Chapter 154: Breakout (3)

This is not an end, but a prelude.

Alone, Aple Castle is nine times the size of Yalasalu; the entire city of Aple is so vast it inspires terror, especially on a night like this.

When the Christian delegation first entered this city, they felt only its majesty and immovability; now it seemed like a child’s sandcastle on the shore—unstable overall, with cracks and collapses appearing at random.

And those soldiers, who kept arriving with shouts and curses, came as ceaselessly as the sea that seeps through every crevice. Of course, they were not all Saracens—some might be Turks, Kurds, or Nubians, with different faiths, skin tones, and masters—but one thing united them: to seize every advantage while the great city descended into chaos.

If only a strong-handed new Sultan had immediately summoned the Emirs and Fatih, ordering them to gather and control their men, the situation might not have spiraled so badly. But it was clear now: the collapse of this sandcastle was beyond repair.

Sometimes, when they encountered Christian forces, it was not merely bandits taking advantage of the chaos—these could be local residents organized to defend their homes, or soldiers summoned by trusted “scholars” to guard the new Sultan.

If they were the former, they would indeed feel fear, then hatred, toward Cesar and the others, clearly identifiable as Christians; but as long as the Saracens around them shouted the words Muhammad once cried upon entering Mecca—“Stay in your homes, and you shall be safe”—few among them truly wished to fight these knights with sharp blades and gleaming armor.

If they were the latter, it was even simpler: most of these “scholars” had met the ministers before; the ministers had listened to their grievances, and the scholars had done favors for the ministers—some among them were even friends, often spending time together in libraries or hookah lounges.

Kamal did not lie on this point: their presence had indeed spared the Christian knights many unnecessary battles, aside from wasting a little time—because whenever someone recognized them, they would grab their robes and demand news of Aple Castle.

And Kamal’s responses were equally despairing: an elderly “scholar” stood beneath his horse, gripping his robe tightly, his face filled with grief: “Where should we go? Tell me, honorable Kamal—you are so wise, surely you can show us a way.”

“All I say is: endure for now. I must find a worthy lord,” Kamal said. “If he truly fulfills his promises, I will bring him back.”

The Zengi Dynasty, originally a traditionalist faction among the Saracens, meant that they did not believe only those of Sultan blood could become Sultan—anyone with talent, courage, and sincere faith could be crowned.

Upon hearing this, the man let out a hollow laugh. “I believe you, my lord.” He released his grip. “May God protect you.”

“May God protect us all, protect Aple, protect Syria.”

Watching Kamal and the Christian knights depart, the scholar’s heart was heavy with sorrow—but he drew a deep breath, turned, and faced his students and sons. “The people of our quarter,” he said sternly, “go home at once, shut your doors. No matter who comes, even if they claim to carry the Sultan’s or Grand Vizier’s orders, do not open.”

“...Is that really safe? What if the new Sultan rises and demands we pay him homage?” his eldest son asked, puzzled.

“New Sultan?” The scholar looked up toward Aple Castle, where smoke and flames still rolled faintly visible, and the towering walls flanking Nanmen. His voice turned cold. “When two heads hang from those walls, then we’ll speak of a new Sultan.”

He had seen the ministers fleeing in panic too.

These ministers were universally respected men. Even if the new Sultan proved mediocre, or if the princes were willing to sit down and divide their father’s lands peacefully, as Nur al-Din and his elder brother once did, they would never abandon the city lightly. After all, like Kamal, his family had served Aple for centuries—and now he abandoned everything, fleeing alone. Didn’t that say enough?

The scholar’s prediction proved devastatingly accurate: the next morning, two grotesque, blood-smeared heads hung from the walls beside Nanmen. Yet the eunuchs had carefully cleaned their faces so all could clearly recognize the dead.

Some gasped—it was two adult princes.

The eldest prince and the second prince had torn at each other like two starving hyenas trapped in a narrow room, devouring each other’s flesh, unaware of the hidden hands guiding them.

The First Lady had been as docile before Sultan Nur al-Din as a flower one could pluck at will.

But long before Nur al-Din’s death—or even earlier—this woman had planted a sharp poison in her heart. She had no son of her own, but she had Nur al-Din’s third son, Salih. Compared to the grown, ambitious eldest and second princes, the child Salih suited her needs far better.

For decades, she had been the sole ruler of the harem; most eunuchs and maids had long grown accustomed to obeying her orders. She lured the eldest and second princes into the Throne Hall, using circumstance to force their followers to spill their last drops of blood there.

The First Lady watched their struggle like beasts fighting, peering through a hidden hole as they slaughtered each other before the Sultan’s throne, driven by greed—until, at the final moment, the eldest prince’s scimitar slashed across the second prince’s throat, his head tumbling to the ground. In his last fading consciousness, besides his brother’s triumphant laughter, he saw the sudden tip of a blade emerging from his own chest.

No one knew when the eldest prince’s bodyguards had betrayed him. The second prince’s head wore a twisted smile—perhaps because his enemy had finally met his end, or perhaps because he mocked both his brother and himself.

They had never taken their youngest brother seriously. Though his mother came from a Fatih family, his father’s province lay far from Aple, and their rebellion had erupted in a single day—what could he do, even if he had an army? He could never arrive in time.

