[{"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-55":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},2333023,4562,"Chapter 55: Guests from the Eagle","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-55",55,"\u003Cp>The young knight was handsome, tall, and bore a warm smile that instantly won people’s favor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet his overly muscular build clashed with his refined face—his shoulders were so broad they could easily accommodate two children sitting one on each side, and when his arms hung down, they nearly reached his knees.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such long arms would grant him an advantage in battle no technique could match, for nothing beats striking your enemy before he can land a blow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The knight approached Baldwin and Cesar, carefully studying their clothing and expressions, then lingered a moment on the two golden crosses. He then looked into their eyes—one blue, one green—and immediately recalled something; his demeanor grew even more respectful, his voice softer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knelt halfway, as if afraid of startling them: “How did you come here? Were you meeting someone?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We just wanted to see what squires do,” Cesar replied honestly. “We’re about to become squires ourselves.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re about to become squires?” the young knight asked. “You’re already fourteen?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not yet,” Baldwin said. “Since you’ve recognized us, you know we’ve both received God’s blessing and seen the saint—we’re ready for battle. Maybe a bit early, but in Alasath, starting sooner isn’t necessarily bad—you’re young too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man burst into laughter. “Yes, I’m young—but I spent seven years as a page, seven as a squire, three as a squire-in-training, and only then became a knight.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar silently calculated in his mind: “You’ve only just become a knight, haven’t you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This is my first tournament since becoming a knight.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even Baldwin looked incredulous. He’d defeated so many in his very first tournament?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did you win all these in the mêlée?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Not all,\" the young knight said, walking behind them as they rummaged through the piles of chainmail, helmets, and scattered weapons. \"There are seven or eight people here. Did you win the crown at the tournament?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this, the knight’s squire showed a flicker of unease. He removed the round cap from his head and pointed to his bandaged skull: “In the final mêlée, I was struck on the head. My master pulled out of the contest and dragged me aside—he forfeited the match. Though our team won, my master didn’t claim any ransom or honors.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“There, there,” the young knight interrupted good-naturedly. “I couldn’t just watch you bleed like a broken jug. I’ve only got you as my squire—if you died, who’d wash my clothes, polish my armor, run my errands? I don’t want to do it myself.” He glanced fearfully at the mountain of loot. “I’d just hand it all to merchants—let them name their price.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That won’t do,” the squire immediately objected. “You don’t know how cunning and vile these Isaians are.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young knight waved a hand—he had no intention of speaking ill of others on foreign soil, even if they were Isaians.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I haven’t introduced myself yet,” he said. “I’m English, noble guests. My name is William Marshal. My grandfather Gilbert was a Norman knight who came to England with the Conqueror. My father was Henry II’s Master of the Stables and organizer of knightly tournaments. I’m his second son, recently knighted.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I heard the King of Alasath married the Byzantine Emperor’s daughter, and a month-long tournament was planned. I thought it the perfect holy beginning for a young man, so I left my father and rode straight from London here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’ve been lucky enough to win a few victories, but they’re nothing. The knights I faced were all worthy. Yet due to negligence—or humility,” he waved a hand, “they let me keep their armor, so I accepted. If they had real hardship or sacred vows to uphold, I let them go without demanding a single penny of ransom.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He invited them into his tent and warmed a pot of coffee over the small stove. “This is truly a wonderful thing,” he marveled. “After drinking it, I feel invigorated, my blood surging—even if I had to fight on horseback for three days and three nights, I wouldn’t feel a trace of fatigue.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did you pass the Selection Ceremony?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course. Didn’t you hear the herald announce my name at the tournament? They add the name of the saint I’ve seen before mine. They never pair unblest knights with blessed ones—that wouldn’t be fair.” He asked curiously, “If I’m not mistaken, you didn’t watch the tournament?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Until today we were in class,” Baldwin replied stiffly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young knight realized he’d asked the wrong question and flushed with embarrassment. He hadn’t imagined such a magnificent spectacle could be denied to children by their own parents.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Amalric I could.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He believed Baldwin and Cesar needed remedial lessons—even though they’d performed well at the reception ceremony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the banquet, the two boys were ordered to remain in the Holy Cross Fortress. For the past ten days, they’d trained, prayed, and studied etiquette, music, and poetry—there was always another lesson the moment they opened their eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar suspected Amalric I was hiding them—perhaps fearing undiscovered conspiracies, or shielding them from a greater storm. His guess seemed right: the day they were allowed to leave the Holy Cross Fortress was the day the Byzantines departed, and Prince Baldwin naturally joined the farewell procession.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Byzantines probably didn’t care who saw them off—they fled as if escaping death. No one knew how many would die in Manuel I’s prisons upon returning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar didn’t know that Amalric I had hidden the two boys not only because of the Byzantines, but also because another dangerous and troublesome group of enemies was arriving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This matter dated back to January 6th, the Selection Ceremony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The recent shocking rebellion had nearly killed Baldwin and Cesar with drug-induced seizures and respiratory arrest—and nearly taken King Amalric I’s life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Holy Cross Fortress, built by three generations of Alasath kings, was heavily guarded, nearly flawless—except for Prince Baldwin’s leprosy. Ordinary assassins rarely reached him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that day, for Baldwin’s sake, Amalric I had unusually stayed outside the fortress, allowing the assassin to enter his bedroom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps some Templars had stirred the chaos, yet those men still slaughtered six Templar knights guarding the Temple Church—Amalric I believed this was to clear the Templar Order’s name, since the king had been attacked within their fortress.