kingdom of nations

Chapter 144 On the Road to Apollo (9)

Laila's lavish praise drew everyone's attention. No matter how deep the Saracens' hatred for Christians was, they couldn't help but soften their expressions before this treasure created by God himself.

No, wait, perhaps not everyone, because in this room, there is still one person, still lying in "Qiyan's" arms, seemingly oblivious to everything that is happening here.

Not only Cesar, but even Geoffroy frowned immediately; things were getting tricky. This man was their very purpose in coming here—Lazis.

Frois and César had seen many Saracens, both on the battlefield and in the court, but this Saracen before them completely contradicted their previous impressions. Saracen men always seemed solemn, resolute, and unsmiling. They had long, curly beards, wore turbans that covered their heads, and wore simple black robes with wide leather belts. Apart from a silver ring, they carried nothing else.

And Lazis… look at him now. His turban is long gone, his hair is disheveled, and his face is flushed. He has a beard like all Saracen men, but it's very short, almost touching his skin, more like a bluish-black shadow. He stretches out his arms loosely, resting one leg on a velvet mound made of several pillows, his chest open, even his innermost long undergarment is crooked and disheveled.

This posture was not merely casual; one could even call it unrestrained and decadent. It would be absurd for an important figure in Damascus to be completely ignorant of the origins of César and Geoffroy, yet he still adopted this posture—as if to indicate that their journey would not be so smooth.

Lazis chuckled first, his voice hoarse yet unusually charming. Among men over forty, he could be considered young and handsome, with honey-like eyes. Although he was the one pursuing Leila, her eventual acceptance of his affections and invitation to her house proved that he had indeed won the favor of this "beautiful" woman—when he opened his eyes and looked at her, there was little displeasure at being disturbed, but rather a deadly clarity.

“I’ve heard of you. They say you’re a chosen one of the Christians, a servant of King Arazarus, whom he trusts and values ​​greatly. People say you might become the youngest Grand Vizier,” he stretched. “Perhaps there is indeed pure friendship in this world, like spring water, or perhaps you each have your own agendas and are merely using each other. Or worse, there might be a fool among you, either he’s fooling you or you’re fooling him.”

He gained the approval of Christians through you, making people believe that his leprosy was not God's punishment, but a rare test. If he could pass this difficult trial, he might become a great king or even a saint in the future.

"And you, not long ago you were merely a slave of Isaac, your origins constantly criticized by those Christians. Their court is entirely different from ours; if you don't have the blood of a knight or nobleman in your veins, even if you conquer Damascus or Apollo for them, you can forget about gaining their respect."

He smiled and said, “We are different. As long as virtue, wisdom, courage, and piety are all approved by God, it will not be surprising if he becomes a Sultan or a Caliph, and no one will object.”

He reached out and pointed to the overturned glass beside him. "Qiyan" immediately stood the glass upright and filled it with crimson grape juice. He picked it up and drank it all in one gulp, letting out a long sigh. "I don't know if your legend is true or false, but it certainly sounds like a fascinating story. It's just that you have a brother and friend who is the king to vouch for you, so they are willing to acknowledge you and allow you to walk the earth as the son of Count Josephine III of Edessa."

He glanced at César sideways. “You do have a face that is worth as much as this story. But so what? Whether it was the King of Arazarus or Josephine III, Count of Edessa, they were Christians, enemies of the Saracens. I would lament for them, feel sorry for them, and even write poems for them when their heads are laid out on the table.” He raised his glass to César. “And of course, there is you, whose beauty, youth, and life are all so fleeting.”

But while he is still alive, I'm sorry, I won't do anything for him, not even if he's a guest of Kamal—you should know this—my relationship with Kamal isn't very good. As a subject, he's too naive, slow-witted, and indecisive; he's even willing to show mercy to an enemy.

"But Christian knight," he said with an unquestionable tone, "I know you borrowed those medical books about leprosy from me for your close friend and king. God has not bestowed grace upon him, but punishment. Yes, he may be innocent, but he is the king of Arazari, the commander of the Crusades. He is destined to fall into Hellfire and suffer torment. This is just a matter of bringing that torment forward by a decade or so."

I will not give you those books to save him. I will not let him live a healthy life, a long life, until he can lift his spear and gallop across the battlefield, because he will be killing Saracen soldiers, my friends and brothers.

Of course, you could say that you once performed the ritual cleansing of our Sultan Nur ad-Din, and I don't know if you did it intentionally or unintentionally—yes, even the Sultan's son or wife should thank you for not allowing him to be humiliated by the enemy after his death. But if you use this favor to demand repayment, to blackmail or coerce, don't you feel ashamed?"

Many people may have thought these words in their hearts, after all, they are mortal enemies. No matter how wicked or despicable one imagines the other to be, one cannot go too far.

But Lazis was the first to say these things clearly. Jocel is indeed a naive young man who is at a stage where he values ​​dignity and the opinions of others the most... Even Jofla, who is behind him, felt a churning in his stomach and could not find peace.