But it was clear now: who else had prepared for this day? The First Lady, who had always appeared impartial toward all her children, gentle to the point of dullness, struck like thunder—swift, decisive, leaving no trace of danger.

As the eldest prince clutched his chest and collapsed, he saw in horror that his mother and the second prince’s mother had also been dragged out.

The two women were forced to kneel before the First Lady; then two eunuchs seized their hair, forcing their heads up, and slit their white throats like chickens.

Blood flowed like a red carpet.

The First Lady turned, gazed deeply at the throne, drew a breath, then reached out to Salih, who clung to his mother’s arms. “Come,” she said. “New Sultan—come to me.” His mother hesitated, then loosened her grip and gently pushed Salih toward the First Lady.

The youngest prince walked slowly forward, and the First Lady drew him into her arms. Then, holding him, she sat upon the Sultan’s throne. Long before Nur al-Din’s death, she had stared at this throne, wondering what it would feel like to sit upon it.

Now she knew. But she had not yet felt more than this when a eunuch rushed up, whispering urgently into her ear.

The First Lady immediately looked to the chief eunuch—the one who had once served Nur al-Din, captured alongside his master by the Crusaders, but later ransomed by the First Lady herself. He was utterly loyal to her, and with him present, Salih’s legitimacy would be further confirmed.

Seeing the First Lady’s face darken, the chief eunuch stepped forward quickly. “The prison is empty,” she whispered.

“Were they killed—or...” the chief eunuch paused, “were they released? By whom?”

“Kamal,” the First Lady said. “He bribed the jailers and took them all away.”

“We were negligent,” the chief eunuch frowned. They had kept these men alive until last, intending to show mercy—after the eldest and second princes had done those things to them (with some of our own people deliberately stoking the violence).

When they were broken, terrified, certain death was imminent, the First Lady would appear before them with Prince Salih, like an angel descending, rescuing them from the filthy dungeons.

She would have them bathed, given grape juice, served by maids, then promise them reward for their suffering... Would they not then serve the new Sultan and his regent with all their hearts, to the point of exhaustion?

But Kamal’s actions shattered their plan. The First Lady was puzzled: “Why did Kamal do this?” Yet she waved it off immediately—what was done was done; now was no time to seek reasons.

She turned to the chief eunuch: “Did Kamal’s family support him? Where did he find his army? Without an army, mere scholars could never leave Aple intact.”

These officials served the Sultan in Aple’s court—they were not military commanders nor provincial viceroys. They lacked mounted combat experience. Even with divine revelation, this was no task to be accomplished overnight.

“They left with the Christian knights,” said the first eunuch. Then a second eunuch returned with his report—he had been sent by the First Lady to deal with the Christians—but the orders he received were the exact opposite.

The first eunuch’s orders: to offer these desperate people a chance at forgiveness and survival. The second eunuch’s orders: to kill every single Christian in Aple.

Earlier, the First Lady had sent a group of exquisite female slaves through the second prince’s hand. She knew these Christians had sworn chastity, like their monks, and would never touch women—especially infidels.

But she did not believe these young, fiery knights could truly remain chaste without supervision or restraint. She had heard rumors: some knights in the orders kept female slaves—since they did not consider slaves human, they did not break their vows.

“When did they leave?” the First Lady demanded sharply.

“Earlier... we found two slaves. They said that when the disturbance broke out in the King’s Hall, Master Kamal found them—and...” He glanced at the chief eunuch, hesitant to continue—but now there was no need to hide. The First Lady waved her hand, and he went on.

The chief eunuch now learned the First Lady had poisoned Count Joscelin III of Edessa and his wife. He looked at her with an indescribable expression—why? It was utterly unnecessary. The struggle among the three princes had nothing to do with this Christian.

Besides, this Christian knight had performed the “Purification” ritual for their Sultan. According to doctrine, had he been a Saracen, the First Lady would have regarded him as a bloodless... son—he would have become Salih’s “brother.”

Of course, since he was a Christian, none of that applied. But still... he should not have been treated as an enemy.

Moreover, that crucial verbal agreement was not secretly made by Kamal alone—he had sent pigeon letters back to Aple, and received confirmed replies from here. That meant all three ladies and the princes had already agreed: to regard this Christian as a benefactor.

Yet the First Lady’s reward was poisoning his parents.

“I cannot tell you why,” the First Lady said, agitated. “I can only say I had to do it. Someone needed them silenced forever—preferably before they met any Christian.” The chief eunuch opened his mouth but could not rebuke her. After all, they were now each other’s closest allies, and the First Lady had already taken corrective measures.

This “correction” did not mean trying to undo the hatred she had stirred—it meant cutting the roots.

The female slaves they had sent carried lethal poison, meant to be slipped into the knights’ wine during their pleasures. But they had not expected Cesar and Geoffrey to forbid the women from even touching the knights. And the eldest prince’s coup came far earlier than planned—until Cesar’s group departed, the women had never found an opportunity to approach the knights.

“It’s useless to speak further now, my lady. You must decide.”

The First Lady understood the chief eunuch meant the ministers. “Since they have betrayed the Sultan—whether Nur al-Din or his son—they have no reason to live.” She said, “Send our soldiers to pursue them. Kill them in the desert beyond Aple’s walls.”

(End of Chapter)