Ten days later, Damascus.
As the Ayyubids' undisputed military and political hub, no matter how prosperous Egypt became, Saladin had never shifted the center of his rule away from it.
Its industry and commerce were flourishing. The swords and handicrafts produced here were renowned overseas. Both the Genoese and Venetians maintained trading posts in the city, while countless pilgrims bound for Jerusalem also stopped here along the way.
Like Cairo, it was known as the City of a Thousand Minarets. Minarets, sacred fire altars, Zoroastrian Temples, and religious schools were too numerous to count.
But Damascus was clearly no longer as prosperous as it had been at its height.
The city's residents were gripped by panic. Many shut themselves indoors, and even those who ventured out kept their heads lowered as they hurried along, not daring to linger. Refugees huddled in the streets, blank-faced as they held out their hands to beg passersby for food.
Some who had connections once more set out on the road south, fleeing for their lives.
But the overwhelming majority chose to stay.
Because they were nearly out of places to run.
Imams held up scriptures, preaching to and giving alms to the refugees, but beneath their kindly expressions, their anxiety remained impossible to conceal.
Ever since that terrifying "heathen demon lord, Lothar," had taken command of the northern Crusaders, those Franks had needed only one day to capture Homs, which had previously held out for more than a month.
After that, they had not delayed in the slightest. Leaving behind a garrison, they had swiftly circled south around the Qalamoun Mountains, capturing city after city. Now their spearhead pointed directly at Damascus—the heart of the Ayyubids.
At present, the Ayyubids' Syrian territories had been severed at the waist. Northern provinces such as Aleppo would