kingdom of nations

Chapter 369 Collateral (Part 1)
A dark-skinned, rugged-looking Turk with long, thin limbs but a tall stature staggered past the Saracen camp.

Since the Battle of the Jordan River, Sultan Saladin successfully removed the thorns that refused to obey him, redefined his own order and laws, and single-handedly built the Mamluks, an army that obeyed his every command. However, voices of opposition to him continued to be heard.

Even if Saladin did indeed, as he claimed, distribute all his spoils and other gains to the emirs and Fatah, they still lacked trust in him. Or perhaps, some of the things Saladin said were truly foreign to them, and they couldn't understand them—why order? Why discipline? Why be lenient towards one's enemies?

While they wouldn't necessarily disobey Saladin's orders or act insincerely, they still displayed that nonchalance in various ways—for example, the camp remained as noisy and chaotic as ever.

The camp was filled with all sorts of tents. There was no passageway that led from east to west or from south to north and you could see the end of it at a glance. What blocked your view were wooden frames (with armor, weapons and clothes hanging on them), stones and wood, campfires and pots on them, smoke everywhere, and muddy ground. Ordinary soldiers and laborers mingled with livestock—eating, drinking and sleeping together.

Of course, there was no surveillance or patrols, and outside assassins could easily infiltrate, even making their way into the tent of a warrior or scholar.

He went unnoticed. There were probably nine hundred and ninety-nine Turks like him in the camp, if not a thousand. Only a few sharp-eyed warriors would praise him as he passed by, saying, "That's a good soldier," but they wouldn't suspect anything.

On the way, the Turkic soldier even encountered a group of emirs and their entourage. He bowed deeply to them, but the emirs merely nodded slightly, their eyes lingering on his scimitar and the bow and arrows on his back before walking past.

The emir who walked past had no idea that he had once shared a beautiful and complicated relationship with the "Turk" before him.

Yes, when this emirate passed through Damascus, he also spent a lot of time, energy and money admiring the beautiful "Layla", and the result did not disappoint him.

Leila has arrived.

Indeed, as people say, she was an extremely special woman with white hair and crimson eyes. She was like a devil, or rather, she was a devil. He was seduced by her and committed countless crimes.

But even after entering the tent, Emil still couldn't understand why he had thought of Lyra—even though they were two completely different beings.

Afterwards, the Turk was called upon to do some rough work such as moving things, feeding the horses, and setting up tents, and he received some reward money.

This was indeed something they often did. He finished all the work efficiently, then fiddled with the fen (copper coin) in his hand and pouted in dissatisfaction: "Sir, this color is not right."

Hearing this, the soldier was not angry at all; instead, he laughed. "What a greedy fellow," he said with a laugh. "Since when has it become so shameless to ask for dirhams (silver coins) just for helping someone carry something?"

“If we were still in Alexandria or Cairo, I would just be a porter, and you would just be killing time in your spare time, whether you really have something to move or just have fun with us. A few firs would be enough.”

But now we are on the battlefield, my lord, and we will soon take this city. The reward you receive will be enough to cast a horse in gold.

"Now, please have mercy and make a lowly servant happy. What's wrong with that?"

The soldier looked him up and down, and after confirming that he was just a rude Turk who even spoke their language haltingly and incoherently, he spat out a mouthful of rubbish and said, “What nonsense are you talking about—casting a horse out of gold—I’m lucky if I can cast a sparrow out of the gold I have.”

He sighed, “We follow a just and benevolent monarch.”

When he treats us this way, we feel elated and full of confidence, but when he treats Christians this way, it's a distressing thing.

"He won't give you the money?"

"No, he gives it to us, but we just don't understand. The fruit hangs on the branches, unattended, and the birds are in their nests. We can reach out and grab it, but he won't let us do that."

