Spring had started to drive the last remainder of winter off the island of Crete. At the castle, flowers had began blossoming at the trees. The pages would run around happily on their off hours, chasing may beetles, tieing them on small laces. Alexander, Hyrkan's son among them. He was the page of one of the oldest knights, Armando di Trevizo, who could not join in the armies that had deported a few weeks ago, for three years now.

Day after day, he would train with the sword, for he was very anxious to become a master of the sword, and of the art of war, to reach the glory of his Greek ancestors, and especially the one he shared his name with, Alexander the Great, of whom he had learnt from the lessons of history his father had put so much effort in making him attend. Only once though did he dare to speak of his ambitions, and received a good beating for being so immodest. That did nothing in quelling the flame that had been lighted though. He was glorybound, and he would achieve it, no matter the cost. So he carried the shortsword his father had to be fashioned for him on his belt at all times, ready to accept any and every challenge along the way. Though no challenge had appeared yet...

With these in mind, he would watch his may beetle fly around, bound on his thread. Soon it would be time to study with the monks. Alexander didn't relish the hours of studying Greek and Latin much, but he knew that such knowledge would allow him to delve into books that spoke of the heroic deeds of his ancestors. But before that, he had to visit his newly-born younger brother, who he found only so amusing to play with.

It was hot, very hot, but he was trembling. It was his fear and it had almost overcome him. He knew there were soldiers patrolling and he knew that even the slightest mistake could cost him his life. But he also knew Allah was watching him and that failure was far worse than even the most paintfull death.

Disguised as a mute Muslim physician he managed to enter the chambers of the newly born son of the Grand Master of the Order of the Temple. The maidens who were supposed to take care of the child did not pay too much attention to what the...physician was doing. They seemed to be far more preoccupied gossiping. He took advantage of that.

He slowly removed a hidden short knife next to his chest and with a swift blow he pierced the baby's chest and heart, killing him instantly.

Than suddenly, a door opened and a person of a boy's stature seemed to have entered the room. A scream in horror was heard. The assassin panicked and without even blinking he removed another short knife and threw it at the person who had just opened the door. But the light that came through the door blinded him just enough for him not to have his usual accuracy. He was further surprised to see the boy having such good reflexes that he even avoided the knife, which soon hit a pillar from outside the room.

Than, his worst nightmare happened and the child yelled:

QUOTE:
Assassin! Assassin! Guards!

Than the boy ran away...

The maidens were screaming and begging for mercy, but he could not spare them because they had just seen his face. He will kill them now and deal with the child later. Not long after, the room was virtually covered in blood as the bodies of the two maidens fell on the ground.

It was time for him to flee...

Moments after Alexander turned high on his heels he froze, as he heard the screams of the maidens. He wasn't scared anymore, he could only feel the urge of vengeance... and his lust for challenge. He turned around, took an oak chair from the first unlocked room he found, and rushed back, just in time to hear steel slashing against flesh. He knew there was not much time. He slammed the door and blocked the handle with the chair. The room was at the higher levels of the keep, and so the only way out was the lone window which overlooked a small yard. The assassin would have to either jump to his death, or climb his way down with a rope, as there were no other windows or premises on the way down.

The boy would run his heart out down the floors to reach that yard, alerting everyone of what happened. Soon there would be thirty guards at the door of the chambers. He reached the yard and went in hiding under a tree. Moments later, a rope made of cloth appeared, dropped from the window. The assassin was coming. Alexander unseathed his shortsword, feeling wave after way of chills running down his spine. It was his moment of glory, he was sure of that.

Moments later, the assassin landed on the small patch of land, and turned just in time to see a sword glittering against the scorching sun, and what seemed like a child's battlecry. The light blinded him, and it was the last thing he saw. The shortsword came down and made a slash so fierce, it almost cut the man's neck right off.

The spring of blood splattered upon Alexander, bathing him in it. As the assassin was having his final spasms, a loud noise was heard from above, and a guard's head appeared from the window, seeing something totally unexpected. His first, and probably most scarring challenge was over. When the heat of excitement slowly faded away, the boy burst in cries.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, the Fatimid armies had just won yet another victory and today a new battle was approaching, only that this time he would take part at it as well and see how the remnants of the French infidel army is slaughtered once and for all. He was with one of his harem girls when he suddenly heard a guard shouting:

QUOTE:
Messenger from Crete!

