Legends Never Die (Ahistorical/CKIII Gamer)

The Cost of Secrets
I had never seen so many people gathered in a single place. It wasn't the first time I had that thought. It wasn't the second or the third either. The very first time I thought it, I had been a boy fresh off the family farm and Alabu had struck me as the largest city in the world. Then, when we rebelled against Francia, when our armies marched together. And again, in the final battle where there had been tens of thousands of men on the same field.

Yet again, I had that thought as I gazed out at the U shaped Hippodrome, seated in an elevated position to overlook the games that took place below. The seats were marked in rows, dozens of them, and they were packed with so many people that I couldn't believe that the building didn't collapse underneath their weight. There were tens of thousands of people -- easily more than the twenty thousand that had fought in the final battle in Francia. Double that, even. There had to be at least fifty thousand people in the stands as they cheered loudly for what seemed to be some kind of race.

There were more people in this single building than people I had met in my life.

And I was envious. So envious that I could practically taste it upon my tongue like ash. The race almost went unnoticed by me as the announcer belted out a cry to the roaring crowd, whose fervor shook the air until it trembled, a war cry equal to any army. A dozen horses were lined up while men stood on odd wagons behind them, dressed in bright clothing as they waved to the crowd. I had caught a glimpse of it before on my tour of the city, but it hadn't been full like this.

"I want this," I admitted underneath my breath in Norse. I stood at the balcony to the imperial box, the Emperor and his Guard behind me as they too watched the race as it began. Morrigan stood at my side, placing a hand upon mine when she heard me.

I couldn't even imagine how long it had taken to construct this building. A century? Longer? What had it cost in materials? How had they found thousands upon thousands upon thousands of pounds of stone to build it with? How long had it stood here for?

How did one justify something like this to their people? I stood in awe of it, but would the people not look at the stone and think that a city could have been built with it? That the funds could have gone to projects that were more useful?

No… no, I wasn't thinking like a ruler. A ruler ordered its construction without a thought of what the money, labor, or materials could have gone to. It was a testament to their own greatness. A lasting reminder to the world that they were here, and this building was part of the greatness that was their legacy.

"How long do you think it would take for our people to build something like this?" I asked Morrigan, watching the race. it was a violent race with the wagons of opposing teams clashing against one another, trying to force the other to crash. The crowds cheers increased with every near thing.

"It would depend on how well you bribe the dwarves," Morrigan replied. "A decade? A few? You would have a greater idea than me."

True. Annoyingly. I thought on the mission that I received from the gods in regards to Nordland -- five notable buildings. My longhouse counted as one, but it… it was a poor and feeble thing in comparison to this. Would the gods truly be satisfied with such a meager offering? Would they not want a Hippodrome? A temple equal to the Hagia Sophia? The Imperial Palace? I knew that it was impossible to build all of that within five years. Not to mention, there were far more practical things I could be building during a war.

I just couldn't help myself. I wanted it. I coveted it. Longed for it.

"A runestone," I muttered. I never erected one myself, though I knew at least one had been erected for me in Norway. Normally, a particularly large rock would be painted and engraved with deeds worthy of a saga, but I would do more. The Parthenon. A great temple for the Roman gods that they had forgotten. Though, I foresaw issues if I built a temple dedicated to my gods in Rome. They probably wouldn't even bother to wait for me to leave before they repurposed it for the Christian God.

Could I disguise it as something else? That could be risky. Very risky…

But I had to do something. If only to prove that I could build something equal to the Romans.

My attention was dragged back to the race when one of the near misses finally struck. A wagon was driven into a wall, and with the force of the impact, the wagon was reduced to splinters. The man on it flew through the air, landing in a heap on the sand ground before he was almost immediately trampled by the teams of horses that came after. The crowd cheered and cried out in dismay with equal fervor, but none cheered louder than the Emperor himself.

I heard the jingling of his reignments as he jumped off of his throne to rush to the balcony, close enough to touch. It was the first time I saw him not looking bored out of his mind as he cheered for the blues, pumping a fist in the air as he hollered taunts down at the greens. They were lost in a sea of noise, but people cheered louder when they saw their Emperor cheering with them.

"He's just a boy," I remarked to Morrigan as we were all but shoved to the side while his guards stood vigil. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Irene seemed less than pleased but was swallowing it down.

"A boy that wears a crown. But you won't be dealing with him. You'll be dealing with her," Morrigan noted as Irene got up from the lounging chair and approached her son from behind. She rested her hands on his shoulders, and I noticed an immediate curb of Emperor Constantine's enthusiasm. He went still, quite down, but still eagerly watched the Chariot races down below.

"Come the spring, Lord Siegfried, there shall be war with the Abbasids," Irene stated, speaking in Greek. She spoke as if she were imparting some great knowledge upon me, but it was rather obvious to anyone that had eyes in their head. "The Caliph al-Mahdi has amassed an army of some sixty thousand according to our spies. He intends no mere raid. He intends to conquer Anatolia."

That was news to me. The fleet was still circling the Mediterranean sea, and they still possessed a presence on Crete. An army of sixty thousand… I looked out to the Hippodrome, trying to imagine them all as Abbasid warriors. That was… a rather large army.

With how Irene spoke, she clearly wanted me to pick up the thread but I'm not entirely sure where she wanted me to go with it. "Crete will be their staging ground," I ventured and she looked at me curiously. "Forgive my bluntness, your majesty, but they all but had the door opened for them during the raids. If it were me, I would see little reason to think that I couldn't walk through that door again."

"...oh?" She uttered, watching me carefully.

"I would commit to a two pronged invasion -- an inland one and one by sea. It would force you to divide your soldiers unless you leave one army completely unchecked. The ground invasion would come first, I think, to measure the reaction while the threat of an invasion by sea would force you on the defensive. They could land in Greece, Anatolia, or strike at Constantinople itself. Those possibilities would prevent you from bringing your full might to bear." It's what I would do. More than that, the commander that had quit the field…

He was clever.

"How refreshing," Irene remarked lightly, and I'm not exactly sure what I just did to earn her approval. She seemed to sense that and offered me a thin smile. "I had heard of your people's practices to allow your women folk to fight. I wasn't aware it extended to matters of war."

I stilled for a moment, not entirely sure what that meant. No, I knew exactly what it meant but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. "Have you… not been briefed of their plans, your highness?" I asked, unable to stop myself, regardless of how rude it might appear.

"I am informed of the threat that we face, but the Strategos see little reason to inform me of our plans," she answered.

"But you're…" I began to argue before forcing myself to swallow my words. I'm sure she was underplaying her influence. I couldn't imagine one of the Strategos ignoring a direct order for troop placements or summoning. But, it was still mad to me that you would deliberately keep the Regent from being informed on such matters. Worse, I couldn't give them the benefit of the doubt that they were doing it because she wasn't a warrior. They did it because she was a woman.

"Indeed. How confident are you in this theory?" Irene questioned me, and she seemed to already be planning on how to put me to work.

"It's what I would do. The only thing that would change that would be if you outnumber them. Do we?" I asked her outright, cautiously exploring the new ground of our relationship. I wanted to see how she viewed me -- as a tool? Or an ally?

"No. We do not," she answered simply, her tone flat. "Tales have reached us of your exploits in Francia. As well as your deeds in Greece. You will be placed under the command of Strategos Tatzates during the coming war as Strategos Michael has disgraced himself." she informed me, and none of that was any particular surprise to me. In truth, Strategos Michael was only still alive because of his past deeds and Tatzates was currently smelling of roses and glory.

I was curious where she was going with this. "You strike me as a man that prefers bluntness, so I shall be blunt with you Lord Seigfried -- Could you deny the Abbasids a launching point in Crete?" She questioned, and now I saw how she was trying to use me.

It was a different game than it had been with King Widukid. More insidious in nature. King Widukid used me as a symbol. A rallying point. The tip of his spear. Irene hoped to use me as a dagger up her sleeve.

"It would depend if they launched the bulk of the invasion from Crete. I'm confident in my prowess, but in a battle of forty thousand against five -- we will be drowned and crushed in numbers," I admitted easily. The extra two thousand men would help a great deal, but they needed to be trained in our ways. Our tactics. They would need to be armored as well.

Irene cast me a look I found difficult to describe, "And twenty thousand?" She asked lightly?

"Doable. Dangerous, but doable," I stated. Perhaps it was arrogance, but I felt the words were true. It would need the right battlefield. A place where the Abbasids couldn't bring their full weight down upon us at once. "It would be easier to harass their ships on the way to Crete. Perhaps contest their landing -- bleed them before we give battle in a place of our choosing. They'll have to deal with us, otherwise we'll have free regin to harass their rear. Or counter invade their nation. My scouts have found a number of rich looking cities on the coast."

Irene smiled at me. It was not a kind one. It was one that reminded me of a cat that finally got done playing with her food and was going to swallow it whole in a single bite. "That is a balm to my concerns, Lord Siegfried," she told me.

