Time Travel? Rebirth? I Win This Time!

After seeing off the steward, Mike Bai sat alone in the hall, deep in thought.

Despite the Genoese governor's grandiose promises, Mike Bai knew that the money was likely a curse rather than a blessing. Though Venice was a small city-state with a relatively modest population, its booming commerce allowed it to hire nearly ten thousand mercenaries—not to mention its fleet that controlled the entire eastern Mediterranean.

While Genoa had been catching up in recent decades, it was still far from matching Venice's power. If Mike agreed to cooperate with the Genoese, his future peace of mind would likely be shattered forever.

"Forget it. I'll deal with it later," Mike muttered, shaking his head. He turned and walked out of the study. Today was Uncle Otto's day off, and he would usually return to the manor to visit Mike. Mike needed to hurry and greet him.

By the time Mike and the other knights arrived at the manor gates, they spotted Uncle Otto approaching on horseback from a distance.

"Uncle Otto, you're back?" Mike called out, waving from across the yard. His sharp eyes quickly noticed the additional embellishments on Otto's armor.

"Mike Bai, thanks to you, I've been promoted to a Grand Knight," Otto said, happily ruffling Mike's hair.

"Really?" Mike's eyes lit up. That meant Uncle Otto was closer to securing his absolution, and Mike would be able to return home sooner.

Meanwhile, a messenger from Saladin arrived at the Kingdom of Jerusalem's court.

"Your Majesty, the Sultan has sent me to convey his greetings," the envoy, dressed in a rich red-and-gold brocade robe, said, spreading his arms and bowing slowly.

Baldwin, whose face was hidden behind a mask, gave a slight nod, signaling for him to proceed.

"What's this troublemaker Saladin up to now?" Duke Reynard, seated beside the envoy, casually bit into a piece of pork, seemingly unconcerned about the diplomatic nature of the occasion. "Could he be asking us for a gift for his newborn son?"

His crude joke prompted a few nobles to laugh derisively.

"Reynard! You are beyond disrespectful!" A middle-aged man, wearing a blue cloak embroidered with the Jerusalem Cross, stepped forward from the right of the envoy. He glared at Reynard and retorted, "He is a foreign envoy, not a jester in your court."

"Why bother with courtesy when it's an infidel?" Reynard shot back. "As for you, Count Raymond of Tripoli, as a Christian, you seem to care more about these heathens than your own people."

Count Raymond took a step forward, unflinchingly replying, "I would rather coexist with infidels than have anything to do with a rabid dog like you. At least they don't butcher civilians without reason."

"They're just infidels!" Reynard threw his piece of pork to the side and marched right up to Raymond, glaring furiously.

"They've converted to our Lord!" Raymond countered, his voice rising as his scars shifted on his face, adding to the intensity of his expression.

As their argument escalated, hawkish nobles behind Reynard stood up, while dove-faction nobles rallied behind Raymond. The court was on the brink of chaos.

At last, Baldwin raised a hand, and the room fell silent.

"Enough!" The royal chamberlain barked, quelling the bickering factions and restoring order to the court.

"Speak your mind, envoy," Baldwin finally said, his tone calm and measured.

The envoy, maintaining his composed demeanor despite the earlier outburst, spoke with careful precision: "Your Majesty, I bring you gifts from the Sultan in hopes of a peaceful resolution."

"Sixty thousand gold coins, with the hope that your kingdom will return to peaceful relations with ours."

This announcement sent a ripple of murmurs through the court. Nobles exchanged glances, considering the implications of the offer. Sixty thousand gold coins was the equivalent of an entire year's revenue for the kingdom.

"Your Majesty, much of the kingdom has been ravaged by war. The people are displaced, and the military has suffered heavy losses. Now is a time for recuperation," Count Raymond said, his concern evident. "Our armies need to be reorganized."

"That's nonsense!" Duke Reynard leaped to his feet. "Saladin was just defeated and his army is in shambles. Now is the perfect opportunity to expand our borders!" He turned to Raymond, shouting, "If we miss this chance, Saladin will recover in two years, and we'll face him once again. The kingdom could be on the brink of destruction!"

"Enough!" Baldwin's commanding voice stopped the growing discord.

After a tense pause, Baldwin addressed the envoy with a piercing gaze. "Saladin spent sixty thousand gold coins, but is peace the only thing he seeks?"

"Your wisdom is unparalleled," the envoy bowed deeply once again. "To demonstrate sincere intentions for peace, the Sultan requests that you cease construction of the castle at the mouth of the Yabo River and dismantle it."

Baldwin let out a short, mocking laugh. "Sixty thousand gold coins, and Saladin thinks he can make such a demand?"

"Sixty thousand gold coins would barely cover the cost of one brick of that castle," Reynard snorted, laughing loudly. The fat on his face jiggled with each laugh, adding to the grotesque nature of the scene.

Even Count Raymond, who had been advocating for peace, did not support the idea now.

Everyone in the court understood the significance of the Yabo River mouth. To the west was Acre, an important port city. To the east was Transjordan, and to the south lay Jerusalem itself. To the north, the Golan Heights. A castle there would allow the kingdom to tax passing merchant caravans, bolstering its economy and influence. More importantly, it would be a constant thorn in Saladin's side, situated just a day's ride from Damascus.

The envoy raised his head, his calm demeanor now starting to crack in the face of mounting opposition. "Then perhaps… a hundred thousand gold coins?"

This new offer was tempting, but still insignificant compared to the value of the castle.

"If that's all he offers, then return to your Sultan," Baldwin said, standing up. "Tell him to use the money to build his own tomb."

The envoy's expression darkened, and he responded, no longer masking his displeasure. "Are you not concerned that war could erupt again between our nations? The Sultan may have suffered defeat, but he can still rally an army of over ten thousand men. Meanwhile, your kingdom can barely field four thousand troops."

Reynard clenched his fists and shouted, "Under the Holy Cross, our armies are invincible!"

"Invincible!" The entire court roared in agreement.

Baldwin rose from his throne and approached the envoy. "Then let Saladin come! I defeated him once, and I'll do it again!"

The envoy opened his mouth to respond, but Baldwin waved him off. "Take him out."

Once the envoy was dismissed, Baldwin returned to his throne, the nobles around him buzzing with excitement. They had just witnessed the kingdom's victory at Montgisard, and spirits were high. But Baldwin knew the real threat Saladin posed. The difference in military strength between the two powers was still vast.

"Reynard, issue the orders. Mobilize the army," Baldwin said after a pause, weighing his options carefully. He then turned to both Duke Reynard and Count Raymond and added, "I will personally lead our forces to the Yabo River mouth to provide support."

"General Odo, increase manpower and expedite the construction of the castle," Baldwin commanded, before his mind wandered to a certain small but incredibly courageous figure. "Let Sir Otto oversee it."

"Otto?" General Odo asked, sensing the implications.

"Exactly," Baldwin nodded. "This will be a test for him." He dismissed the council, and sat back alone on his throne, watching the fading sunlight through his dimming eyes.

"Damn this leprosy," Baldwin muttered to himself, the weight of his illness pressing upon him.