While Mike Bai was still busily preparing for his move, he was summoned by Sassan, who requested his presence in the study for an urgent matter. Seeing Sassan's serious demeanor, Mike Bai tried to lighten the mood with a joke.
"Looking at you so seriously, I take it Saladin hasn't already stormed the gates of the city, has he?"
Sassan shook his head but replied gravely, "Saladin, with his army of 50,000, set out from Cairo 15 days ago. Three days ago, he clashed with King Baldwin. The king was defeated and has retreated into the fortress of Ascalon."
Mike Bai remained composed when he first heard the news, but the mention of Ascalon caused his pupils to widen instantly. He recalled how, just ten days ago, Otto had visited his estate for a meal as usual, and casually mentioned that he would be heading to Ascalon with his battalion.
"Any other news?" Mike Bai forced himself to ask, struggling to maintain his composure.
"The garrison in Gaza attempted to send reinforcements, but they too were surrounded at the gates of Gaza," Sassan added.
After a long pause, Mike Bai motioned for Sassan to leave. Sassan hesitated but bowed respectfully and exited, closing the door behind him. As the door clicked shut, Mike Bai slammed his clenched fists onto the wooden desk, the force of the blow reverberating in the quiet room.
Although Mike Bai had anticipated this day, he hadn't expected it to arrive so suddenly. Feeling a deep sense of helplessness, he collapsed onto the lounge chair, as if drained of energy. Despite having witnessed much death and darkness in the three years he had spent in this time and place, deep down, Mike Bai was still the soul of a man raised in an era of peace. Everything before him seemed like a nightmare.
But now, having awoken from the dream, Mike Bai faced a monumental choice: on one side were his people, who deeply believed in his ability to lead them out of this crisis; on the other was his uncle, whom he treated as a brother, trapped inside a besieged fortress.
Mike Bai was torn, caught in a fierce inner conflict.
"Isn't there a way to save both?" Mike Bai murmured to himself.
He knew the answer: there were possibilities, but they were slim. The images of wolves with blood-red mouths and the brutal bandits flashed in his mind, the bloody reality of this dark age constantly reminding him that one misstep could cost him his life.
Yet Otto, Anna, and others had also shown him that this time wasn't without its merits. He still had friends and family.
The memories of Otto's care for him flooded Mike Bai's mind, like a rapid slide show: Otto patiently teaching him the sword, handing him the family's signet ring, protecting him from the bandits' blades… until the last night, ten days ago, when they had parted.
"If I'm fast enough, I'll see you off at Saint Akka Port," Otto had said with a smile.
Suddenly, Mike Bai's eyes snapped open, and slowly but determinedly, he rose to his feet. He kicked open the door to his study and found that William, Patrick, Demol, Hammo, Anna, and Sassan were all waiting outside.
"Everyone," Mike Bai said with a smile, "I think it's time for me to be a little reckless."
He threw something into the air, and Demol caught it. It was the signet ring, the symbol of his baronial title.
"I'm going to save Uncle Otto. Demol, you'll be in charge of the estate for now."
Demol was about to speak, but Mike Bai had already turned away. "Take care of Anna for me," he called over his shoulder, waving nonchalantly. "We'll move once I bring Uncle back."
Patrick chuckled and patted Demol on the back before following Mike Bai. William cursed under his breath but didn't stop moving. Hammo, as usual, silently followed suit.
Sassan watched as Mike Bai and his group moved further away, her gaze conflicted. After a moment's hesitation, she made up her mind and quickly caught up with them.
The door of the tavern slammed open, its worn wooden frame hitting the wall with a loud bang. The noise caused the previously boisterous tavern to fall silent. The bartender and the mercenaries all turned to look, their expressions sour. But when they saw the fine clothes and the ten or so heavily armed men accompanying Mike Bai, they held their disapproving glares back.
"You bunch of scoundrels, cowards!" Mike Bai shouted, sneering at the patrons. "Scared out of your wits by Saladin's name, and not even daring to fart!"