I could tell that she wasn't fully ready to believe it just yet, but her intentions were clear to me. She wanted me to be a check on Tatzates, I believe. Five against twenty thousand was a heroic victory by any measure. My star shining brightly would make Tatzates' seem more dim, regardless of how well he performed in the war. What's more, since I had no vested interest in the Empire itself, I was a safe tool to use. I wasn't under any illusions that she was somehow attached to me, and that her favor would vanish the moment that I proved to be more trouble than I was worth…

Still, I could work with this.

"I am glad to be of service, your highness," I replied evenly. I was tempted to ask for additional aid -- in the end, it was four times our number we would be dealing with. Perhaps more. Another five thousand troops would make things far more even, but that came with risks. I didn't have a high opinion of the Romans, if I was being perfectly honest -- the common folk, the warriors that would be fighting, they were men like any others. But their leaders? The ones that would be commanding them?

I didn't trust them. I'd have to be a fool to. It was better to fight alone than to fight beside an untrustworthy ally.

"If I may make one request -- the fireships that you possess. I will not ask for their secrets, but one of them could do a great deal of damage to the Abbasids when it comes to bleeding their landing," I approached the subject. I knew better than to ask for one or for its secrets, but I wanted to know. It was a powerful weapon and the Romans had shown the rare wisdom of keeping it close to their chests.

Irene's gaze narrowed ever so slightly. "How is it you know of Greek Fire?" She asked, her voice clipped.

"I… the dispersal of the pirates on Crete. Strategos Tatzates used two ships and I saw them then," I answered, and she kept her expression blank but I got the impression that I had just told on Tatzates. Did he not have permission to use them?

Irene inclined her head to me. "I see. Of course, forgive my suspicions." And that wasn't a request either. She was covering up her ignorance but I saw how it rankled her. And I was getting a much clearer view of the politics at this level of the Roman Empire. My gaze flickered down to the Emperor, who excitedly watched the games.

A boy who had no interest in ruling and an Empress that was being deliberately kept in the dark.

It was little wonder she latched onto whatever advantage I could provide.

And perhaps the politics were getting to me, because I only saw the advantages that brought.



The scrolls had described elephant's to me when I read of them. How Hannibal had carried them through the mountains and how the Romans looked upon the beasts, calling them monsters. And they were right to, I decided, seeing a gray skinned animal that stood twice the height of a man, with large white tusks, and a long trunk with floppy ears. I tried to imagine the damage they would do in a charge. They wouldn't be as fast, but the weight of the charge would be the same. And I would fear these creatures more than I would a common horse.

The festivities had continued over the course of several days. There were more games and races, but what I found myself drawn to the most were the animal shows. Exotic animals such as elephant's, rhinos, monkeys, and one creature with an inordinately long neck called a giraffe. They looked like they came from another realm, and I wasn't entirely certain that they didn't.

A few days passed and people reacted to my receiving the favor of the Empress. Michalis pounced on the opportunity much like a cat with a particularly juicy looking mouse -- he entered talks with wealthy merchants, making promises and deals. Bit by bit, he was undermining Chares' influence, and in the unseen battle, the tide was turning from him. It was different than killing a man with a blade, but it was no less deadly and it simply presented itself in a different way.

Such as being in a private balcony to watch one of the plays that Rome offered with one of Chares' biggest supporters.

"My concern is the war. There is little point for me to move my distribution and trade routes to Nordland if this coming spring it is under Abbasid control," a wealthy merchant told me- or, rather, Michalis in Latin. "You have confidence that this pagan will win, but I don't have such reassurances."

"I understand your hesitation, but perhaps I can arrange for such reassurances? Insurance that your cargo will be paid for, even should the Abbasids pirate it?" Michalis floated while I leaned on the balcony, watching the play. It was… different. Different enough that I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. "As for the lord of Nordland… He has yet to lose a battle. In Francia, he fought outnumbered three times over. In the battle of Nordland, he faced off against ten times his number and chased the Abbasids off! I dare say that the only place safer in the incoming war shall be Constantinople itself."

Michalis was chipping away at Chares' allies. His grip on the merchant alliance. The fair weather allies had already switched over, while the stauncher allies were waiting for bribes. It seemed like friendship was one of the many things you could buy in Rome. Chares wasn't idle, I knew -- he was fighting and clawing to maintain his influence, and he was starting to fight dirty. One of Michalis' merchants had been found dead. It was always possible that he had been murdered in a trade dispute…

But he had been found with his head cut off and placed against his ass. Hard to mistake that as anything other than what it was -- a provocation.

With this kind of battle, it was next to impossible to tell if we were winning or losing. But time was drawing short, and my patience for this game was rapidly running out.
Which made it almost a welcome surprise when Trajectory Prediction marked me as I stood on the balcony, the culprit hidden in the shadows across from me with a crossbow in hand. Whoever he was, he was a good shot -- the trajectory was right over my heart. It wasn't an inconsiderable distance either as even the theaters of Rome were larger than life.

The act ended, the applause of the citizens of Rome thundering out. It was the cover that the assassin had been looking for and they pulled the trigger to the crossbow, the bolt leaping forward towards me at high speeds. And, with an almost lazy swipe of my hand, I snatched it out of the air, the action catching the attention of Michalis, whose eyes widened.

Huh.

Was this not the false assassination attempt we discussed?

My gaze flickered to the shadows and I waved the bolt tauntingly, watching the figure vanish within them before I turned to the two men and tossed the bolt to Michalis. "Blame that on Chares," I told him in Norse.

It was time that we settled this.

...

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The act ended, the applause of the citizens of Rome thundering out. It was the cover that the assassin had been looking for and they pulled the trigger to the crossbow, the bolt leaping forward towards me at high speeds. And, with an almost lazy swipe of my hand, I snatched it out of the air, the action catching the attention of Michalis, whose eyes widened.
I wonder who else saw? Irene seeing that would be wild.
 
"It would depend if they launched the bulk of the invasion from Crete. I'm confident in my prowess, but in a battle of forty thousand against five -- we will be drowned and crushed in numbers," I admitted easily. The extra two thousand men would help a great deal, but they needed to be trained in our ways. Our tactics. They would need to be armored as well.

Irene cast me a look I found difficult to describe, "And twenty thousand?" She asked lightly?

I could tell that she wasn't fully ready to believe it just yet, but her intentions were clear to me. She wanted me to be a check on Tatzates, I believe. Five against twenty thousand was a heroic victory by any measure. My star shining brightly would make Tatzates' seem more dim, regardless of how well he performed in the war. What's more, since I had no vested interest in the Empire itself, I was a safe tool to use. I wasn't under any illusions that she was somehow attached to me, and that her favor would vanish the moment that I proved to be more trouble than I was worth…
Siegfried thinking she's saying 5k against 20k rather than 60 when she's actually offering him an additional 15k troops.
 
Unwanted Attention
Hadi Husain never put much stock in hearsay. He knew people. How they thought. What entertained them. A story could never be interesting enough as they heard it -- it always needed a little embellishment. A touch here, a touch there, and before you knew it, the entire story couldn't even be recognized. It was inherently dishonest, especially when it came to matters that people wanted to be true. Regardless of what the truth might actually be, it would twist itself into knots to become whatever the teller wanted to be true.

He had countless examples. He grew up in a small town, not too far away from the border with the Roman Empire and ever since he was old enough to understand the words of men, he had heard some rendition of the same tale. 'The Romans are weak.' 'The Romans don't know how to fight.' 'The Romans are scared of us.' 'We could sweep across their empire like the tide.'

Hadi always thought that odd. If it were true, then there wouldn't be a Roman Empire at all. He learned rather quickly not to speak such thoughts -- especially when in earshot of his father, because no one wanted to be confronted with a simple fact. The Romans likely said the same thing about them on the other side of the border that divided their nations. Hadi never heard it first hand, but he always figured it was true, so every time he heard the older folk going off about the soft, weak, guileless Romans… He just rolled his eyes.

But maybe he was the one that was wrong, because Anatolia practically opened its gates to him. He'd intended some light raiding. A fishing village perhaps. Shaking his fist at a town, maybe two. Enough for the Caliph wouldn't feel the need to behead him, but not so much that people would become convinced that he knew what he was doing.

Then those damned Romans… Didn't they understand the point of walls? Of gates? How was it possible that entire towns and cities fell like a house of cards in the face of a slight breeze!? What were they even doing? Were all those stories of 'the Roman plebs wish to be ruled by the Abbasids instead of their cruel Emperor' actually true?

Hadi felt like the rug had been pulled from underneath him, everything he thought he knew no longer seemed so certain, and he was in a free fall. And, rather unfortunately, the direction he was falling was up.

"You have performed beyond expectations. Almost too well," A man behind a silk screen began and Hadi felt every hair stand on end as he looked to the marble floor. Between them was a pool of liquid silver and they were surrounded by attendants and high nobility. The kind of high nobility that Hadi had prayed to never be in the same room with, much less as the center of attention.

