Mike Bai stared in surprise at the shadow that appeared before him.
"You're the leader of the Assassins, the Mountain Elder?"
"Yes," the shadow replied.
"Your alias is 'Hundred Faces Hassan'?"
The shadow nodded slightly.
"So, is your current appearance a disguise?"
"No."
"'Mountain Elder,' 'Hundred Faces'—those don't sound like normal names," Mike Bai asked, his curiosity piqued. "What's your real name?"
"After becoming the Mountain Elder, my previous name was abandoned," the figure paused before speaking in a calm tone. "If my master wishes, you may call me Sassan."
"Uh, could you come a bit closer? The candlelight is too dim, and I can't see very well."
The shadow rose and took two steps forward, then knelt once again.
Mike Bai took in the sight before him: a young girl dressed in black veils, with sun-kissed, healthy skin, long jet-black hair, and a face obscured by a mysterious black veil, leaving only a pair of brilliant, star-like eyes visible. But...
"Legend has it that the Assassins' most fearsome assassin, the Mountain Elder..." Mike Bai placed a hand on his forehead. "She's a sixteen-year-old girl?"
"Age is of no consequence," Sassan replied in an unwavering tone. "As long as my master offers protection to my people, I will become the deadliest dagger in his hand."
"I don't want a sixteen-year-old girl going around killing people for me," Mike Bai groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Do you doubt my abilities, Master?" Sassan's voice carried a hint of irritation.
"No, no. It's just that it goes against my principles," Mike Bai said, looking at the young girl before him. In his previous life, girls of this age would still be carefree, enjoying school, not assassins killing for the survival of their people.
"Although according to our traditions, I should give you a sword and shield, I'm afraid we're not at that point yet, so we'll skip that step for now." Mike Bai jumped off the bed and stood before Sassan. "No matter what, I accept your loyalty."
At his words, Sassan bowed her head, then slowly removed her veil. Her face was perfect in its curvature, with sharp eyebrows and long lashes framing her cold, dark eyes. Her small nose and thin lips left Mike Bai unsure whether to call her alluring or spirited.
"The true face of the Mountain Elder is known only to the one who serves her," Sassan said, and with that, she put her veil back on.
"Though I don't fully understand my master's philosophy, I am still his servant in the darkness," Sassan said, lowering her head before retreating two steps, vanishing once more into the shadows.
"It's late. We shall no longer disturb you, Master."
Mike Bai looked into the darkened corner of the room, where the candlelight could not reach, feeling an unexplainable sensation deep in his heart, as if everything were a dream.
After pinching himself hard to confirm it wasn't a dream, Mike Bai finally accepted, "I guess I've just picked up an assassin."
With a long yawn, Mike Bai relaxed and mumbled to himself, "Well, it's a blessing, not a curse... What happens tomorrow, happens."
He rolled over and drifted back into slumber.
The next morning, Mike Bai, still groggy from his late-night rest, was suddenly awakened by a noisy disturbance. He opened his eyes in confusion and saw the girl, Adileh, holding a towel and basin, busily tending to him.
Suddenly, Mike Bai seemed to realize something. He jumped out of bed, his mind racing with suspicion as he looked at Adileh with newfound curiosity.
Adileh, still holding the towel, froze in place, unsure of what Mike Bai was doing.
Mike Bai circled around her a few times, muttering to himself, "No way... Am I being paranoid?"
Finally, deciding to act, Mike Bai walked up to Adileh and started rubbing her face with his hands, squishing it into different shapes.
After a while, Adileh, feeling the discomfort, pushed Mike Bai away and sat down on the floor, looking as though she might burst into tears.
"Oh, I wasn't doing it on purpose. Do you believe me?" Mike Bai apologized awkwardly, but he remembered that Adileh didn't understand his language.
Just then, the door to his room was flung open again. Adileh, awkwardly holding a towel and basin, walked in—only to see Mike Bai and another girl standing with their backs turned.
Mike Bai, looking at the "Adileh" in front of him and then down at the "real" Adileh by his feet, finally lost his temper. "Sassan!!"
The "Adileh" before him no longer looked like the naive village girl. With a subtle smile on her lips, she adopted that familiar cold tone. "Master, you guessed it, didn't you? So why not just confirm it?"
Fuming, Mike Bai lunged toward Sassan, attempting to pinch her face, but she easily dodged his attack. She laughed lightly, then swiftly slipped out of the room, vanishing like a wisp of wind.
Adileh, still trying to make sense of what had just happened, stared at Mike Bai in confusion. It wasn't until he gestured for her to continue helping him that she slowly moved to assist.
After the morning's chaotic events, Mike Bai decided to inspect the rest of his estate.
