A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Chapter 430: Chapter 306: The Fool

The patrol captain had no intention of arguing with them. He simply said, “If this man is truly an Alchemist, you still have no authority to deal with him.”

Another voice rang out from behind him. “Besides, the man you are offending is a guest of Suleiman Shah, the master of Antioch!”

The owner of the voice was Turandot. This confidant of Suleiman Shah held a long whip tightly in his hand as he rode his horse to the front of the patrol. His gaze swept over the crowd like a blade, finally settling on the scar-faced man in the lead. He raised his whip, pointed at the troublemakers, and gave a cold command: “Arrest all these fools who dare to cause trouble! Let them taste the price of defying Suleiman Shah’s authority!”

As the order was given, the soldiers moved with brutal efficiency. The scar-faced leader didn’t even have time to beg for mercy before he was slammed to the ground by several fully-armored soldiers. His face was pressed against the dusty stone road, his hands bound behind his back, and a soldier stomped hard on his spine. The other followers were similarly subdued and tightly bound.

Turandot dismounted, whip in hand, and slowly walked toward the scar-faced man. The surrounding citizens held their breath, not daring to make a sound.

“All of you, remember this: Antioch has only one master and obeys only one man’s command. Besides the Sultan and the Prophet himself, you will obey no one! Otherwise, your bodies and souls will suffer eternal torment!”

Turandot’s voice cut through the crowd like a chilling wind.

At this, Turandot abruptly swung his whip, lashing it violently across the scar-faced man’s face.

A deep, bloody welt appeared instantly. Blood trickled down the man’s cheek, staining the stone ground red. Turandot struck him several more times, until the man’s pained screams became choked sobs and his body trembled like a dying fish.

Then, Turandot turned to face the gathered citizens. The murderous intent in his eyes had not faded, and his voice was as cold as iron. “Let every one of you remember this! The laws of Antioch are made by the Sultan. Anyone who dares to offend the Sultan’s dignity will face the most severe punishment! Today, their fate is a testament to that!”

He then turned to the soldiers, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Take the leader away. Cut off both his feet and abandon him in the wilderness to fend for himself! As for the others, cut out their tongues, give them fifty lashes, and then banish them from the city.

Let their suffering be a warning to all—those who defy Suleiman Shah are unworthy of the grace of Allah and their master!”

The soldiers immediately dragged the men away. The scar-faced man and his accomplices wept and wailed, but no amount of struggling could change their fate. The surrounding citizens dispersed in silence, none daring to watch any longer.

Turandot then walked quickly to Eric’s side and said respectfully, “Lord Earl, I hope this resolution is to your satisfaction. By tradition, you are entitled to carry out their sentence yourself.”

“I have no interest in such things. You can handle it yourselves.” Eric waved his hand dismissively. “However, Lord Turandot, may I ask a question?”

“Of course. That is precisely why I was sent to receive you, my lord.” Turandot bowed to Eric again.

Eric glanced at the surrounding crowd before turning to Turandot. “Why do I see no Greeks here? I’ve heard that this city has only been under Suleiman Shah’s rule for two years. Antioch has always held a significant position within the Greek Empire.”

Upon hearing Eric’s question, Turandot was visibly taken aback, and his gaze faltered. He lowered his head and mulled it over for a moment, seemingly weighing his words. Just then, however, Hayam, who had been standing to the side, spoke softly and broke the brief silence.

“That is because you have come too late,” Hayam said, his tone tinged with emotion. His voice was low yet full of wisdom, drawing everyone’s attention. “Had you arrived in Antioch three months ago, you would have seen throngs of Greeks in every street and alley of this city. Now, however, many things have changed.”

Eric raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at Turandot.

Hearing Hayam’s answer, Turandot seemed uneasy. He glanced at the ground before slowly raising his head, speaking cautiously. “Lord Earl, this is precisely where the situation in Antioch becomes complicated. When Suleiman Shah conquered Antioch two years ago, a portion of the Greek population was indeed allowed to remain. But as the Sultan’s rule solidified, some local unrest and rebellions—” he paused, “—led to their gradual migration or expulsion.”