He almost wished that this was an execution, just to get it over with. "My apologies, my Caliph. The Romans proved… far less capable than anticipated," he tried to deflect with what wasn't even a lie. He had no idea what those city commanders were doing, but it sure wasn't their job. He didn't even have to bribe anyone. They just opened the gates like the cities belonged to them.

The attendants laughed as if he had said something funny. Polite laughter. The kind that was born from genuine amusement but played up for appearances.

Worse, even Caliph al-Mahdi wasn't immune, chuckling lightly behind the screen. If it wasn't for his silhouette painted on the screen from a flickering fire behind him, Hadi would doubt that he was even there. "Like the bones of an old man, they snap easily under pressure. Soon, they shall be crushed. Hadi al-Husain, for your efforts in paving the way to the beating heart of the Romans, I grant you the lands of Amida, raising you up to Sheikh."

Hadi knew it was coming. It had all been discussed with him beforehand. He would become a Sheikh. It wasn't high nobility, but… it turned him from a face in the crowd of lower nobility into a member of the forefront. It was awful. Hadi felt his guts tie themselves into knots before vanishing down the pit that opened up in his stomach.

"On behalf of my family, I thank you for your generosity. It has been my honor and privilege to serve Allah, the Empire, and you, my Caliph," Hadi forced himself to say, dipping his head low. The sentiments weren't anything special. Flattery when given a gift. Lands. He would need to manage them, wouldn't he? Maybe he could just hand that problem off to his father? Yes… yes, that sounded perfect.

"Fine service deserves a fine reward. I expect fine service from you, Sheikh Hadi." Caliph al-Mahdi stated and Hadi felt a shiver race down his spine. That was quite literally the very last thing that he wished to hear. Hadi's head dipped low once more, stepping back, bowing again, before he fell in place with his prior position before being brought to the center of the palace.

Behind him, water flowed through a small gutter, cooling the room as the heat made a swift return after a break in winter. Much to his relief, despite his recent promotion, he was swiftly forgotten about as the topic turned to what came next. And what came was obvious -- war.

"For too long have we tolerated the Romans holding the gate to the west. Like a sick man with a gut wound, they pitifully cling to life even as the rot has set in. It is time they have been put out of their misery," Caliph al-Mahdi began, his voice firm and harsh as he spoke. "Now is the time that we deliver the final blow. Our armies have been assembled. Our warriors blessed by Allah. Winter has receded, and the first harvest sown."

As he spoke, there was a stirring in the palace that was all too familiar. It reminded him of the command tent. That was mildly terrifying -- what if he was put in charge again? No… no, that was impossible… a lot of the upper nobility would have to die before he was so much as looked at for command.

"Our armies shall be divided into two -- forty thousand men under the command of my heir, Prince Hadi." Hadi's heart nearly jumped from his throat when he was broken from his thoughts upon hearing his name. Only it wasn't his name.

Prince Hadi was around his age, but he was probably everything that his father had ever wanted him to be. Tall, strong, good looking -- dark skin, dark eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. He was dressed in silks, a traditional turban heavy with gemstones and gold sat upon his head, with a golden gilded scimitar sat at his hip. In the palace, he was the only one who so openly wore a weapon -- a privilege of birth.

"A second army shall attack by sea, from Crete. This army shall be led by my second son, Prince Harun," Caliph al-Mahdi continued, bringing attention to the Caliph's second son. Prince Harun reminded Hadi more of himself than his brother who shared his name -- average looking, not particularly muscular, and he appeared as if he hated being the center of attention. Oh, he hid it well, but as a master of lies, Hadi saw that the younger prince was every bit as uncomfortable as Hadi had been mere moments before.

As far as the empire was concerned, the succession was secured. They had the perfect heir -- handsome, strong, charismatic, and a capable warrior by all accounts. The spare was a shy, almost meek, boy that Hadi couldn't remember any particular rumor about. A potential disaster should Prince Hadi die, but it was far more preferable than two charismatic ambitious sons. Though, in Harun's case, he was so unremarkable that the response when asked about him would be along the lines of 'A second son? The Caliph has a second son? Since when?'

That seemed to be the cue for Prince Hadi to speak, "My army shall mobilize first -- cutting a bloody swath through Anatolia. When the Romans find their courage and muster their men, my brother shall commence a naval invasion behind them." As he spoke, he walked the length of the pool filled with liquid silver, before his father's hidden gaze. On the second pass through, he came to a stop directly before him.

That couldn't be unintentional. A display of power and intent -- Caliph al-Mahdi wasn't old by any measure, but his best years were behind him. Prince Hadi was showing that they had a young, fit, charismatic prince ready to pick up the reins.

"Crushing them in Anatolia is the purpose of this war. We are not there to raid them and carry off petty treasures," Prince Hadi said and Hadi went deathly still when the prince's gaze landed on him. Oh no. No. no, no, no. Dear Allah, please tell him that he hadn't made an enemy of the crown prince- "We are going to conquer their cities and lands all the way to Constantinople. We shall deal a blow that they will never recover from, even should we give them the chance. In the second war, we shall take everything left until we share a border with Bulgaria!"

It seemed a little premature to start planning the next war when you hadn't even won the first. But… given how easy the raiding had been… Hadi was hesitant to say that it wasn't possible.

"As my father has said -- fine service deserves a fine reward! We shall carve up their petty empire and to the victors the spoils!" He added, and his proclamation was greeted with cheering. At the very least, he knew how to work a crowd, Hadi would give him that.

The proclamation brought an end to the official meeting and marked the start of the celebration. People began to feast and make merry as if they had already won. The princes found themselves surrounded quite quickly by nobility, all buttering up their chosen prince for positions of favor in the coming war.

That's why Hadi had no interest in being high nobility, much less a prince.

Even with his new position of nobility, Hadi wasn't important enough to badger, leaving him free to take a cup of fruit juice and head out to the balcony that overlooked the Abbasid capital, Baghdad. The royal palace was at the very heart of it all, giving him a glorious view of the city itself that seemed to stretch out for miles upon miles.

If Constantinople was the beating heart of the Roman Empire, then Baghdad was the heart of the Abbasid Caliphate. The entire city seemed to be celebrating with them -- welcoming the new year and the prospect of war. There, they could make themselves rich at the expense of the Romans.

He drank his fruit juice, idly wishing that he had gotten a kebab while he was at it, finding himself-

Hadi felt a pat on the back and his first thought was that he had been assassinated. Then he turned around and he wished that he had been.

"You've made the family proud, my son," His father greeted him with the most warmth that Hadi had ever heard from him. That was a little unsettling. He hadn't been trying to, but throughout his life, he found that it was rather easy to disappoint his father. It used to bother him, but once he saw what it would take to impress him, Hadi quickly gave up on hearing those words.

The fact that he was hearing them now was a sure sign that Hadi had made a very wrong turn in his life.

"I knew the military was exactly what you needed. Where you would thrive," his father lied through his teeth and Hadi fought to keep the skepticism off of his face. It seemed that they recalled their last conversation rather differently. Hadi recalled the words, 'Rot in obscurity, my worthless child' thrown in his direction a few times. "I never could have imagined that you would accomplish so much. A Sheikh. You've become a Sheikh."

His father grabbed him by the shoulders, smiling in his direction. Behind him, Hadi saw his younger brother -- Naeem. Younger by a few years, but he was easing out of the awkward phase between boy and man. He openly wore his uncertainty at the display and when their father went for a hug, Hadi met his brother's eyes and shook his head.

There was never any doubt who the favorite son had been growing up. As far as Hadi was concerned, Naeem could have the position.

"But what are you doing out here? You should be mingling!" Ah, they were entering more familiar territory -- scoldings. "You are not yet married. I'm sure we can find you a proper bride from a worthy family now, despite-"

"Despite?" Hadi interjected, his voice light. His father recognized the tone.

His father scowled, "It was a black mark on your reputation, but one that has been washed away with success." As he said that, Hadi looked down to his cup, wishing that it were wine. Allah frowned upon getting obscenely drunk, but a little wine would make this conversation far more bearable. "You killed a man over a whore."

"I dueled a man for a friend," Hadi corrected. For all the good it did in the end.

His father, frustratingly, nodded. "That is the story that shall be uttered now. That is the difference in perception of position," He continued and, annoyingly, Hadi agreed with him.

The duel had been sanctioned. There were witnesses. Yet, Hadi had never been a popular lordling. He was as unambitious as his father was ambitious, content to spend the rest of his life spending his father's coin until he eventually inherited his position, and one day, his son would do the same for him. He was a passionate patron at one of the local brothels, and just clever enough to make enough money to continue his visits even when his father cut him off. And because he was unpopular, when he won the duel, he became a social outcast.

Because the man he killed had been vastly more popular than him, even if he had a personality as pleasant as stepping in dog shit.

Now he was a hero. He was a Sheikh.

What a farce.