The other party's meaning was very clear: they were accusing them of trying to exploit a long-planned favor to fleece them, and not just once or twice.

"You've sold this favor over and over again. Let's not even talk about the gifts," Lazis said listlessly. "You've won an unprecedented victory, the young king has laid the foundation for his power, the honor of the Crusades has been restored, and the Count of Edessa—your father... You seem to have forgotten that Sultan Nur ad-Din died by your sword. A bunch of murderers, yet they rejoice and gloat because they gave the dead a last bit of dignity, proclaiming everywhere that they have supreme mercy. Isn't that ridiculous?"
"When you arrive in Apollo, besides your father, you'll receive gifts from the ladies and princes—enough to build an army of your own. Isn't that enough? You greedy wretch!" Lazis said coldly. "You remind me of those fruits with intact exteriors but rotten interiors. When people don't understand you, they treasure you, but in reality… your heart is as black and foul as those Christians…"

"Alright, let's go. Out of consideration for Kamal, I won't harm his guests, but you really are annoying me."

This dismissal was quite ruthless; even Geoffroy was already considering leaving—it was just a few medical books. If they couldn't get them in Damascus, couldn't they go to Apollo? The great library there shouldn't refuse their visit, or they could get them from the merchants—as long as they were willing to pay a sufficiently generous price, weren't the books in Lazis copied anyway?

Even Leila's gaze towards Cesar couldn't help but carry a hint of pity. Several of the "beautiful girls" even felt a surge of desire to comfort the poor, handsome young man—they all thought that the conversation between Lazis and this Christian man had come to an end. Lazis's attitude was clear: no matter what efforts or promises the other party made, he would not grant his request. And they didn't have much time; they were to depart for Apollo tomorrow.

But to everyone's surprise, the young man, whose appearance alone could evoke pity from countless people, did not immediately leave the room in shame and anger because of the sarcasm. He even appeared very calm, as if what he had just heard was a compliment to him rather than a denigration.

Indeed, if Cesar were truly just a fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy, he would never have been able to bear this humiliation.

But he was already an adult before he came into this world. During his rotations in the hospital, he witnessed countless partings and deaths, countless stories of human nature. What in this world could be more important than life? Nothing. He had long ago realized that.

Besides, he had been here for six or seven years, and he had already seen that Lazis was deliberately showing such an attitude and saying such things.

Perhaps Kamal had already informed Lazis, and he knew that if Cesar insisted, he might actually lend him those precious books to copy. But as a Saracen, he was deeply reluctant. He admitted that he was not a magnanimous person; he could never show mercy or respect to his enemies.

He hoped his cold words would drive the young man away—but when the young man came over and sat cross-legged in front of him, he could only turn his head away from him. Then he saw the young man take out a money bag from his side, untie the rope on it, take out a gold coin, and place it in front of him. "Can I offer you a gold coin in exchange for the right to copy your medical books?"

Lazis was first taken aback, then almost laughed in anger. He thought this was a low-class way of getting revenge, mocking that his cherished possessions were only worth a single gold coin. "Looks like you're not willing," Cesar said, then added another gold coin: "How about two?"

Lazis's hand was already on his fanged dagger. If the other man wanted to humiliate him, he wouldn't mind treating him the way a true Saracen deals with Christians.

At this moment, Cesar, you placed the tenth gold coin on the carpet. "Then how about I exchange it for ten gold coins?" Lazis had already sat up, and the "beautiful one" beside him had nimbly dodged away. The room was silent except for their conversation. Some people looked worried, while others moved to more subtle positions. Geoffroy had also placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

He knew that Laziz was the chosen one, that he had received revelation from the prophet. Among the Saracens, "scholars" could bring knowledge, but also death. For their first and most exalted prophet had established his rule by the sword.

Cesar stopped what he was doing. They hadn't come out to buy anything, and even if they did, they would do so through contracts and documents, not by actually handing over gold and silver. Therefore, his purse only contained a few dozen gold coins. "What about a hundred?" Cesar calmly continued, looking at the stern-faced middle-aged man. "What about a thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Even a million? If it were a million, would you feel ashamed?"

Although people call books the crystallization of wisdom and say that wisdom is priceless, this is merely rhetoric. Those scholars who taught and translated texts for the Caliph received substantial rewards. If Razis's collection of books could truly be exchanged for a million gold coins, people would not consider it a betrayal of the Saracens or a foolish act; they would simply see it as good fortune bestowed upon him by God.

One million—what does that mean? It's almost enough to rebuild a country. Lazis stood there, but his expression gradually calmed down.

Of course, it wasn't for that vague million gold coins. He already knew what the other party was going to say.

Everything has a price, but that price isn't necessarily based on gold, or even on things that people can see and touch—like what Lazis would have to give up for that gold if he had agreed. It wasn't just a few books; it was also his honor and dignity.

