"It's already been five days…"
Two maids whispered as they crossed the great hall.
The royal palace of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
The hall bustled with merchants, squires, and knights.Scabbards rang faintly as they brushed against armor. Wine dripped steadily from wooden casks. The air smelled of sweat, iron, dust, and spice.
"He hasn't left his chambers once. What if he's still unwell?"
"The Saracen physician said he's fully recovered. It's probably the shock. Falling like that in front of everyone…"
An older maid clicked her tongue.
"And the falcon he treasured so dearly died as well."
"I… I think I prefer him this way," the younger maid whispered. "He hasn't shouted at us once. He just reads—history books and records all day. It's like he's become a different person."
"Watch your tongue. Someone might misunderstand."
"It's not just me. The whole palace is talking. They say the prince changed completely after the fall."
That was when the sound of heavy armor echoed through the hall.
Clank.Clank.Clank.
The servants quickly stepped aside as knights advanced in formation.
Between them walked a woman.
She wore pale green garments, a veil and ornaments gleaming with gold. Her presence alone commanded silence.
Princess Sibylla.
At her arrival, every maid bowed deeply.
She stopped before the chamber door.
"Is Baldwin still inside?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Stand aside. I will see him myself."
"But His Highness instructed that no one be allowed—"
"Must a mother seek permission to see her son?"
"N-no, my lady!"
Under her sharp gaze, the maids hastily knocked.
Knock—knock.
"Your Highness, Lady Sibylla has come."
Silence.
As the maid raised her hand to knock again, a faint voice came from within.
"Let her enter."
Sibylla brushed past them.
The chamber was a mess.
Ancient manuscripts lay scattered across the floor. A wooden practice sword and pieces of training armor were discarded carelessly nearby.
In the middle of it all sat a boy.
Sibylla studied him without speaking.
Tall for thirteen.Skin pale as ivory.Features sharp and sculpted.Golden hair falling softly around his face.
Beautiful.
And frail.
A flower raised in a greenhouse—that was the only way to describe her son.
"I hear you have barely eaten for days," she said gently. "You look paler than before."
Silence.
"Reading is well enough, but your health must come first. A royal must care for his body above all others, Baldwin."
He nodded faintly.
Sibylla sighed and sat beside him.
"Falling from a horse while hunting is no disgrace. King Fulk V fell from his horse and did not survive three days. Compared to that, you were fortunate."
Still, no reply.
At last, the boy spoke.
"So… this is not a dream."
"A dream?" she echoed, puzzled.
She reached out and stroked his cheek.
"His Majesty wishes to see you. If you are still unwell, I will accompany—"
"No."
His voice sounded strained.
For the first time, he lifted his head fully to meet her eyes.
"I am not so injured that I cannot walk. I will go myself, Mother."
"…Very well."
She nodded.
"I brought medicine prepared by Jerusalem's finest physicians. Be certain you take it."
When she left, her escort followed swiftly.
The hall fell quiet again, leaving only the maids' hushed curiosity behind.
"What in heaven's name happened to him?"
"Sibylla…"
I watched her retreating figure.
Five days.
Five days since I'd been dropped into the middle of the medieval world.
When I first regained consciousness, I'd been lying in an unfamiliar bed beneath an unfamiliar ceiling.
You couldn't write a more cliché isekai opening if you tried.
Thrown from a horse during a hunt—that was the explanation they gave me.
Over the past few days, tended by servants and physicians, I'd reached one conclusion.
'I'm inside Last Crusaders.'
Not as some random NPC.
As the very character I had created.
If I'd known this would happen, I would've played a dating sim instead of a historical strategy game.
At least then I'd be surrounded by cute heroines instead of being born into a kingdom on the brink of collapse.
"A royal in a doomed state… fantastic."
I instinctively reached for a cigarette—then remembered there were none.
Sighing, I stood before the mirror.
A boy stared back at me.
Golden hair.
Blue eyes so vivid they looked like colored lenses.
This was me now.
Exactly as the character portrait had shown during creation.
"But this feels too real to just be a game."
