kingdom of nations

Chapter 146 The End (Two chapters combined)

With Kamal reaching this conclusion, the rest becomes much simpler.

Governor Shirkul of Damascus was now only one step away from rebellion. Any decrees sent to Egypt by Sultan Noordin or his son had been completely ignored. His agents in the city were already in an awkward position, and the fact that he was killed by an Assassin assassin, not someone with whom he had a grudge or conflict of interest, made it even harder to pinpoint the killer; after all, all that brought him to his death was a weapon.

How many people had he offended in this city? The merchants who were robbed and slaughtered, the Isaacs who worked for him but were about to be betrayed, or the Saracens who held a grudge against him because of Hilku…

He was quickly placed in a coffin, and his servants were hired to perform the cleansing and subsequent procedures. After a short and simple funeral, the crowd gathered and pleaded with Kamal to choose a reliable representative for Damascus before leaving.

"Why did you choose me?" Lazis looked at Kamal with suspicion. They were indeed classmates in college and close friends, but that didn't stop them from teasing each other. "I'm not a smart person, nor am I very hardworking. I have no desire for power. I just like to spend the next few decades comfortably in the embrace of 'beauty'." Even his persistent collection and copying of books over the past ten years was to fulfill his ancestor's long-cherished wish.

Although Lazis had received revelations from the prophet, he never wanted to join the army or the court. He was very satisfied with his current life and did not want any change.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” Kamal sat opposite him. On the small table between them were delicate pastries and candied fruits, as well as two hookahs. The smoke rose amidst the dazzling spectacle of stained glass, like the veil fluttering as a songstress twirled. However, there were only the two of them in the room, with no servants or slaves around. After all, this was a rare moment of relaxation for them, especially Kamal.

Lazis didn't want to replace these servants yet—so he wouldn't keep anyone around to serve them, lest they overhear something they shouldn't.

“Damascus never needed a master.” Kamal understood the current situation very well.

The social classes in Damascus can be mainly divided into three classes. The highest class consists of officials, scholars, and generals. The second class consists of merchants, artisans, and farmers—Damascus is not just a city; it is surrounded by rugged mountains and vast wilderness. The third class consists of Christians, Isaacs, and, in a very subtle way, the city's guards. They are not popular with the people and can even be described as hounds driven by the first and second classes. They even have a unique prefix, shuār, which means vicious, which shows how notorious they are.

But these three classes shared the same idea—they all abhorred the taxes and laws levied by the Sultan or the Caliph, and longed to make Damascus an autonomous city, like Florence in the Apennines or Lang in the Franks.

But such demands could not be met in the Saracen world—under the Sultan there were only slaves, and even the Great Vizier and Emir could not escape this curse, not to mention that Damascus only had a few merchants.

In fact, more than a hundred years ago, the people of Damascus had already launched several riots that troubled the Caliph. He could not abandon the city, but the stubbornness of the people always made him feel like he had a bone stuck in his throat.

The people of Damascus only began to behave themselves after being conquered by Nur ad-Din, but it was clear that this submissive attitude would not last long. Therefore, if Kamal were to place someone like Shirku or Saladin there, the outcome would certainly not be good—it would be like pouring a glass of ice water into a seemingly calm but actually boiling pot of oil, instantly causing it to flare up. On that day, Damascus might descend into conflict even sooner than Apollo.

That's why a mediocre person with no ambition would be accepted by the people of Damascus.

"Until the situation in Apole is settled, you don't need to make any decisions, not even regarding the bandits outside the city or the Isaacs inside—if they want to use their soldiers to clear the thorns growing on the trade routes, that's fine, let them do it. Don't interfere or try to stop them. If they give you gifts, accept them, but don't interfere with the taxes. Well, even if they intentionally delay or miss some, it doesn't matter. After all, this money doesn't belong to you; it belongs to the Sultan."

If the future Sultan is a figure like Nur ad-Din, it will only be the people of Damascus who suffer…

"What if he's not?"

"Then you don't need to worry too much. They will refuse the Sultan's decree on your behalf. These guys aren't so stupid as to intentionally welcome a strange and difficult opponent."