Since he hadn't sent any envoys to Crete lately, he immediately thought it was the assassin who had just returned from his mission. The surprise was terrible when instead of the assassin, a tall, white man with Spanish accent entered the tent. It was one of his Iberian spies. Mustafa, his servant, soon joined them and looked directly into the Sultan's eyes. He began shivering when he saw his face covered with anger.

QUOTE:
Ahahaha, don't worry Mustafa, I am just joking with you. The assassination attempt was successful Mustafa. But the assassin is dead I'm afraid. So you'd better have other such assassins at your disposal. But for now, it's time we celebrate the death of the Grand Master's youngest son!

Oh one more thing: how did the spy die?

The Sultan was shocked to hear that the so-called elite assassin was killed by a...boy.

QUOTE:
Mustafa, you must make sure my sons are skilled in killing and detecting enemy assassins as well!

The poor, scared servant bowed in approval although he realized how absurd the Sultan's request was.

QUOTE:
Oh, one more thing: before we start celebrating I must write a letter to the Grand Master. So write these words down:

Your Highness, Grand Master of the Order of the Temple,

I have heard of your...most unfortunate experience and I wish to express my deep and sincere shock and sorrow. Muslim or Christian, the loss of a son, especially one of noble birth is a real tragedy. I can only assume how you feel in your heart and how much you would like to face your son's real killer. However, before your Highness starts suspecting me, I wish to inform thee that I had absolutely anything to do with the plot, I swear it before Allah! In fact I will make it my mission to see and to apprehend the person who is behind the plot and once I catch him I promise to deliver him to you untouched and unharmed.

I also wish to express my admiration for your other son's skill. To kill an assassin is not a mere feat for a mature person, let alone for a young boy.

Sincerely,

Alar I, Sultan of the Fatimid Islamic Sultanate

QUOTE:
Now, make sure all of my knights receive additional silver! After all, they fully deserve it.

Soon afterwards, the rest of the harem entered the tent and the sultan began celebrating...in his own way.

Months had passed since the death of Anaxagor, Hyrkan's second son, and the wounds slowly began to heal. But the thirst for vengeance was only rising. In a dark and twisted way, far apart from the christian way inside of the Grand master. He never believed a single word that cobra called the Fatimid sultan said in his letter.

He did not bother answering it. He knew at the time that the time would come when swords would speak louder than words. And this time was upon him now. Jerusalem invaded, again, by the savages. Two duties plus the sweet taste of revenge calling him, and Hyrkan could not resist the call.

Weeks into the campaign, there had not been much action, although Hyrkan felt an urge for it. He knew he should wait, and not be made to rush into decision because of his anger. The time to deliver the hammer of justice was nigh....

At last, the time was at hand. After almost a year of skirmishes, maneuvering and tactical brainstorming, the army of the cross was at the gates of Jerusalem. After facing starvation in the dessert, shameful defeats, short-lived victories, the tides of war had turned. Lebanon was the first to be liberated, Damascus in Nawa followed, and now, the time to reclaim mount Zion was at hand. As Hyrkan gazed at the sea of glittering steel under the wintersun of the east, he felt the flame of pride warming his insides.

Send a message to the muslims. Hyrkan said and called for the scribe

QUOTE:
To his highness Alar I of the Fatimids

Greetings your majesty. Today i shall repay the favour done to me by your assassins. But unlike you, i shall do so in honest and chivalrous fighting! Nevertheless, even though i would be delighted to spill your blood myself this day, i shalln't stray from the path of Jesus. I will offer you a chance to surrender the city to me. I would want no more damage to the people and the city itself done, the one you caused is already a spike in Jerusalem's body. Leave now, with every last soul unscathed, or face us in battle.

Hyrkan de Silcross
Grand Master of the Order.

Deliver this with an arrow

He then turned to his soldiers.
The time when christian banners will fly on the bastions you see before us men, is near! Before you, behind the fort walls lie the infidel scum that defiled our holy land, the kingdom of heaven! Though as much as you do, i want these disgraceful pigs become christmas blood sausages, i say that we let them choose to surrender, for the sake of the people of Jerusalem. This city has seen suffering in the last 30 years, enough for a millenia. But if the muslims decide to fight will you let the heathens go unpunished?!

He was glad to hear the mighty roar of the army answering to his call.

Today we write history, before the gates of the kingdom of heaven!

