Chapter 426: Known for Mercy

Chapter 426: Chapter 302: Known for Mercy

Leif served as the interpreter, translating the Turk’s Arabic for the others.

“What right do you have to negotiate? Peace? That is what *you* pray for, not us! We crave war! Only cowards desire peace!” the Count of Ponthieu roared.

The Count of Ponthieu’s words hung in the air like a scorching flame. The Knights at his side roared in agreement, their faces contorted with anger and contempt. They stared at the Turk envoy with utter disdain.

“Peace?” an older Knight scoffed, an eyebrow raised in clear contempt. “Why would we desire your so-called ‘peace,’ steeped in lies and fear? You just want us to submit, to lay down our Swords, and hand over the Holy Land. We will not be so easily deceived!”

Another young Knight, his face scarred from battle, let out a cold laugh, his voice laced with fury. “We are not some weak nation. Your surrender and submission hold no appeal for us. We came here not to compromise, but to defend our faith and punish the Heretics! It was your blasphemy that brought on this war, yet you have the audacity to speak of peace in this place? How utterly laughable!”

“If you desire peace,” another Knight taunted, “then return to your steppes! We need neither your hypocritical words nor your so-called ‘goodwill’! This is our Holy Land, and we will protect it at all costs!”

The Count of Ponthieu spoke again, his voice brimming with scorn and resolve. “You try to hide your fear behind a mask of peace, but we see the cowardice in your hearts. You know our Power is unrivaled! We are the sharpened Sword of God, a light upon this land. God has granted us righteousness and Courage, while you can only cower in the shadows and beg for mercy!”

The surrounding Knights nodded, muttering curses as the fervor among them mounted. One of them spat viciously:

“Your agonized wails are a delight to us—it is what we crave! They are like the purest Hymn, a sound that will wash away our sins!”

The taciturn Eustace, Count of Boulogne, drew his Longsword, slashed his Monk’s Robe, and threw the tattered cloth at the Turk’s feet. “If you truly desire peace, then repent to our God and forsake darkness for the light. Otherwise, let blood be the end of all negotiation!”

“We are not some weak nation. Your surrender and submission hold no appeal for us. We came here not to compromise, but to defend our faith and punish the Heretics!

It was your blasphemy that brought on this war, yet you have the audacity to speak of peace in this place? How utterly laughable!”

“…”

The Turk listened to the Crusader Knights’ furious tirades, a cold smile gracing his lips. He was clearly unfazed by their rage.

He slowly scanned the Knights, his eyes holding a faint trace of disdain, before he finally spoke.

“I do not know who is the master here and who is the servant,” he paused, a subtle mockery in his tone. “When the master speaks, the servants should be silent. Or is it that among your ranks, everyone is a master?”

His words were laced with sharp sarcasm as he coldly observed their reactions. “If that is the case, then I truly pity you. It seems your host is even more chaotic than I imagined. Amidst such a clamor of voices, can you truly tell who is leading and who is following?”

At this, the Turk lifted his chin slightly, his gaze fixed on Eric. “In that case, I shall speak only with the ‘true master.’ After all, I came here for the sole purpose of conveying my sovereign’s will to the one among you who holds the most authority.”

The Turk seemed to have realized that this massive, seemingly powerful host lacked a single leader with sufficient authority.

“He dares call us servants!” a young Knight cursed under his breath, his eyes filled with scorn and fury. “We are not like the base slaves of the East who sell their loyalties. We fight for our lords, but we remain free men!”

“What nonsense about ‘masters and servants’?! We are all Warriors of God; we bow to no man!” another Knight yelled furiously, his gaze sweeping over his comrades as if to remind them that regardless of birth or rank, they all stood equal in the name of God.

“Oh, is that so? I wonder if the Earl of Gloucester from England feels the same way. My apologies, I was under the impression that you were the master here.” The Turk smiled, bowing to Eric.

Eric replied, “Here, every one of us is a master. They lead their own men from their own lands and wield their own Swords on the battlefield. These Warriors, bound by their vows, are no man’s servants. No one must bow his head for the sake of glory. What you see is an army united by faith and oath. We are the servants of God, but here—we are all masters.”

“Although you speak a language foreign to me, I can still sense your masterful command of rhetoric. Such magnificent phrasing! Your words are like faceted jewels, exquisite and dazzling. And yet, the most beautiful turns of phrase are ultimately mere adornments to reality.

You are victorious. You are bathed in glory. For that reason, even the simplest words from your lips would be convincing and admirable…

…But were you to find yourself in a state of defeat, I fear even your most brilliant words would pale, unable to conceal the cruelty of reality.

Just a few months ago, another army of Franks, who also called themselves Warriors of God—your own kinsmen—came to this war-torn land. However, they possessed neither your rhetorical skill nor your wisdom and cunning. They fought for themselves, each harboring his own ambitions for glory and purpose. They were not of one mind, possessing only a near-foolish Courage. In the end, they were routed and scattered on the battlefield, their grand boasts torn to shreds.

You are different from them; that is beyond doubt. Your Power and glory lend weight to your words, granting you supreme confidence.”

“So that is your bargaining chip.” Eric perceived this instantly. ‘Which Crusader army was so unfortunate?’ he wondered.

“Perhaps.” The Turk shrugged, then pulled a small book from within his robes and made a show of flipping through it. “Because we Seljuk Turks believe that a Warrior of God should possess divine mercy and compassion. In the East, whether they dwell on the land or by the sea, on the plains or in the mountains…

…their understanding of God may differ, but every people knows that God is renowned for mercy and compassion. For Allah says in the holy texts that His mercy encompasses all things.”

With that, the Turk closed the small book, revealing a Crescent on its cover. He smiled and said, “Earl of Gloucester, I ask you out of curiosity, if you would be so kind as to enlighten us: does your God teach you compassion and mercy?

Oh, and by the way, I recall that Christians, much like us, refer to one another as brothers and sisters, do they not? You see? We have something in common, do we not?”

Eric suddenly found himself looking at the Turk in a new light.