“It’s really disheartening to hear you say that,” Lazis said defiantly. “Back in university, my grades weren’t much worse than yours. I also received the Prophet’s revelations in the temple. If necessary, I would also mount my horse, brandish my scimitar, and fight those Christians to defend the glory of God.”

“But you have no ambition,” Kamal pointed out mercilessly. “You may be devout, diligent, or intelligent, but you have no desire to improve yourself. You are not that kind of person, so you can’t understand their thoughts. Once you get caught up in the vortex, you will definitely be crushed to pieces.”

In fact, Nurdin had mentioned Lazis's name, wanting him to come to Apol's court to work for him, but Kamal managed to refuse.

“I told him that if you were by his side, you might become a good doctor, a soldier, or an official, but you could never become a competent subject—don’t think that you’ll be fine as long as you do your job well. As long as you get in someone’s way, they won’t hesitate to sabotage your work, frame you, and then try to put you in jail or put you to death.”

By then, everything will be over. And then there's you.

But Damascus is indeed a good place for you to live a leisurely life now. If the new Sultan sends his governor, you don't need to worry. Just hand over your power to him peacefully, and leave the rest to the people of Damascus.”

"What if they elect me to fight the new governor?"

"Then come to Apollo."

"you sure?"

Kamal fell silent. "...If you really don't want to..."

“Never mind,” Lazis said, putting a honey-glazed apricot in his mouth and chewing slowly, only to find his mouth filled with bitterness. He knew why Kamal had recommended him—it was because he simply couldn't think of anyone else.

The agent left behind by Hilku has already demonstrated how terrible it is to let a person of low character govern a city. If Kamal refuses to point out someone to them—and once he leaves, the people of the city will surely fight endlessly for the position, and the whole city will fall apart as a result.

"So what about you? Are you still going back to Apollo?"

“If I could stay in Damascus, I would be the one to act as his proxy,” Kamal said. “But I will definitely go back. It is my duty, my obligation, and my right. My heart will never find peace until I see Sultan Noordin rest in peace in his final resting place.”

Speaking of Sultan Nur ad-Din, Lazis raised his head: "That Christian knight you sent me to test... he did come to me. How do you know he would definitely come to me?"

“I’ve heard some things about him—and I’ve seen firsthand how much the Christian kings loved and trusted him,” Kamal said, which he could understand—although sultans like Nur ad-Din, or al-Fayez like Atid, wouldn’t have a Grand Vizier or the son of an emir around when they were princes (their fathers wouldn’t allow it).

From childhood, however, they would be accompanied by slaves of similar age. These young slaves, like the women in the Sultan's harem, were also purchased from slave traders or markets. They were like dogs or birds, accompanying the prince. Although their lives were in the hands of others, they could also wield power after the prince became Sultan or Caliph—even if they could never become the true masters of a land, or even be allowed to own their own property, and even their lives and honor belonged to their masters—they were often second only to the Sultan, above all others.

These people's loyalty to the Sultan or Caliph was beyond question. After all, no one else but their masters, with whom they had grown up, would have given them the same trust and importance. If anyone else had ascended to the high position, death or an even more tragic end would have awaited them.

But this was almost nonexistent in the Christian court, since their roots were not here, but in another faraway place. Even though the Count of Edessa had lost his territory, as long as he still had a surname and coat of arms, he could still be a guest of honor of other monarchs, even after leaving King Arazarus. Hundreds of nobles would be willing to associate with him. Moreover, he was so young and handsome, and was the "chosen one." Where could he not make a name for himself?
Kamal, who spent almost every moment in the Sultan's court amidst intrigue and backstabbing, found it hard to believe that such a pure and benevolent person truly existed, whose compassion extended not only to his king, brothers, and Christians, but also to his enemies.

While in Blas, he had heard that the young knight had visited the library there with his squire and managed to borrow several books about leprosy to read and copy.

He wasn't sure if this was just a show for others or if it truly came from the heart, and how firm and solid that sincerity could be—he sent his servant to tell Lazis that if a Christian knight really came to borrow those precious medical books from him, he should humiliate, belittle, and question the man as much as possible, to see if he would be angry, ashamed, or remorseful… Lazis continued to tell him about the events of the previous night without reservation, in great detail.

