Chapter 498 - 354: Baalbek’s Madness

Baalbek was a miserable place.

Two years ago, Turkic Warlords from the north had plundered and burned it. When Aziz was killed by Tutush, the town’s reconstruction was not even halfway complete.

The remaining part of the town was situated on the south bank of the Orontes River, flanked by the Lebanon Mountains to the east and west. This location was the very reason for its existence, as it was built at the river’s first crossing, which offered some protection against attacks from the south.

However, it was defenseless against fleets sailing up the Orontes River and the Turkic Cavalry from the north. Those Turkic People stole whatever they could, raped any woman they wanted, killed those they didn’t need, and carried the rest off as slaves.

These Turkic People came from Anatolia, Aleppo, Mosul, and even settlements farther to the East. Sometimes, they were enemies of their own Turkic kin, and they mercilessly slaughtered the Turkic People living in Baalbek.

The geography of the Levant was complex and varied. Arid regions were extremely dry, while humid areas were drenched. On the journey from Hama to Baalbek, it had rained for nearly two-thirds of the time. The remaining third was a torment of harsh winds and scorching sun.

As a result, many Knights dutifully donned their white cloaks, and some even wore headscarves. They had no desire to return home burned black by the sun.

Today, on the day of the Crusaders’ arrival, the daytime rain had finally stopped. A ray of golden sunlight pierced through the clouds from the west, shining southwards, as Eric led his Crusaders into Baalbek.

Eric had most of his army camp outside the walls. He led his personal guard knights, along with Belem, Stephen, and others, on horseback through a broken gate and into the shattered town as dusk fell.

The Crusaders rode directly into that expansive beam of sunlight. Eric wore a silver Middle Helmet, its Beak-style Mask raised high. The sun glinted off his Chain Armor, Arm Guards, and the hilts of his two Swords, making him seem to shimmer and glow.

Eric rode at the very front of the column. Neither Belem nor Stephen could match his impressive appearance. The formidable Knights clustered tightly behind him. Because the Knights were wearing cloaks and headscarves, the symbol of the Cross was hidden beneath their robes, a detail the onlookers failed to notice.

The dazzling sunlight and the raw emotion of the moment blurred the thoughts of the people of Baalbek. Someone pointed at Eric and shouted, "That is the King!"

And indeed, Eric did almost look like a King. Naturally, he had no wish to disappoint ’his subjects’, so he waved to them enthusiastically.

Eric was mounted on Rabbit. The warhorse tossed its great head and stamped its hooves on the ground, while Eric, clad in his shining Battle Armor, looked absolutely radiant.

The streets of Baalbek were nearly overflowing with people. Those who normally lived in the surrounding towns and villages had heard the news of the ’King’s’ arrival and had all returned to Baalbek.

Many of the houses here had been rebuilt, but a good number of people had set up camp in the charred ruins, living alongside their livestock. It was clear that these people were not all locals from Baalbek; many of them were Turkic People.

They were dissatisfied with Tutush’s rule and unwilling to be reabsorbed into the Empire they had once abandoned. Heeding the call of the Sheikhs, they came to Baalbek, firm in their belief that their new King was coming. They were convinced he was appointed by Allah and, like a Prophet, would bring them freedom and dignity.

And now, from the north, a shining Warrior on a black Warhorse, clad in Battle Armor, rode toward them.

"King!"

Another voice cried out, and more joined in. People emerged from the broken houses and simple shacks, their eyes fixed on Eric.

Several old men in black robes were trying to quiet them, but the words they spoke in Arabic were completely lost in the uproar.

Eric expected Shansi to protest as well, but instead, Shansi simply pulled down the hood of his cloak, looking like just another one of the black-robed old men struggling to keep up with them.

People knelt as Eric passed, then scrambled back to their feet to follow him.

The growing crowd followed Eric as he rode up a long, low hill toward a new hall at its summit.

As Eric drew closer, he saw that it was not a hall, but a Mosque. At the entrance to the Mosque, Sufi Practitioners came out to welcome them.

A madness filled the air in Baalbek.

It was a different kind of madness from that of bloodshed in battle, but it was madness all the same.

Women were weeping, men were shouting, and children stared with wide eyes.

Mothers held their infants up toward Eric, as if his touch could heal them.

"You must stop them!" An old man in a black robe finally reached Eric’s side and tried to grab the right stirrup of Rabbit.

But Rabbit stopped in its tracks, whipped its head around to face the old man, and stared at him with its huge eyes before letting out a threatening snort.

The old man, startled, immediately gave up.

"Why?"

"Because they are wrong! Shansi is the King!" the old man said loudly, mustering his courage.

Eric smiled at him.

"Perhaps," Eric said slowly, as if the idea had only just occurred to him. "Perhaps I should be the King?"

"Lord Eric!" the old man exclaimed in astonishment.