The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 13 Earl Raymond

The Tripoli knights did not draw their weapons, but their hands were already on the hilts of their swords.

They stood slightly to the side, their chainmail hands and heavy kite-shaped shields forming a silent and unbreakable iron wall before Raymond.

His gaze pierced through the gaps in his helmet, coldly reflecting the Muslim soldiers surging in from all sides like a chilling star.

In the narrow alley, the torchlight danced on the armor of both sides, distorting and magnifying their figures, filling every inch of space. The air seemed to freeze, leaving only the crackling of the burning torches and heavy breathing.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, a familiar face to Lyon and Accord, slowly emerged from behind the soldiers. His facial muscles twitched, as if he were about to speak, but Raymond casually interrupted him:

"I have just finished a friendly private conversation with several scholars from your country who are residing here. Although I have long heard of your country and religion's self-discipline in etiquette, I never expected that this farewell procession would arrive so timely and so...grand..."

Jabar's throat tightened, and he swallowed back the words that were already on the tip of his tongue. This place was indeed a scholar's abode, and the Count of Tripoli, Raymond III, was renowned in both the Christian and Muslim worlds for his extensive learning and knowledge of Islam. His Jerusalem mission's arrival at port that evening was also common knowledge. Logically and emotionally, Jabar had no advantage whatsoever.

"May God grant you peace, Your Excellency the Count." Jabbar placed his right hand on his chest, his bow meticulous, yet his tone was firm as iron. "Please forgive this untimely interruption. We are pursuing an Assassin in white robes who assassinated the tax collector, Lord Hakim, and his accomplices. They fled in this direction and disappeared near your retinue. For the sake of the port's tranquility and the safety of your mission, please grant us this favor."

"Assassins? White-robed assassins?"

When the word "Assassin" came out of Jabbar's mouth, Raymond's diplomatic, composed smile froze instantly.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar keenly noticed this unusual movement and cast a probing glance his way.

"Assassins?" Raymond repeated softly but urgently. "You just said... an Assassin in a white robe? What do they look like? What's their build? How many are there? What... weapons do they use?"

This series of probing questions was completely unexpected by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

He hesitated, trying to find the right words: "This...this is precisely what we have been searching for here to verify with the Earl."

Raymond took a deep breath, slightly regaining his composure, though a trace of barely concealed emotion lingered in his voice: "I lost my composure, Lord Jabbar... Your mention of 'Assassins' stirred up unpleasant memories."

A forced smile flickered across Jabbar's face; he had unconsciously been drawn into Raymond's rhythm: "Oh? My lord is... acquainted with the Assassins?"

Raymond lowered his eyelids slightly and said slowly, "When I was 12 years old, in Acre, the Assassins assassinated my father in the street."

"I will never forget that back view, and his murder weapon—the short sword hidden in his left wrist."

The soldiers present looked at each other in disbelief. None of them had expected that this renowned nobleman of the Levant would have such a profound connection with the organization lurking in the shadows.

Raymond's gaze returned to Jabbar's face, his expression earnest: "I have no Assassins here. If you capture him, please execute him immediately and send me a letter so I can pray to God and my Father in Heaven. Farewell."

The Tripoli knights remained on guard, protecting Raymond and Lyon and Jacob behind him as they slowly retreated. Seeing that Jabar had no intention of stopping them, they calmly turned and headed towards the port ships.

Jabbar stroked his beard. Raymond's words didn't seem fake, and as a great nobleman, there was no need for him to fake them. So he waved his hand, and the soldiers dispersed like a tide.

Leon and Jacob, hidden among the knights, cautiously emerged. Raymond's gaze swept past Jacob, landing directly on the thin Leon's face, his tone flat and emotionless: "Safe now. Tell me, what happened? And—" He paused, his gaze locking onto Leon, "this child, which noblewoman's treasure has been carelessly left behind?"

"Just the son of an old friend. I even presided over his baptism." Jacob remained expressionless, his face instantly filled with just the right amount of sorrow and remembrance, as if he were truly mourning a departed close friend. "Later... I couldn't bear to see him all alone..." He looked at Raymond and sighed, "We originally intended to take a ship back to Jerusalem to seek refuge with my sister, but we encountered pirates, the ship sank, and we were lucky enough to drift here, and then, as just now, we had the honor of becoming... accomplices of the Assassins..."

"Oh? These pirates are really amateurs," Raymond scoffed, clearly immune to Jacob's endless nonsense. "It's a shame they didn't castrate you." He didn't bother to delve deeper, changing the subject: "However, whether meeting me now is your good fortune or misfortune is unknown—I'm not returning to Jerusalem; I'm setting off for Cairo tomorrow morning to meet with Sultan Saladin and discuss… well, it's none of your business anyway."

His gaze swept over the two men, carrying an undeniable warning: "Stay on the boat and play with this kid. Remember, no alcohol, no women, and don't cause me any trouble."

Jacob immediately adopted a pitiful expression, but when he glanced at Lyon's "innocent and bewildered" face, he instantly gained confidence: "Uh, Your Excellency, it's fine for me to stay on the ship. But this child... the cabin is so cramped, won't he get bored? Why don't I take him ashore to broaden his horizons? What kind of wine can a monk with a child possibly drink, or what trouble can he cause?"

Raymond scrutinized Accord's lying, despicable face, then glanced down at Leon. Accord quickly gave an exaggerated wink, and Leon, understanding immediately, tilted his head back, adopting the most innocent and childlike expression.

For some reason, the child's clear gaze stirred a subtle, indescribable emotion within Raymond. He composed himself and finally relented, "...Whatever you say."

The group walked silently to the dimly lit harbor. Under the silvery moonlight, the royal ships, bearing the royal flag of Jerusalem, lay silently at their berths like a colossal black beast.

Leon was half-embraced and half-carried by Jacob into the cabin Raymond had arranged for them. Just as Jacob was about to close the cabin door, his movements suddenly froze—through the crack in the door that was about to close, he saw a blurry silhouette crouching at the top of the mainmast, with a silver moon hanging behind it, giving the figure a cold outline.

The two stared intently, and the figure became increasingly clear in the moonlight: white robe, hood...

Who else could it be but that Assassin?!

Just when they thought death was about to strike and their hearts were almost stopped, a night wind howled past the mast.

After the wind stopped, the white figure vanished without a trace, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion cast by the moonlight.