Jata sat in front of a small tent. Sharpening his sword, he thought about the upcoming battle, about the time when he was a Polish chancellor, also thought about the future. Beside him, his servant cleaned his armor

- You know Muti, when i was Polish chancellor, I was sure that our allies in the South are exceedingly strong, but now? They needed two years and all the strength of Byzantium, the Templars, Hospitallers, and mercenary, you know? They hired an army of mercenaries to bring to this battle. So pathetic, and shows me what i was wrong in the past. They do not fight with equal each other, we are not very numerous. When I was in Poland, I was commanding armies three times larger than our combined army. But we achieved more victories in the field. We may lose this battle. But I'm not afraid, it is not the day that I die, Will I be a prisoner, I will withdraw it does not matter, but I know that i do not die

Jata paused his monologue to look at the servant, he was absorbed cleaning armor.

- Muti, I'm going to visit our Sultan, do not interrupt the work

Jata passed through the ruined part of town, straight to the sultan's tent
- My Lord, I want to talk, It was a difficult three years, Many battles won, a lot of blood shed. When I joined you, I warned that I'm not the sort of person who can be in one place a long time. But in the end I found a way that together with my brother, we will follow. We will be as Hired Blades. Fighting for silver, away from politics, away from intrigue. Do not we know exactly when we will start our journey, but you will be the first person to know about it. Perhaps with You we sign our first contract

In his tent, Alar was reviewing together with his commanders the battle-plan for the imminent Christian attack on Jerusalem, when one of his new Amirs, Jata Lubomirski a former Polish knight, entered and expressed his desire to speak.

Upon hearing his words, Alar said to him:

QUOTE:
Your Lordship, you have quickly proven yourself to be a brave and skilled warrior and your arm and sword have taken down many of our enemies. No Sultan or King can find too many of your kind in this dying and rotten world, but when we do come across such warriors we try to keep them with us for as long as possible. I am indeed most happy you have decided to join us, be it temporarily or otherwise, but it is my sincere hope that one day you might find it within your heart and soul to decide to remain with us for the rest of your days.

Now please, take a seat and join our noble circle in preparing the defenses for the upcoming battle.

Not long after the planning resumed a messenger arrived and brought a letter carrying the seal of the Grand Master of the Order of the Temple.

QUOTE:
Give the letter to my scribe so he can read it out loud. I want all my commanders to hear what the infidel has to say.

After reading the letter all the commanders present in the tent started to laugh...all except for Jata Lubomirski and Alar.

QUOTE:
Silence! Does anyone of you think the tents outside our walls are empty? Does anyone of you think that our faith in Allah is enough to keep this city secure? Why are you laughing than? Perhaps some of you wish to be the first the greet the Christians.

To give a proper example Alar ordered his guards to seize one of his commanders and send him right in the first line of defense. Than he ordered his scribe to write a response to his enemy:

QUOTE:
Dear infidel,

I'm surprised that in your nativity you realized it was I who has sent the assassin. I must say I took great pleasure in hearing the..."tragic" news of your son's death. Unfortunately, you have more children, something which I hope to fix before my time in this world ends.

As for the battle, please answer me this: how many times must you underestimate us until you finally learn your lesson?

Whether we are forced to abandon the city is irrelevant because I will take it back. But I am confident that your troops will not even be able to climb our walls, let alone conquer the city.

With this I presume I have answered your request for a surrender as well.

Insha'Allah!

Alar I, Sultan of the Fatimid Islamic Sultanate

I expected nothing less... Hyrkan thought to himself as he read the short reply.

The time is almost upon us! Man the trebuchets!

As soon as the trebuchets cleared a breach in the walls, the christians charged.

Hyrkan led the vanguard, spurring Lightbringer, his warhorse, headlong into the muslim ranks. He drew the charge's first blood, as the persian Shahbanu was the first to fall under his spear. The shock of the charge made the first muslim line break, giving the chance for the christians to take the breach. A wave of fatimids charged at them while they were reforming. The melee that ensued was terrible, blood and steel flying in the cold wind. But, together, the soldiers like a single golden blade, chanting "Non nobis domine" and shining under the sun, slashed through the darkness, repelling the attack.

Forward! Deus vult!

The march up until the holy mount was slow and with casualties, but steady. Several of the infidel knights fell under Hyrkan's spear, but his mind was fixed on finding his one nemesis. The fatimid sultan was nowhere to be seen, and he feared he had already fled. He later found out that he was carried off battle by his bodyguards.
They reached the top, along with the roman emperor, and set the flag of the Order, as the remainder of the infidels were fleeing off the city.

Anaxagor! Hyrkan uttered in a wild and desperate cry, then fell silent, deep in prayer, atop mount Zion.

The day had been won...