"Not good at all!" Norn muttered to himself as he analyzed the price trends over the past six months, his anxiety growing with each passing moment.
Thanks to the Venetian merchants who conducted business all over the world, Norn had easily obtained information on the prices of the infidels' goods. The prices of war-related commodities such as grain, iron ore, and draft animals had been rising steadily since half a year ago. Particularly in Egypt, the traditional granary of the region, the price of grain had surged significantly.
What was even more alarming was that while gathering intelligence, Norn overheard a clerk at the trading post mention that the Venetians had sold large quantities of Greek fire and ballistae to the infidels.
"Even if we don't sell them, others will," the merchants had responded nonchalantly when Norn expressed his astonishment. At that moment, Norn clenched his teeth in frustration, understanding why there was a play called The Merchant of Venice. It seemed these people would sell even the noose to hang themselves.
Taking into account the military movements reported by Sasan, Norn was now almost certain that a major battle would take place within the year.
Gazing at the foundation he had built over the past three years—the windmill that never ceased to produce, the thriving manor, and the painstakingly established trade network—Norn felt a deep sense of reluctance to leave. After all, this was a manor with an annual output exceeding 5,000 gold nomismata. However, the mere mention of Saladin cast a dark shadow over his heart.
Before Saladin's rise to power, the Crusader states had generally enjoyed more victories than defeats against the loosely organized infidel nations. But ever since Saladin emerged, he gradually consolidated the infidel territories of Egypt, Syria, and Damascus into a formidable force, posing a grave threat to the Crusader states.
Yet, despite his formidable reputation, Norn had also heard many positive evaluations of this great ruler from those around him. It was said that Saladin, whose name in Arabic meant "the warrior of the righteous faith," had often led from the front in his youth, facing overwhelming odds and repeatedly thwarting the Crusaders' attempts to invade Egypt.
After taking control of Egypt, Saladin purged the old bureaucracy, developed irrigation systems, promoted agriculture, and reduced taxes, quickly winning the support and affection of the people. Moreover, he presented himself as a devout believer, performing the five daily prayers without fail and even making a pilgrimage to Mecca, which earned him widespread favor among the infidels.
Three years ago, when Norn first arrived, Saladin had outlived his former master and, after serving as the regent for his master's orphaned heir, gradually seized control of Damascus and northern Syria. Saladin, a formidable opponent with exceptional military, political, and religious acumen, as well as immense personal charisma, could now easily mobilize an army of over 40,000 soldiers. He possessed the finest warhorses in the world and could procure whatever he needed from the Venetian merchants.
In contrast, the Crusaders, even if they set aside their internal conflicts and mobilized their entire forces, could barely muster an army of less than 20,000. Despite the exceptional bravery of their knights, the overwhelming disparity in strength left Norn feeling utterly powerless.
Lost in thought, Norn sat at his desk, so preoccupied that he didn't even notice when Otto approached from behind.
"What's wrong?" Otto asked, noticing Norn's troubled expression. Norn forced a smile, but under his uncle's persistent questioning, he finally revealed his analysis that a great battle was imminent.
After a long silence, Otto placed a hand on Norn's shoulder. "Norn, you have grown up. Take the people here and return to your territory."
"But, Uncle..." Norn began, but Otto cut him off.
"Norn, you are just a pilgrim who came to the Holy Land. You have no obligation to fight for the Kingdom of Jerusalem."
Otto sighed and gestured for Norn to come to the window. Outside, Norn's manor had flourished into a bustling town-like community. The workers were energetic and rosy-cheeked, laboring diligently. A group of strong soldiers trained bare-chested, and several children played joyfully during their break. The shadow of war had yet to fall upon them, and they remained optimistic as usual.
"Look at them," Otto said, "These people are what you, as a lord, should truly care about."
Seeing that Norn still wanted to argue, Otto smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I won't be so easily harmed. Besides, in another seven years, my term of service will be over, and I'll return home."
Otto made a rare joke, "Even if the infidels are powerful, they won't conquer the entire kingdom in just a few years."
"Thus, for the sake of our family and the people under your rule," Otto said solemnly, looking into Norn's eyes, "Go home."
The next day, when Norn announced that they needed to prepare to return to their territory due to the impending war, everyone was taken aback. The knights were fine, as they were nobles who would simply follow their liege lord. However, the workers' faces were etched with worry. They had finally found stability, and now they were faced with the prospect of moving to a distant place.
Norn repeatedly assured them that he would not abandon anyone who chose to follow him and would provide a severance payment to those who wished to stay. After the initial hesitation, everyone, including the workers, expressed their willingness to follow Norn.
"My lord, I believe in your promise, and I believe that only you can give us hope," Sasan said.
Feeling the trust of his people, Norn felt an even greater sense of responsibility. In his previous life, he had never managed so many people. He had no choice but to diligently arrange for their return every day, instructing the knights to pack supplies, having Anna manage the inventory, and asking
Sasan to contact merchants to arrange ships for their journey home, among other tasks.
The continuous hard work and mental pressure eventually began to take its toll on Norn. Even when practicing swordsmanship, he found himself becoming absent-minded.
"Clang!" Norn's sword was once again knocked out of his hand by Patrick. After a moment of daze, Norn shook his head and signaled his surrender.
Seeing that Norn was not in the right state, Patrick put down his longsword and stood beside him.
"This isn't the Norn I know," Patrick said gently, "What is troubling you, my lord?"
Looking at Patrick's handsome face and his bright, sunny gaze, Norn remained silent, merely scratching his head in frustration, turning it into a mess.
"If it's because of Saladin, then there is no need for you to worry," Patrick continued. "He is truly a great hero. There is nothing to be blamed for retreating in the face of such an opponent."
"But if it is because you feel that you have not fulfilled your duties as a lord, then I must disagree," Patrick patted Norn on the shoulder and pointed in a direction.
Norn followed his gaze and saw that despite everyone in the manor being busy, everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion. Anna was instructing a few children on what to pack, Sasan was leading some workers to pack the inventory, DeMol and HanMo were organizing the feeding of the horses, and even William casually took a swig from a wineskin he pulled from a cart. Everyone seemed to be doing something as routine as could be, without any signs of distress from leaving their homeland.
Norn could sense the trust everyone had in him and understood what Patrick was implying without saying it.
"Lord, if you feel that your strength is insufficient, then you should strive even harder and cheer up. In just three years, this small manor has produced more wealth than Lord Otto could earn in ten years, all thanks to your ingenuity. I believe that in twenty years, you will be a hero no less than Saladin."
"I just... worry about Uncle Otto," Norn sighed, recalling the years of care and support Otto had given him, with every detail flooding back into his mind.
His adoptive uncle Otto, though not a man of many words, had always helped Norn grow in his own way, both materially and spiritually.
"Is it really okay to leave like this?" Norn turned to look at Patrick.
The dazzling sunlight shone directly into Norn's eyes, blinding him and making it impossible to see Patrick's expression. All he could hear was Patrick's calm voice.
"Lord Otto has simply made his choice."
After a brief silence, Patrick's voice continued.
"From what I know of Lord Otto, even if we forcibly took him back, he would spend the rest of his life consumed by guilt and regret. It would be better to let him atone here."
Norn could only inwardly sigh, "To seek one's desire and obtain it, what is there to regret?"
After a long while, Norn finally came to his senses. He stood up, brushed the dust off his clothes, and despite the lingering worry on his face, he smiled at Patrick in gratitude. He then walked towards William, shouting, "William, you're drinking again while working!"
Watching Norn wrestle with William for the wineskin, Patrick smiled warmly, but a hint of concern crept onto his face.
"Take care, Lord Otto."