The streets were packed with the citizens of Eilat.
It was the day of departure for Jerusalem.
"Make way! His Highness Prince Baldwin, noble member of the Royal House of Jerusalem and representative of His Majesty the King, passes through!"
The herald's voice rang against the streets and the city walls.
But that wasn't what I was hearing.
"That style of swordsmanship was countered over a decade ago. You'd be better off gripping the blade with your hand—"
"You idiot! That only works against men without armor. If anything, you should—"
Garnier and Hugh were at it again, jabbing fingers at each other as they argued.
I'd seen this at least dozens of times over the past few days.
The two of them were still competing for the position of my master.
When whales fight, the shrimp's back breaks.
Training had grown so intense I was the one nearly dying from it.
I sighed as I watched them.
"Both of you, please stop. People will misunderstand if they see this."
"Ahem. Fight? Not at all. My master and I are merely debating to find the most suitable swordsmanship for Your Highness."
"If you didn't keep making foolish claims, we wouldn't need to. A man who can't even properly defeat a leper like me—"
"I was going easy on you because you were unwell—"
I cleared my throat.
Both of them immediately fell silent.
Aeg, standing beside me, simply kept smiling as though he found the whole thing amusing.
"I don't think the two of you can be stopped. I'll go say my farewells to the citizens."
I shook my head and dismounted.
Under the tight watch of the guards, the people approached me.
I shook hands and exchanged greetings with each of them.
Among them was Emmanuel, the Jewish elder who had followed me to Eilat.
He clasped my hand firmly.
"Thank you, Your Highness, for supporting the reconstruction of our synagogue. All of us will pray every day for your safe arrival in Jerusalem."
"Your words are too kind. I've instructed the Venetians to prepare the necessary materials for the synagogue. Since I personally commissioned them, they won't dare inflate the price."
I smiled as I said it.
All I had done was permit the rebuilding of their temple, yet they were this grateful.
Was it really such a rare thing?
Judaism, Coptic Christianity, and Eastern Orthodoxy were religions that constantly faced persecution in the Levant.
In reality—and in Last Crusaders as well.
I wonder how they'd react if I told them about the 21st century?
I shook my head.
Then again, the 21st century isn't perfect either.
The Israel–Palestine conflict.
ISIL's mass execution of Coptic Christians.
The Kosovo conflict.
Even after a thousand years, not much truly changes.
If anything, the Kingdom of Jerusalem and the Islamic states of this era seem more open-minded than some 21st-century fundamentalists.
I was embracing Emmanuel when a man in a turban approached.
He was dressed like a merchant.
Speaking in Arabic, he slipped a hand into his robe.
The next moment, a scabbard emerged from within his garments.
A scabbard?
"Assassin! How dare you—!"
"It's an Assassin!"
Garnier, Aeg, and the other guards all drew their swords at once.
Even Boult seemed to sense the tension, rearing up on his hind legs.
"Stop! Everyone, stand down!"
I shouted.
I felt no hostility from the merchant.
Quite the opposite.
Confusion. Fear.
If he were a true Assassin, I wouldn't be sensing those emotions.
The merchant trembled and bowed deeply.
He spoke in a hurried tone, but I couldn't understand him.
It seemed he was trying to give me something.
I looked to Garnier.
"What is he saying?"
"He says that thanks to Your Highness's escort, their caravan was able to reach Eilat safely. He has brought a gift on behalf of his guild."
Garnier barked something in Arabic at the merchant.
Soon after, he took the dagger from the man and brought it to me.
The scabbard and hilt were expensive at a glance.
I drew the blade.
Strange, flowing patterns were etched across the steel.
Garnier continued translating.
"He says it was forged in Damascus. He wished to present it to Your Highness personally."
So this was the famed Damascus steel.
Renowned for the boast that it could "slice through rock."
Exaggerated, perhaps—but among existing blades, it was undoubtedly of the highest quality.
I gave the merchant a faint smile.
"I did not expect to receive such a fine gift. I will put it to good use."
Then I added,
"But be more careful next time. Approaching royalty while holding a blade is practically the same as attempting suicide."
After Garnier translated, the merchant nodded fervently.
Even after he withdrew, more people surged forward.
The procession only began moving again nearly an hour later.
Balian rode up beside me.
"The citizens here speak very highly of you, Your Highness. They say you've done little but work every day…."
He smiled.
"Did you not go hunting much? I heard you were fond of it."
"I had no time to spare," I replied, shaking my head.
Hunting? I barely had time to sleep.
Administrative duties, hearing citizens' grievances, presiding over trials—
There was no shortage of responsibilities for a royal and regent.
Still… it wasn't without reward.
When I turned back, the sight of Eilat filled my eyes.
Crowded streets.
The sound of ships at the harbor.
