kingdom of nations

Chapter 289 Broken Wings (7)

Laila also heard Abigail's curses and threats. Instead of showing any fear, she let out a sharp and contemptuous laugh that everyone present heard, especially Abigail, who was so provoked that he went into an uncontrollable frenzy. The monks beside him had been calling out "God" and "Heaven" several times to calm him down. He was bleeding, and they were constantly praying and trying to heal him, but Abigail refused to cooperate. He struggled violently, his white teeth protruding from his lips, almost like a wild beast that had lost its mind and wanted to bite anyone it saw.

The severed arm, which had shown signs of healing, began to bleed profusely again after being tortured like this. The Antioch knight who was holding him down could only raise his hand and give him a chop to the neck. Abigail finally fainted completely.

The monks breathed a sigh of relief; they could finally try to stop the bleeding for Abigail. But their expressions immediately turned serious. One of the monks muttered a curse, it was unclear whether he was cursing the assassin or Abigail.

Abigail's arm was beyond saving.

There are monks who can reconnect severed limbs and regenerate flesh, but unfortunately, they only exist in places like Arrassa, Constantinople, Rome, or the Frankish court; they are nowhere to be found here.

After all this turmoil, it's already a miracle that they managed to save Abigail's life.

However, at this moment, even among the knights of Antioch, few could continue to focus their attention on Abigail. They were used to duels on foot, mounted combat, or group battles, but they had never encountered a battle like the one between Cesar and Laila, which resembled a dance.

After all, in a Christian castle, women's lessons would not include martial arts, let alone wielding weapons and engaging in a real, bloody battle with a knight.

Lyra was not a petite woman; she was almost as tall as an average civilian man. Yet, whether she was leaping, running, or wielding a weapon, she moved with incredible agility—like the wind, like a bird, or perhaps both.

But the cold wind carried ice and snow, and the birds' beaks were coated with deadly poison. Her daggers and scimitars could even penetrate Cesar's protective barrier and leave bloodstains on his body. Under other circumstances, the knights would surely have cried out for the devil and rushed forward to help Cesar kill this assassin.

But at this moment, they seemed to be captivated, completely immersed in appreciating the battle. If Laila was the wind, a bird, then Cesar was like a collapsing rock wall, a surging torrent. Laila's blade wind might be able to break through the surface of the defense, but it was difficult to penetrate it. As for Cesar's attacks, Laila could only try her best to dodge. She knew very well that as soon as she was hit, she would immediately suffer broken bones.

Her strength was waning, just as Sinan had warned her. Although she had been fortunate enough to receive revelation from the prophet—yes, this was precisely why Sinan had paid a large sum of money to ransom her—according to doctrine and tradition, she should have been put to death, but Sinan did not.

He raised and taught her like a loving father and a kind teacher, and Leila therefore loved and respected him deeply. She worked for him diligently and never had the slightest thought of rebellion.

She and Sinan kept this secret for a long time. In the Assassins' eagle's nest, although some questioned Leila's strength and agility, most people remained silent unless they intended to challenge the authority of their elders, since Sinan had become their leader.

But the Christian knight fighting her must have realized it. She looked into those emerald green eyes, and even though he didn't shout out "devil" or "witch," those eyes must have been filled with disgust and rejection—she had seen such malice in the eyes of several people before, but unfortunately, by the time they realized it, they had already become her victims.

But when she looked in that direction, she only saw a clear, dazzling color, perhaps it was night, or perhaps it was moonlight—and at that moment, she suddenly made an incomprehensible move. She first threw her dagger, and as Cesar dodged, her scimitar flew towards the Antiochian knight who was watching the battle, or rather, Abigail who was being urgently treated by the monks.

The scimitar came whistling through the air, and the leading knight immediately raised his shield. His reaction was incredibly fast, but he could only watch helplessly as the shield shattered before his eyes—and before he could even cry out, Cesar had already stepped in front of Abigail.

Without hesitation, Lyra plunged into the darkness and vanished instantly. Even though the knights immediately mounted their horses to search, they couldn't find any trace of the female Assassin assassin. After searching for a while, they found nothing. In the dead of night, with enemies lurking all around, they dared not linger in the wilderness for too long, especially since Abigail's condition was deteriorating.

William Marshall rode up and patted César on the shoulder. "I will be your witness, César."

Cesar didn’t quite understand William Marshall’s meaning at first—but he soon did—the Grand Duke of Antioch would certainly be furious about his only son’s suffering, and it was hard to say what a father who witnessed his child being tortured and even crippled for life would do. He might make many unreasonable demands and harsh questions, such as why Cesar didn’t spare the Assassin assassin.

The most troubling part is that the assassin also seems to know Cesar; it was she who warned and guided him, allowing Cesar to stop Abigail's evil deeds.

On the other hand, there is not much to criticize about César's approach.

Among the Saracen swear words is the phrase "husband of a whore." Whenever a Saracen man is cursed in this way, he will jump up, draw his scimitar, and fight the man to the death.

Similarly, in this vulgar phrase, "husband" can be replaced with any male relative, father, brother, or uncle—Abi was doing evil without considering the consequences his father, the king of Arazarus, or even the entire Crusade might have to pay for his actions.

Even though the Crusaders and the Saracens were mortal enemies, those who managed to establish themselves in the century-long war were not foolish enough to make themselves surrounded by enemies. They would always try to unite one side against the other, and when it was necessary to feign cooperation, hatred and faith were not major issues.