I admit he was a noble man; he even wore the same clothes and ate the same food as the soldiers. But how could he expect everyone to be like him? We are just ordinary people…”

He seemed to have been suppressing his feelings for a long time, so much so that when facing a Turk who he didn't even know if he could understand him, he couldn't help but complain at length.

After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed two or three more ferries and placed them in the hands of the Turk.

"Okay, get out!"

This is the cost of sealing the bag.

However, the warrior didn't seem too worried. He knew that even if someone presented the complaint to Saladin, Saladin wouldn't take offense.

Unexpectedly, the Turk did not leave immediately. He held the few coins in his hand, rubbed them several times, and then put them into his money bag. He then raised his eyes and looked at the warrior through his messy and dirty eyebrows. "So... if I have a way to get rich... would you like to try it?"

"What is it?" the soldier asked instinctively, but quickly a look of suspicion appeared on his face. "Who are you?"

“Just a servant who looks for things to do, sir, but I have some friends.”

"Bandits?"

"No, no, no, how could they be bandits? If we must say, they don't have a fixed occupation. Sometimes they are merchants, sometimes servants, sometimes soldiers. They have no fixed abode and wander around—lately, they have discovered some interesting things."

The soldier, his face grim, placed his hand on the curved sword at his waist: "Continue."

"He wanted to see what this Turk could say."

"Uh, sir, what I mean is, would you like to do some odd jobs?"

"Miscellaneous tasks?"

"Yes, Sultan Saladin has led his army to besiege the Arrassa Road, but the Arrassa Road has a total of twelve gates. If you remove those that have been sealed off, the city gates you control now are not all of them. At least the Golden Gate and the Damascus Gate are still in the hands of the Christians."

Although the city’s inhabitants have repeatedly refused the envoys sent by your Sultan and refused to surrender, some have decided to flee the city.

Now... well, just now. They still hope the defenders can hold off your attack, but once they realize the situation isn't in the Christians' favor—the richest and most powerful, and the Christian priests—they will flee.

However, when they fled, they didn't just take their personal belongings as they claimed. All their valuables were loaded onto the backs of camels or mules—gold, silk, even furniture, lamp stands, and various precious utensils… Every imaginable and unimaginable treasure became their means of ensuring a comfortable and prosperous future.

With each word he spoke, the soldier's eyes brightened a little, but then he asked with skepticism, "I haven't seen anyone escape from the city of Arazari."

"Since we're running away, how can we let you see us?"

"If you don't believe me, that's fine too. I can sell you some information. If you promise to come back in three days, just give me a reward then. But," he tossed the pewter in his hand, "it won't be these worthless trinkets again."

The soldier hesitated for a long time, unsure whether to trust the stranger, but if what the stranger said was true, they could receive a very generous reward.

As for whether this went against Saladin's wishes...

Of course, Saladin hoped they would stay true to their duties and obey orders—but for the warriors of the tribe, raiding was one of their jobs.

Sure enough, three days later, the Turk found him—the place was not far from their camp. He led his soldiers to wait for the camel caravan that was traveling alone in the dark and carrying a lot of goods.

Upon seeing them, the people were terrified and dared not even fight them, so they abandoned their goods and fled—they did indeed obtain quite a few good things, including exquisite wine cups, silk robes, and two fine silk carpets, and the Turk was rewarded with ten silver coins.

Ten silver coins were certainly a drop in the ocean compared to this gain, but the other party hadn't even participated in the battle; they had only sold information.

As the soldier looked through the roll of silk with satisfaction, he smiled and casually asked, "The friend you're talking about isn't the Isaac from Arazarus, is he?"

The Turk didn't answer, but the expression on his face told the other person that he had guessed correctly.

The soldier gave him a knowing look: "Does he have more information? I can give him a tenth of what he has this time."

“Yes, sir, yes,” the Turk said.

They made such "deals" several more times, but unfortunately, the Turk never appeared again after the last one. The warrior didn't take it to heart, after all, he didn't want Sultan Saladin to know—maybe the mole in the city had been discovered, and such a guy would only end up dead.