As time passed, new memories surfaced.
Falling asleep in my mother's arms while she sang softly.
The thrill of riding a horse for the first time.
They weren't my memories.
They were Baldwin's.
The emotions I felt upon seeing Sibylla—the comfort, the love, the faint anxiety—those were Baldwin's too.
Princess Sibylla. Sister of King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem.
And my mother.
I'd seen her portrayed as a heroine in Crusader-era films.
I hadn't expected reality to rival cinema.
"Let's organize the situation."
I blacked out while playing Last Crusaders.
I woke in Jerusalem.
In 1181.
As Baldwin of Montferrat.
The last thing I'd seen on my monitor—
Final Objective: Defend Jerusalem.Reward: Return to original world + Bonus.Failure: Erasure from both worlds.
Erasure from both worlds.
That meant death.
Perfect. Just perfect.
First I get expelled from the academy. Now I'm facing death inside a medieval warzone.
What sin did I commit in a past life?
'I refuse to die like this.'
If that message was real, then I had no choice.
Jerusalem had to survive.
Only then could I escape this cursed world.
"At least I'm older than in actual history…"
I looked into the mirror again.
The face wasn't bad.
No—objectively speaking, it was excellent.
Thank God I hadn't chosen something like [Hideously Ugly] or [Deformed].
The negative traits I had chosen were:
[Congenitally Frail][Ill-Mannered Rake]
My body definitely felt weak.
A short walk left me breathless.
Holding a sword or wearing armor felt like manual labor.
And the way servants subtly avoided me?
That was probably the "ill-mannered" trait.
So I'd have to rely on the positives.
[Innate Charisma][Inexplicable Sixth Sense]
Charisma—I wasn't sure yet.
But the sixth sense was real.
I could feel it.
The warmth and worry in Sibylla's gaze.
The surprise and unease in the maids' whispers.
I couldn't explain it in words, but I could faintly perceive what others were feeling.
'So I can sense emotions.'
Good.
Then what should I do now?
If I did nothing, Jerusalem would fall to Saladin in six years.
1181…
The Islamic powers were still divided, fighting among themselves.
There was time.
What mattered was how I acted.
"They said the king summoned me."
The king of Jerusalem—Baldwin IV.
My uncle.
Why would he call for me?
Whatever the reason, I couldn't ignore a royal summons.
I turned toward the door.
First, I needed proper attire.
When I knocked, the maids entered immediately.
"I will be leaving my chambers."
"Yes, Your Highness."
They approached—and began removing my clothes without hesitation.
"W-wait! Hold on!"
They blinked at me.
Right.
I was royalty.
This was normal.
I shut my mouth.
A few minutes later, fully dressed, I stepped outside.
Drawing upon Baldwin's inherited memories, I walked through the halls.
Marble columns gleamed under sunlight.
The air carried sand and spices.
Stained glass shimmered in a thousand colors.
"I never imagined the palace of Jerusalem would look like this."
The game hadn't come close.
Jerusalem.
Holy to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam alike.
Just decades ago, it had been under Islamic rule.
The First Crusade captured it in 1099.
Kings of Judah. The Roman Empire. The Fatimids. The Crusaders. The Ottomans. The British. Israel.
And somehow—
I stood in the middle of its history.
As I passed through the hall, people bowed.
"We are relieved to see you recovered, Your Highness."
"You cannot imagine our worry…"
I nodded lightly each time.
Behind me, whispers followed.
"He's different."
"I doubt it lasts a week."
Mostly criticism.
The effect of my chosen trait, no doubt.
I shook my head.
'Not important right now.'
Soon, I stood before a guarded door.
The king's chamber.
A guard approached.
"Please enter, Your Highness. His Majesty awaits."
He knocked.
"Prince Baldwin."
"Enter, Baldwin."
The doors opened like the jaws of some enormous beast.
I paused.
Act natural.
You've logged over a thousand hours in Last Crusaders.
You're a Crusades nerd.
There's no reason to be intimidated.
I took a deep breath—
And stepped inside.