Chapter Eighteen: The Battle Before Dawn
Tyre slept uneasily.
Rumors of Roland's ultimatum spread through the streets — some hopeful, some fearful. But as night stretched toward dawn, Roland's scouts returned with grim news.
Lucien knocked once on Roland's door before entering.
"They're coming," he said.
Roland didn't ask who. He already knew.
"Karlen's remnants?" Ferrand asked from behind Lucien.
"And more," Lucien said, tossing a torn banner onto the table. It wasn't Karlen's wolf symbol — it was marked with a serpent curling around a spear.
Ferrand frowned. "Serpent raiders? They haven't struck this coast in years."
Lucien nodded. "Word is they were watching Karlen's rise. They saw him fall. Now they think Tyre is weak enough to bleed."
Ferrand muttered a curse.
Roland stood, fastening his cloak. "How many?"
"Four hundred," Lucien said. "Maybe more. They'll hit the harbor first."
Ferrand slammed his gauntlet against the table. "Tyre's harbor guard can't handle half that."
Roland nodded. "Good."
Ferrand blinked. "Good?"
Roland's eyes narrowed.
"Because when Tyre sees us stand in front of them, not behind…
they'll finally understand what alliance means."
The Call to Stand
The city bells rang out just before sunrise as ships emerged from the mist, sails marked with black serpents. Torches glowed on their decks, and the sound of war drums carried across the water.
Panic spread across Tyre's harbor.
Merchants abandoned carts. Fishermen fled inland. Knights scrambled to assemble half-rested men.
Roland strode through the chaos, his steps steady, his presence galvanizing.
One harbor guard shouted, "Jerusalem's forces — defend the inner gate!"
Roland shook his head.
"No. We defend the sea wall."
"But we'll be exposed!" the guard protested.
"Exactly," Roland said. "And the people will see it."
Behind him, his two hundred cavalry and archers formed ranks with precision Tyre's soldiers had never witnessed.
Lucien smirked. "Let them watch."
Ferrand raised Roland's banner — the cross of Jerusalem, newly restored and gleaming white.
Men on the walls gasped.
"Is he really standing on the front line?"
"He's insane."
"No… he's fearless."
The Serpent Raiders Land
The raider ships crashed against the outer docks. Warriors poured off the gangplanks, shouting in their guttural tongue, shields painted with snake heads.
Roland drew his sword.
"Archers!"
Two volleys soared through the air, tearing into the first wave. Raiders stumbled, fell, or screamed as arrows pinned their legs to the wooden planks.
But more kept coming.
Ferrand roared, "Cavalry — FORM UP!"
Roland raised his hand.
"Not yet."
Lucien looked at him sharply. "They're almost on the wall—"
"Not yet," Roland repeated.
He watched the raiders charge up the inlet ramp, bunching together out of pride — and overconfidence.
Roland saw the opening.
"NOW!"
Roland's Charge
Jerusalem's cavalry thundered forward, smashing into the clustered raiders like a steel tidal wave. Roland led the center, cleaving through shields and armor with brutal precision.
Ferrand's left flank crashed into the raiders' side. Lucien's right flank hit moments later, completing the encirclement.
The raiders realized too late that they were trapped between cavalry, the sea, and the walls.
Roland shouted, "ARCHERS — CUT THEIR ESCAPE!"
Arrows rained down, blocking the path back to the docks.
The raiders panicked.
Their leader—a giant man wearing a necklace of carved serpent fangs—charged at Roland with a war hammer.
"You killed Karlen!" he roared.
Roland didn't deny it.
He parried the hammer strike, stepped in close, and drove the pommel of his sword into the raider's throat. The man dropped to his knees, choking.
Roland finished him with a clean stroke.
The raiders' morale shattered instantly.
Several ships tried to flee, but Lucien's archers shot their oarsmen, and the vessels spun helplessly in the current.
Within minutes, the battle was done.
Tyre Awakens
As the sun broke over the horizon, Tyre's people slowly emerged from hiding.
They saw:
Roland's cavalry lining the harbor
Dozens of dead raiders
The serpent banners torn and trampled
Roland standing uninjured at the seawall, blade resting against his shoulder
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"He protected us."
"Jerusalem saved Tyre."
"Not one raider made it past the harbor…"
A merchant fell to his knees, shouting, "LONG LIVE THE KING OF JERUSALEM!"
Roland turned sharply.
"NO."
Silence fell.
"I am not here to rule Tyre," he said, loud enough for all to hear. "I stand here because your suffering is our suffering. Your enemies are our enemies."
He pointed to the dead raiders.
"And when others come, Jerusalem will stand at your side again."
A council member whispered, shaken, "He fought for us… without asking for anything…"
Another responded, "That's why I fear him: men like that become legends."
But legends create loyalty.
And Roland knew loyalty would unify the coast faster than any siege.
The Council's Decision
That evening, Roland was summoned back to the Hall of Assembly.
This time, there was no shouting.
No arguing.
No Aldred blocking his way.
Aldred stood with the council, armor polished, posture rigid — but his voice calm.
"Roland of Jerusalem," he said, "today you defended Tyre before we ever offered allegiance."
Roland did not speak.
Aldred continued.
"For the first time in decades, this city saw a commander who stands as shield first, ruler second."
He stepped aside, revealing a scroll on the council table.
"This is our decision."
The head councilor unrolled it:
"Tyre shall enter an alliance with the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Military cooperation.
Shared defense.
Open trade.
And the option of full unification…
when our people choose it."
Lucien exhaled sharply.
Ferrand smirked.
Roland's expression barely shifted — but inside, he knew:
This was the turning point.
Tyre was not conquered.
Tyre had joined him.
Piece by piece, the coast was falling into place.
Tomorrow?
The march toward Tripoli would begin.