix in some assumptions and deduce.

Perhaps his goal wasn’t the attempt to kill me itself.

And considering he deliberately omitted some crucial information, he might have thought success was good, but failure even better.

But I still can’t guess why failure would benefit him.

There are a few conspiracy theories that come to mind, but they’re too baseless to jump to conclusions.

“Do you have anything more to say about Al-Adil?”

“The principle is not to ask about the client.”

“Principle or not, isn’t it more problematic not to know about Al-Adil?”

“I know the basic information. But we don’t collect details like why they want the target dead, their relationship with the target, or what they desire.”

I turned to Fatima, who was standing behind me.

“Is that true?”

“They don’t ask, but they do investigate behind the scenes. But it seems he genuinely doesn’t know. Especially with someone like Al-Adil, investigating could lead to trouble.”

“So he’s blaming his ignorance on principles due to lack of ability.”

I clicked my tongue a couple of times at the silent assassin and turned away.

“What should we do with him, Apostle?”

“Later, you can train him as you see fit. It’s hard for him to manage alone, isn’t it?”

“What if he just won’t listen?”

“Do that thing you always say. You know, the one you keep in your back pocket.”

“Hehe, understood.”

He doesn’t seem like a talent worth lamenting over, so if he doesn’t listen, just cut him loose.

But that thought was fleeting.

Out of curiosity, I checked his status window, and it seemed too harsh to just kill him.

I should at least show a sign of trust.

“One last piece of advice, if you can call it that.”

I whispered a message into the assassin’s ear, one that would bring tears to anyone’s eyes.

“I can’t imagine the pain of it not working. But don’t give up; live strong.”

“What… what did you say?”

Fatima, who had been listening intently, blinked in confusion before blushing and turning away.

The assassin, on the other hand, looked dumbfounded, stammering in disbelief.

“Wha-what nonsense… who said it doesn’t work…!”

“I don’t know why the gods revealed this to me, but it is what it is.”

I wiped away a tear as I looked at the message hovering above the assassin’s head.

[Permanent Erectile Dysfunction]

Seeing this message made me feel heartless for considering ending his life so coldly.

The impact of that message was immense.

Especially with the word “permanent” attached, it was truly tear-inducing.

“I won’t spread this beyond those present here, so don’t worry too much. Learn well from Fatima here and try to reform.”

“I’m not… I’m not impotent…”

“Unfortunately, there’s no chance of improvement. Find joy in other aspects of life.”

I offered him a sincere pat on the shoulder.

Was this man, saved from death by an unexpected twist, lucky or unlucky?

I don’t know the answer.

---

The capital of the Ayyubid dynasty, Damascus.

Even in the Middle Ages, people had been living here for thousands of years.

From ancient Rome through the Rashidun Caliphate, the Umayyads, the Abbasids, and many other dynasties, it has endured.

One of the world’s oldest cities, it remains a bustling metropolis, boasting immense wealth.

The Ash’ari scholars’ somewhat exaggerated claim that it holds nine-tenths of the world’s gold and silver is taken for granted by the locals.

Universities are being established in real-time, and even the suburbs are thriving like cities.

Thanks to the influx of young people and intellectuals who admire the great Sultan Saladin, who showed mercy even to enemies.

Previously, there were doubts about whether he was too kind-hearted, but after reclaiming Jerusalem, one of Islam’s three holy cities, no one dared question him.

Not even blood relatives were exceptions.

Al-Adil, entrusted by Saladin with the heavy responsibility of governing Egypt, hurried to the palace at the sudden summons from the Sultan.

Though they were brothers, they were also ruler and subject.

Al-Adil bowed respectfully.

“I heard you summoned me.”

“Yes. You’ve been busy lately, haven’t you? It’s hard to see your face.”

Al-Adil looked at his brother, eight years his senior.

Though in his mid-fifties, the wisdom in his eyes seemed to deepen with each passing day.

In terms of character, there was no one greater in the Islamic world.

The only regret was that his brother’s sons didn’t quite measure up to him.

Saladin wasn’t young anymore.

The days this great ruler could oversee the dynasty might be numbered.

Someone had to prepare for the Sultan’s passing.

“So, how is Egypt?”

“Peaceful. Especially after you unified Jerusalem. The people of Egypt genuinely hope the era of the great Sultan continues. As do I.”

“I see. I have no doubt about your loyalty and affection for me. I’m always grateful.”

“I will always work for you, Your Majesty.”

“Then can I assume that sending people to Masyaf and Alamut was an extension of your loyalty to me?”

Al-Adil held his breath for a moment at the calm, almost casual tone.

“So he knew all along. I thought I covered my tracks well.”

The Sultan, still in a nonchalant tone, asked his silent brother.

“The Assassins of Masyaf once targeted my life. Why did you meet with them?”

If he’s asking this, he must already know everything.

He’s not curious about what was discussed; he’s asking why the request was made.

The person before him was none other than Salah ad-Din.

A clumsy lie wouldn’t fool him.

Al-Adil took a deep breath and nodded calmly.

“Of course. As I said, I acted solely for this country and Your Majesty.”

“So, what did you do for this country?”

“You must have heard of the false prophet in Europe.”

“It’s a famous story. But haven’t false prophets always been around?”

“You’re being modest. You know this isn’t something to dismiss lightly.”

This grand deception involved the Pope of Rome, the King of England, and even the King of France.

Their reasons for orchestrating such an obvious lie were easily narrowed down.

Al-Adil continued, his eyes glinting with hostility.

“They have two main goals with this false prophet. One is to…”

“They’re trying to undermine our legitimacy, and secondly…”

“They want to use it as a grand symbol to rally the Crusaders, I presume.”

“Exactly. The false prophet Edward Marshall is said to be a knight who has long served the Crusaders. By elevating such a person to the status of a prophet, the Vatican is blatantly revealing its intentions.”

The current popes were already madmen possessed by the specter of the Crusades. It hadn’t even been a year since they had coaxed the Holy Roman Empire into sending a massive army this way, yet they were tirelessly concocting such schemes. That was proof enough.

“The fact that their campaign lacks justification was already proven when the Holy Roman Emperor drowned in the river. Allah has finally shown His wrath against their transgressions.”

“And yet, they continue to plot, unable to see reason. So, you intended to deliver divine retribution in their stead?”

“Had I succeeded, yes. But even in failure, it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? If this becomes known, their fury will only grow, and their swords will turn towards us. You don’t mean…”

Saladin narrowed his eyes, having grasped his brother’s full intent.

Al-Adil nodded without hesitation.

“Yes. The greater their reaction, the more justification we have to draw other nations to our side. And this is a strategy that can only be employed when there is a strong central figure like Your Majesty. We can’t continue to be the bulwark against the Christian onslaught forever.”

He paused, taking a breath before revealing the ultimate goal of his plan.

“Let’s bring in the Khwarazmians and the Almohads. It’s time for a true holy war.”