[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations":3,"chapter-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-34":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Nation of Ten Thousand Nations",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2333002,4562,"Chapter 34: The Invitation and Gift of Templar Geoffrey (Part Two)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-34",34,"\u003Cp>“I’ll take you to the market.” Upon seeing Cesar, Geoffrey’s first words were these.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though Cesar’s body did not house the soul of a nine-year-old child, he couldn’t help letting out a small cheer—there was no helping it; since arriving in “this place,” he had spent nearly all his time in fixed locations: the Monastery of Saint John, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, or the Castle of the Holy Cross.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had only left the Holy City when searching for Count Etienne, but honestly, no one could appreciate the scenery amid ceaseless travel and prayer, and the scenery wasn’t worth admiring anyway—the pilgrimage routes of the twelfth century were far from the flat, beautiful, and sacred paths people imagined; trees resembled demons, rivers looked like nooses, and corpses lay everywhere—shriveled, bloated, or reduced to bone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had long wanted to step outside and see for himself—who wouldn’t be curious? This was a city a thousand years old!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This city had stood here for three thousand years; it originally belonged to the Semites and the Canaanites, whose descendants were the Israelites, who established their own kingdom here—a kingdom that lasted only three hundred years before being destroyed by the Assyrians amid division, and after the Assyrians came the Babylonians, the Persians, and the Romans as its masters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one could deny that this city, situated at the heart of the Fertile Crescent, linking Europe, the Arabian Peninsula, and Egypt, perched atop the Judaean Hills, was an important piece on the board, politically and economically—even without any religious significance, it was a vital territory, like a throat or a heart, fiercely contested.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The market day in Alasal is every Tuesday and on festival days,” Geoffrey said. His beard was shaved exceptionally clean today, and he wore a nearly new sheepskin cloak; he noticed Cesar staring at the cloak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thanks to you, little brother, when I returned with that ragged cloak and told our quartermaster about it, he was moved to tears—he begged me to return it to him so he could keep it safely. For that, he gave me this perfectly intact cloak. What’s wrong?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This isn’t anything remarkable,” Cesar said. “If we’re talking danger, fighting the Saracens is truly a matter of nine deaths and one life, but for you, it’s as routine as prayer and chanting.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I think it’s because you’re too young—nine years old,” Geoffrey said. “You don’t know, among the soldiers who accompanied us that day, one was married with children; sadly, his only son died at six. He believed this was God’s punishment, which is why he joined the Order. When he saw you, he adored you—he would have stopped you from taking risks if not for the complications surrounding Count Etienne.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sometimes you seem to forget your own age,” the Templar joked. “Is there an ancient spirit hiding inside this body?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There really was—Cesar’s expression didn’t change. There were no ancient spirits here, only a poor soul: “I heard from His Highness that the Alasal market is rigged in the Israelite quarter.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, since Baldwin I, the kings of Alasal have placed the market near the Dung Gate, east of the Western Wall. It’s said this was because the Israelites kept going to the Western Wall to weep, which annoyed him, so he moved the market there to try to drive them away.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did it work?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hardly,” Geoffrey said with a sly grin. “After all, that’s the only place they have left to prove they once had such a glorious history.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In fact, the Temple of Solomon, where the Templars now stood, was the Israelites’ First Temple—but it was utterly destroyed in 586 BC by Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon after capturing Alasal. The current temple is a pagan shrine built by the Saracens atop Solomon’s ruins, so the Israelites do not recognize it as God’s dwelling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now the Israelites mourn the Second Temple, built after their return from Babylonian captivity, which the Romans burned down eleven hundred years ago, leaving only this one wall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the Crusaders fought for God, they did not like the Israelites; they believed the Israelites had long been dogs and spies of the infidels, and during the siege of the Holy City, at least tens of thousands of Israelites perished beneath Crusader blades.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They walked along Alasal Avenue. In the second century AD, after destroying the Second Temple, the Romans under Emperor Hadrian rebuilt Alasal in their typical obsessive fashion, dividing the square city with two perpendicular roads like a cake cut evenly into four quarters—the market lay in the lower-right quadrant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, four neat rows of leather awnings stood there. Since the market wasn’t permanently fixed—the king or local lord could change its location at will—merchants didn’t build houses here, only existing shops remained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beneath these awnings were stalls—some owned by merchants, others rented. Most renters were traveling merchants or farmers who couldn’t secure long-term agreements with traders—they sold common goods: fish, fruit, vegetables, eggs, cheese, honey, chickens, ducks, pigs, and goats, or home-spun linen and cotton cloth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were also less common items: clothing, shoes, soap, woven baskets, pottery, tin plates, and furs, jewels, and spices, which merchants loudly boasted were “selected from goods delivered to castles or manors.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet some people still hesitated before these stalls, lured by the fantasy of wearing “the same coat or boots as nobles, just slightly flawed,” eating “the same food as lords, just a bit stale,” or wearing “the same jewelry, only with smaller gems or impure gold”—and merchants always found ways to convince them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One merchant boiled spiced hot wine; another hung a coat-of-arms chart so customers could compare engravings on rings or forks; the fur merchant hired a tailor who would alter any garment on the spot if the customer was dissatisfied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Those spices are just the dregs left in the bottom of sacks, or mixed with sand and dyed,” Geoffrey twisted Cesar’s curious head. “The jewels are mostly fake, and the clothes might be stripped from corpses. Come this way,” he was much taller than Cesar and rode a full-grown horse, so he could see farther: “There’s something worth watching.