Mike Bai stood atop the peak of a mountain known locally as Mongisa, gazing out at the landscape around him. The terrain, though not particularly treacherous, was wide open and flat, ideal for cavalry charges. To the south, the distant Mount Maki loomed on the horizon, but the slopes here were gentle and unassuming. The desert stretched out, a sea of stony, barren ground with little cover—perfect for mounted troops to advance quickly.
Between the two mountains lay a narrow valley, not exactly wide, but beyond it lay an expansive plain where Jerusalem would soon face the full brunt of Saladin's army.
Mike Bai stared silently at the billowing dust to the west.
"Baron Mike Bai, what do you think of this mighty army?" A voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see King Baldwin approaching on horseback, his tone surprisingly light despite the impending battle.
Mike Bai hesitated for a moment before answering honestly, "I can't help but feel a bit concerned."
Baldwin chuckled softly. "You're honest, I'll give you that. But I don't blame you. The odds are certainly against us."
Still eyeing the king, Mike Bai couldn't help but ask, "But Your Majesty, don't you have confidence in defeating Saladin here?"
Baldwin's smile faltered, his voice as calm as ever. "No, I don't have confidence. I'm only doing what I can."
Mike Bai raised an eyebrow, sensing something unsettling. "Aren't you worried about what will happen if we lose?"
Baldwin gave a quiet laugh. "Everyone must die eventually. At least, before I go, my kingdom will still be prosperous."
It struck Mike Bai then, seeing the young man before him—just sixteen years old, wearing a silver mask, his frail health concealed beneath layers of clothing. Baldwin had ascended to the throne at thirteen and was suffering from leprosy. Facing the might of Saladin in his prime, Baldwin's struggle to hold his kingdom together was already an extraordinary feat. What more could one hope for?
Mike Bai, suddenly feeling a pang of sympathy, pulled out a shriveled apple from his pack and offered it to the king.
"For now, this is all I have. After we get back to Jerusalem, I'll make sure you get something better," he said sincerely, not as a noble, but as a fellow young man.
Baldwin accepted the apple and tucked it away. "I'll hold you to that, Baron Mike Bai."
The two men stood in silence, watching the growing cloud of dust in the distance until Baldwin spoke again. "It's almost time, Mike Bai. We should head back."
Perhaps when one reaches the depths of despair, they stop fearing it. Mike Bai's earlier concerns and fears vanished, replaced by a steely resolve. War was inevitable, and so it was time to fight—life or death.
"Go!" Mike Bai shouted, cracking his whip. His horse surged forward, galloping down the mountain, where the full army of 4,000 Kingdom troops had gathered.
Banners fluttered in the wind, knights in mail and helmets carrying their banners high as they gave water to their steeds. The infantry made final adjustments to their gear, ensuring everything was in order.
Mike Bai reached his 800-strong mercenary force. This time, each of them wore proper armor and helmets, with half the troops outfitted in heavy chainmail. They carried not only spears but also war hammers, scimitars, and other short weapons.
Thanks to Taqi-ud-Din's generous spoils, Mike Bai had equipped his men with salvaged weapons and armor, distributing them as payment to his mercenaries. The gratitude from his troops had greatly bolstered their morale, and the added gear had significantly strengthened their fighting capabilities.
A bishop in fine golden robes slowly made his way to the front of the army in a carriage, but the true spectacle was the enormous golden cross behind him, adorned with gold leaf and jewels, gleaming in the sunlight. Mike Bai couldn't help but eye it greedily—the legendary relic of Christ's crucifixion—the very crosspiece that had borne Jesus Himself. It was said that only a few fragments of the original cross had survived the centuries, and they were stored in a velvet box atop this magnificent cross.
The entire army of Christians dropped to one knee in reverence, their faces filled with fervor.
"Lord, glory be to Your name, not ours. May Your loving-kindness and faithfulness be praised."
The bishop led the prayer, and all the soldiers whispered sacred words, kissing their crosses or swords in hopes of divine protection. The air was heavy with solemnity, and even the infidels facing east began to offer their own prayers.
After the messenger had relayed reports of Saladin's movements, Baldwin's army slowly began to advance.
The lead knights, with their mounted retainers, formed the vanguard, a powerful wedge cutting through the air, accompanied by the sound of clanking armor and the thunder of hooves. The remaining 3,000 infantry was split into two groups, marching forward in synchronized steps, the mercenary leaders shouting orders to keep the men's spirits high, the ranks booming with the sounds of soldiers calling to one another.
"Shassan, stay close to me! Don't wander off!" Mike Bai snapped, grabbing Shassan's hand firmly.
Shassan, looking into Mike Bai's determined eyes, felt a flutter of anxiety but nodded in agreement, calming her nerves.
"Let's go!"
Mike Bai's force followed the rear ranks as they moved over the mountain pass, revealing the vast army of Saladin. A sea of black-clad soldiers poured out of the valley, Saladin's banner waving proudly at the front. More troops stretched out in long lines behind them.
Under the golden banner, Saladin, clad in golden scale armor, watched the approaching Crusaders from the north. His face darkened ever so slightly.
"Uncle Sultan!" Saladin's nephew, Emir, rode up swiftly. "The Crusaders are attacking from the top of Mongisa!"
Saladin gave a dismissive wave, signaling that he was already aware. His sharp eyes scanned the approaching Christian forces, noting the gleaming golden cross that led their ranks.
"I thought Baldwin would stay locked inside Jerusalem, ignoring our raids," Saladin murmured. "But this...this is a surprise. I didn't expect them to strike from so close."
His expression hardened. "Order the vanguard to pivot and flank them. Have the rear march forward and rally at Mount Maki. We will make our stand there."
"At once, Sultan!"
Saladin raised his head, his eyes fixed on the distant golden cross. "King Baldwin, today we will see whether your gamble pays off, or whether my army overwhelms you and takes the Holy City."
Though he had the advantage in numbers, an unsettling feeling stirred deep in Saladin's chest—something he couldn't quite place.