The soldiers wouldn't care about such guys, but they were even somewhat happy about it, since these Isaacs could be considered equal in a certain sense.

They betrayed everyone, including themselves—if the Saracens were besieged in the city and the Crusaders were outside, they would have done the same.

The soldier lamented that such deals only lasted two or three times before they were no longer available.

What he didn't know was that such Turks, Isaacs, and even Byzantines appeared throughout the camp. They were of all ages, men and women, and they all ended up in the same place, claiming that there were accomplices in the city and inciting the Saracen warriors to disobey Saladin's orders.

At first, some Saracens worried that it was a trap, but these raids often went very smoothly, with the spoils sometimes plentiful and sometimes meager, but in any case, they were always a pleasant surprise.

Gradually, another rumor also spread through the Saracen camp—the priest in charge of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre might be fleeing with relics and treasures.

Upon hearing the news, everyone was eager to get started, their eyes filled with anticipation.

They hadn't forgotten that the priests of St. John's Cathedral in Gasarafa had taken away nearly 200,000 gold coins—what does that even mean?
Even a tribe's accumulation over nearly a hundred years might not amount to that much. The tax revenue of a city like Damascus over ten years would only roughly equal this figure. What made them even more excited to shout for God's protection was that, just before this news spread, Saladin had already led his Mamluks to intercept the king of Arazari and his army.

If this matter could be completed before Saladin and his Mamluks return, and the spoils divided up directly—and then a gift presented to the Sultan upon his return—he would likely have no way to accuse them of anything.

Some even sought allies to ensure they could claim the spoils. Others counted their soldiers, determined not to let anyone else get a piece of the pie.

For this reason, they even slowed down their attack on the city. Turansha felt this was inappropriate, but Saladin's words before he left still echoed in his ears—perhaps this was the right thing to do? He wasn't sure, but this feeling made him feel uneasy.

He began to hope that Saladin would return soon, rather than leaving him to face that arrogant and fierce army alone.

Just as the rumor was spreading like wildfire, the Turk, or rather, the disguised Laila, had returned to Jaffa. She had wrapped her head in a cloth, and her once long hair had been cut short and dyed black. The most difficult thing for her to conceal was her pair of crimson eyes, but she had used some drugs containing belladonna, an herb that dilated her pupils. Although this caused her vision to be blurred, to people, they would only think that she had ordinary dark eyes.

When she disembarked in Limnia, the coarse Turk was gone, replaced by a refined Christian knight. As soon as he stepped off the ship, merchants eagerly came forward to inquire about the situation in Arazar and Jaffa, and some even asked him if he came from Damascus.

For businessmen, war is something they both love and hate.

What they love is that, if they speculate properly, they can reap considerable benefits from the war.

What's infuriating is that once war breaks out, all the roads in and around the city will be sealed off. Even if they aren't sealed off, merchants dare not make any rash moves.

After all, in the past, both Christian knights and Saracen warriors would patrol their territories and wipe out bandits on the road, but when there was a war, who had time to care about such things?

If they dare to take the risk at this point, not only will they lose their goods and money, but they will also be in danger of losing their own lives.

But it's impossible for merchants to stop trading. Just like farmers and artisans, if they don't work for six months or a year, their savings will be quickly depleted.

Laila ignored these businessmen who wouldn't play a key role in what was to come, and walked straight past them.

Logically speaking, merchants would not dare to offend a knight, but perhaps one merchant was too impatient, or perhaps he saw that although Lyra was tall, her limbs were slender, so he took advantage of his large size to grab his arm.

The next moment, a hole appeared in his arm. No one saw how the knight drew his dagger or how he stabbed the merchant. By the time they looked closely, the merchant had already walked away, and both the dagger and the short sword were still safely in their sheaths.

Two knights who had been sitting in the tavern watching the passersby on the street saw this and gave chase.

(End of this chapter)