“It’s really strange,” Lazis said. “You know what? I thought that if it were a tenth of what I said, a child his age would have turned around and left without hesitation—even the older servant behind him looked indignant, but he acted as if he hadn’t heard a word I said…” He gestured with his eyes wide with surprise, “and then he sat down in front of me and offered to buy my books for a gold coin.”

Of course, when I first heard that, I thought he was mocking me in retaliation. But then he kept raising the stakes, all the way up to a million gold coins—a million, enough to buy even Damascus. My anger vanished in that instant. "I suddenly understood," he looked at Kamal, "He wasn't showing off how much money he had, but how unwavering his conviction was. To achieve his goal, he was willing to exchange everything for tangible assets. My books, my dignity, my life—they all had value—and so did his, so he didn't care about my wild words."

"I admit I was terrified then. I didn't understand at all. It was just a few books; he wasn't even sure if they could really help him, but he still bet everything like a reckless gambler," he took a deep breath. "I didn't dare gamble with him—so he won. Was he always like this?"

“I wasn’t quite sure before, but I do know that his brother, the King of Arrassal, was indeed a daring gambler. Yes, you probably don’t know the details of the Battle of the Sea of ​​Galilee.” Kamal slowly took a puff of his hookah. “They defeated a Sultan’s army, which was ten times their size, with a small force of a hundred knights, a few hundred squires, and armed attendants. The decision to do this was made by their young king, and perhaps also by the knight we are now seeing.”

“He is indeed arrogant,” Lazis nodded. “However, such a person should not be the kind of person who would use good deeds as part of a conspiracy. Although good people can do bad things, using the legacy of a great ruler as a bargaining chip has undoubtedly crossed the line—whether it is a Saracen or a Christian.”

Kamal nodded. "He did tell me that he performed the purification ritual for the Sultan without expecting anything in return—we didn't say we would be indebted to him at the time; it was simply out of compassion for one human being to another."

“A Christian knight with great love?” Lazis laughed, seemingly finding the idea quite amusing. “Then why did you ask me to do this? Kamal, I’m not trying to pry into your secrets. If you can’t answer, then don’t answer me—I’m just a little curious.”

The boy was a Christian. If he had been a young Saracen, or even a Kurd, or a Nubian, he would have thought his close friend intended to bring him into the Sultan's court. But he was a Christian, an enemy of the Saracens, though Christian knights were sometimes employed by the Sultan or Caliph—he was also the King of Arazarus's envoy and close advisor, and the heir to the Count of Edessa—the possibility of him betraying his faith and monarch and switching sides was extremely low.

“I also have a request from someone,” Kamal said, without revealing the person’s name, and Lazis tactfully didn’t press for details. But Kamal’s thoughts were already drifting back to when he was still on Arrassa Road, when he received a secret letter from Cairo, Egypt—at that time, he was worried about his future and didn’t know where to go.

He once served under Sultan Nur ad-Din, the light of faith for the Saracens, and was deeply impressed by him.

After Nur ad-Din's death, he looked around and couldn't find anyone who could rival him—no, not even half as great as him. The Sultan's three sons were not even as good as the new king of Arazarus.

He can't very well go to Yalasa Road.

Compared to the Saracen court, the Christian kingdom was even more harsh and dangerous. Their emphasis on bloodlines and lineage meant that even the son of an ordinary farmer or craftsman would find it difficult to gain a foothold in their power circles, let alone a Saracen—who would most likely end up adding fuel to their stake.

In the following days, he surprisingly received a letter from Saladin. He didn't have much contact with Saladin; he dealt more with his uncle, Shirku. Shirku was nothing more than a rude and boorish man. He might have some petty schemes, but in Kamal's eyes, these were nothing more than child's play.

They were able to move south and become the masters of Egypt only because Nur ad-Din was old and could no longer control these two unruly falcons. Once they were released, it would be difficult for him to summon them back into his hands.

In Kamal's mind, they were nothing short of traitors.

If Nur ad-Din hadn't suffered defeat and death at the Battle of the Sea of ​​Galilee, he might very well have conquered Egypt after capturing Arazari. Kamal even wondered if, at that time, he would be among the Sultan's army, watching as the Sultan's eunuchs strangled the two traitors with bowstrings.

