Ambition

In the open-air camp, clusters of bonfires burned.

The Kurdish cavalrymen sat casually on the ground, replenishing their water and food. From time to time, someone would laugh and boast about how many enemies he had killed during the day.

This time, every one of them had reaped a handsome haul.

In a feudal state, each of them could have bought an estate back home and become a lord of the manor.

But unfortunately, the Kurdish people were a nomadic tribe.

An individual, no matter how wealthy, could not survive alone.

They had to band together for warmth.

Lothar sat on the sand atop a woolen carpet, holding a clay jar of broth and taking small sips.

"I wonder whether news of Kawkab's death has spread yet. And I wonder if Savotding and his Mamluks will attack us when we head back the way we came."

Mamluks were slave soldiers, similar to the Ghulams that had been popular for centuries, though even more elite.

Kings had their own Mamluks, and governors had theirs as well.

Saladin's Qasari Guard stood out even among the Mamluks. They were one of the rare elite forces among the Zoroastrian forces capable of contending with Crusader knights.

Among equal numbers, Crusader knights were unquestionably among the most formidable warriors of this age.

Anna Komnenos, princess of the Eastern Empire, had once described them in her writings: Crusader knights could pierce a hole through the walls of Babylon.

That was enough to show just how formidable Saladin's Qasari Guard was.

"News of Kawkab's death won't reach the Ayyubids so quickly, unless they can use eagles in the sky to carry messages."

Abdullah gripped a Damascus saber patterned with silver designs. He carved off a roasted lamb chop from the rack over the bonfire, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed.

Grease dripped into his thick beard as he said somewhat indistinctly, "But the other lords loyal to the Sasanian King will definitely react at once. They'll be more vigilant, and harder to deal with."

Lothar accepted a roasted lamb chop, chewing as he nodded slightly. "I know. I don't intend to make a move against any more targets. Our gains are already rich enough."

As a feudal lord active along the border between the Sassanids and the Ayyubids, Kawkab's status was not much lower than that of Savotding, the governor of Syria.

Looking at a map, Kawkab's territory was actually larger than Savotding's.

Though most of the former's land was nothing but meaningless sand, and his subjects consisted of chieftaincies that followed the water and grasslands.

That did not stop Kawkab's death from causing a tremendous uproar throughout the borderlands.

Especially since the murderer had claimed to be acting under Saladin, the king who ruled Egypt, a land rich in produce once hailed as the empire's granary.

Abdullah glanced sideways. "I was worried you'd get carried away by such an easy victory and let it go to your head."

Lothar said helplessly, "I thought my performance these past few days had already earned your approval."

"Of course. But that is precisely why I worry that you are too young and hot-blooded."

Abdullah chuckled. "Among young men, you are the finest I have ever seen. Without question."

"Thank you for the compliment."

As Lothar chewed his lamb chop, his peripheral vision swept over Fringilla, who sat on a nearby blanket, chattering incessantly into Prajna's ear.

This journey had bored her to death.

Prajna held an old book with yellowed pages and silently read through it, completely ignoring Fringilla's prattle.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Abdullah hesitated.

Lothar said helplessly, "If there's something you want to ask, just say it. Ever since we left Kawkab's wooden fort, everyone has been looking at me as if I were some kind of monster."

"Everyone says you made a pact with the devil and sacrificed the wealth the soldiers could not carry away to the fiends of Hell."

Lothar asked, "Do you believe that?"

Abdullah shook his head. "I do not. Devils have never lacked wealth. On the contrary, they enjoy using it to tempt people into corruption."

"You are a merciful man, Lothar. You respect our faith, generously granted us the right to choose the spoils first, and fighting for you has been our honor."

"Ha, no need to flatter me so much, Abdullah."

The corners of Lothar's mouth lifted slightly. "But I don't believe Baron Godfrey never told you the truth."

Abdullah froze for a moment, then admitted, "That is correct."

"You have the loyalty of two Witches, and they possess mysterious, unfathomable powers. But do their powers come from the Heavenly Father you believe in? If so, why have your clergy not received such great power from God instead?"

Lothar fell silent for a moment. Of course, he knew the Witches' power did not come from God, but he could not say that aloud.

"The Heavenly Father grants Witches extraordinary power, but they also bear sacred missions. Some fulfill those missions, supporting wise rulers, while others shut themselves away in some corner and indulge in sensual pleasures."

Lothar paused before continuing. "It is like the clergy: some archbishops willingly embrace poverty and donate all their wealth to the Knightly Order, while others wear jeweled rings on every one of their ten fingers and are so miserly they wish they could squeeze every drop of blood and sweat from each serf."

Thinking of the clergy in his homeland, Abdullah deeply agreed. "You have the loyalty of two Witches. So you mean that you are a favored child of your Heavenly Father?"

"Perhaps. God's will is beyond my understanding."

Lothar frowned. "But I do feel that I ought to do something. Unlike the other Crusader nobles, this is my mission."

"Do something? Become a lord of Jerusalem? A baron, a count, perhaps even a grand duke or a King?"

Lothar shook his head. "Those are only steps along the way. What I truly hope to achieve is to end the constant warfare here, so that peoples of different languages, faiths, and even skin colors can live here as equals."

Lothar emphasized, "To build a powerful empire that unifies the Levant and brings peace to this land that has always been shrouded in war."

"That is impossible!"

Abdullah shook his head fiercely. "Absolutely impossible!"

Lothar naturally knew it would be difficult.

In later generations, multiethnic states without a core ethnic group either broke apart or were in the process of breaking apart.

Not to mention the severe religious conflicts.

This was not some game where selecting religious and humanist policies could reduce unrest to zero.

But precisely because it was so difficult, it qualified as ambition.

With the system, he had never doubted that he would gradually gain higher and higher noble titles, perhaps even become a sovereign who held royal power.

Moreover, ethnic identity in this era was exceedingly weak. Cultural assimilation was not impossible.

"Why is it impossible? The Eastern Empire once accomplished it, so why can't I?"

Lothar asked.

Abdullah fell silent for a moment.

He instinctively wanted to say that the Eastern Empire had already failed, but in the end, he merely said:

"Lothar, perhaps one of God's Chosen like you ought to possess ambitions beyond ordinary people's imagination. May the Sacred Fire protect you and grant your wishes."

"Thank you."

"Once we enter Caymont, we'll be within Crusader territory. We will part ways there."

Lothar was somewhat surprised. "You will no longer serve Baron Godfrey?"

"Not for the time being."

After hesitating, Abdullah said, "King Nur ad-Din's son is gathering the old retainers. We intend to assist him and regroup the forces resisting Saladin in Aleppo."

"After we deal with Kawkab, the borderlands will descend into chaos. This is our opportunity."

Lothar remained silent.

"You should know how slim your chances of success are. No matter how merciful Saladin may be, he will not forgive rebels like you."

Abdullah said solemnly, "When our former lord calls, we have no choice but to answer."

Lothar did not try to persuade him further.

Though he greatly coveted this Kurdish cavalry troop, they possessed steadfast convictions. He could not sway them with a few words.

Lothar glanced at Hans.

His own "squire" was setting up the tents, drenched in sweat from exhaustion.

He was the only "cavalryman" under Lothar's command.

In this era where cavalry ruled supreme, the expense of organizing an elite mounted force like the Kurdish cavalry troop before him was simply too great.

"Perhaps I should join, or establish, a Knightly Order as well."

"Either way, I have no plans to marry anytime soon. Once I grow powerful enough, I can leave the Knightly Order or secularize it."

These days, people could falsely convert and repent later.

Naturally, they could also falsely swear lifelong vows, then marry later.