[{"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-98":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},2333066,4562,"Chapter 98: The Death of the King (6): Extra 13,000 Favorites!","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-98",98,"\u003Cp>“My eldest daughter, Princess Heraclius, shall be betrothed to Abigail, son of Prince Bohemond of Antioch, and become his wife.” No sooner had the King spoken than Raymond turned sharply to look at Bohemond, whose expression revealed he had known nothing of the King’s decision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Indeed, everyone in Arasal knew Abigail was madly in love with Princess Heraclius. And under current circumstances, the King had only Baldwin as his heir; Baldwin’s illness ensured he could never produce a healthy successor, leaving his only viable option to be the son of one of his sisters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he were to die before turning thirty, that unborn child would need a regent—only the child’s mother or father could fill that role.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for Heraclius, Bohemond could only snort inwardly. Though she had long strived to present herself as clever, she might manipulate young men with ease, but she could not sway an old fox like Bohemond. Put plainly, even Raymond—a blunt, stubborn man—was beyond her control, let alone seasoned ministers and generals who had long mastered the art of power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bohemond wanted to smile, but Amalric I immediately issued another decree.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He appointed Raymond, Count of Tripoli, as regent to Baldwin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Baldwin had come of age and become a knight, he still required the guidance of a wise, steady elder; the King entrusted this authority to Raymond—his own cousin—and left the duration open. Amalric I paused, and Raymond’s heart nearly burst from his chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he heard an answer that filled him with utter disappointment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sixteen.” Amalric I said. Sixteen. Baldwin was already fourteen this year; by the time they returned to Arasal, he might have only a year or two before assuming full power. What could one accomplish in so short a time? Only stabilize the kingdom’s internal unrest and complex politics. In short, he had been given a task—but no rightful reward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worse still, Amalric I had entrusted his daughter Heraclius to Bohemond’s son Abigail—clearly intending to balance power, preventing any single figure from dominating the court.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bohemond’s smile seemed to confirm he had already grasped this. But would he refuse the marriage? No. As he had once told his son Abigail: young men pursued Heraclius not merely for her beauty and learning, but far more importantly—for her right of succession to Arasal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Arasal, in the absence of male heirs, a king’s daughter could still wear the crown. As Heraclius’s husband, whether Abigail or another, could stand beside her and share that power. Bohemond would never lightly abandon such an opportunity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as he himself, despite knowing Amalric I’s suspicion and caution, had no choice but to accept this appointment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though Amalric I had declared that Raymond must surrender his authority when Baldwin turned sixteen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what if Baldwin still failed to demonstrate the qualities worthy of trust by then? Perhaps he could… Raymond startled himself with the thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he quickly reminded himself: this was not his fault, but the will of God or fate. Otherwise, why had Baldwin’s illness not healed despite divine blessing?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not to mention, in the Caliph’s palace, he had suffered severe burns rescuing Amalric I. Raymond had seen lepers—he knew that once injured, their condition accelerated rapidly. Baldwin was so young, so frail. As an elder, it was his duty to shoulder some of the burden, at least… to prevent him from dying too soon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, this campaign, though not entirely fruitless, had failed to achieve Amalric I’s original goal. In the coming years, they would campaign again. Whether Baldwin remained in Arasal or led the Crusaders abroad, would he not need a trusted man to manage affairs and organize logistics?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he thought this, his mind grew strangely calm. But Bohemond glanced at him—seeming to have read his thoughts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Having publicly settled the fates of his eldest daughter, only son, and second daughter, Amalric I appeared to have lifted a great weight from his chest, his face now serene.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He insisted on returning to his tent, collapsed onto his couch, and could not rise again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heraclius entered, performed another prayer, and listened to his confession—he had confessed before, but Heraclius suspected he had more to confess… given the earlier sword-bestowing ceremony and public will.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, Amalric I was more composed. Perhaps because all his affairs were settled, awaiting only the Lord’s call to return to heaven. He was not afraid; both Church and the saints he had seen had assured him: warriors who died in holy crusade, especially one like him, would never fall into hell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once freed from this heavy, mortal shell, they would immediately see heaven’s gates open—golden light piercing thick clouds, saints and angels waiting at the threshold to welcome him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heraclius anointed him—not only on the forehead, but on the shoulders, hands, and feet. Then he placed a Bible beside Amalric I’s pillow, leaned down, and whispered: “Shall I bring Baldwin in to keep you company?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I nodded. Heraclius stepped out, lit two candles, gave one to Baldwin, and told him to place the other beside Amalric I’s hand. Then he lit more candles—everyone waiting outside the tent took one in hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This symbolized the divine, as a priest had said: God is a burning fire—the candle’s wick represents His will, purest and whitest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Life, like a candle, burns slowly to ash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heraclius placed a small cross in Cesar’s hand, so he might stay by Baldwin’s side—he was likely Baldwin’s only true and trusted anchor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since arriving in this world, Cesar had seen many deaths, but none weighed heavier or mattered more than this. Not just Baldwin—even he himself felt lost about the future.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I had knighted him and made him Lord of Bethlehem, yet he felt only confusion. He sensed the King had never treated him with the same sincerity or warmth as Baldwin. The King was naturally suspicious, cautious, skilled in manipulation and power games—even toward his own son.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet now, so near death, he gave a generous gift to a man he seemed to dislike. If this was the price he paid for Baldwin, Cesar had to admit—he had struck right at his core.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>——————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What are those Christians doing?” Hilku gazed at the distant flickering lights and asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Praying for their king,” Saladin replied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What do you think of today’s negotiations?” Hilku stretched his limbs. “If their king dies, will the treaty we signed still hold?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saladin smiled: “No treaty outweighs the sword,” he turned toward Fustat, still blazing: “Nor perhaps, fire. Both we and they are merely expedients—the Christians plundered Bilbays and Fustat; save a few, they are desperate to return home.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if Amalric I still wished to fight us, even if he remained unharmed, how many troops could he still command?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for us, uncle, we cannot fight both the Christians and Nur ad-Din at once.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sultan…” Hilku hesitated. “Is he truly gravely ill?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not merely ill—he has little time left,” Saladin said. “Perhaps the Almighty truly protects us: the Christian king is dying, Nur ad-Din of Zengi is dying, and Shavir of Fustat has already paid his debt with his life.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hilku sighed: “Saladin, I never imagined we could reach this point.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saladin’s origins were not humble, but far from illustrious. He was born in Tikrit, his father a local official when Tikrit still belonged to the Uqaylid dynasty. Soon after, his father was dismissed and took the infant Saladin to the Zengid court to secure a position.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With this transfer, they came to Damascus. Saladin’s childhood and youth passed entirely in turmoil; their household remained poor. Had he not been clever, determined, and blessed with an uncle serving in Zengi’s army, he would never have caught Nur ad-Din’s attention.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saladin had to admit Nur ad-Din was a worthy sage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Nur ad-Din was old. An old man without a worthy heir grows dull, narrow-minded—yet his authority still stood deep in every heart. It was only on his second mission to Egypt that Saladin finally persuaded his uncle Hilku.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, a faint sob came from a tent beside them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1346,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","fa0b56bcecf8b1687e0e07cddf02370b32a21f628a0b62efd269c0d6e759646a","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-99","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-97",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]