The newly restored walls.
It was the complete opposite of the desolation I had first encountered.
Without me, the city wouldn't have changed like this.
In the original timeline, Eilat's reconstruction happened much later.
I only came here to secure funds and block Reynald.
Seeing those who had returned home smile in happiness warmed me unexpectedly.
As I gazed at the city, lost in thought, a strange sensation crept over me.
An ominous premonition.
Was it that [Unexplainable Intuition] again?
Or just my imagination?
Garnier tilted his head as he approached.
"Is something the matter, Your Highness?"
"Come to think of it, I haven't heard any news from Kerak in the past few days. How has Lord Reynald been faring?"
"He's remained holed up inside Kerak Castle. Ever since Your Highness stepped in, he's been thoroughly cowed…."
"I see."
I fell into thought.
Would Reynald give up so easily?
Or would he attempt something reckless to regain the initiative?
It was impossible to predict his next move.
Then perhaps I should take out an insurance policy.
Better to tap the bridge before crossing it.
After deciding, I beckoned Balian and Hugh closer.
"There is something I must tell the three of you before we depart. Sir Garnier will remain in Eilat for a time—"
"I cannot leave Your Highness and remain here alone. His Majesty personally instructed me—"
Garnier frowned.
I smiled at him.
"There is no need to worry. I have no intention of leaving you behind and going to Jerusalem alone."
The three of them looked at me curiously.
"Before we go to Jerusalem, we will make a brief detour…"
Bedouin territory near Kerak.
Against the backdrop of a dark tent, dozens of figures flickered in the lamplight.
Countless spearheads and blades gleamed like stars under the moon.
"Welcome to our tribe, Tariq of Kerak. May the blood of the camel and the spirit of the horse be with you."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Chief Qurbaga."
The black steward bowed his head.
He glanced around, swallowing hard.
The Bedouin warriors all stared at him with sharp, predatory eyes.
As if ready to leap and tear him limb from limb at any moment.
The chief spoke with a hardened expression.
"Our Bedouin tribes welcome all guests. Even traitors who bow before infidels."
He continued,
"Forgive us if the mood is not warm. Only recently, dozens of our young men died fighting the Franks."
"You mean Prince Baldwin, who was traveling from Jerusalem to Eilat, do you not?"
At Tariq's question, the chief merely stared coldly without answering.
He spoke again.
"Why has the steward of Reynald come to us? The tribute owed is not due for several more months."
"My lord of Kerak is willing to forgo this year's tribute. The suspended grain trade may also be resumed."
"The lord of Kerak would exempt our tribute? I would sooner believe he has converted to Islam."
"There is, of course, one condition."
Tariq raised a finger.
"You and the other Bedouin tribes must attack Eilat. That is the price of exemption."
"Attack Eilat? Are you in your right mind?"
Chief Qurbaga frowned deeply.
"Is that not a Frankish city? I hear a royal youth you call Baldwin rebuilt it."
"The boy left the city a few days ago. All that remains are Jews and rabble."
Tariq smiled faintly, shaking his head.
His eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Late tomorrow night, the Aqaba fortress east of Eilat will open its gates. You need only strike through there."
…
A brief silence passed.
At last, the chief spoke.
"I think I understand what Lord Reynald wants. A Frank asking us to attack a Frankish city. You must be fighting among yourselves for power."
Qurbaga continued,
"You want us to crush that boy's pride for you. Since you cannot act openly."
"The details are none of your concern."
"Perhaps. But do you think we would so readily accept such a proposal?"
The Bedouin chief rose to his feet.
"It is not the first time you Franks have broken your word to us Muslims."
"I expected you would say that. But you need grain now, do you not? Was this year not one of famine?"
Tariq's faint smile returned as he gestured toward the tent's entrance.
Women and children peered in from outside.
All wore the hollow expressions of hunger.
"That is why you risked attacking the Franks."
"Before you seized this land, we lived in peace, trading with the cities. Even during drought, we did not starve."
Qurbaga's voice bubbled like boiling water.
He pointed accusingly at the black steward.
"It was your master—the despicable devil of Kerak—who forbade the cities from trading with us!"
"As I said earlier…"
Tariq snapped his fingers.
Frankish soldiers entered, struggling under the weight of crates.
Fruit and vegetables.
Beans, wheat, oil.
The warriors around them swallowed visibly at the sight.
"The lord of Kerak has broken his word before. If you think a few crates of fruit are enough to buy our tribe—"
"You would do well to consider carefully before deciding."
The black steward's voice hardened.
"If you refuse this generous offer, my lord has said he will personally lead his army here."
"The same threat we hear every year."
Silence fell again.
The air was thick enough to taste blood.
Under the desert night, surrounded by darkness—
At last, the two men clasped hands.