Jerusalem

Jerusalem was not a trade hub like Aleppo or Antioch. It lay between the southeastern corner of the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River.

Even the nearest coastline was nearly fifty kilometers away. Far from the trade routes, it stood high amid cliffs, ravines, and rocky mountains, battered by scorching summers and frigid winters.

In terms of military and commercial value, Jerusalem was hardly a strategic stronghold.

But religion had endowed it with an additional sacred significance.

Saladin sought to retake Jerusalem and restore the Grand Patriarch's crown, thereby gaining supreme prestige, suppressing the resistance forces within his realm, and perhaps even unifying the world of Zoroastrianism.

The Crusader states, meanwhile, defended this place desperately, for it was not only the home of their faith but also the source of all legitimacy for their rule.

Having grown accustomed to the luxurious lives of Eastern nobles, they could no longer adapt to the cold, damp climate of Western Europe.

Besides, every position had its owner. After their forebears left Western Europe, they had long since relinquished all claims and inheritance rights to their lands there.

In Jaffa, Sir Kevin introduced Lothar to Baron Godfrey, who had come to fetch his son.

He was a middle-aged man accustomed to the scorching Eastern heat, with neatly cropped hair and a silk robe worn over his chainmail.

He truly was Count Werner's close friend.

Once he learned of Lothar's identity, he was even more enthusiastic than he had been toward his own son, whom he had not seen for a long time.

When he heard that Lothar intended to obey his father's wishes and join the Royalist Faction—

He was instantly overjoyed. "I knew it! That old fellow Werner would never have the heart to let his old friend fight alone. Look, he has sent his bravest and most formidable son right to me!"

Baron Godfrey grinned from ear to ear and gave Lothar a hard slap on the shoulder. "I guarantee that His Majesty the King will be delighted to hear of your arrival as well."

Lothar gave a bashful smile. "It is also my honor to serve His Majesty alongside my father's comrades-in-arms."

He could sense Baron Godfrey's sincerity, which made him wonder what great achievements Count Werner, that country count, had once accomplished here to earn the favor of so many people.

Shouldn't Count Werner have been the one with the protagonist's template?

By evening, they had finally crossed the vast Gobi Desert and arrived at the holy city of Jerusalem.

This city looked utterly different from the cities of Western Europe.

Some parts were cramped and narrow, yet the enormous fortress towering at the heart of the city was the most magnificent stronghold Lothar had ever seen in his life.

Mud-brick buildings stood everywhere. Domes, spires, Frankish-style architecture, and Arab-style architecture were scattered throughout the city without distinction.

After the earliest Crusaders captured Jerusalem, they carried out a horrifying massacre. Arabs, Jews—every unbeliever was slaughtered to the last.

Their wealth was plundered, while the buildings they left behind, including temples and altars of Zoroastrianism, were occupied by the Crusaders and even directly converted into domed churches.

Even more than a century later, Jerusalem still retained distinct Arab characteristics.

Pilgrims from every land gathered here, speaking different languages.

This was a holy site for three religions, encompassing nearly every faith from Eastern and Western Europe, as well as Central Asia and North Africa.

An endless stream of caravans and pilgrims passed through: Jews, Persians, Aksumites, Indians, Turkic people... and even Song people from the distant East.

The conversations in countless languages and among countless faiths made Lothar's head feel as big as a bull's.

If this were the later age when nationalism was on the rise, this place would definitely have been a source of chaos, utterly unsuitable for development.

Along the streets, merchants selling spices, silk, vegetables, and fruit shouted their wares. Most prices were exorbitant; even goods transported here from the coast would undergo a steep price hike.

Serfs driving cattle, sheep, and other livestock followed behind their masters with lowered eyes.

Jerusalem Knights in blue surcoats, Templar Knights with red crosses on white, and Hospitaller Knights with white crosses on black led soldiers on patrol through the city.

There were also knights from Tripoli, Antioch, northern Germania, Anglo-Saxon lands, Aragon, and Two Sicilies...

Their heraldry came in every conceivable variety.

They gathered in small groups, talking among themselves.

Clearly, war was drawing near.

The prosperous, peaceful, and tolerant scene before them would soon be gone forever.

Baron Godfrey pointed toward a distant hill, where a domed structure could vaguely be seen, a cross standing atop it. "That is where Jesus was crucified. I'll take you and Berian there to worship later, but first we must go to the royal palace."

"Today is the day of the Grand Council. Most of the powerful nobles will be attending, so I'll take you over to meet them first."

Lothar nodded. "I'll follow your arrangements in all things."

The group stopped at the outer ward of the castle.

"Lord Godfrey, you came at just the right time. The lords are in council, and only you are missing."

The guard wore attire similar to Baron Godfrey's, making it obvious that he too was a member of the Royal Knightly Order.

This was an imperial guard force under the royal family. Though it differed from the Jerusalem Knightly Order by only the word "Royal," its nature was entirely different.

"I'm bringing two people inside."

Godfrey pointed to the two people behind him, then strode into the palace.

Prajna frowned slightly. She was used to staying by Lothar's side and instinctively wanted to follow him in, but as soon as she took a step, she realized it was inappropriate here.

Lothar turned back and smiled at her.

The royal palace of Jerusalem was no dragon's den. He had come to swear loyalty to His Majesty the King, not to assassinate the king and usurp the throne. There would be no danger at all.

The palace walls were covered everywhere with exquisite relief carvings.

