The letter from Venice arrived a month later.
Preparations were complete.
The day of departure for Eila had finally come.
I stood before the Zion Gate, staring ahead.
Towering stone walls rose behind me. Along the road outside, camels and men stretched in a long, winding column.
It looked like something straight out of a historical epic.
'And I'm supposed to command all of that?'
The knights and merchants would handle the actual logistics—but nominally, I was the one in charge.
This was a little different from being a cadet company commander.
Thirteen years old. Royal envoy. Expedition leader.
Yes. Very reassuring.
"Your Highness, the Venetians have arrived."
Garnier rode up beside me. Behind him were several knights—Hospitallers, Templars, and royal retainers.
Roughly forty in total.
All in heavy armor, lances upright.
That was a substantial escort.
Baldwin IV had clearly taken this seriously.
"Marco wishes to see you before we depart," Garnier added. "He did not say why."
"I suppose we'll find out soon enough."
I exhaled slowly.
Still trying to haggle, perhaps?
Marco had attempted to lower the payment even after the agreement was sealed.
Pointless, of course.
"Ah—before I forget," Garnier said. "There's someone I would introduce to you. Aig!"
A boy stepped forward.
Dark complexion. Cropped hair.
Recognition struck.
"The infirmary…"
He flushed red.
"I was rude before, Your Highness. I did not realize who you were."
"There's nothing to apologize for."
I smiled.
It wasn't as though I walked around with "royal" written on my forehead.
Though… perhaps that was too modern a way of thinking.
Technically, I should have scolded him.
But a thirteen-year-old trying to thunder like a monarch would just look ridiculous.
"Aig will serve as your squire for this journey," Garnier explained.
"My squire?"
I looked him over again.
Of course. I couldn't exactly bring palace maids.
Was he a Turcopole?
Auxiliary troops of Turkish origin who served the Crusader states.
As I studied him, he quickly made the sign of the cross.
"I am a Christian, Your Highness. I can read and write a little—learned with the Order. I still have much to learn, but—"
"He seems rather young."
"He is a fine archer," Garnier said firmly. "He can strike a rabbit fleeing into its burrow. I vouch for his skill."
Aig nodded vigorously.
"And I can help with your armor! I assist the knights daily!"
I laughed.
"Very well. What was your name again?"
"Aig, Your Highness."
"Drop the titles. Especially the 'gracious and noble' parts."
He blinked.
"But—"
"Just Baldwin will do."
"…Yes—Prince Baldwin!"
Close enough.
At that moment, Marco approached with a train of horses.
"Magnificent animals," I called out. "For sale in Eila?"
"Your Highness has a keen eye," Marco replied. "Though we cannot bring them all so far."
He patted his ample stomach. His horse looked as though it regretted its life choices.
"Venice wishes to present you with a gift. Since you declined the falcon, we insist you accept this."
He gestured broadly.
"All fine breeds. Choose whichever you like. No payment whatsoever."
Free warhorse?
That I could accept.
In the game, horse stats mattered. A superior mount could mean survival in battle.
I examined them.
White. Brown. Black.
Large frames. Compact builds.
I had no idea what to choose.
Perhaps ask Garnier?
He was deep in discussion with the other knights.
Fine.
Trust the sixth sense.
I closed my eyes and stepped forward.
Nothing from the first few.
Not bad—but nothing compelling.
Of course Marco had placed the middling ones in front.
I walked toward the rear.
I caught Marco's faint frown.
Ah. So that was where the real prize stood.
Then—
There.
A presence.
I opened my eyes.
A massive grey stallion stood before me.
Glossy mane. Powerful build. Easily over five hundred kilograms.
It stared directly back.
I felt it—clear as instinct.
"This one."
Marco forced a smile.
"An… excellent choice."
He lowered his voice.
"He is known to be temperamental."
"I don't mind a challenge."
I extended my hand.
A moment of tension.
Then the stallion leaned forward.
"So much for temperamental," I murmured.
"He nearly trampled a stable hand," Marco muttered.
The horse snorted and licked my face.
Aig stared in awe.
"What will you name him?"
A name.
Deus Vult came to mind.
But naming a horse "God" might not go over well.
"Vult," I decided.
"An unusual name."
Aig took the reins—
And was immediately yanked forward as the horse jerked its head back.
He fell flat.
I burst out laughing.
"I'll saddle him!" Aig declared, scrambling up, red-faced.
I turned back to Marco.
"Everything ready?"
"Once those pieces are loaded."
He pointed to large wooden sections strapped to camels.
Disassembled ship components.
To be rebuilt at Eila.
That alone was impressive.
"Costly, I imagine."
"If we can redirect Saracen pilgrim and spice traffic through Eila, it will repay itself. Though if Your Highness would reconsider lowering the annual fee—"
I let his words fade into background noise.
Beyond the gate stretched rolling hills.
Shepherds guiding flocks.
The land of Galilee.
The Temple Mount.
If God truly existed—
We would have words.
Then commotion stirred near the gate.
Sibylla approached, accompanied by nobles and knights.
A formal send-off.
I scanned the group.
Guy was not present.
So he had taken my warning seriously.
And Sibylla, I had subtly informed her.
There had likely been a confrontation.
Good.
At least my mother stood with me now.
I shook off stray thoughts.
Eila was only the beginning.
"Much remains to be done."
And this—
This was merely the first step.