The morning sun stained the walls of Jerusalem gold as Roland crossed the palace courtyard. Soldiers trained in loose formation, clashing wooden shields and blunt swords in unsteady rhythm. Their movements were slow, uneven — too rigid for real combat.
Roland watched them carefully.
They're brave… but unprepared.
In this era, training was a luxury. Strength mattered more than technique.
But strength alone wouldn't save the kingdom.
Lucien stood beside him. "You look disappointed."
"I'm thinking," Roland replied.
"Dangerous thing for a knight," Lucien teased.
Roland didn't smile. "The army needs structure. Drills. Routine. Discipline."
Lucien blinked. "You speak like a general."
Roland simply answered, "I speak like someone who wants us to live."
The First Small Change
That afternoon, Roland approached the captain of the guard, a thick-bearded man named Sir Garin.
"Your men fight well," Roland began.
Garin snorted. "They fight enough."
Roland continued anyway. "If you assign one bell each day for shield drills and one bell for formation practice, you'll cut casualties in half within a month."
Garin stared at him. "One month? Nonsense."
Roland's voice stayed calm. "Try it for a week. If it fails, blame me."
Garin wasn't convinced, but Lucien added quietly, "We saw him turn a massacre into a victory at the gully. Maybe listen."
That did it.
The bell schedule began the next morning.
The change was small. Barely noticeable.
But it was a start — one new stone laid in the foundation of a stronger Jerusalem.
A City's Pulse
Roland continued observing the city.
He visited the market square where merchants complained of high taxes and dwindling caravans.
He walked the aqueduct where workers pointed out leaks and weak stones.
He visited the infirmary where monks struggled to treat infections with dirty tools and unboiled water.
Roland's modern knowledge burned behind his eyes — all the things he could fix.
But he forced himself to move slowly.
Too much change at once breeds fear…
And fear, in the medieval world, breeds death.
So he slipped suggestions quietly.
"Boil the water first."
"Use vinegar to clean the wound."
"Patch the aqueduct stone with plaster before the next rain."
"Keep trade routes guarded in pairs, not singles."
Simple improvements.
Minor changes.
But already, the kingdom breathed just a little easier.
The Council Pushes Back
Word traveled fast.
Too fast.
One evening, Roland was summoned abruptly to the High Council chambers. When he stepped inside, the torches burned low, casting long, suspicious shadows across the room.
Lord Eberhardt — a heavy-set noble with trembling jowls — stood at the center with the bishop beside him.
"Sir Roland," Eberhardt said sharply. "We've heard reports of you interfering with city matters."
"Interfering?" Roland repeated calmly.
"Yes," Eberhardt snapped. "You question military practices. You advise workers. You talk to merchants. These are not the duties of a low knight."
Roland kept his face steady. "I'm helping the people survive."
"Survival is the duty of their betters," Eberhardt barked. "Not an upstart soldier with strange ideas."
The bishop watched quietly, eyes sharp.
Testing him.
Measuring him.
Roland bowed his head respectfully.
But his words held iron.
"I will never ignore suffering I can prevent. If that displeases the council, then I ask for clarity: is helping Jerusalem a crime?"
Eberhardt sputtered. The bishop's expression flickered.
It was a dangerous line Roland walked — bold enough to defend himself, humble enough not to spark open conflict.
Finally, the bishop spoke.
"Sir Roland… proceed with caution. Change can save kingdoms… but it can also break them."
Roland bowed and left the chamber.
He didn't smile until he was outside.
He wasn't stopped.
He wasn't punished.
Which meant they feared him — but also needed him.
A perfect balance.
New Alliances
Later that night, Lucien met him at the tower steps.
"What happened?" he asked.
"They tried to intimidate me," Roland said. "But they won't move against me yet."
Lucien raised a brow. "How do you know?"
Roland looked out across the moonlit city.
"Because kingdoms don't kill the people who make them stronger. Not until they're afraid of them."
Lucien crossed his arms. "And will they be afraid of you?"
"One day," Roland said softly. "But not yet. Tonight, we work."
Lucien nodded. "Then you're not alone."
It wasn't loyalty.
Not yet.
But it was the beginning of something close — trust or ambition shared.
And Roland needed both.
Slow Growth
Over the next weeks:
the guard drills improved
market trade stabilized slightly
fewer infections spread
caravans arrived more reliably
aqueduct repairs held strong
Small things.
Tiny things.
But they mattered.
The Kingdom of Jerusalem — stretched thin and fragile — began to strengthen, not all at once, but quietly.
Like a fortress being rebuilt, stone by stone.
And at the center of it all was Roland.
Watching.
Learning.
Guiding — subtly, carefully.
For a kingdom does not grow overnight.
And neither does a king.