"Hm. Since you want it so fiercely, feel free to handle the arrangements. I'd prefer a homely wife -- a pretty one is too much hassle," He dismissed the responsibility. And, for a moment, he thought his father might strike him despite the witnesses. Then that moment passed and…

His father had gotten old. He had already been showing some signs of it when they parted ways five years ago, but those signs had entrenched themselves. White streaks in his beard and at his temples, wrinkles gathering at his eyes and mouth… when he thought of his father, Hadi always pictured him as he had seen him as a child. Taller than life, stronger than strong, and shoulders so broad that the sun could rise and set on them. And, in that moment, Hadi felt guilt seize his heart.

He let out a quiet sigh, "I can't change my nature, father. No more than you can change yours."

To that, his father simply clasped him on the shoulders instead of wringing his neck like Hadi knew he wanted to. Hadi could see the words of a very old very weary argument bubbling up, but his father swallowed them down. Not out of any newfound respect, but simply because it wasn't the place to be seen arguing. "Very well. An ugly wife will be much easier to procure than a pretty one." With that, he let go and stepped away.

"I said… homely…" Hadi sighed, watching his father go. As annoying as it was, Hadi did trust him to make a smart match. His father was ambitious, but smart. It was the one trait that Hadi liked to think they shared. His father wouldn't overreach. It would be a good, politically sound match from a respectable family with respectable means. The kind of match that you heard about and said, 'Yeah, makes sense.' And if they didn't get on, then he could do what his father did -- spend most of his time in the military and he'd only have to see her on holidays.

Looking at his younger brother, he met his eye. Naeem cocked his head, "I almost didn't recognize you. You almost looked respectable."

To that, a slow smirk appeared on Hadi's face. "I know. I feared Father might actually give me my inheritance," he joked before his little brother stepped forward and they embraced. To Hadi's surprise, the boy that barely came up to his shoulder threatened to outgrow him. "You need to stop growing."

"I will when I'm taller than you," Naeem replied with a cheeky smile. Brat.

"How is mother?" Hadi questioned, feeling a great deal more at ease. There had been a point that Hadi had been jealous of his little brother -- when their father wrote him off as a poor investment of time and effort, he turned to Naeem. The two were more alike than not, at least more than Hadi was. It still bothered him, but that mostly stemmed from his father's actions.

By the time things reached a breaking point, Hadi lost all interest in earning the approval of their father. In doing so, he removed the painful splinter between himself and his brother.

"Well enough. Though, she was convinced they had the wrong Hadi. How did that even happen?" Naeem questioned and Hadi needed something a lot stronger if he wanted to attempt to explain the headache that plagued him for weeks now.

"I don't even know, little brother," he admitted. He had either been blessed by Allah, or cursed. And at the moment, Hadi was leaning towards cursed. "I'm not sure how to even start."

"If I may," a soft voice spoke up, and Hadi's heart sank down to his boots when he looked over to see who it was. Why? Why was this happening to him? What did he do? Was it because of the drinking? The whoring? If so, Hadi was feeling more than a little singled out because plenty of others sinned the same way and they didn't have to deal with this. "I too, would like to hear this tale."

Prince Harun stood before them, dressed far more modestly than his brother with only a few attendants with him. He seemed smaller, almost frail, standing before him.

"I- ah- My prince," Hadi managed, dropping into a bow alongside his brother. "Forgive our discourtesy. We did not see you," Hadi explained lamely. He was ignored by everyone but a prince. Of all the rotten luck.

"There is nothing to forgive," Prince Harun dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I too sought a reprieve from the festivities and I happened upon you. I thought it a good opportunity to speak." He continued, his voice soft. Not quite hesitant but closer to it than not.

Talk. To him? Why?

"It would be my honor," Hadi replied automatically, his mind racing. Allah may like his cruel jests, but at the very least his father wasn't here for this. That would have been terrible. A true worst case scenario.

"I am to lead twenty thousand men to seize Crete, then attack Anatolia. Given your achievements, I thought it best to get your measure of the situation," Prince Harun said and that was… exceedingly reasonable? So reasonable that Hadi was caught flat footed by the request. He wasn't used to common sense amongst the nobility.

Hadi's jaw worked for a moment, not certain what to say. "May I ask what you desire to know in particular, my prince?" Because if he was asking for personal thoughts, then Hadi was going to have to lie his head off. And it very well could come off if he was caught lying to the royal family.

"A personal account of the invasion would be a nice start," Prince Harun at least didn't sound annoyed by the clarification. "Or, rather, where you believe it went wrong."

He knew exactly how to answer that question. "Siegfried the Wolfkissed, as he's called by his people. Though, in this land people know him as the Pagan." Hadi had given a great deal of thought on the night that upheaved his life. He replayed it in his head dozens of times, thinking of the things he could have done differently. Mistakes that were made or opportunities he failed to spot in the moment.

Prince Harun inclined his head while his little brother looked interested. "Yes. Him. The tales paint him as…"

"A god," Hadi finished when Prince Harun trailed off. There was a harsh intake of breath from one of his attendants at the blatant heresy. "I don't know if I'd call him a god, but I'd hesitate more to call him a man. At the very least, his own people believe him to be. Or the descendent of one."

Prince Harun seemed interested, "You know this for certain?"

Hadi nodded, "We've had minor skirmishes. With some, I had men purposefully surrender to be taken as slaves so they could spy on him from within the town of Norland." A prudent measure. "Reports are sporadic, but they paint a clear enough picture."

That picture was that Siegfried could stay all the way away from him. All the way.

Siegfried was undeniable proof that some people are just born special. A peerless warrior. A veteran commander. A devoted scholar. He had a harem of beautiful women and apparently even possessed a sharp acumen when it came to trade because Norland was already shaping up to be an important port in the Mediterranean sea. Seigfried was the kind of man that boys pictured themselves becoming when they became men.

"You sound as if you fear him," one of Prince Harun's attendants remarked. It was a common enough tactic. A prince couldn't afford to give offense, so one of his spokesmen would voice it for him.

Hadi worked his jaw for a moment, uncertain. Then he spoke, "I personally witnessed him jump aboard a ship of warriors alone. In the span of a breath, he killed three men. In the span of this conversation, he had struck such terror that warriors were jumping into the sea in full armor, drowning, rather than to face him. Then, he jumped to the next ship as if killing two hundred men was nothing more than a troublesome errand." Doubt. Suspicion.

They didn't believe him. How could they? What he was saying was simply unbelievable. They had no frame of reference to the inhuman force of nature that was Siegfried the Wolfkissed. They would only believe it when they were witnessing it for themselves.

The issue with that was Siegfried was smart. He was smart in a truly dangerous way that made Hadi never want to call the man an enemy or get in his way. It would be one thing if he was simply a brute. That could be handled with the right trap and the right bait. However, across from Siegfried, Hadi would never know if he was walking neck first into a noose every time he saw an advantage or weakness.

"You believe him to be that dangerous?" Prince Harun questioned lightly and Hadi offered a grim look.

"A single mistake, my prince. Against Siegfried, you cannot make a single mistake or you will lose," Hadi uttered with such certainty that he almost forgot who he was speaking to. Something that was all too quickly reminded when one of the attendants scowled at him.

"You speak too freely," the attendant remarked, not particularly happy with what he was hearing. He was absolutely right with that observation, Hadi admitted with a touch of hindsight. He really had spoken too freely. It was just the truth and that truth was going to get a lot of people killed because they wouldn't believe it until they saw it and by that time, their defeat was certain.

However, Prince Harun waved him off, "Peace, Yahya. He speaks out of concern for his prince." Prince Harun excused him and Hadi had just enough time to breathe easy for a breath to get caught in his throat. "If what you say is true… then I would feel far more comfortable with this endeavor with one that had faced him once before in my retinue." That-

That wasn't an offer. It was dressed up like one, but if he dared to refuse it, Hadi might as well slit his own throat.

His father was going to weep with joy, Hadi thought, swallowing every curse he could think of. Instead, uttering, "It would be my honor."

At least someone was happy.

...

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I love him. Hadi is so good.

I'm torn between hoping he and Sieg never meet in person - because Sieg would kill him - and hoping that they meet at the end of the war. Such a worthy foe deserves to be remembered.
 
Hadi is pretty likeable. I kinda hope he turns coat and joins Sieg, but I imagine his ultimate fate is defeat and death (probably by the Caliph for one or both Princes getting themselves killed by Sieg).
 
Hadi is one of those unfortunately talented people who have just the right amount of luck to fail upward even when they shouldn't/don't want to. Truly he suffers the ancient curse "May you live in interesting times". Hadi would much prefer to live happily as an unremarked minor noble than this life of intrigue and danger.
 
The Price for Ambition
Michalis had managed his task nicely, I would soon learn. Even if I was left with the question of who really sent the assassin after me. They had certainly taken a risk -- an arrow in the middle of a play with dancing elephants was far less subtle than poison. Which made me wonder if this was truly the first such attempt on my life while I was in the Roman Empire. Had there been other attempts and I simply hadn't noticed? Iron Stomach would make me immune to poison, but I imagined I would at least notice if I had been.

