Dawn broke over Jerusalem with a muted, dusty glow. The city looked calm from the palace tower — shopkeepers opening stalls, water carriers shouting down the streets, soldiers beginning their drills.
But Roland knew the peace was an illusion.
Below that calm surface, something was shifting.
Plots tightening.
Alliances forming.
Enemies sharpening their knives.
Last night's feast proved it:
Someone in the council wasn't waiting anymore.
They had begun their games.
And now Roland needed to begin his.
The Servant in the Shadows
Before the morning meals were served, Roland and Lucien slipped through the palace's back corridors — quiet, narrow passages used mostly by servants.
Roland slowed near a storage hall. "He's here."
Lucien nodded. "I'll guard the door."
Inside, Roland found the young servant he had noticed at the feast — the same one he had spotted near the caravan attack site weeks ago.
The boy froze, dropping the sack of linens he held.
"You were seen leaving the caravan ambush," Roland said calmly. "And last night, you lingered too long near Lord Eberhardt's table."
The boy's hands shook. "I— I have no quarrel with you, sir. Please."
Roland stepped closer. "Then speak the truth. Who paid you?"
Tears welled in the boy's eyes. He backed against the wall.
Roland's voice softened. "I'm not here to kill you. But someone might, if you remain loyal to the wrong master."
The boy swallowed hard, then whispered:
"It wasn't just Lord Eberhardt… it was two nobles. They met secretly in the old armory. They said Jerusalem needed a 'real ruler,' not an outsider."
Not just one traitor.
A faction.
"And you?" Roland asked.
"I—I was forced into it. They threatened my family."
Roland considered him. The boy wasn't a conspirator — he was a pawn.
"You will tell me everything you know," Roland said, "and in return… I'll protect you."
For the first time, the servant's eyes filled with hope.
Roland extended a hand. "What's your name?"
"Marcus," the boy whispered.
"Then you're under my protection now," Roland said. "Stay close. And stay quiet."
The Birth of a Shadow Council
That evening, Roland gathered three people he trusted in a small stone chamber deep within the palace cellars.
Lucien.
Sir Aldred.
And the bishop.
A dangerous combination — but the only one capable of real influence.
Roland placed a map of Jerusalem on the table.
"Eberhardt isn't working alone," he said. "He has at least two other nobles aligned with him. They meet in secret. They're planning something larger."
Sir Aldred slammed a fist down. "They're betraying the kingdom!"
The bishop folded his hands. "And likely preparing to remove Roland before he grows stronger."
Lucien frowned. "So what do we do?"
Roland looked at each man in turn.
"From this moment forward," Roland said, "we form a hidden council — not to seize power, but to protect Jerusalem from those who would tear it apart for their own gain."
Sir Aldred nodded. "I stand with you."
Lucien smirked. "I thought this day would come."
And the bishop, with a faint almost-smile, said:
"Then let this be the moment history changes."
Roland leaned over the map.
"First, we stabilize the city. Increase patrols near the noble districts. Watch who comes and goes."
He pointed to the old armory.
"And we monitor the traitors' meeting place. Quietly. No confrontations yet."
Lucien tapped another spot on the map. "And the military?"
Roland straightened. "We continue strengthening Jerusalem's defenses. Because an external threat is moving."
The bishop raised an eyebrow. "You have proof?"
Roland nodded. "A merchant caravan from the coast brought word of a large Saracen movement near the valley routes. Too organized for bandits. They're scouting."
Sir Aldred's eyes widened. "They plan to attack?"
Roland said nothing, because the truth was clear.
The city was about to face war from outside
and betrayal from within.
Both at the same time.
Training for the Coming Storm
In the following days, Roland threw himself into drills. Soldiers grunted under the weight of shields, the clash of steel filled the courtyards, and archers practiced tighter formations.
But this time, something was different.
The men weren't just obeying orders.
They were looking at Roland as if he were already a commander.
Roland walked through the ranks correcting stances, adjusting grips, demonstrating new formations that blended medieval tactics with modern principles.
"Speed over brute force," Roland explained. "Shield walls must pivot, not just endure. Arrows must concentrate, not scatter."
Knights murmured among themselves:
"He's like a general—"
"—the city feels safer with him—"
"—Eberhardt fears him, that means something—"
Day by day, loyalty grew like a flame catching dry wood.
Jerusalem was becoming stronger in ways no one expected.
The Conspirators Move
Three nights later, Marcus slipped into Roland's chambers with a pale face.
"They met again," he whispered. "Eberhardt and two others. They said you've gained too much support. They fear the soldiers will follow you if conflict breaks out."
Roland folded his arms. "And their solution?"
Marcus swallowed.
"Remove you before the Saracens arrive."
Lucien cursed.
Roland exhaled slowly.
"So they know, too," he murmured. "The enemy approaches Jerusalem."
Marcus nodded fearfully. "Yes. They said a divided city will collapse… and that you're the reason it's divided."
Lucien stepped forward. "What now?"
Roland turned toward the window, where the moon cast long shadows across the rooftops of the Holy City.
"What now?" Roland repeated.
A slow, cold determination filled him.
"Now we act first."
Jerusalem Stands on a Knife's Edge
Roland gathered his secret council again at midnight.
He placed two items on the table:
A list of the conspirators' names.
And a report from scouts confirming Saracen forces moving closer.
"Jerusalem is in danger from both sides," Roland said quietly. "If we wait, Eberhardt and his allies will sabotage the city's defenses the moment war begins."
Sir Aldred nodded grimly. "We cut out the rot before it spreads."
The bishop clasped his hands. "And we strengthen the throne before enemies take it."
Roland shook his head. "Not the throne. Not yet."
Lucien smirked. "But the path to it must be cleared."
Roland didn't deny it.
He leaned forward, eyes sharp with resolve.
"Tomorrow, we neutralize the conspirators' network — quietly. And then we prepare Jerusalem for war."
The bishop spoke softly:
"And after the war?"
Roland answered without hesitation.
"After the war… the kingdom will need a leader who can hold it together."
No one in the room questioned who that leader might be.