The women he had bought were already being assigned their roles by DeMora. Most of them had been placed in the windmill workshop, where they were quickly learning how to operate these "magical" tools.
"Watch carefully. Just lower this lever, and the gear will lock into the windmill's drive gear," Mike Bai explained carefully, demonstrating.
Despite the language barrier, the women managed to understand his instructions after some trial and error. Most of them had prior experience in textile work, so they quickly adapted to the tasks.
The wind-powered wooden mallets happily pounded the wool. What had once been yellow, clumped wool became soft and fluffy after being soaked in an ash-water mixture. Once air-dried, the wool was fed into the creaking rollers to be compressed into large bales.
Like giant quilts, the bales were handed over to the diligent women, who held the spools in one hand while spinning the wheel with the other. The once rough wool was stretched and spun into fine thread.
The thread was then sent to the dyeing room, a space guarded by DeMora and specialized soldiers. Only after DeMora personally prepared the dye were the women allowed to enter and work. After dyeing and drying, the thread was stored in the designated warehouse.
Mike Bai watched his production line, pleased with the results. The workers, motivated by the generous meals and fair treatment, had shown great enthusiasm in their work.
However, as he surveyed the bustling workshop, a nagging thought lingered in his mind. With the growing population on the estate, he realized that he needed to improve his infrastructure and security.
The estate had eight wells and more than twenty houses to meet basic living and production needs, and food was no issue for the wealthy Mike Bai. But with only seven adult men, including William, the security situation was becoming precarious.
Mike Bai couldn't help but think, Even though I have Sassan by my side, it's unlikely I'll encounter an assassin, but if a group of bandits showed up, the damage could be severe. I need to recruit some 'security.'
"Lack of manpower... Maybe I should check the tavern."
Taking William's suggestion, Mike Bai and Patrick headed to a tavern on the eastern side of the Holy City. The tavern was large and bustling, similar to the surrounding buildings in color, but it stood out because of the constant ruckus emanating from within.
Mike Bai hesitated as he pushed open the door, almost immediately being hit by a pungent odor: the stench of unwashed men, food scraps, and fermenting alcohol. It was like trying to inhale a rotten, stale sock.
Mike Bai quickly covered his nose and looked around: Behind the worn wooden bar stood a man dressed in a leather skirt, constantly wiping a wooden cup. Around the bar were a dozen or so wooden tables, and several ragtag mercenaries chatted and laughed loudly.
Occasionally, a woman would storm past, chased by one of the mercenaries, who had been caught making lewd comments.
Mike Bai felt this place was little better than a den of ruffians, and he began to question whether this trip was necessary.
"Welcome to Old Bal's Tavern!" The tavern owner noticed Mike Bai's fine clothes and enthusiastically greeted him.
"I'm looking to hire some people," Mike Bai said, eyeing the mercenaries with distaste. "Any reliable ones?"
"Of course!" The owner grinned, showing his yellow teeth.
"Look over there!" He pointed a gnarled finger.
Following the owner's gesture, Mike Bai spotted three men in blue cotton robes sitting silently, sipping their drinks.
"Those are Turkmen nomads. They've grown up on horseback and are the best hounds for hunting—whether it's lions or anything else," the owner continued.
"I also have Genoese crossbowmen. Don't be fooled by their ragged appearance; they treat their weapons like their wives."
A group of ragtag Apennine men were sitting nearby, playing a game with knives, each blade flashing as they stabbed between their fingers without cutting themselves. Although their crossbows were hidden, Mike Bai could tell they were skilled from the nimbleness of their hands.
"Of course, if you need the fiercest warriors, I also have barbarians from the north. The leader claims to have served in the Varangian Guard and fought for Emperor Manuel."
A group of burly men sat around a table, two blonde giants locked in an arm-wrestling match. The tension was high, but eventually, one managed to defeat the other, who hung his head in defeat while the victor drank a celebratory cup.
Mike Bai turned his gaze toward a group sitting in the corner.
"And them?" Mike Bai pointed.
"They're just pilgrims from the southern part of the Holy Roman Empire. Useless for fighting," the owner sneered, clearly dismissive.
Ignoring the owner's attitude, Mike Bai studied the group carefully.
Their gear was in even worse shape than the mercenaries', with most of them wearing simple tunics, and only a few sported helmets or armor.
Mike Bai walked straight over to them. As they saw him approach, they quickly stood, offering their seats.
"Master, are you looking for help? We're twenty in total. Each of us will work for five copper pennies a day," the leader said quickly, eager to please.
Fearing Mike Bai might turn them down, he added, "Master, we can do anything—fighting, tending horses, setting up camp. Whatever you need."
"I'll offer you twelve copper pennies a day for each of you," Mike Bai said with a smile. "As long as you follow my orders."