Emina's identity was indeed important and sensitive enough. She was the sister of the Sultan of Egypt and the wife of the governor of Holmes. If Abigail really committed atrocities against her, the Crusaders would be facing two raging lions. At that time, not only Damascus, but even Antioch would be in danger.

Moreover, they all saw that without Cesar, the female Assassin assassin would have severed not just an arm, but half of Abigail's body.

Even the Assassin assassin who managed to escape in the end did so because the Antioch knights were too incompetent—Cesar was not a true saint.

However, given the rumors circulating in Damascus, some people are bound to stir things up.

"Wait," William called out to him again, "Count Edsa, are you sure they are your prisoners?"

Then everyone remembered that Emina had indeed said that she wanted to surrender to Abigail of Antioch, but he refused.

Many things that happened afterward made people temporarily forget this important matter. Indeed, the highest-ranking person here was only the Earl of Edessa, the Knight of Bethlehem. He should have accepted the surrender of these Saracens and declared them his prisoners to avoid any further complications.

“I have already sent word to His Majesty.” “What if the first to arrive is not the King?” William Marshall whispered a reminder. “If it is Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch who arrives, then we will be in trouble.”

Cesar no longer hesitated. He turned to Emina, who had taken a scimitar from one of her attendants and hung it at her waist.

She was previously disheveled and bruised, but now she is neat and clean, and her gaze remains firm. Apart from some lingering spasms on her face from the pain, it is almost impossible to tell that she had experienced such a terrible ordeal.

She walked calmly to Cesar, took the scimitar from her waist, and offered it to him with both hands, saying, "I surrender to you, my lord."

I, along with my scholars, attendants, and soldiers, are now your prisoners. We submit to God's will and are at your disposal.

“I accept your surrender; you are now my prisoners,” Cesar said, then he hung the scimitar at his waist.

William Marshall's concerns were not unfounded. The first people they encountered were indeed Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch and Count Raymond of Tripoli. They were shocked to see Abigail being carried on the back of a knight. Bohemond even felt dizzy when he saw Abigail's empty side. Fortunately, Raymond grabbed his arm and prevented him from falling off his horse.

Although he didn't love his son and was disappointed in his incompetence, the loss of an arm, especially his right hand—Abigail wasn't so lucky, as he, like most people, wasn't good with his left hand—meant he was a cripple who couldn't even lift a longsword.

They used to mock Baldwin, and now they have to accept the same cruel twist of fate.

“Perhaps there’s still a chance; Patriarch Heraclius is in Damascus,” Raymond whispered, trying to comfort him. But Bohemond merely waved his hand, his gaze sharpening and turning cold once more.
The leader of the Antiochian knights took a deep breath and stepped forward to report.

Bohemond looked at the Saracens. He was not Abigail—a naive, wicked, and emotional young man—but he was certain that he would seize the woman and then choke her brother and husband until they coughed up enough benefits.

However, such a thought is ultimately just a delusion.

Baldwin arrived almost as fast as his horses kicked up dust, and upon seeing Cesar, he shouted, "Is this your prisoner?!"

“He is my prisoner!” César replied just as loudly. “I have witnesses to prove it.”

Even Raymond couldn't help but cast a pitying glance at Bohemond.

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Saladin was both shocked and terrified when he received the Christian's letter. After the messenger left, he immediately strode out of his tent, looked up at the sky, and prostrated himself in that incomparably holy direction, praying fervently. He pressed his lips to the hot sand and murmured to himself, thanking Allah and the Prophet—he should have considered the worst-case scenario instead of rashly ignoring the cruel nature of fate.

Fortunately, although Emina unfortunately encountered Abigail, the most despicable Christian knight, she also met Cesar.

“Let me go,” Kamal volunteered. “Lazis is my friend, and I know quite a few people in Damascus.”

Saladin hesitated for only a moment before nodding and agreeing to Kamal's request.

Along with the messenger came a letter from Emina to Saladin.

Saladin held her in his hands, turning her over and over, examining her several times. Although Emina was still in the hands of the Christians, Baldwin and Cesare were the two most devout and pure children he had ever seen. In their hands, Emina would not be humiliated or detained, and perhaps there was even a possibility that she would return to Saladin or to her husband and children.

Saladin didn't care about the conditions proposed by the Christians; those scheming fellows probably possessed most of Egypt's wealth accumulated over the past century. His only concerns were his sister Emina and Kamal, who was about to depart for Damascus.

Seeing that he was lost in thought and remained silent, Kamal couldn't help but tease him, "Is your conscience aching?"

Damascus was not a gift; it was the result of Saladin's careful consideration and planning, especially for the child. It was less of a test and more of an ordeal.

But it was Cesare who saved Saladin's sister and his reputation from that shameless Christian knight.

“You’re wrong.” Saladin’s answer did not surprise Kamal, which made the minister smile. The Sultan gently patted his palm with the letter. “Now I should be glad that we made that decision. If we hadn’t interfered in Damascus’s affairs, what would the situation be like now?”

Emina still had to return to Holmes, while Damascus was either still locked in a stalemate with the Crusaders or had already fallen. In either case, the Christians would not be tolerant of Damascus and the Saracens. The humiliation, imprisonment, and death of Emina and her companions became a possibility that could happen at any moment. They might never even know what Emina and her companions had gone through—sand can bury many things.

"So, it really is God's will that Cesar was able to appear there."

"Kamal said slowly."

(End of this chapter)