Episode 137

Back in the day, whenever I watched movies or dramas, I never quite understood why those high-ranking folks never spoke for themselves.

They’d just stand there, all serious and dignified, while their subordinates did the talking. It seemed like such a waste.

But now that I’m in a similar position, I get it.

Boasting about your own greatness is surprisingly awkward and exhausting.

In that sense, having subordinates who can sprinkle gold dust on your image is invaluable.

Sure, sometimes they go overboard, making me want to crawl into a hole, but it’s still better than having to say it myself.

This time was no different.

To win over Nur al-Din Muhammad, some sweet-talking was necessary, but if I did it myself, it would lose its weight.

That’s where Nasr, who brought him in, and Fatima, my secretary, came in handy, stoking the fire just right.

“Nur al-Din, the Apostle seems to be understanding, but if you keep being disrespectful, you’ll regret it.”

“Regret? Why would I?”

“Because soon, you’ll have no choice but to acknowledge the Apostle. We were just like you at first, fiercely resistant, so we understand.”

“Don’t lump me in with you apostates. Honestly, from my perspective, it’s baffling how you could follow a Christian, not even a fellow Muslim.”

“Hah… Words won’t work, it seems. Apostle, I think it’s time to begin.”

With a deep sigh, Nasr bowed respectfully and stepped aside.

Simultaneously, Fatima laid out a finely pressed carpet and knelt on one knee.

“Please, Apostle.”

It felt a bit much just to take a single step forward, but in this era, such formality was necessary.

With my hands clasped behind my back, I approached Nur al-Din with a solemn demeanor, looking down at him.

“Nur al-Din Muhammad, leader of the Alamut Assassins and son of Hassan II. I have a message from God for you.”

“I don’t know what trick you’re trying to pull, but it won’t work. I’m not like those bird-brained fools…”

“Your father, Hassan II, was renowned as ‘Hassan the Peaceful.’”

“You’ve done your homework, I see. But so what?”

It’s not easy to shake the beliefs of those who are deeply devoted to Shia doctrine.

That’s why I instructed to capture the Assassins alive rather than kill them.

If Nur al-Din Muhammad’s status window didn’t reveal anything useful, I planned to use the other Assassins.

Fortunately, it seems I won’t need to.

“I hear you often expressed respect for your father. You must have been quite filial.”

“The Quran repeatedly emphasizes honoring one’s parents. Don’t you even follow such basic teachings?”

“Of course. The commandment to honor one’s parents is in the Ten Commandments too. Even without such teachings, one should naturally be devoted to their parents. Otherwise, what kind of person would that be?”

In any culture, respecting one’s parents is a fundamental norm for society to function.

Even without such norms, it’s hard not to feel affection for those who gave you life and raised you, unless they were truly terrible.

Historically, even infamous tyrants and dictators were often devoted sons to their mothers.

Judging by the message in the status window, this guy was no different.

He must be harboring a burden he can’t share with others.

All I need to do is gently prod that wound to elicit a reaction.

“But tell me, someone as filial as you must have spent many nights tormented by guilt and regret. Isn’t that so?”

“Regret? Guilt? What do you know?”

He retorted sharply, but couldn’t completely hide the slight tremor in his voice.

As he looked at me with a face full of disbelief, I read the message from the status window aloud.

“I know that you’re secretly tormented by the belief that you share responsibility for your father’s death at the hands of your brother-in-law, who rejected the Qiyama doctrine.”

”…What, what did you say!”

“It’s understandable. If word got out, the story could be twisted, and you might be branded as a parricide. It might be easy to keep it hidden after all these years, but guilt doesn’t fade so easily, does it?”

Nur al-Din stood there, mouth agape, unable to utter a word.

His reaction told me I’d hit his weakest spot perfectly.

Fatima, standing beside me, smirked triumphantly and added a comment.

“No secret can be hidden from the Apostle. But to think you were involved in your father’s death… not so filial after all, were you?”

“Don’t talk nonsense! Didn’t you hear what he just said? I didn’t kill my father! I swear, I never imagined it would turn out that way!”

Looks like I pressed the right button.

As the status window indicated, Nur al-Din didn’t kill his father.

He was just tormented by the guilt of having played a significant role in the circumstances leading to his father’s death.

But he never imagined his lifelong secret would be exposed here.

His reaction is proof enough.

“Nur al-Din Muhammad, God knows all the anguish in your heart. He revealed this secret to me to prove His words. Do you still wish to deny it? Is there anyone around you who knows this truth?”

”…No. There’s… no one… How is this possible…”

“If you still can’t believe it, tell me. I can show you more evidence.”