On the other side of the argument, it could have simply been orchestrated by someone that had little access to me or servants. They couldn't find an opportunity to poison me, so they found a small window of opportunity to shoot me with an arrow. Or try to, at least. I wasn't entirely sure which one I believed, but I was inclined to believe the latter. If it was, then it narrowed down the suspects a little. High nobility, or the wealthy, would have easy access to the servants.

But if it was someone that, say, couldn't speak the language, but could slip in and out of the shadows, then the attempt made more sense. I had no proof that it was the Abbasids that sent the assassin, but it made sense to me. I was their greatest obstacle when it came to taking Crete before launching their invasion. Then again, I would expect the Abbasids to send a competent assassin -- someone that could blend in with the locals.

"Too many people want me dead," I mused to myself as I found myself sitting in Michalis' villa within Constantinople. It wasn't anything extravagant, at least not by the standards that I had seen so far from the Romans, but it was a clear indication of just how well he had done for himself with our alliance. The room that I sat in was a lounge -- white marble floors and walls, tapestries hanging from the walls, finely crafted furniture, with silk curtains hanging before a window. In the corner was a servant with her head held low, a pitcher of silver in her hands.

The words weren't directed at her. They were directed at Michalis, who lounged in a chair across from me, looking perfectly at home with his wealth. Morrigan sat next to me, appearing faintly interested in the finery that surrounded us, but by this point, she had built up more of a resistance to displays of wealth. It was difficult not to when we were constantly surrounded by it.

"You are a rising star in the great game," Michalis praised, swirling a cup of wine as he gazed into it. "Among your people, it's played very differently. You, I imagine, are their ideal leader. Or their god," He added, his tone idle as his gaze flickered to mine. He spoke freely in Norse, but I detected an odd note in his tone. Uncertainty. "In this land, the game is played quite differently. Not only are you a foreigner rising high, you are rising high with violence and wealth rather than cunning and subtlety. At least, as far as most are aware."

I hummed, considering Michalis for a moment. I was detecting a change within him. It was a subtle thing, but before he was a bundle of nerves hidden underneath a layer of ambition. He was more confident now. He spoke to me more easily. However, holding his gaze, I wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing. Our current relationship worked because he was reliant on me to help cultivate his influence, and now… by all signs, he was able to cultivate his own influence.

It wasn't a bad change necessarily. It could even be a good change. It was, however, a change, and it would take time to see if it was in my interest or not.

"Hm. What of Chares?" I prompted, curious how this would go. To that, a sly and cruel smile tugged at Michalis' lips.

"After his failed attempt to assassinate you, he has been called into questioning. A servant confessed under torture to attempting to kill you in his name," He explained and I swallowed a retort. The news wasn't a surprise. By virtue of blaming Chares, I was aware that we would be pinning a crime on one of his would-be assassins. Still, I couldn't say I cared for it. The servant might have served my enemy, but that didn't necessarily make him my enemy. "Things are lining up quite nicely. His friends are abandoning him like rats on a sinking ship, the few that he still has. Even should he survive the brief trial, it is clear that he is out of favor."

I hummed again, "If?" I prompted, making Miachalis incline his head to me.

"Chares is not nobility. He has wealth, true, but no noble bearing. In truth, while he had money and influence at court… in a way, he is in a similar position as you. When he was useful, the nobility allowed him to curry favor, but now that he's falling from grace, they are quick to give him the boot. To them he was only ever a jumped up merchant with delusions of grandeur who thought he was a member of high society." Michalis explained, and it sounded like that was a sentiment that he shared with the court.

Still, it was a good reminder. I had found favor with Empress Dowager Irene, but it was on the condition that I won. I had little reason to expect that I would lose, but that condition was there all the same. "When is this trial? I have not been asked to speak," I pointed out, finally reaching out to the wine glass that had been set before me. The wine was a dark red -- taking a sip, I found that it was nice, but I still preferred ale or mead.

"Nor will you," Michalis stated with a small shrug. "You are a pagan. Any words or oaths that you make would be cast into doubt because you cannot swear to God." His tone was blunt, making me frown. He wasn't wrong, but it was still annoying to hear. "You may be called as a witness, but it's unlikely."

"A witness?" Morrigan echoed, her tone light and amused. "T'is a curious thing to be called in as a witness to an attempt on one's own life, is it not?"

To that, Michalis winced ever so slightly but he remained firm. "It would. Which is why Lord Siegfried would be called in as a witness to the attempt on my life," he said, avoiding my gaze. "Though, that would be most unlikely as there is already a witness -- of how Lord Siegfried saved me by catching the arrow that would have struck me dead."

It wasn't a bad change to the story. It would probably work better considering all that he said -- Irene's favor or not, I was still a pagan to these people. The issue was that Michalis didn't tell me of the change he made to the story. He didn't consult me, much less ask. It was…

He wasn't one of my men. He wasn't a vassal either. In the end, it was more of a partnership than anything, even if the balance of power was heavily in my favor. I never required him to clear every action that he took before, but this was a little different. This was an attempt of assassination, and the defeat of a mutual enemy. He should have known better than to keep me uninformed and the only reason he would was because he was deliberately hiding the information from me.

Like a dog pulling at his leash.

"So long as Chares is done for, then I care little," I said, admitting that much. I just needed him defeated and crushed before the war started. Because when it did, I would be too busy for him and he would regain his footing. Michalis seemed relieved to hear that, though he hid it well. That told me that he knew he overstepped. "When can I expect the sentencing?"

"Shortly. Perhaps today, even. A confession, witnesses -- the judge has all that he needs to pass a sentence even without his various enemies bribing him." Hm. A perversion of justice. "I shall send a messenger when I hear anything more." He offered before he shifted in his seat, and I saw that calculating look enter his eye. "With Chares' fall from grace, there is a number of matters that we should discuss."

Greed. I've always known of it, and it had served me well, but I saw that Michalis' greed was starting to get the better of him. He was getting drunk on success. I could find no other reason why he was so loose lipped, "We shall divide his assets -- his properties, his businesses… the latter should be relocated to Norland. It's a risk, I will admit, but it will strengthen the town's importance as a trade port."

Hm… he was telling me what we should do. It was a fair idea. Some of the businesses wouldn't be able to make the journey -- there were no vineyards for wine, after all. However, weavers, dyers, and so on could find a home in Norland.

"To what end?" Morrigan spoke my thoughts out loud, leveling a harsh stare at Michalis.

He seemed a little put out, "As I understood it, you wish your settlement to be prosperous?" He asked without really asking, his gaze flickering to me.

"Remarkable. What an astute observation," Mortigan replied, her voice dry and sarcastic. "That is obvious enough. I ask what is your motivation for ensuring our settlement prospers?"

He scowled, "We had a bargain, did we not? You help me and with my rise, I help you in return. Is it so hard to believe that I merely wish to uphold my end of the bargain?" he asked, sounding vaguely insulted. Except he was lying.

"No," I told him and, for a moment, he seemed pleased. "But you are an ambitious man. In my experience, ambitious men look beyond merely repaying a favor." It was a light rebuke, but it was one all the same. Michalis was not an honorable man. If he was, then I could believe that he was repaying a debt owed.

Michalis was a man motivated by greed. The only reason why he would be so willing to help me was because he got something out of it. Being so… proactive? It was suspicious.

Michalis looked down into his wine, clearly annoyed that his motivation was called out. He didn't seem particularly surprised, however. "I had hoped to save this conversation for a later date," he began, taking a sip of his wine, "But perhaps having it now would be better." he held out his empty wine glass for the servant to refill and she did so soundlessly. I fought off a frown, waiting for him to begin.

"You have made it clear that you do not intend to stay in Rome. All of court has heard your intentions -- five years, at the most." He started and I nodded, getting an inkling where the conversation was going. "That calls into question what shall be done with what you leave behind. Norland is shaping up to be one of the most important ports in the Mediterranean. An important stop gap between the Romans and the Abbasids."

I had given the matter some thought. "It is Lord Mimir's domain. I was merely allowed to cultivate the land," I pointed out and Michalis inclined his head to me.

"In accordance with the law, that is correct but when wealth gets involved… the law acts as more of a guideline," he stated and I fought off a scowl. It was hardly shocking, but I still found it distasteful. I wasn't above it, even if I refused to allow it to bind my hands when it came to clear enemies… but to break it to sate one's greed was distasteful. "Chanxi was an unimportant settlement. Crete was unimportant. By the time you leave, it will be a prosperous port with a strong military presence. I cannot ascertain what, precisely, his imperial majesty intends to do with it but… whoever is given rulership over Norland with your departure shall become a rich and powerful lord."

And Michalis wanted it. I could understand why easily enough. We were working through the list of people responsible for his family's fall from grace, and earning back his family lands. Provided I finished the quest before I left for home, Norland was going to be rather prosperous.

