The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 136 Saladin's Ambition

Chapter 136 Saladin's Ambition (Part 5)

As Saladin watched Saul leave the reception room, turning back every few steps while praising the Sultan's benevolence, the gentle, warm smile on his face slowly faded.

He waved to Isfahani, who was standing to the side, and said, "Alright, Isfahani, you're in charge of finalizing the details of the alliance with Saul and exchanging tokens and documents. As for me—" he gently pressed his temple, "I still have a whole mess to clean up."

Isfahani did not immediately accept the order. A rare look of doubt appeared on his refined face as he carefully spoke, "Sultan, please allow me to speak frankly. I feel that there is something—that does not make sense—about the matter of Kokberi."

"Oh? Tell me about it." Saladin turned around, gesturing for him to continue.

"Timing, Your Majesty, timing is paramount," Isfahani analyzed. "You are currently focused on dealing with the Franks, and the war has just begun, with the outcome still uncertain. If Kochbury intends to side with the stronger party, sending envoys at this time would be extremely risky and unwise. That is the first point."

"Secondly, there's the question of the verifiability of their promises. 1,500 cavalry? How many are armored? How well are they trained? We have no way of verifying these."

If we were to meet them then, what we would find is not a formidable army, but rather a motley crew of bandits and outlaws. Wouldn't that hinder the main force and further damage Your Majesty's prestige? This is the second point.

"Secondly, there is the validity of its claimed value. Saul claims that his lord knows the terrain around Mosul like the back of his hand, but Izdin Zangi is no fool. If he avoids battle and holds strongholds like Mosul, then Kokberi cannot fulfill his purpose. If we are bogged down in the north, we will only waste our food supplies and precious time that should be used for recuperation."

"Sultan, in my humble opinion, there are only two possibilities for Kokberi's cooperation," Isfahani said confidently. "Either he wants to use Your Majesty to settle his personal scores and eliminate his brother and the Zangi nobles; or this is simply a ruse devised by Izdin Zangi to lure our army north and then annihilate them, and is by no means a sincere act of submission."

Saladin listened quietly, his face showing no displeasure at being questioned, but rather a hint of approving smile: "You've thought things through very carefully, Isfahani. If Farouk had half your prudence, that would be wonderful."

He then changed the subject, saying, "However, while your analysis is insightful, it is too idealistic. What loyalty in this world is without flaws? My subjects are loyal to me for reasons of interest, fear, or blood ties. As Sultan, I also have an obligation to reward merit and bestow upon them the grace they deserve, and even more so than they expect."

He walked to the window and looked north: "Kokbury may indeed have his own selfish motives, but that's alright. As for Izzdin Zangi—"

Saladin's voice turned cold: "Compared to the Franks, he and Imad al-Din Zangi, who is entrenched in Aleppo, are my true and most pressing concerns. Their separatist rule and disregard for the orders of the Caliph in Baghdad have caused the Muslim forces to be fragmented by internal strife, preventing them from forming a united front against the Franks. I am ordered by the Caliph to punish these rebellious individuals; this is not only fulfilling my duty as a subject, but also an indispensable part of accomplishing the great jihadist cause. How can I shrink back because of the difficulty?"

He turned, his eyes gleaming: "The Zangi royal family has lost its way, and there will be many generals like Kokberi who are talented but unappreciated and harbor resentment. When our army marches north, we only need to demonstrate righteousness, explain the advantages and disadvantages, and use both kindness and force. The cities along the way will surely surrender at the mere sight of us, just like Damascus nine years ago. The real resistance may be less than we imagine."

Isfahani suddenly realized, his eyes filled with even greater admiration: "Your Majesty is far-sighted; I was merely ignorant."

"No need for such formalities, Isfahani." Saladin waved his hand, his tone sincere. "Between you and me, there's no need for these empty formalities. Aren't there plenty of monarchs in history who were wise and powerful in their early years but became stubborn and self-willed later? I may not always be wise. In the Battle of Beirut, I was completely seen through by the Frankish crown prince—a child who was just over ten years old."