Lazis remained silent. If someone were to offer him such a generous reward, he would accept—just like the young man before him. Let them say whatever they want: whether his past good deeds were hypocritical posturing, or greedy demands for repayment based on a meager favor, or doubts about his character—not only towards the Saracens, but also towards the Christians—his loyalty to his friends, brothers, and king. He would not be offended, nor would he change his thoughts or ways because of it.

He came here solely to achieve a result, even though he didn't know if the books could actually help King Arazarus's leprosy. But for even this faint hope, he was determined to do everything in his power.

Lazis had to admit that for a moment, he wavered. Such genuine emotion, like beauty, could be awe-inspiring and subjugating, especially when he put himself in the position of this young man. He was not sure if he was willing to endure such humiliation and misunderstanding for the Sultan. Sometimes, living humbly is far more difficult than dying noblely.

“But you don’t have a million gold coins,” he said, not referring to the gold coins themselves, but questioning whether he had the authority to fulfill his promise.

“Of course I don’t have it now, but how do you know I won’t have it in the future?” Cesar retorted with a smile. Compared to Lazis’s tension, hesitation, and ferocity, he remained very relaxed. He even kept his hands gently on his knees with his fingers hanging down. There was not a trace of fear or hesitation in him. Even when Lazis stood up and he had to look up at him, his answer was still calm and clear.

"As you said, in Saracens, anyone with real talent and ability can become a general, an official, an emir, or a great vizier, or even a sultan and a caliph."

"If that's the case, how do you know I can't repay the debt I owe you?"

“You are truly an arrogant man,” Lazis said. “You have no land, no army, only a servant to a king as young as yourself, whose life is like a candle in the wind, which may be extinguished at any moment. Beneath your feet is not solid rock, but loose sand… and yet you remain…”

He suddenly stopped. “Look at what I’ve done tonight… Christian, I still think I’ll regret this decision today—I can lend you the books I have here, you can take them and copy them, but you can’t leave my house. But if you really do heal your brother and your king with them, then remember that you owe me a debt.”

“I remember,” Cesar said, then he thought for a moment and pulled a gold chain from his robes. On the chain was a cross, with a large ruby ​​set in it. This gold chain had once been worn by Baldwin, who, when Count Etienne went missing, had to send Cesar to gather information for him. In return, Baldwin gifted Cesar a sable coat and this gold cross, hoping that if necessary, these two items would save him from certain death or capture.

There's no reason to take back a gift that's already been given. Cesar carefully kept both items. Until this mission, although he wasn't particularly willing, he was traveling in disguise; apart from the gold cross, all his clothing and accessories were Saracen.

“I will use this as collateral,” he said. “Please do not sell it or give it away to anyone else. If you believe that I can keep the oath I have made now, come to me with this token.”

Will you grant all my requests?

“I can’t guarantee that to you,” Cesar said frankly, “but I can promise that I will do my best.”

Lazis remained silent for a long time, and most people thought he was going to back out, but unexpectedly he still reached out and took the cross.

He would really go back on his word if César said he would grant him any wish.

“I will have my servant take you to my house,” Lazis said. “He will show you where the books you need are, and you may copy them. But I expect you to leave before dawn, and do not spread this around, or I will be very embarrassed.”

He spoke frankly, and Cesar, of course, responded without hesitation. Only after they left the room did Lazis finally show a troubled expression. "God really shouldn't have allowed such a child to be born in a Christian castle," he said.

“What good would it do if God really placed him in Apollo or Damascus?” Laila waved her hand, signaling the “Qiyan” to resume singing, playing music, and dancing. She then walked gracefully toward Lazis, taking the place of the original “Qiyan” and gently embracing his head.

"Which of Sultan Nur ad-Din's three sons do you think is worthy of his assistance?"

Lazis was speechless. Indeed, although he loathed the Christians, he had to admit that the young King Arazarus had indeed shown extraordinary brilliance, and in the recent negotiations, it was also evident that he possessed a kindness and magnanimity that the previous kings had never shown.

"Nur ad-Din's three sons... I'm sorry, if such a gem falls into their hands, I'm afraid it won't be long before they're crushed into dust," he muttered. "I don't believe God would treat the Saracens so cruelly." Lazis's hand, longer and stronger than the other women's, stroked him, and in this gentle comfort, he quickly closed his eyes.

Lazis was unaware that after he fell into a deep sleep, Leila left the room. She went to another bedroom, sat down at the dressing table to wipe off her makeup, and then began to apply dark ointment to her body and face—making sure to apply it to every part of her body. She also used a special potion to temporarily dye her hair brown, braided it, and tied it together.

Then, she took off her shiny silk and put on a rough black robe, wrapped herself in a cloak, and pulled up the hood. When she walked barefoot out of the house, she had become a completely Nubian woman—having lost her distinctive features and even appearing in stark contrast to her former self, no one would guess that she was the most famous "beautiful" Laila in Damascus if they met face to face.

(End of this chapter)