Michalis wasn't finished. "With the favor you curry with the Empress Dowager… a word from you could heavily tilt her thoughts to whoever you name should inherit," he continued.

"It's something that I've put some thought into," I told him. I entertained possibilities of keeping it as a friendly outpost. That wasn't practical. I intended to take everyone with me when we left, but I imagine the warm climate would appeal to some. "One of my men can't hold it. There wouldn't be a point. The crown would just take it. Or force a conversion." I was barely tolerated before I found the favor of the Empress Dowager. Whoever I left behind to hold the settlement wouldn't be so lucky.

"They would be an outsider," Michalis agreed, trying to not give away his intentions, unaware that I already knew them.

"I've also thought about tearing it all down," I continued and I saw Michalis' blood freeze in his veins. "It could prove too tempting for some of my men. I don't intend to leave behind half of my army when it comes time to set sail. Tear down the walls, the homes, disperse the population… burn the bridge behind us. I'd rather that then let some pompous Roman benefit from my work."

Michalis was reeling, almost on the verge of panic that he barely managed to swallow down. "That would be-"

"Or," I interjected. "I thought I could sell it," I said, holding his gaze. "Sell the businesses, sell the buildings, and land. I won't have any further use of it. I could use the money and materials for my arrival in Denmark." I had burnt through a great deal of our savings, but we were making a steady profit now that everything was up and running. We could look to slowly raising the tariffs and having a trade good sourced in the town would be welcomed -- I wanted to leave Rome with a sizable amount of wealth.

Michalis licked his lips, "How much?"

"Five thousand pounds of gold, or the value of trade goods equal to that," I answered and Michalis couldn't have looked more shocked if I smacked him across the face. "The settlement is not yet worth that much, but it will be by the time that I leave."

"T-Thats a king's ransom ten times over," Michalis protested weakly. "The only one that could afford that would be the crown," he protested, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of his voice. He wasn't wrong there. It was a rather sizable sum. However, if the ledger held true, it wouldn't take more than fifteen years for the settlement to pay itself off.

I set my wine glass down and stood, "Because we are allies, I will tell you this -- the most valuable thing Rome has for me is knowledge. I'd go as far as to say that an exceptionally skilled architect or tradesmen would be worth their weight in gold." I saw an understanding flash in his expression and he offered a small nod to me.

He didn't thank me as we left his villa, his mind burdened with what we spoke of. Almost as soon as we stepped outside of his villa, which was located in one of the finer parts of the city, a place that was reserved for the homes of nobility, which Michalis still was even if he was landless, Morrigan attached herself to my arm, and I glanced down at her. "I'm surprised that you didn't say that we should stay."

Morrigan huffed at the prospect as we made our way through the streets, the celebration still ongoing. Though, at day ten, it was starting to wind down from a constant affair to being contained in certain areas. "Michalis is a greedy fool with eyes bigger than his stomach, but he was right about one thing -- you cannot thrive here. Not as you would in the north," she stated and I was a little surprised by the concern.

Morrigan was greedy herself, with a love of finery and luxury. And from what I had seen, no place had more of that than Constantinople.

She seemed to find my surprise insulting because she drove a fist between my ribs, making me wince even if it didn't hurt. "In the north, you are more than an outsider. Depending on what tales that are spun, you will be a god returning from a different world, rich beyond belief. More powerful than any petty Jarl or King. T'is for my own sake you must return. How else shall you properly repay me what was promised." She said with a sly smile and I found myself chuckling as we made our way through the city, finding ourselves drawn by a crowd of people sweeping to some performance.

"Aye, true enough," I agreed with a small smile. A promise of home and hearth. That was the promise Morrigan extracted from me. A promise that I've upheld so far, but it seemed she was intent on truly wringing me for all that I was worth.
"This war just needs to hurry up and be done with, then I can focus on-" I started, only to cut myself off when I saw what the crowd was being drawn to. An execution. Even during such a festive mood, there were still crimes. And there were few things people loved more than a public execution. A platform was set up for it with a number of nooses.

I would have kept on walking if it wasn't for the periodic use of True Sight to make sure that there wasn't an assassin in the crowd. A blood red caught my attention in the corner of my expanded vision, prompting me to look up at the platform.

Where Chares was having a noose put around his neck.

"That was fast," I muttered under my breath, finding myself conflicted. I don't think that I could even blame this on Michalis -- someone other than me clearly wanted him dead and they swept the entire process along. It had been a week since the assassination attempt and only a day since Chares had been arrested. No, not even a day -- it was closer to twelve hours.

"Power attracts enemies like honey with flies," Morrigan noted, sounding unsurprised. "When an enemy falls, t'is most unwise to give them a chance to stand again. Or, perhaps, it is being done as a favor to you?" Morrigan questioned and I had absolutely no idea. I saw her gaze flickering about, examining the threads that bound people, but if she saw anything of note, she didn't share it.

This wasn't what I expected. I thought that I would at least get a chance to speak to him one last time. Taunt him with the information of what destroyed him. It was an unworthy desire, but I felt it keenly. Mostly because of Horrik, I suspected. Chares was an enemy, and one that I had to vanquish, but I wondered if I would have chosen this course of action if it wasn't for my true enemy? Was Chares just a stand in for him?

I wouldn't ever know, I suppose, watching as he closed his eyes. He faced his death better than most, his lips moving with what I recognized as a prayer. The crowd was baying for his blood -- they knew nothing of him beyond that he was fat. And there were fewer things that a crowd loved more than watching the mighty be toppled.

The other criminals on the row were lined up and their noose secured. A half dozen in total. Then, with a single pull of a lever… the bench that they had been standing on was pulled out from underneath them. Chares' weight worked in his favor, I saw. His neck snapped with the jerking of the rope while the skinnier of the half dozen were left thrashing about as they choked.

My gaze lingered on Chares' body for a long moment, searching my feelings. There was satisfaction -- he had insulted my family. He had insulted my wife. He had insulted me. Yet, as I looked at the body swaying in the air beyond a roaring crowd…

I had to wonder. Was an insult really worth killing over?



Looking back on this arc, I feel like I got a little lost in the sauce when it came to the politics and meandered a bit. So, up next is a rather short war and then we can get back to the city building and learning.
The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
 
My gaze lingered on Chares' body for a long moment, searching my feelings. There was satisfaction -- he had insulted my family. He had insulted my wife. He had insulted me. Yet, as I looked at the body swaying in the air beyond a roaring crowd…

I had to wonder. Was an insult really worth killing over?
Considering that Sieg was willing to ruin this man's entire world, this is a twist. I think there's some character growth going on here.
 
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I believe the last line has more to do with Siegfried's distaste for politics than a concern about the morality of his actions.

I look forward to the war and the city building.
 
It's that death is so final when you want to Hurt the one that hurt you.
To look into the wolfs jaws and say "shit" knowing it was you that kicked it into turning around.
 
My gaze lingered on Chares' body for a long moment, searching my feelings. There was satisfaction -- he had insulted my family. He had insulted my wife. He had insulted me. Yet, as I looked at the body swaying in the air beyond a roaring crowd…

I had to wonder. Was an insult really worth killing over?

Well well well, isn't this interesting. Looks like Siegfried has some new character development waiting for him.

To be honest Charles did a bit more than just insulting him and Astrid. But i can see were Sieg is coming from.
 
I See Fire
Hadi's father couldn't have been more happy even if Allah himself parted the skies and proclaimed him a prophet. A royal advisor. A direct connection to the throne. A position of great influence, even if it was to the second son, as a prince was still a prince. It was more than his father could have ever hoped for. Given how proud his father was… it was all the evidence that Hadi needed to understand that, at some point, he had taken a very wrong turn in life.

He never should have agreed to the officer commission. It wasn't Crete where things went wrong, it was the moment he gave in to his father's demands after being threatened to be cut off from the family treasury yet again. He could have been a merchant. He only agreed to the military because it sounded like less effort -- he had seen plenty of officers in his time. They drank, they whored, they kicked up their feet and offloaded all their duties to their underlings. A truly ideal life, he thought.

What a fool he was.

"At least I'm not in command," Hadi muttered with no small amount of relief as he peered up at the bright blue sky, not so much as a cloud in sight. Meaning no hope that the fleet would be delayed. All around him were the sounds of over eager men, ready for glory and riches, as the port in Acre was alive with noise. The fleet that Hadi had once commanded was solidified again to ferry across another twenty thousand men.

Though, it wasn't the same twenty thousand men. The commanders and nobility that had won wealth and prestige in the raiding were honored by fighting beside the crowned prince. Which left nobility that wasn't currently wreathed in glory biting at the bit for a chance to show up their political rivals.