A hint of self-deprecation and solemnity flashed across Saladin's face: "That is precisely why I need you all the more—Farouk, Tagudin, and all the Atatürks and Emirs—to speak frankly and honestly, and to use your wisdom to make up for my oversights. When you are in charge of documents and conveying my will, you must pass on this plea to all the important ministers."

"Yes, Sultan." Isfahani bowed deeply to Saladin, then suddenly asked, "By the way, Sultan, there is one more thing."

Seeing Saladin nod slightly, Isfahani reported, "That Assassin—he returned to Damascus a few days ago. Does the Sultan wish to see him?"

Saladin was taken aback. If Isfahani hadn't mentioned the Assassins, he would have almost forgotten about Al-Morin, who had vanished without a trace after the Battle of Beitshean.

"Send him to see me," Saladin's eyes darkened slightly, "immediately."

An hour later, Saladin, accompanied by Tagudin, slowly entered the secret basement of the Damascus governor's palace. This room, which connected to the Assassins' stronghold in Damascus, was the private room where Saladin and Almorin met.

"Uncle, why didn't you tell Farouk to come along?" Tagudin asked, puzzled. "He's clearly from Damascus—"

"This has nothing to do with identity, Tagudin." Saladin's expression was grave. "The Assassins are venomous snakes, and we are like snake tamers, but—"

He was an unsuccessful snake trainer. You never know when a snake will turn around and spit venom at you. Farouk—you know, I didn't want him to be around such dangerous creatures.

The small door to the room slowly opened, revealing a dimly lit room with only a few flickering candles.

Almorin stood like a ghost behind the candlelight on the table, the candlelight illuminating his pale old face, making him look like a corpse.

Saladin chuckled inwardly and said coldly, "Almorin, you always put on this act every time you come in."

"Good day, Your Majesty the Sultan." In the candlelight, Almorin's voice was as old and hoarse as ever. His gaze shifted from Saladin to Tagudin. "Your Majesty seems to have brought a new listener today."

"He is another nephew of mine, Tajudin, Farouk's deputy."

"I know, Sultan, of course I know." Almorin gave a sinister smile. "But loyalty and betrayal are often separated by a single thought. Let alone uncle and nephew, even father and son can turn against each other one day. One should always be wary of others; it would be best if we avoided having a third person with us when we meet in the future."

"Ha, Almorin, now you know how to keep a low profile and maintain secrecy? And why did you take it upon yourself to appear before Farouk during the Battle of Beitshean?" Saladin questioned. "After that, you vanished without a trace. What, you kept saying you wanted to help Farouk, where was the help? Where?"

Saladin's question seemed to have struck a nerve with Almorin. He remained silent for a moment, then said in a somber tone, "Your Majesty, please forgive me, but I did indeed infiltrate Beitshean, intending to start with the granaries and water sources, but—"

Almorin seemed somewhat hesitant to speak. He paused for a moment, then said in an unnatural tone, "In short, the person in charge of defense in Beitshean is no ordinary person, and—the Franks also have the assistance of the defected Assassins."

Saladin frowned: "The latter is within my expectations, but what about the former? Isn't the lord of Berthesiean Guillaume de Saint-Omega?"

"He was indeed the city lord, but the actual power at the time belonged to someone else!" Almorin's face was more solemn than ever before. "When I went into hiding, the search party included both the banner of Saint Omega and the royal banner of Jerusalem. Under the royal banner were the royal guards directly under the king!"

"Royal Guard!"

Saladin was suddenly jolted.

Baldwin and his main force were confronting Farouk in the west at the time, so how could the king's banner appear in Beitshean?

unless----

It's him again! That little crown prince who appears like a ghost at every crucial moment!

First Farouk, then Almorin, and finally Adil and himself—they all fell into his hands!