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Being the target of all this criticism and disdain feels oddly liberating, as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Just yesterday, they were treating me like a war hero, but now they’ve turned on me overnight. It’s almost laughable.

Still, if this means our Archbishop is that trusted, then it’s not all bad for me.

”…”

I stayed silent, and the Archbishop, spittle flying, continued to berate me.

“If you have any conscience left, speak up! Or is it that even a shred of conscience keeps you from opening your mouth? Ah, yes, that’s it! If you had any shame, you’d be on your knees confessing your sins!”

In situations like this, silence is often seen as an admission of guilt.

Naturally, Henry II’s supporters sneered, while Richard couldn’t hide his bewilderment.

Alberic, who I’d tipped off beforehand, simply closed his eyes and hung his head, motionless.

“Who could have predicted such a scandal? We gathered here to discuss peace in the kingdom and the launch of a new crusade, only for this to happen.”

Henry II interjected, struggling to suppress a smirk.

“Archbishop, are you saying these men fled without even facing the enemy? And then had the audacity to lie about their bravery in the Crusades?”

“Indeed. As I mentioned, they arrived in Jerusalem before the Battle of Hattin began. They fled before the battle even started. I swear it in God’s name.”

“How can someone, wearing the guise of a human, commit such a beastly act? You disgrace the legacy of your father, a true knight. Aren’t you ashamed?”

Henry II turned his head slightly, avoiding William’s gaze as he criticized me.

No parent would find joy in seeing their child condemned.

The crowd looked on with pity at England’s finest knight, his face twisted in anguish.

Yet, amidst all this, Balian d’Ibelin maintained his neutral stance.

“Shouldn’t we consider this more carefully? Marshal… I mean, Edward and Quartermaster Alberic were among the finest Templars I’ve seen.”

“Sir d’Ibelin, are you siding with them?”

“Not siding, just suggesting there might be more to the story. The day before the battle, they went to scout the enemy’s movements. It’s possible they got caught up and pushed to Jerusalem. Marshal, was there a skirmish with the Muslim forces that morning?”

“There was. I think we took down about five of them.”

Balian’s face brightened slightly.

“Then perhaps they didn’t just run away…”

“No, no! They must have encountered those enemies while fleeing! If they truly intended to fight, they would have stayed in Jerusalem with you. How can you defend them when you should be the most outraged?”

“I’m not defending them. I’m just trying to understand the full context…”

“There’s nothing to understand! Everything is already clear, isn’t it, everyone?”

The Archbishop’s sharp question was met with a nod from Henry II, quicker than anyone else.

“Regrettably, it seems there’s nothing more to see. What does the French side think?”

Count Raymond V of Toulouse, who had remained silent, glared at me with a look that could kill.

As France’s representative, he naturally wouldn’t be pleased with the situation favoring the Angevin Empire.

“The witnesses’ accounts are too clear to deny… But we should avoid rushing to conclusions. We need more certainty…”

“We can’t afford that. We have much to discuss. As this situation clearly shows, our faith is in crisis. After all, Templars, who bear the cross, turned their backs and fled from battle with infidels.”

Anyone would think he had been consistently sending knights and funds to the Crusades.

Raymond V seemed to want to say as much, but with all the bishops siding with Henry II, he couldn’t.

“Perhaps the tragedy of Hattin occurred because of our waning faith. We must repent here and now! We must confirm the launch of a new Crusade. It’s the only way to atone for our sins!”

“Amen!”

“Amen! God will surely be pleased with King Henry II’s piety.”

As the Patriarch of Jerusalem and the Archbishop of Tyre shouted in unison, the other nobles, taking their cue, echoed “Amen.”

Taken out of context, this scene could easily be mistaken for a revival meeting of a fanatical cult.

Then again, to embark on something as mad as a Crusade, one couldn’t be in their right mind.

Whether he knew my thoughts or not, Henry II, reveling in his pious image, placed a hand on his chest and continued speaking.

“First, I will repent. I regret my foolishness in being swayed by the apostates’ sweet words and failing to see the truth. Therefore, I wish to atone by sparing no support for the next Crusade. My son and heir, Richard, surely feels the same?”

“Who, me?”

Caught off guard, Richard asked, bewildered, and Henry II solemnly nodded.

“Though you may not have known, you have been associating with that apostate. If you do not repent, the church and all of Europe will question your faith. As the heir to the Angevin Empire and future King of England, such doubts would not bode well for the country’s future.”

”…Is this how it’s going to be?”

Richard must have anticipated that Henry II would use the Crusade to pressure him.

That’s why he brought me, a Crusader knight, along, but he couldn’t have imagined things would unfold like this.

Moreover, Henry II subtly mentioned Richard as his heir, making it awkward to oppose him.

It’s as if Richard has been caught in a meticulously laid trap.

Even someone as reckless as Richard couldn’t openly defy the Crusade in front of the church and foreign dignitaries.

Especially not when he arrived with those labeled as apostates.