"You are an advisor. The prince would be foolish to ignore your words," his bodyguard, Zafir said. It had been quite a challenge to talk the man out of killing himself, as he had sworn to do when his words led the army into a trap, but it was well worth the effort because Zafir, once he regained his strength, was a excellent man to have between himself and anyone that wanted to kill Hadi at any given time. He did come as a package deal with the child Alim, who…

Hadi's gaze flickered to Alim, watching the child watch men loading supplies onto boats. His hair was trimmed, his clothing replaced from the rags he once war, but… Alim seemed to sense his gaze because Alim looked at Hadi. There was something odd about the child. Beyond the fact he apparently knew Persian, Egyptian, a strange tongue that Hadi couldn't place, and Arabic. It was Arabic that drew the most questions from Hadi.

It had been just over a century and a half since the prophet's death, and in that time, Arabic had spread amongst the nobility. It was the official language of the courts, so nobility, even minor nobility like he had been, were expected to learn. Wealthy merchants and statesmen would learn in the hopes of currying favor. The people, in large part, still spoke the languages of their forebears. Even if it was a language that Alim just so happened to pick up as he had a talent for learning languages, it raised a question of who exactly had he been around to learn it.

"I'm one of many," Hadi said, looking away. The relationship between the two was a mystery that Hadi hoped to unwrap with time, but it couldn't be his focus. "And I imagine most of my advice will conflict with the rest, all of whom outstrip me in status." Even with his new elevation, he was still quite minor. He had no men at arms to offer, no resources, or influence -- he just had his sound advice, and Hadi knew that it wouldn't be enough. "And I doubt that Prince Harun will risk offending his supporters on my behalf."

Not that Hadi wanted him to. The very last thing he needed was other nobility seeing him as competition. That's how you get assassinated.

"Then what is the point of bringing you at all?" Zafir questioned and that's what Hadi would like to know.

"Alas, it is not my place to question royalty," Hadi said before a commotion drew his attention. He recognized a royal palanquin when he saw one, but he wasn't sure who was arriving. There had already been a send off at Baghdad where the army began its march to the Roman border. And, as it arrived, Hadi saw a messenger breaking off and heading to them and Hadi swallowed a sigh.

He hopped off the crate he had been sitting on as the messenger arrived, bowing his head as he spoke, "My lord, you have been invited to dine with the prince and his sister." A royal invitation. Hadi wanted to weep tears of blood, but it was a relief to see that he was hardly the only one being invited. He saw other nobility, much higher nobility, making their way to the flagship that Prince Harun resided. Hadi nearly started weeping tears of blood then because that was the kind of nobility that would take his mere presence as an insult.

"I would be honored," he lied through his teeth and he could have sworn that he heard the faintests of laughs coming from Alim. A quick glance at him revealed his usual expressionless face. Swallowing a sigh, he bid them farewell before following the messenger. It would be a decent enough opportunity to see the flagship -- as Hadi had no command of a ship or men since he could supply none.

The messenger led him down the docks and to the ship -- there, he saw that a tent had been put up on the upper deck where Hadi arrived just in time to see the princess stepping out of the palanquin. She wore light blue silks and a veil, while dark hair fell in long black curls down her back. She was richly adorned with gold and sapphires, and the largest that Hadi had ever seen sat in the jeweled band around her head. She wore a king's ransom.

"Jasmine. Father would be quite wroth if he heard of this," Harun said, seated at a low flat table. Jasmine. The name didn't ring any bells to Hadi's ear as he took a place at the very end of the table, as was befitting of his station. He purposefully avoided the gaze of Emir Muhammad, high nobility. Very high. Hopefully, he would forget Hadi existed soon enough.

The princess herself was likely the child of a second or third wife, or perhaps even a child of a concubine. But, given that she bore the title of princess, she was likely a child of a wife or the Caliph held her in particular esteem.

"By the time he returns, he'll have forgotten all about it," she seemed confident, "At least I didn't sneak away as a commoner -- I would have if I could have taken Rajah with me." Hadi had no idea who Rajah was, but based on how amused Prince Harun seemed, Hadi was convinced he didn't want to find out.

"And why has my sweet sister come all this way? The journey between the palace and Acre is no small trip," Prince Harun questioned and beneath the veil, Hadi saw Princess Jasmine smile.

"I am to see my favorite brother off as he rides to war," Princess Jasmine decided, taking a seat beside her brother. Willful. But Hadi supposed being a child of the Caliph came with some advantages. "Perhaps even join?"

"No," Prince Harun declined and behind the veil, Hadi saw her pout, even if she didn't seem surprised. "It is too dangerous. War is not a place for women."

"I've heard tales that the Pagan allows his women to fight," Princess Jasmine argued without any real heat, seemingly accepting the answer for what it was.

"A savage, my princess. With godless and barbaric ways," Emir Muhammad offered.

Then something rather unfortunate happened. The Princess looked to Hadi, "Lord Hadi, have you seen such things? Do the rumors have any substance to them?"

Why? Why were you people doing this to him? "They do, my princess," Hadi answered and he saw that Princess Jasmine was all too delighted with the news. "Siegfried's wife, Princess Astrid, seems to be a warrior of some renown. At least before finding herself with child." It was a strange custom, and Hadi wondered what brought it about. What land could be so harsh that women were needed to fight?

Hadi swallowed anything else he had to say because Emir Muhammad seemed to take it as a personal insult that Hadi had spoken. Or that he was acknowledged in any way.

"I would like to see this princess. Can you not at least send for me, dear brother? You will have to spend some time on Crete before continuing the invasion?" She tried and Hadi saw her game. Offer high, settle lower -- a bargaining tactic that existed as long as there was bargaining.

Prince Harun pondered that, and the fact that he did told Hadi that the two were close. Close enough that the prince wished to indulge her curiosity. To that, he looked to Emir Muhammad, who seemed all too happy to give his opinion. "We will spend at least a moon turn on Crete after we take it. To give the Roman's pause. I see no reason why you could not join us. Perhaps the Pagan shall make a fine pet." He laughed lightly at his own joke and Hadi's gaze turned to his cup before him. No wine. Just juice. How unfortunate.

Emir Muhammad's game was easy enough to figure out. A month in close proximity with a princess. Hadi was too new at court to tell who was in favor and who wasn't, but given that Emir Muhammad was here Hadi assumed that he wasn't particularly in favor. Powerful enough to not be ignored, certainly, but not lavished with royal attention. Seducing a princess could change that, Hadi thought, taking a sip of his juice, especially when he was high enough nobility to warrant such a match.

"How lovely. Then I shall remain in Acre, awaiting your ships," Princess Jasmine said, patting her brother's hand, getting everything that she wanted. Harun seemed to realize what his sister did based on his mildly amused look, but he didn't correct her. Right. Well, so long as the two of them stayed far away from him, he physically couldn't care less even if he really wanted to. "Do you think I could speak to the Pagan? The tales that surround him are fascinating."

Why was Emir Muhammad glaring at him? What did he do? Ah- royal attention. Again. Prince Harun gestured to him, "Sheikh Hadi has had some experience with him. Do you believe my sister's desires have hope of being fulfilled?" Why are you phrasing it like that? Stop it.

He should say yes. Say yes, and be done with it, but the conversation was far too light. Too simple. They spoke as if they had already won, and it was that very same attitude that led to the disaster that ended with him in charge of twenty thousand men. No. Not again. He refused. He'd rather let everyone die than to pick up the mantle of responsibility. So, better to tell the truth -- a little unpleasantness now beats a lot of unpleasantness later. "It is most unlikely, I am most afraid to say. Siegfried's people glorify death."

Princess Jasmine seemed genuinely saddened while Prince Harun seemed genuinely distraught. "They glorify it?"

"I cannot claim to be an expert, but among my retinue are those that spent some time in Norland. Their gods are strange, but the important bit is that they wish to enter Valhalla. One of their afterlives that is reserved for those who die gloriously in battle. The pagans seem to have many realms of death, but it is Valhalla they most desire. So, it burdens me to sadden my princess, but it is most likely that the pagans will fight to the death. They'll want to." They were a strange people. Hadi personally didn't at all care for it. He liked living far too much.

Emir Muhammad sneered at him, "There is no Valhalla," he cursed. "And I wonder why you know so much about these pagan ways." Why. Why would you do this? Just…

Hadi inclined his head, "Of course there is no Valhalla. But, to them, it is real. As real as Jannah is to us. So, they shall fight and die for the right to enter. As for why I know so much… I wish to know my enemy before I face him." He'd interrogated both Zafir and Alim for everything they knew. He poured over the reports his spies managed to send him with dead drops. And it all painted a damning picture. "After all… The Pagan felt comfortable facing twenty thousand men with two thousand before. Now he faces twenty thousand with five. I imagine, right now, he feels confident that he can win."

"Then he is a most dangerous foe," Princess Jasmine stated and he was glad at least someone understood. She turned to her brother, grabbing his wrist. "You'll take care, won't you?"

Prince Harun seemed pensive. Not afraid, per say, but unsure. "Of course, dear sister."

Emir Muhammad nodded, "The pagans are not even heathens. They are godless. Despite Hadi's warnings, with the light of Allah on our side, we shall be victorious." No title, huh?