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet after the chaos, the Templars still angrily demanded the king find the killer—though no one knew how many among them were crying wolf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the king, this wasn’t difficult. Few possessed such skill and strength. The style didn’t belong to the Franks, nor to the Saracens—or at least not to the Saracens they’d faced on the battlefield.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, there was the dagger left in Amalric I’s bedroom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew of an organization that specialized in placing a gleaming dagger beside a sleeping target’s bed as a warning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though this dagger hadn’t merely been placed beside Amalric I’s bed—it had aimed to pierce his chest—but the intent was no different.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even without the Templars’ demand, the king would have sent a letter to the leader of this group, demanding to know why they’d broken their prior agreement and attacked him. He swore he’d revoke all protection, regard them as lifelong enemies, and not rest until he crushed them beneath his horse’s hooves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reply came quickly. In it—their leader—though he shouldn’t be called that, for they never acknowledged themselves as “Commanders,” only as “Elders”—and these “Elders” brought not comfort, but fear and murder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Elder said he knew nothing of the attack and was certain none of his men had defied his will to strike at Amalric I or his heir.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he had only become Elder in 64. Some factions—or dissenters—still operated outside his control. He begged Amalric I to calm his anger, at least hear his explanation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He swore to Amalric I he would find the bribed man and execute each member who broke the rules—in front of Amalric I. He could not hand over Eagle’s Nest members to the king, but he could let him watch their blood seep into the sand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, Amalric I knew his new ally wouldn’t be so foolish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he first dealt with this “Elder,” the man was merely the manager of the Eagle’s Nest’s Syria branch, situated within the Zengid Dynasty, surrounded by the Christian Kingdoms and the Fatimid Caliphate, facing enemies on three sides. He had struggled to maintain balance among these three great powers, carefully judging every assigned task to prevent his isolated nest from collapsing entirely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, even Hassan, the founder of the Eagle’s Nest, would never be bribed to assassinate a king. They knew such an act would trigger total war—and the Eagle’s Nest was, at its core, merely a “Hall of Scholars.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I didn’t believe them—not after the assassination attempt on Princess Maria during the reception ceremony. Though interrogation confirmed it was Byzantine infighting, he dared not lower his guard. After the Eagle’s Nest envoys promised to deliver the members previously commissioned by the Patriarch, he confined Baldwin and Cesar within the Holy Cross Fortress.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only after he re-signed the pact with the Elder’s emissary and supervised their departure did Baldwin and Cesar gain brief freedom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wait,” William suddenly called as dusk fell and Baldwin and Cesar prepared to leave. “Do you have anyone with you?” Baldwin nodded—of course they did, though they wore no conspicuous cloaks, blending unnoticed in the chaotic camp. William scratched his head—or rather, his cap. “Could you wait a moment? Allow me to escort you back.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a knight, he ought to do so.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin didn’t refuse. William quickly donned his chainmail and cloak. “Did you ride here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes. Outside the camp.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So the young knight, with his attendants, escorted Baldwin and Cesar straight back to the Holy Cross Fortress. He stood at the far end of the drawbridge, watching them enter, then sighed deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hadn’t expected to meet the king’s heir before meeting the king himself. He’d heard of the prince’s misfortunes—like Cesar once was—and expected to see a bitter, suspicious, quick-tempered child. Instead…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If God’s blessing and the saint’s favor granted him longer life, would he grow ordinary—or surpass his father Amalric I in glory?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet at this moment, the young knight was thinking: when he returned to London, he must tell this thrilling tale to his young friend Richard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Prince Richard was Henry II’s second son, now Duke of Aquitaine. Born in 57, he’d sworn at age seven to become the greatest knight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>William had briefly served as Richard’s page. Though he soon left for another post, the unlikely friends never ceased writing letters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Richard had begged to come with him to the Holy Land for the Alasath king’s tournament. But he was only twelve, still a minor—Henry II wouldn’t hold his Selection Ceremony until next year. William couldn’t take responsibility for him, so he sadly wrote to Richard’s mother, Empress Eleanor, urging her to keep a close watch on little Richard, then set off alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew upon returning, Richard would angrily accuse him—perhaps even sulk for days.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he’d witnessed the valor and skill Baldwin and his squire displayed at the reception ceremony—their courage, their harmony, their piety—surely they’d move Richard’s heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could persuade Richard to stay quietly in his father’s castle until after the Selection Ceremony, and stop constantly demanding to join the Crusade, which tormented Henry II and Empress Eleanor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he turned back toward camp, his thoughts remained on the letter he’d soon write to Richard. William suddenly regretted not asking Baldwin for a keepsake or small gift to send along.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Richard would be delighted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He thought so intently he didn’t notice a pilgrim standing by the roadside. Only when the knight’s hoofbeats faded into the distance did the pilgrim slowly lift his hood. He looked no different from any other pilgrim—old, worn, temples streaked with gray.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s the child blessed by the Christian prophet?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you think he’s a threat?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A threat? If… he might become a threat to the Eagle’s Nest and even the Saracens. But the one beside him—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t finish. He quietly walked toward the hills beyond the city, others following behind him like shadows—silent, loyal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2027,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","0387671df12825b40b01584c01dc553d7d1c9248c9fd2e8e249825f0e9631a37","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-56","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-54",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]