“I… I can’t believe it. How could Allah choose a Christian as His Apostle? If it were a Jew, I might have understood…”

“It’s because of such narrow-minded thinking that God chose me. Of course, Christians wouldn’t accept a prophet from Islam either. So I don’t blame you.”

Given the deep-rooted animosity between Islam and Christianity, it’s only natural that Nur al-Din can’t accept me right away.

Nasr and Fatima didn’t become loyal followers after just one piece of evidence either.

“Let’s see… who would be a good choice?”

I shifted my gaze from Nur al-Din to the subdued Assassins of Alamut behind him.

Naturally, Nur al-Din followed my gaze to his subordinates sprawled out behind him.

The Assassins, who had witnessed everything, were just as bewildered as Nur al-Din.

A European stranger had uncovered a secret even they, who had served him for decades, didn’t know. It must be terrifying.

Those who met my eyes quickly averted their gaze or pretended to look elsewhere.

The atmosphere was ripening perfectly.

“Nur al-Din, these are all your loyal subordinates, right?”

“Of course they are…”

“Given the importance of this mission, you must have brought only the best from Alamut. My apologies for the unnecessary question.”

This was a critical mission, with the leader of the organization himself present.

Nur al-Din would have chosen his most trustworthy subordinates.

In that sense, these guys are quite valuable.

With so many people, there were bound to be some with useful status windows.

A habitual con artist, a pervert with a history of assaulting married women, and even a guy who married his own sister.

As always, looking into the depths of humanity like this is dizzying.

Each one was a piece of work, but the key was to get a confession right here.

Con artists or murderers might deny their actions, so I had to consider that.

So the most suitable person would be…

“You there.”

There was a perfect candidate right there. What luck.

“Me? Are you talking to me?”

All eyes turned to the startled middle-aged Assassin I had pointed out.

With a benevolent smile, I asked Nur al-Din, who was watching us warily.

“You said all these men are your trusted subordinates, so you must know him well, right?”

“Karim is one of my most trusted men… He’s reliable, skilled, and has never failed a mission. If anyone were to slander him, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“I see. He does seem like a very upright and loyal subordinate. But you see…”

I paused deliberately, clicking my tongue a couple of times.

The middle-aged Assassin named Karim, caught between Nur al-Din and me, stammered as he spoke.

“I… I haven’t done anything wrong, Imam! You know how faithfully I’ve served you all this time.”

“Of course, I know. Rest assured, I would never doubt your loyalty.”

“What a touching relationship between a devoted Shia leader and his faithful Sunni follower. This is the kind of harmony Islam should strive for. Truly moving.”

“Yes, our bond of trust is strong… Wait, what did you just say? Sunni?”

The Assassins have always been staunch Shia followers, and their leader, Hassan, is practically the embodiment of Shia Islam.

Nour al-Din’s hand trembled as he asked again, “I must have misheard, right? Did you just say Sunni?”

“Didn’t you know? That man, Karim, is a fervent Sunni. He’s managed to keep it hidden while staying with the organization.”

Nour al-Din’s eyes, filled with disbelief, turned to the subordinate he once trusted.

“You… How dare you!”

“No, Imam! It’s a misunderstanding! He’s lying!”

“Is that so? There can’t possibly be a Sunni spy here, especially not you…”

“Well, we can verify that, can’t we?”

There are certain things a devout Sunni would never say, especially if their status is recorded as such. A Shia, on the other hand, would have no qualms, making it easy to spot any denial.

I spoke gently to Karim, who was desperately pleading for trust. “If you’re truly innocent, let’s prove it. Repeat after me.”

“Alright, I’ll repeat whatever you say.”

“Let’s begin. Muhammad’s wife, Aisha bint Abi Bakr…”

“Muhammad’s wife, Aisha bint Abi Bakr…”

“…is the vile woman who poisoned Muhammad and usurped his glory, deserving of eternal suffering in hellfire.”

Now, I don’t personally hold this view, but extreme Shia often do. Conversely, to Sunnis, Aisha is revered as the mother of all believers, beyond reproach. It’s akin to how Catholics view the Virgin Mary.

The pressure must be at least ten times stronger than asking someone to curse a revered figure.

As expected…

“…the vile woman who poisoned Muhammad and usurped his glory, deserving of eternal suffering in hellfire… I… I can’t… Aaaah!”

Karim couldn’t finish the sentence, clutching his head and collapsing to the ground. Nour al-Din, his face flushed with anger, erupted in a tirade.

“You filthy traitor! You dare deceive me and sell me lies? I’ll smash your head and pray for your repentance right now!”

And to think, just moments ago, he was the one vowing to trust his subordinate’s loyalty no matter what. This is why you can’t trust those who only talk a good game.