It was a cold comfort, Hadi thought as he sipped his juice, that Emir Muhammad was likely among the first that would die in the coming battles.



They set sail that same day, the journey to Crete was a short one, no more than a day of travel with such numbers. Hadi remained on the flagship, joined by Zafir, Alim, and his brother, Naeem. Naeem was less than pleased to learn that he had stepped on the toes of an Emir, but there was little to be done. At the very least, he was on his own flagship with the ten thousand men that he had committed to the invasion. The other lords, the lesser lords, made up the other ten thousand.

Despite Hadi's wishes, the weather held. It was smooth sailing the first day of the journey, slowing at night, and it was during the evening of the second day that the island of Crete arrived on the horizon. There, they would disembark at the Abbasid settlement to rejoin with a force that was left behind to maintain their presence on the island. The plan was an assault by sea and land, and with sheer numbers, they would overwhelm Siegfried's forces.

Under normal circumstances, Hadi would say it was a fair plan. Siegfried would be a fool to attack an army four times the size of his, closer to five even with the men left behind. The smartest thing he could do was hold out against their numbers behind his walls. Yet…

Yet, Hadi saw the first sign that Seigfried wasn't content to stay behind his walls when between them and Crete was a single ship. Roman make. "My prince, we should give that ship a wide berth," he offered his advice, watching as the distance between them gradually shrunk. From where Hadi stood, he saw Romans on the deck of the ship, scurrying about like they were doing something.

"They have signaled that they wish to parlay," Yahya, the chief advisor to Prince Harun, replied as he stood on the other side of the prince. Hadi worked his jaw.

"A single ship then," Hadi argued, "but not this one. I have heard tales of the Roman fireships -- just two of them managed to lay waste to the pirates on Crete."

"Lord Hadi speaks sense. It's an unnecessary risk -- send a ship ahead to see what they wish to say," Prince Harun decided and a knot of tension unwound from between Hadi's shoulders. Prince Harun favored him a glance, "I too have heard of these fire ships. Yet, to many, they are a thing of legend."

"I hope I am wrong, my prince. But the consequences of being right are too grave to ignore," Hadi offered, earning a small nod from Prince Harun. They watched as a ship was chosen to sail forward to interact with the lone Roman ship. The tension returned as Hadi watched the two draw near… only for the Roman ship to betray its intentions by surging past it.

"Archers!" Prince Harun shouted out as the Roman ship pressed forward. "Engage the enemy!" Two ships broke off from the formation to clash against the Roman ship, preventing it from nearing the flagship. Archers lined up on the bow of the ships, drawing their arrows and letting them fly. A good number of the arrows sank harmlessly into the water, but some struck true. The Romans, however, retaliated.

Fire. Fire leapt from the Roman ship, dousing the two that intercede it, and across the water Hadi heard screaming. The ships were almost instantly doused in flames, burning, thick black smoke rising as Hadi soon smelled burnt meat and hair. His stomach clenched, bile starting to rise in the back of his throat. Prince Harun stopped, staring at the grisly display with naked horror and disgust. "My prince, the fire ship cannot reach the main fleet."

"I-" he was uncertain, but Prince Harun, to his credit, swallowed down his revulsion. "Divert course," he ordered but Hadi knew it wouldn't be enough. The fire ship sailed beyond the two burning ships, heading to the bulk of the fleet and igniting another ship, this one closer. Hadi saw men jump overboard as they were wreathed in flames, only for the flames to continue to burn underwater as the men sank below the waves.

Hellfire. The Romans had tamed hellfire.

The order went out, and under normal circumstances, the maneuver would have been smooth. Only now there was a ship belching fire at them -- those that were too close to the fire ship for comfort diverted course too hard, slamming into the ships at their sides in an effort to get away. And it was then that Hadi realized the true danger of the fire ship. The fire was deadly, but a lone ship was a lone ship. With calm and resolute men, it could easily be dispatched.

Fire inspired fear. Fear gave way to panic. Panic led to poor decisions and those poor decisions made a situation that could have been mangable into an unmitigated disaster.

The ships that crashed were targeted, dousing one ship caused it to spread. The spreading of the fire incited further panic into other ships, causing further crashes as the fire ship burned a bloody path through their formation. And there was only one way for it to get worse, Hadi decided, looking out to the horizon, and he saw exactly what he feared to see.

"Ships incoming! Ships incoming!" he called out, seeing a dozen of the Norse ships racing towards them at what felt like impossible speeds. They sat low in the water, a full sail carrying them forward -- the ships were entirely too fast for Hadi's liking, and they were going to capitalize on their disarray to inflict even more damage upon them. And… "My prince… we must sail forward."

Prince Harun looked to him, his skin pale and sweat upon his brow. "Forward?"

"Accept the cost in blood, and sail forward. The norsemen will pick us off otherwise," Hadi advised, knowing it in his gut that it was true. It was a cunning plan. Use the fireship to incite panic while the Norsemen harried them, panicking them further while they couldn't muster a proper response. And, from the looks of it, Prince Harun suspected it too.

He gave the order to sail forward, the command echoing out and the response was sluggish. Too sluggish. The fireship inflicted further cost, and some men disobeyed the order entirely to chase the norsemen. They all suffered for it, but the order to go in a single direction prevented any more crashs and clumping. In the end, the fire ship used up its hellfire, and it was swiftly destroyed when it began to flee. And, to Hadi's immense horror, the men chose to set fire to the very ship that they were on rather than let it fall into their hands.

The damage was harsh, but moving in a formation lessened the impact of the norsemen that circled them, firing arrows with deadly accuracy. But, once it was clear that the plan hadn't worked as they wished, the norsemen were quick to abandon the attack and sail back towards Norland. Leaving their fleet a moment to regather itself.

The damage was severe, but less than first impressions would assume. Hadi's worst estimate was that they lost half the fleet, but the truth of the matter was that they had only lost a dozen ships. Still a heavy loss, but a significant portion of those that were on the ships were fished out of the water. They would need to land to get an accurate count of their losses, but things weren't so disastrous that the invasion needed to be called off before it began.

"My prince?" Yahya prompted as a few hours passed in the open water, fishing people out if it while gathering the fleet up once more. Prince Harun looked out at the burnt out ships, only some remaining above water.

"Lord Hadi -- this is the Pagan's doing?" the Prince questioned and Hadi didn't even hesitate to nod.

"Almost certainly. The Pagan is clever, my prince. And ruthless to his enemies. We will not find an easy foe in him," Hadi advised, glad that he was starting to understand. His words were absolutely worthless without understanding or action.

Hadi never wanted to face Siegfried in battle, but by royal command, that choice was robbed of him. Leaving him only with trying to endure his own survival.

Prince Harun seemed to mull that over before he nodded to himself. "We continue to port. Lord Hadi, you shall be by my side," he informed and… well… dealing with jealous nobles was about as deadly as a pagan demi-god, but they could be a problem for another day.

With the decision made… they continued on to sail into port.

Hadi only realized far too late that they had stepped head first into a noose.

...

I'm doing something a little different for this next conflict. We're going to see what it's like fighting Siegfried.

The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
 
Poor guy. Soon he'll realize that, as one of the few competent military leaders, he's in for life.

And that's if he doesn't accidentally romance the Disney Princess with a pet tiger.
 
The messenger led him down the docks and to the ship -- there, he saw that a tent had been put up on the upper deck where Hadi arrived just in time to see the princess stepping out of the palanquin. She wore light blue silks and a veil, while dark hair fell in long black curls down her back. She was richly adorned with gold and sapphires, and the largest that Hadi had ever seen sat in the jeweled band around her head. She wore a king's ransom.

"Jasmine. Father would be quite wroth if he heard of this," Harun said, seated at a low flat table. Jasmine. The name didn't ring any bells to Hadi's ear as he took a place at the very end of the table, as was befitting of his station. He purposefully avoided the gaze of Emir Muhammad, high nobility. Very high. Hopefully, he would forget Hadi existed soon enough.

The princess herself was likely the child of a second or third wife, or perhaps even a child of a concubine. But, given that she bore the title of princess, she was likely a child of a wife or the Caliph held her in particular esteem.

"By the time he returns, he'll have forgotten all about it," she seemed confident, "At least I didn't sneak away as a commoner -- I would have if I could have taken Rajah with me." Hadi had no idea who Rajah was, but based on how amused Prince Harun seemed, Hadi was convinced he didn't want to find out.

Well, look who we got here. Jasmine from Aladdin.

She is either going to become Hadi love interest (much to his charging) or join Siegfried Harem.

Either way, its going to be fun.

Siegfried plan with the Greek fire was very good, he is using all his cunning and every advantage at hand to beat an overwelming enemy force.

I can't wait to see what trap he has prepared for them next, i have some ideas and i want to see if my predictions are correct
 
I don't know what's worse not knowing the how and why's of how you're losing or knowing and understanding but still losing…. Great chapter
 
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