"This is bad!" Mike Bai analyzed the price trends of the past six months, growing increasingly concerned.
Thanks to the Venetians, who were trading everywhere, Mike Bai had easy access to information about the prices in the infidel regions. Prices for essential wartime materials like grain, iron ore, and draft animals had been steadily rising for the past half year. Particularly in Egypt, a traditional grain-producing region, food prices had soared.
What was even more troubling was that, during his investigation, Mike Bai overheard merchants in the market talking about the Venetians selling fire oil and crossbows to the infidels.
"We don't sell, others will," one merchant had responded when Mike Bai expressed his surprise.
It was then that Mike Bai bitterly understood why The Merchant of Venice existed—these people were so mercenary that they would sell their own noose if it made a profit.
Coupled with the movement of the army sent by the Sassanians, Mike Bai was now almost certain that a large-scale war was inevitable within the year.
He gazed out at the estate he had worked so hard to build over the past three years—his windmill estate, constantly productive, and the trade network he had painstakingly established. It was all hard to let go of, especially considering the estate's annual yield of over 5000 gold Nomis. But whenever the name Saladin came to mind, a shadow darkened his thoughts.
Before Saladin's rise, the Crusader states had managed to defeat the fragmented infidel kingdoms with relative ease. But since Saladin's ascent, he had gradually unified Egypt, Syria, and Damascus, becoming a serious threat to the Crusaders.
Despite that, Mike Bai still heard many positive comments about the man. Rumors painted Saladin as a just warrior, his name meaning "justice" in Arabic. In his youth, he had often led his troops into battle, outnumbered, and managed to repel several Crusader attempts to conquer Egypt.
After taking control of Egypt, Saladin removed the old officials, worked on irrigation, developed agriculture, and reduced taxes, quickly winning the favor of the people. He was known for his piety, performing the five daily prayers and even personally going on a pilgrimage to Mecca, gaining admiration from the infidels.
Three years ago, when Mike Bai had first arrived, Saladin had managed to outlive his old master, then, as regent for his master's heir, he gradually took control of Damascus and northern Syria.
Now, Saladin, a master of military strategy, politics, religion, and personal charisma, could easily mobilize an army of over 40,000 men, field the best horses in the world, and procure anything he needed from Venetian merchants.
In contrast, even if the Crusader states stopped their infighting and fully mobilized, they could barely muster 20,000 troops. And despite the knights' unparalleled bravery, the difference in strength filled Mike Bai with a sense of helplessness.
Sitting at his desk, Mike Bai was so overwhelmed that he didn't even notice Otto had arrived behind him.
"What's wrong?" Otto asked, his voice concerned. Mike Bai forced a smile but eventually admitted that he feared a war was imminent.
After a long pause, Otto placed a hand on Mike Bai's shoulder. "Mike Bai, you've grown up. It's time for you to take the people back to the estate."
"But, Uncle...!" Before Mike Bai could finish, Otto interrupted him.
"You are just a pilgrim here, not obligated to fight for the Kingdom of Jerusalem," Otto said with a sigh, motioning for Mike Bai to come to the window.
Outside, Mike Bai saw that his estate had grown into a bustling little town.
Energetic female workers labored in the fields, strong soldiers trained with their shirts off, and children played during their break. The shadow of war hadn't yet reached them; they still lived with their usual optimism.
"Look at them. These people are what you, as their lord, should focus on," Otto said, his voice firm.
When Mike Bai opened his mouth to respond, Otto smiled.
"Don't worry, I'm not so easily defeated. And in seven years, when my service is done, I'll be back. Even if the infidels are powerful, they can't conquer the whole kingdom in just a few years."
"Therefore, for the sake of your family and your people," Otto's eyes fixed on Mike Bai's, "go home."
The next day, when Mike Bai announced that he would prepare to return to the estate because of the coming war, everyone was taken aback. The knights took it in stride, as they only had to follow their lord. But the female workers were deeply troubled, knowing they would have to leave the comfortable lives they had only just begun.
Mike Bai reassured them that he would never abandon anyone who chose to stay with him, offering severance pay to those who wished to leave.
Despite initial hesitation, everyone, including the female workers, pledged to follow Mike Bai.
"My lord, I believe in your promise, and I trust that you are the only one who can give us hope," said Sasan.
Feeling the weight of their trust, Mike Bai felt an even greater responsibility. In his past life, he had never cared for so many people. Now, he busied himself with preparations, overseeing the packing of supplies, instructing Anna to handle the stock, and asking Sasan to arrange for the ships to carry them home.
The constant stress and pressure took a toll, and during a sword practice session, Mike Bai found himself distracted.
"Clang!" His sword was knocked away by Patrick's, and Mike Bai, lost in thought, waved his hand in surrender.
Seeing that Mike Bai was not in the right state, Patrick set down his sword and stood beside him.
"This isn't the Mike Bai I know!" Patrick said kindly. "What is troubling you, my lord?"
Gazing at Patrick's handsome face and bright eyes, Mike Bai fell silent, running his fingers through his messy hair in frustration.
"If it's because of Saladin, then there's no need to worry. He's a great warrior, and retreating before him is not something anyone can blame you for."
"But if it's because you feel you haven't done your duty as lord, then I must disagree," Patrick continued, placing a hand on Mike Bai's shoulder and gesturing to the estate.
Mike Bai looked around and saw that despite the busyness of the workers, everything was proceeding smoothly. Anna was instructing children on what to pack, Sasan was leading the women in organizing the stock, and Demore and Hammo were overseeing the feeding of the horses. Even William casually drank from a flask while unloading the cart. Everyone seemed to be going about their work without any sense of worry.
Mike Bai could feel their trust in him, and he understood the unspoken words in Patrick's eyes.
"If you're worried about being weak, then you should work even harder. A small estate like this, in just three years, has produced more than Otto has earned in ten years—thanks to your ingenuity. I believe that in twenty years, you'll be a hero to rival Saladin."
"I'm just… worried about Uncle Otto," Mike Bai sighed, recalling all the ways Otto had cared for him over the years. Every small gesture, every piece of advice, flooded his thoughts.
"Can I really just leave him behind?"
He turned to look at Patrick.
The sunlight was blinding, making it hard to see Patrick's expression. But Patrick's voice, calm as ever, spoke.
"Otto has made his choice."
After a long silence, Patrick's voice continued, "From what I know of Otto, even if we forcibly bring him back, he'll only spend the rest of his life in regret. It's better to let him atone here."
Mike Bai could only sigh inwardly, "To seek virtue is to gain virtue; what is there to resent?"
After a long moment of contemplation, Mike Bai stood up, dusting himself off. Though worry lingered in his expression, he gave Patrick a smile of gratitude, then walked over to William, shouting, "William, are you drinking again while working?"
As Mike Bai wrestled the flask from William's hands, Patrick smiled softly but then a look of concern crossed his face.
"Take care, Otto."