Bright light streamed through the gaps in the latticed windows.

Godfrey led the two of them to sit at a long table, then quietly introduced them. "The one in the red cloak is Jocelin of Edessa, a count with nothing left but his title. His fief is now near Acre."

"The tall, thin man with that unruly head of red hair is Count Reynald. He was once the Duke of Antioch, but he and that Count of Edessa's father had their lands taken by the Arabs."

"So now he is the 'Count of Oultrejourdain,' which means the 'Count by the Jordan River.'"

"He is one of the most powerful men in all Jerusalem, brave and skilled in battle. During the Battle of Montgisard, he was one of the most important commanders besides His Majesty the King."

Godfrey lowered his voice. "He is also a key figure in the Queen Mother's faction, led by Queen Mother Agnes. He is determined to arrange a marriage between Guy of Lusignan and Princess Sibylla."

"The one in the red surcoat is Raymond of Châtillon, Count of Tripoli, Prince of Tiberias, Regent of Jerusalem. He once personally arranged Princess Sibylla's first marriage."

"He and many nobles have formed a small alliance.

"Roger of Moulins of the Knights Hospitaller is its strongest supporter. Let us call them the Baronial faction for now.

"Grand Master Gerard of the Knights Templar once stood firmly with us.

"But you know how it is. His Majesty's condition has been worsening by the day, and Grand Master Gerard has recently grown close to Count Reynald of the Queen Mother's faction.

"Reynald is especially more radical in his treatment of heathens, which perfectly suits the Knights Templar's style."

Lothar frowned. In just a few words, Godfrey had thoroughly analyzed the three forces within this hall. None of the three had any confidence of overcoming the others.

A three-way balance was the most stable arrangement—and the hardest to reconcile.

"My lord Baron, then which faction do you belong to?"

Without hesitation, Godfrey replied, "The Ibelin family is loyal only to His Majesty."

Lothar pressed, "What if His Majesty passes away?"

A trace of gravity appeared on Baron of Ibelin's face. "Lothar, I must remind you that for a subject to discuss such a matter is already an immense transgression and insult."

Lothar smiled. "But if we do not make things clear, how can I stand with you through thick and thin?"

Godfrey fell silent for a moment, then spoke quickly in an extremely low voice. "Then we support the next king. After the King passes away, the throne will certainly be inherited by Princess Sibylla's son from her former husband."

Lothar asked, "Which faction does Princess Sibylla belong to?"

"The Queen Mother's faction."

Lothar looked thoughtful. "So we are actually on the same side as Count Reynald?"

"No. The Ibelin family never makes decisions in advance."

Godfrey paused slightly, then said solemnly, "We are loyal only to His Majesty and never do anything unnecessary."

Lothar suddenly understood.

Look at that!

This was true wisdom.

It was different from being a fence-sitter.

If the Ibelin family remained loyal only to the King, they would not suffer the crushing pressure of factional strife and could preserve their strength more effectively.

Moreover, the Ibelin family's influence in the Holy Land was deeply entrenched.

A Baron of Ibelin of high standing and loyal to the King was someone any new monarch would have to court and trust.

As for who the new monarch would be?

Let them fight it out.

At that moment, King Baldwin's herald strode into the great hall and called out, "His Majesty the King is still resting. The Regent will temporarily preside over today's proceedings."

Raymond gave the herald a slight nod, rose to his feet, and said, "Today's matter is whether to open Jerusalem's holy treasury and repair the walls of Jerusalem!"

The great hall immediately erupted into chaos.

Lothar asked in some confusion, "Does His Majesty now have to consult his subjects even to repair a wall?"

Godfrey explained, "The keys to the great treasury are held separately by His Majesty the King and the two grand masters of the Knights Templar and the Knights Hospitaller. He cannot access it on his own."

"Besides, this money does not belong to His Majesty. It was deposited in advance by England's King Henry II to fund his next eastern expedition."

Lothar was speechless.

"Ah, that."

Sure enough, the proposal met staunch opposition as soon as it was raised.

"Henry II failed to fulfill his obligation to support the holy war even unto his death. We are entirely justified in using this money! The purpose is still the noble mission of protecting the Holy Land!"

"That is right, Henry II is indeed dead. But his son, Richard, known as the Lionheart, is still alive. We are still counting on him to lead an army to support the Holy Land. How can we divert this money?"

The nobles began clamoring all at once.

The Baronial faction, the Queen Mother's faction, and the Royalist Faction were merely broad divisions. In truth, aside from acting together when their fundamental interests were involved, they usually voiced their own opinions.

For example, Grand Master Gerard supported strengthening the walls, while Count Reynald opposed it. He believed the money should be used to arm pilgrims and recreate the Battle of Montgisard in open battle to crush Saladin.

Roger, grand master of the Knights Hospitaller, believed the money should be kept to urge Henry II's son, Richard the Lionheart, to set out for the Holy Land as soon as possible.

Several minor nobles believed the money should be used to hire mercenary companies from the Apennine and Germania regions. The sum was fully sufficient to acquire five or six large mercenary companies of over a thousand men each and sustain them in battle for a year.

Others even wildly suggested using the money to hire Huo Sang's assassins to assassinate Saladin.

"Enough. We will vote now!"

Raymond of Châtillon slapped the table and shouted, "Those in favor of repairing Jerusalem's walls and strengthening the city's defenses, raise your hands. Everyone else, keep them down!"