Despite his grandiose words, Mike Bai was well aware of the limitations of his ragtag army. He had 1,500 mercenaries under his command, who, for the time being, were obedient thanks to the gold he had poured into them. But Mike Bai knew their loyalty was likely only skin-deep. In easy battles, he could show his tactical prowess, but if things turned grim, it wouldn't be long before his own men, perhaps even he himself, would be the first to sell out.
His personal guard numbered less than 150—barely enough to be considered a proper elite force. Of these, around 120 were seasoned infantry from the Hamor Knights' elite detachment, followed by 20 cavalrymen, including knights William and Patrick and their retinue, and a few spies trained by Sassan.
Mike Bai sighed inwardly. Though he wore a confident mask, he was not naive. If he commanded 10,000 elite soldiers, he'd dare to face Saladin in open battle. With 3,000, he could make Saladin's forces bleed beneath the walls. But now, his direct command barely numbered 150, and even with their prowess, they'd struggle against ten to one odds.
But Mike Bai knew, as any seasoned commander did, that war wasn't just a numbers game. Otherwise, history wouldn't have borne witness to so many legendary figures becoming stepping stones for others.
As memories of past battles and stories flooded his mind, Mike Bai felt a surge of clarity, as though the spirits of great tacticians like Sun Tzu, Wu Qi, Han Xin, and Luo Guanzhong were guiding his thoughts. In that moment, he didn't feel alone in his struggle.
In the silence, he recalled a passage that had always resonated with him:
"Sun Tzu said: 'Attack with the regular, defeat with the irregular.'"
Looking over his map, he spoke with sudden conviction.
"Saladin's forces are strong, and he has successfully laid siege to King Baldwin. His pride will lead him to believe he can capture Jerusalem effortlessly if he takes Ascalon Castle quickly, perhaps even taking Baldwin alive. His arrogance will be his undoing."
Mike Bai's eyes gleamed as he outlined his plan.
"When Saladin marches on Ascalon, we will strike at his rear. His army, unprepared for a counterattack, will be thrown into disarray. Our knights will burst forth from the castle and cut through his forces. We can win this."
He spoke passionately, gesturing toward the map, but the faces of his officers remained blank, their expressions a mix of confusion and reluctant admiration. Mike Bai's heart sank. He realized that his strategy—designed for large-scale warfare—was far beyond the understanding of these men, who were used to smaller skirmishes and personal duels, not army-wide maneuvers.
Eventually, it was Patrick who broke the silence, his voice uncertain.
"Mike Bai... just tell us what to do."
Mike Bai's eyes sharpened. "Simple. Step one: Fast."
Taking advantage of the early information, Mike Bai had already managed to procure a vast amount of supplies before the city descended into panic. Among these were mules and carts, which, along with his own resources, transformed his army into a "mule-powered" force.
He instructed his men to travel light, carrying only essential gear and supplies. As a result, every soldier had either a mule for transport or a place in the carts. Though the jolting of the carts made travel uncomfortable, they achieved an unprecedented pace—30 kilometers a day.
After four days of forced marches, they arrived at a valley outside Ascalon Castle.
"Step two: Hide."
Mike Bai did not order an immediate assault. Instead, he allowed his exhausted troops a night's rest. He stationed Sassan's spies and 200 Turkoman light cavalry in rotation to patrol the area, ensuring no scouts from Saladin's army got too close. Fortunately, no such encounters took place.
"Step three: Strike," Mike Bai continued.
Later that afternoon, Mike Bai approached Sassan, who, despite the fatigue of three days of relentless travel, still held herself with unwavering resolve.
"Sassan, I know you've been through a lot, but I have one final task for you."
Sassan raised an eyebrow. "Is it to take Saladin's head?" Her tone was calm, but there was a glint of temptation in her eyes.
Mike Bai swallowed but shook his head. "My homeland doesn't have customs that allow young girls to take men's lives."
Sassan suppressed a smile. "You yourself are still a child," she thought, but said aloud, "We are but tools in the hands of greater powers. Our identities matter little."
Mike Bai shook his head again, his gaze firm. "Your mission is to deliver this letter to King Baldwin. Tell him the situation here. If Saladin's forces descend into chaos tomorrow, he must send help."
Sassan took the letter with an expression of quiet determination. "If anything goes wrong, I will make sure to cut off his head and bury it with you."
"Don't worry. It won't come to that," Mike Bai reassured her, walking away. But then he stopped halfway and turned, his voice cutting through the air. "If anything happens to me... take your people and find somewhere to hide. Wait until the war ends before you come out."
Sassan glared at his retreating back, exasperated and worried. This fool.
That night, the darkness fell like a tidal wave, swallowing the land. Sassan, like a shadow, blended into it, silently moving toward Saladin's camp. She hid her mount behind a rock and scanned the enemy fortifications, where numerous sentries and hidden scouts were posted. But Sassan, trained in stealth, slipped through undetected.
She approached the camp's outskirts, her eyes narrowed as she observed the changing of the guards. None noticed her presence—no one saw when she disappeared into the shadows.
When she reached Saladin's inner camp, she hesitated for a moment before dropping her dagger. It was the king's golden tent. She had a job to do.
Sassan continued onward, scaling the walls effortlessly with a grappling hook, as if it were second nature. In a few moments, she was atop the castle, her eyes sweeping across its layout, mapping the structure in her mind.
She dropped down from the roof, and a few moments later, she was standing in front of the tower where the tumult of voices rose from within. She sprang into action, dispatching two guards with swift precision before pushing open the doors to the inner hall.
The room went silent. The dim light of flickering candles reflected off a dozen drawn swords, each held by an anxious noble. But Sassan's gaze was fixed on the figure sitting in the throne, the man behind the silver mask.
A guard tried to sneak up from behind, but Sassan swiftly deflected his blow, sending him sprawling. She stood tall, cold eyes sweeping the room as her voice, like ice, echoed in the chamber.
"Mike Bai, Baron Adler, has arrived to aid us. Prepare for battle tomorrow morning. When Saladin's forces fall into disarray, strike."
The nobles stared at her in disbelief, some with suspicion.
"It's impossible! It'll take at least eight days for troops to travel from Jerusalem!" one of them shouted.
Then, someone recognized her. "Assassin! She's a Hashshashin!"
The mood in the room darkened immediately, swords being drawn as they slowly encircled her.
"Believe it or not," Sassan tossed the letter onto the table, her voice unwavering. "If you miss this opportunity, you'll be waiting for your doom."
With that, she vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but a whisper of danger.