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar thought it might be acrobatics, but when they arrived, he saw the market inspector punishing several merchants, farmers, and two fools who had sold spoiled goods.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, doing business at the market required taxes: market tax, transaction tax, and tax on the use of measuring tools (some goods required both buyer and seller to weigh them together), but some always tried to outsmart the inspectors with their petty tricks, thinking they could evade their sharp eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When caught, they wept and begged, but the king’s tax officers had long hardened their hearts: those who could pay taxes and fines still had to be beaten on the spot—with waxed wooden boards that left large bruises on the buttocks and thighs; if they couldn’t pay, they were sent to forced labor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though catching tax evaders was amusing, it paled beside the punishment of those two fools who sold spoiled goods and were caught.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People of this era were, in fact, highly imaginative.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One of these unscrupulous merchants sold stinking beer and sour wine. After receiving a complaint, the inspector tasted it and declared such filth belonged only in the latrine—so they shoved the wine merchant roughly into a barrel; he wouldn’t be allowed out until he drank every last drop.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The other sold dead quails and pigeons to customers. When asked why the birds didn’t move, he claimed they were merely asleep… No need to elaborate: people plucked the birds’ feathers, glued them to his face with resin, and forced him to eat the bloody meat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey roared with laughter. Only after laughing did he notice the boy beside him seemed uninterested, even bored: “You don’t like this? Shall I take you to see acrobatics?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar shook his head. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then let’s go to ‘The Thicket,’” Geoffrey said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Here, “The Thicket” wasn’t a dense forest—it was simply because twelfth-century taverns commonly allowed vines to climb their fronts and sides to signal wine was sold, so people sometimes called taverns “The Thicket.” There were ready-to-eat foods at the market—roasted meat, pies—but Geoffrey dared not risk his and his squire’s luck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They arrived at a tavern behind the market, near the Dung Gate, bearing a wooden sign carved with a human leg. Don’t misunderstand—it wasn’t a cannibal inn; it represented Saints Cosmas and Damian, who, while healing and preaching in Syria, once reattached a severed leg. Even knights and lords sometimes couldn’t read, let alone common folk—so places relied on images instead of words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tavern keeper, spotting the stark white-on-red cross, immediately rushed forward with eager hospitality. Tavern food was usually simple, but what couldn’t money buy? He quickly brought out a lavish meal. Yet Templars were always expected to be simple and restrained, so while the food was fresh and delicious, it contained no spices or dyes, and only newly brewed beer was served—not wine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this suited Cesar perfectly, and Geoffrey didn’t care either. They sat across from each other and ate heartily. When they were done, they told the keeper not to let anyone disturb them—they sat in a corner beside the hearth—when Geoffrey finally asked Cesar: “Has Etienne met you yet?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Etienne’s offer to Cesar meant he had already agreed with Geoffrey. Hearing this, Cesar could only nod. The Templar asked: “You refused him—and me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar took a deep breath and nodded again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Geoffrey wiped his face with the edge of his cloak, showing no displeasure: “I guessed as much. When they brought you to me, they said you came on behalf of Prince Baldwin. At first, I thought you were coerced—but later… I realized you were sincere. You’re willing to die for him. Anything I say now would be useless.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He reached to his side, unfastened a calf-skin money pouch from his belt, and tossed it on the table. “This is for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar didn’t need to look—he could tell by the sound it was another bag of gold coins: “I don’t need…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, you do,” Geoffrey said firmly. “I’ve heard of your good deeds, but if you wish to stay by the prince’s side—as his squire, attendant, or knight—money is absolutely essential.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raised his thick fingers, counting off for Cesar: “When you’re still a squire, you can wear his clothes, use his weapons, wear his jewels—people will only envy you. But when he becomes a knight and you become his attendant, expenses begin: you must buy yourself armor—a leather jerkin, chainmail, helmet, longsword, shortsword, dagger, bow and arrows… a horse… tack… greaves, cloak… shield…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He kept listing: “When you become a knight’s squire—or novice knight—you’ll need your own squire, and you must equip him with everything he needs.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, when you become a knight, your squire count increases to three: you should have one personal chaplain, perhaps two laborers. Of course, their equipment, annual stipends, food, and daily needs—all fall to you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I admit Prince Baldwin favors you, but even if his feelings don’t change, when you need these things, can you simply reach out and ask him for money?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pushed the pouch toward Cesar. “And don’t feel guilty—there are a hundred gold coins here, but I only filled it with thirty. Do you know where the other seventy came from?” The Templar grinned mischievously, his eye wrinkles dancing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They belonged to the guide. When he fought the wolves, the beasts tore open his pouch, spilling most of his hundred gold coins. Later, the count and my men recovered some. They didn’t dare keep them—they turned them over to my soldiers, who gave them to me, and now I give them to you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He leaned back, stretched his arms, and sighed contentedly. “Fate can be amusing, can’t it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1974,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","86e6e312f74a8f006850a1b33ab3faef095c4637a089fe558f80f4bc889ada74","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-35","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-33",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]