Eric frowned slightly, his gaze remaining sharp. “Unrest? Or should we say ‘purges’? Lord Turandot, if it was merely unrest, why have they all disappeared? This is the most thorough ‘unrest’ I have ever seen.”

Tiny beads of cold sweat appeared on Turandot’s forehead, but he maintained his respectful posture. “Lord Earl, you must understand that the Greeks were not a monolithic group. Many among them were hostile to Suleiman Shah’s rule and even secretly colluded with the Byzantines. For the stability of Antioch, the Sultan had to take certain… severe measures.” He looked up and added tentatively, “But I believe that under the Sultan’s governance, Antioch will become stronger and more unified, which will also be beneficial to your endeavors.”

Hayam chuckled softly. He looked at Eric and said slowly, “My lord from a distant land, history has always been an arena for the contest of power. The disappearance of the Greeks here may be an arrangement of fate, or perhaps it was an inevitable political outcome. But I cannot help but ask a question—” he paused, “—by losing the Greeks, has Antioch also lost its soul? Antioch, the crossroads of many peoples. The Greeks and Romans brought the splendor of philosophy, architecture, and drama. The Arabs brought knowledge of medicine and geography, while the Persians were renowned for their poetry, astronomy, and sophisticated administrative systems. Only when these different souls merged did it become the great Antioch we know. But now, if one soul is torn away, expelled… though the city still stands, its glory may no longer be complete.”

“Antioch is just a city. It doesn’t need a ‘soul,’ nor does it have one. It needs order, loyalty, and a powerful ruler. If the Greeks could not submit, then naturally, they could not remain.” A flicker of displeasure crossed Turandot’s face upon hearing this, but he restrained himself in Eric’s presence.

Hayam smiled, his tone still serene. “Order is important, of course. But if that order is built upon fear and expulsion, then it is like a tower built of sand, liable to collapse at any moment.”

Hayam’s words gave Turandot a headache. He glared at Hayam. “You look somewhat familiar, sir. Have we met before?”

“A nameless poet who brings joy to the Sultan’s court.” Hayam gave Turandot a slight bow, then tilted his head back and said with a smile, “My apologies. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m saying myself. I hope you won’t take offense, my lord.”

“Poets. Always been that way.” Turandot snorted and looked away from Hayam.

Just then, a cavalryman galloped up, dismounted, and approached Turandot, whispering a few words in his ear.

Eric looked at Hayam. “Those aren’t the words of a mere poet…”

“Oh, my lord, please don’t say that word. Didn’t you see the bruise on my forehead? The pain makes my tongue tremble.”

“Hahaha, then you should learn to keep your mouth shut. The lords of Antioch are not known for their mercy.”

“Sometimes, the sentences just slip out of my mouth on their own. It’s a problem I struggle with. But luckily, I seem to have a talent for always finding my own personal saviors.

People who are tolerant, or who fancy themselves tolerant. People who love poetry, or who fancy themselves lovers of poetry.

Forgive me, my lord, but when I first saw you, I thought I had arrived in Hell and was seeing a Devil. After all, who would have thought that when your own coreligionists are tormenting you without mercy, a Heretic would appear as a saving Angel?

So I really do have this talent. It’s fortunate for me, but perhaps unfortunate for others.

Because my saviors usually cause others to suffer. It’s always this way, as if it’s a curse. What Allah grants me, Allah takes back from others.” Hayam looked at Eric.

“Just taking care of oneself is already an arduous and heavy burden for an ordinary person in this world.”

“The wise, or those who fancy themselves wise, always think they can change something in a world ruled by fools.” Hayam watched the scar-faced man being dragged away. “You are completely different from the Heretics I know.”

“Because order is based on fear—not just physical fear, but fear of the mind,” Eric said.

Hayam looked at Eric with some surprise, then smiled and nodded. “And fear is born from ignorance. It truly is a world ruled by fools.”

At that moment, the long-forgotten Skinny Jaber was crawling on all fours toward the nearest tavern. He scrambled inside as fast as he could, clearly having decided never to set foot outside again.

The city had become desolate. The country had fallen silent. The sky was cloudless.