In modern terms, it’s like someone caught fraternizing with spies being unable to publicly denounce them.

Cornered, Richard could do nothing but glare at me as if he wanted to kill me.

I intended to watch a bit longer, but if I stayed silent, I might end up skewered by those lion-like eyes.

With the atmosphere sufficiently tense, I raised my hand to make my presence known.

“Excuse me~ May I have a word?”

“Are you here to confess and repent? But your sins are grave and hard to forgive. Do you realize you’ve committed a crime that will condemn your soul to eternal torment in hell on Judgment Day?”

Who’s going to judge me? I’d like to see them try.

Not that it matters, since soon my words will be seen as the truth.

“King Henry II just mentioned that our sins were so great they led to the tragedy of Hattin, which is true. But the rest is not.”

“Not true? Are you denying your guilt?”

“It’s a bit different, Archbishop. It’s more accurate to say there’s nothing to confess because I committed no sin. I merely acted according to God’s will.”

“Running away before battle is God’s will? Now you’re committing blasphemy?”

“Blasphemy? Let me ask you this. As Sir d’Ibelin mentioned, is there a more devout Templar than Quartermaster Alberic? Didn’t you, Archbishop, praise his faith numerous times? And is there another knight as dedicated as I am to separating the heads of infidels from their bodies on the front lines?”

“Well, that’s true… But that’s precisely the problem! It’s people like you who fled!”

I shook my head calmly.

“I’m telling you, we didn’t flee. Let me explain what happened that day in detail. Sir Alberic, please come closer.”

“Understood.”

For the first time, Alberic spoke and moved to my side. I then began to narrate the epic tale I had concocted, my voice solemn.

“That day, I was praying before the battle. I paid no mind to the unfavorable odds. I’ve never considered such things in battle. I simply wielded the sword of faith to punish the infidels. But during my prayer, I heard an unbelievable voice. Yes! God Himself gave me a revelation.”

“Turns out, he’s just a madman.”

“Before you decide whether I’m crazy or not, please hear me out. This is the message I received: ‘Those who claim to believe in God have put their faith aside, consumed by their own interests. Just as Christ drove out those who defiled the temple with a whip, He will use the whip of Islam to drive out those who have lost their faith from Jerusalem.’ Upon hearing this, I wept and repented.”

“Oh, so that’s why you ran away? Quite the convenient excuse…”

“Please, let me finish!”

I interrupted the archbishop sternly, cutting him off mid-sentence. Ignoring his bewilderment, I scanned the room.

“Of course, I knew that if I simply fled, no one would believe me. So, I prayed fervently. I asked for a clear sign that even those blinded by sin could recognize, to bring them back to the Lord. And graciously, Christ answered my prayers. He revealed to me the full details of what the future holds and how He will act.”

“A clear revelation, you say? Without any proof, you’re just spouting nonsense.”

“Why do you assume there’s no proof? It’s right here.”

I pointed to Richard, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Richard, who had no prior warning, looked around in confusion.

“Proof? Me?”

“Do you remember the letter I entrusted to you when we first met? The one I insisted you keep safe earlier?”

“Oh, this one, you mean.”

Richard fumbled in his coat and pulled out a wax-sealed parchment envelope. I snatched it and held it up for all to see.

“This envelope and the letter inside bear the seals of our Templar knights. I asked my comrades to seal it for me before I left the camp the day before the battle. Most of them were martyred at the Battle of Hattin, and their seals vanished in the desert.”

Balian, examining the seals closely, sighed in agreement with my words.

“It’s true. I recognize the seals of Simon, Petit, and Fouchni. They all fell at Hattin, and we couldn’t even recover their bodies. Naturally, their seals were lost as well.”

“Seals can be forged…”

“Indeed. That’s why I also have their signatures. You can check the Templar records for their signatures when they were alive. If you claim I forged not only their seals but also their signatures, feel free to continue with that argument.”

If someone had such forgery skills, why would they be a knight? Forging ten seals and signatures would require more than human capability.

The archbishop, realizing this, fell silent.

“Now, let’s see what’s written here. For the record, Richard received this letter from me on the day I arrived in the capital, correct?”

“Yes, I can vouch for that.”

At that time, news of Jerusalem’s fall hadn’t even reached the Vatican. Any attempt to predict such events would have been mere guesswork.

“Richard confirms it. And King Henry II is also aware of our meeting that day. To avoid any suspicion of tampering, may I ask King Henry II to open and read the letter?”

“What could possibly be written in there? Probably just vague wordplay.”

Most prophecies are like that—abstract and ambiguous, later twisted to fit events as they unfold.

King Henry II, assuming my prophecy was of the same nature, opened the seal in front of everyone.

However, as soon as he read the first line, his eyes widened, and his voice trembled.

“Upon hearing of Jerusalem’s fall, Pope Urban III dies of shock… Cardinal Alberto de Morra becomes the new pope, taking the name Gregory VIII…”

Everyone stared at me as if they’d seen a ghost.

Why are they so surprised? They’ve only read the first line.