Acre smelled of smoke, salt, and the aftermath of chaos.
The battle had ended only a day before, yet Roland wasted no time. The city needed order—fast. An army could take a city, but only leadership could hold it.
Roland stood in the old governor's hall, now mostly cleared of rubble and wounded. Ferrand faced him across a long table covered in maps, rosters, and hastily written reports.
"Your men follow orders," Ferrand admitted gruffly. "It's been years since Acre saw discipline."
Roland didn't smile. "Discipline is the easy part. Stability is harder."
Lucien entered with a stack of parchments. "We've secured all major intersections. The markets are under guard, and curfew is in effect."
"Good," Roland said. "Now we earn the people's trust."
The First Reforms
Roland gathered the officers in the hall.
"Our objective," he began, "is not to occupy Acre… it is to rebuild it. The people must see that Jerusalem's return means safety and prosperity."
He listed the priorities one by one:
1. Restore Water and Grain Distribution
Rashid's hoarded supplies were seized and redistributed.
No price gouging.
No favoritism.
Just calm, fair rations.
The people noticed.
2. Repair the Port
Half the docks were rotting, the other half controlled by smugglers.
Roland's engineers began clearing debris and reinforcing piers, using Ferrand's old records of the city's glory days.
A functioning port meant:
Supplies from Cyprus
European pilgrim ships returning
Trade income
Naval safety
Acre would become Jerusalem's lifeline.
3. Establish a Local Council
Not an imitation of Jerusalem's corrupt nobles.
A council of:
Priests
Artisans
Merchants
Former soldiers
Village representatives
People with real stakes in the city's future.
Lucien whispered, "You're building something bigger than a conquest."
Roland nodded. "We're building a kingdom."
Winning the Streets
That afternoon, Roland walked through Acre's markets with only four guards. Citizens watched cautiously at first.
Then with curiosity.
Then with hope.
A bread seller bowed deeply. "Sir Roland… your soldiers protected my store from Rashid's thugs. Bless you, lord."
A fisherman placed a hand over his heart. "The docks are safe again. My sons can work without fear."
A mother whispered, tearful, "Thank you… thank you. My children slept peacefully last night."
Roland wasn't used to gratitude. It felt heavier than steel armor.
Lucien leaned close and murmured, "They'll follow you long before they follow Jerusalem."
Roland said nothing—but he understood.
The Warlord's Judgment
In the citadel courtyard, Rashid—the defeated dock warlord—knelt in chains.
Ferrand stepped forward. "For years he terrorized the people. If you execute him, none will protest."
Roland's gaze was steady. "He deserves punishment. But killing him would make a martyr for criminals."
He addressed the gathered crowd:
"Rashid betrayed Acre, used fear to rule, and caused suffering. His sentence is exile. He will work the fields under guard for two years, rebuilding what he destroyed. After that… he may choose to stay as a free man or leave."
People murmured approval.
Justice, not vengeance.
Lucien smirked. "You're building a reputation. A dangerous one."
A Message From Tyre
That evening, a rider arrived from the north. His rider cloak was torn, his horse exhausted.
He knelt before Roland.
"My lord… Tyre knows you've taken Acre. The city's rulers fear you'll march north."
Lucien grinned. "Good. Let them."
But the messenger continued:
"They have sent an envoy. He waits at the northern road. He wishes to negotiate."
Roland exchanged a look with Ferrand.
"Tyre is afraid."
"Yes," the messenger said. "Because they know they're next."
Preparing the Next Step
Roland walked to the top of the citadel as dusk painted the sky blood-red. From here, he could see the world stretching north—villages, roads, forests, and beyond them, Tyre.
Ferrand joined him. "Tyre is stronger than Acre. Higher walls. More soldiers."
Roland nodded. "And more divided leadership. Just like Acre was."
Lucien approached. "If Tyre wants to negotiate, do we go peacefully?"
Roland let the sea wind brush across his face.
"We go to listen," he said. "But we go with strength."
He looked down at Acre's harbor—now calmer, ships being repaired, people working without fear.
A symbol of rebirth.
Jerusalem was no longer a cornered city.
It was expanding, rising, breathing again.
And with Acre secure, the march north could begin.
Tyre was next.
Then the coast.
Then the County of Tripoli.
Piece by piece, Roland would rebuild the kingdom…
Until all old lands—
and more—
were his.