Now one of the traitors has written him a letter, and the contents of the letter are very straightforward and frank. He is trying to recruit Kamal—Kamal even laughed out loud when he saw those few lines of text. It was ridiculous.

How could Saladin possibly believe that the most illustrious and arrogant member of a powerful family that had lived in Apol for generations would be willing to submit to a Kurd?

But this wasn't just one letter; every night thereafter, a letter would appear on his desk, each with a different content.

Sometimes Saladin would simply describe to him the scenery along the Nile, the lives of the people, and his nascent new army; other times he would introduce him to Cairo, Egypt's new capital, where he was building a massive fortress as the first line of defense against the Christians; he also spoke of Apol, Nur ad-Din's three sons, and his nephew in Mosul, and even mentioned the Armenian prince and the Byzantine emperor. It must be said that some of his analyses surprisingly coincided with those of Kamal.

The parts of his thinking that differed from his own made Kamal impulsively want to spread out a parchment, pick up a quill, write down his opinions, and send it back to Saladin. But wouldn't that be admitting his willingness to become Saladin's subject? He barely managed to suppress the urge.

While they were still in Busra, at the end of the secret letter he received, Saladin made a very small request: to go and see the black-haired, blue-eyed child.

Saladin also heard that his true identity had been revealed—he was the only son of Josephine III, Count of Edessa—and that he had suddenly gone from a slave of unknown origin to one of the heirs to the four Holy Kingdoms (according to Christians), which was truly astonishing.

However, unlike Kamal, Saladin did not believe that this was the intention of King Baldwin IV of Arazarus. Even without this identity, the child would surely have a bright future and a distinguished status.

Saladin wrote in his letter that he had spoken with the boy and that he possessed noble qualities that most people lacked. However, he also noted that even a mature person would uncontrollably reveal their flaws under such rapid changes. Could this young man truly withstand such a test?
Lazis joked that Kamal was so interested in this Christian knight, did he want to recruit him into Apol's court? Kamal certainly had no such intention, but he felt that Saladin was indeed paying too much attention to this young man. This Kurd who might become Sultan in the future might really have some ulterior motives—perhaps a guy who can become a monarch is always a bit like a dragon, wanting to grab treasures when he sees them—Nur ad-Din was the same way back then.

Of course, if the other party's performance disappoints him, he will also discard them without hesitation.

“If he were a Saracen, I would be pleased and comforted, but he is a Christian,” Laches said, as if talking to himself. “Didn’t you ever think that he might die on this mission?”

Although the king of Arazarus would surely be furious, and given the boy's temperament, we might even face a brutal war. But so what? Christians and Saracens are destined to fight until the end of the world.

"...He is, after all, just a man," Kamal said after a moment of contemplation. "Besides, our journey is not yet over. Let's go to Apol and see what happens next."

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“The Christian mission will arrive in Apollo in three days and two nights,” the First Lady said calmly, while her eunuch remained silent with his hands at his sides.

Sultan Nur ad-Din's youngest son, Saleh, nestled in his birth mother's arms, staring wide-eyed at the First Lady—a rather peculiar rule in the Sultan's harem.

In the harem, apart from the first, second, and third wives, all the concubines and female slaves in the palace could be said to be the Sultan's personal possessions, but their true master was only one person—the first wife. The first wife decided who would serve the Sultan, unless the Sultan really took a fancy to someone (which was rare). Otherwise, how many times they would serve, when they would serve, and even whether they could get pregnant, all depended on the first wife's wishes.

If a concubine did not have the First Lady's permission, the First Lady could execute her for adultery—this was rare, but if it did happen, the Sultan would not pursue the matter too much.

Saleh was born under the First Lady's watchful eye, and he and his birth mother were natural allies of the First Lady.

Saleh's biological mother hugged Saleh tightly. Saleh might not have understood, but she knew that the night before, Count Josephine III of Edessa and his wife had been moved from their imprisoned fortress to Apollo Castle, and that very night, the First Lady's eunuch had taken poison to end their lives.

(End of this chapter)