A few hotheads made moves to stand, but their comrades pulled them back, and they merely glared at Mike Bai's group.
"What? None of you here are men?" Mike Bai continued provocatively, his eyes scanning the room. "Or are you already prepared to roll over for Saladin when he comes, offering up your white bodies for him to enjoy?"
At this, the mercenaries' anger became palpable, their eyes burning with fury. If Mike Bai wasn't a noble, some of them might have already lunged at him.
"If you want to prove you're still men, then go and bring me Saladin's head!" Mike Bai's voice rang out.
Hearing Saladin's name, the mercenaries seemed to calm slightly. Mike Bai tossed a handful of silver coins into the air.
"I, Mike Bai Adler, Baron, am hiring you all. One gold nomi when you report to my estate, another gold nomi when you reach Ascalon."
He continued loudly, "After that, one gold nomi for every infidel soldier's head, five for a sergeant, and fifty for a centurion."
The mercenaries' interest was piqued, their excitement palpable at the sight of the bounty. Mike Bai's eyes were filled with disdain as he looked at them, but he shouted again, "Saladin's head: 10,000 gold nomi!"
Ten thousand gold nomi! The mercenaries were stunned by the sheer amount. A typical estate might only be worth 500 gold nomi, but ten thousand was enough to buy a baron's fief.
Before the mercenaries could react, Mike Bai kicked open a chest, revealing a pile of neatly stacked gold coins. The sight was blinding, and the entire tavern was silent except for the heavy breathing of the mercenaries.
"Want it? Then go get Saladin's head!" Mike Bai's voice rang out.
Time passed, and soon it was clear that Mike Bai and his group had disappeared without a trace. If it hadn't been for the silver coins scattered on the floor, the mercenaries might have thought they had been part of a dream.
Now, however, the greedy gleam in their eyes had turned green.
Someone made the first move, and soon, dozens of mercenaries grabbed their weapons and charged out of the tavern, leaving the tavern keeper bewildered.
Thanks to the unceasing wars surrounding the Holy Land, large numbers of mercenaries had come here looking for work. After five days of heavy coin, Mike Bai had managed to gather an army of 1,500 men. Among them were several mercenary groups of considerable strength.
One group, a battle-hardened infantry from the southern Frankish Kingdom, was well-equipped with spears, shields, helmets, and armor. While most wore patchwork leather armor, a few of the captains had chain mail. This 400-man unit was positioned in the middle of Mike Bai's army.
Another group, the Turkoman mercenaries from Anatolia, though pagans, were willing to fight like wolves for the right price. Their equipment was minimal, consisting mostly of animal pelts, but each man had a horse and excellent archery skills. Mike Bai positioned the 200-man unit at the front to scout ahead.
And to his surprise, Mike Bai had acquired an elite unit. He remembered clearly sitting at the recruitment table when a group of towering men, all over 6 feet tall and incredibly muscular, suddenly blocked out the sun. They walked up to Mike Bai's table and immediately began drinking from the large jug of wine that had been placed there for his own refreshment.
Ignoring Mike Bai's surprised gaze, they drank down the entire jug. Mike Bai held back William, who was about to discipline them, and patiently waited for their leader to finish the last drop of wine.
Finally, the leader wiped his mouth, satisfied, and laughed, introducing himself. This group of mercenaries was from the Kingdom of Denmark. They had originally been hired by a baron to make a pilgrimage, but when their employer had fallen ill near the Holy Land, they had been stranded. Without work or funds, they had sought out any job that could pay for their journey home.
Though the group had only 80 men, they were all equipped with double-layered chain mail and helmets. They carried short swords, shields, and spears, and many wielded large axes and maces that were difficult for ordinary men to handle.
Mike Bai agreed to provide them with two barrels of ale per day, on top of their standard pay.
Five days later, unable to wait any longer, Mike Bai led his hastily assembled force of 1,500 mercenaries and 150 estate guards toward Ascalon.
"Saladin, I've got you cornered. Even Jesus won't save you now. I'm telling you!" Mike Bai muttered to himself, a fierce grin on his face.