The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 115 Guy's Choice

The council chamber fell into a deathly silence. Everyone sighed and rubbed their foreheads in exasperation. No one liked the duke's unrestrained dark jokes.

Reinald, unfazed, casually walked over to Hugh, put his arm around him, and laughed, "Right, Hugh? Remember to tell your father we didn't abandon Beirut on purpose!"

Hugh, the great lord of Galilee, remained silent throughout. He was not good with words, and his father had told him that if he didn't know what to say, he shouldn't say anything at all, so he nodded vaguely in response.

"Your Grace, perhaps you should say less..." Reginald sighed and turned to Guy, adding, "I have ordered an inventory of the castle's granaries. There is enough wheat for the army for ten days, as well as some cured meat, cheese, and other supplies. Tomorrow's military plans are entirely up to Your Grace."

Guy pondered for a moment and made a decision: "We will break camp at dawn tomorrow, but we will not take any risks. We will send three scout teams: one to scout along the Bekaa Valley, one to monitor the coastline, and the other to explore towards Beirut. The main army will be divided into three groups: the vanguard, the center, and the rearguard, advancing in echelons and supporting each other."

Silent all night.

At dawn the following day, the sound of horns broke the silence of the valley.

The army of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, like a giant python awakening, began its orderly march through the morning mist.

The vanguard was led by Reinard and Gerald and included Templar Knights, Transjordanian Knights, and Crossbowmen.

Guy personally commanded the central army, with lords such as Roger, Hugh, and Balian assisting him. The army included the main infantry and crossbowmen, as well as Hospital Knights and various other knights who could be used as replacements for the vanguard at any time.

The rear guard was commanded by lords such as Reginald and Joslin, who were not skilled in military affairs, and was responsible for covering the rear, protecting supplies and resupply lines.

Just as Guy mounted his horse and the central army was about to move with the vanguard, a scout carrying the King of Jerusalem's cross suddenly galloped towards them from the south of Bedford.

"The king's messenger?" Guy ordered the army to halt, dismounted, and walked toward the scout. Seeing this, the nobles also dismounted and approached.

The scout dismounted and presented Guy with a roll of parchment.

"Parchment? Your Majesty seems a bit... rash." Guy took the parchment, untied the ribbon, and slowly unfolded it.

"In urgent situations, we must act expediently, and besides, the sender wasn't the King, but Prince Lyon," the scout explained breathlessly.

"Your Highness?" Guy asked, slightly puzzled. The parchment was fully unfolded before him and the nobles, and it was completely blank.

"What's going on? Why isn't there a single word?" Guy frowned, and the nobles exchanged bewildered glances.

The scout, terrified, stammered, "I don't know, His Highness only ordered me to deliver a message, he didn't say anything else..."

“Sir, let me handle this,” Balian stepped forward and said respectfully. “This parchment has been ‘encrypted,’ but I have a way to make the writing appear.”

Guy handed the parchment to Balian, his face full of doubt.

Balian took a small glass bottle filled with liquid from his satchel and poured the liquid evenly onto the parchment. Soon, black characters slowly appeared on the parchment.

Balian handed the parchment back to Guy, on which were written only a few very simple words:

"The enemy is in the Bekaa Valley, so there is no need to worry about Beirut."

"My God! Is this witchcraft?" Gerald and Reinard exclaimed in unison, instinctively making the sign of the cross on their chests.

Even the usually composed Reginald looked surprised, leaning forward slightly as he stared intently at the line of words that seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

Barian surveyed the astonished faces of the crowd and calmly explained, "It's not witchcraft, gentlemen. It's just a simple technique. Writing with a special ink won't reveal the words; only applying another liquid will make them visible. His Highness Lyon is meticulous; he uses this method to transmit intelligence to prevent messengers from being intercepted en route and military secrets from being leaked."

The contents of the secret letter were quickly transmitted, sparking heated debate among the nobles.

Most of the lords, led by Reginald, Balian, and Hugh, were moderates and still advocated for cautious military campaigns.

Balian pondered, "His Highness's move must have a deeper meaning. The fact that he risked sending this letter means he is certain that Saladin's main force is not under the walls of Beirut, but rather lying in wait in the Bekaa Valley. If we rush to Beirut as originally planned, we will play right into his hands. Since His Highness has instructed us not to worry about Beirut, our army should proceed steadily and cautiously, advancing along a reliable coastline to first secure an invincible position."

"Absurd!" Reinald slammed his fist on the table, his eyes burning with fighting spirit. "Saladin is cunning, but it is precisely his cunning that gives us our opportunity! He thought we were in his trap, that our army would be disorganized and exhausted from rescuing Beirut—that's his biggest weakness! Why don't we turn the tables on him?"

"Ha, Reinard, you've finally said something eloquent!" Grand Commander Gerald immediately chimed in. "We can feign exhaustion and disarray, deliberately converging on the Lebanese mountains during our march, creating the illusion of a swift passage through the valleys to reinforce Beirut. If Saladin sees our disorganized ranks and weary soldiers, and sees an opportunity, he might not be able to resist launching a preemptive attack through the Bekaa Valley and the mountain passes of Lebanon! At that time, with our well-rested and refreshed army, we can strike his hasty and eager army and surely achieve a great victory!"

Guy was caught in a deep dilemma. He sat in the main seat, his fingers unconsciously tapping the hilt of his sword.

The conservative approach aligns with military common sense and carries the lowest risk, but it also means relinquishing the initiative on the battlefield. At best, they might reach the outskirts of Beirut and drive away Saladin's besieging army, but they are unlikely to achieve any significant military exploits.

The radicals' plan... was extremely risky, practically dancing on a knife's edge. If the attempt to lure the enemy failed, or if Saladin discovered their scheme and things backfired, the exhausted army would encounter the well-rested Ayyubid elites in the mountains, with unimaginable consequences.

He knew that his military talent was far inferior to Saladin's, and that this gamble was too heavy.

However, another voice cried out in his heart: This is the only chance.

King Baldwin is seriously ill, and the future Crown Prince Lyon will succeed him. Reynald, who has a distinguished military record and a close relationship with the Crown Prince, and even had a verbal agreement with the Crown Prince, will surely replace him as the true Master of Stables.

At that time, Guy de Lucignan will forever lose the opportunity to stand alone and win supreme glory.

Is it to accept the status quo and a doomed future, or to gamble everything for a chance to go down in history?

Is he an unknown nobody, or a household name?

The immense psychological pressure caused beads of sweat to form on his forehead. He looked at the lords arguing heatedly, and ultimately, his desire for glory overcame his fear of defeat.

Guy abruptly stood up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. His voice trembled slightly with excitement, yet remained unusually firm: "Reinald, Gerald... your plan, though risky, I believe... is worth a try!"

He took a deep breath: "For the King, for Jerusalem, for glory, we'll take this gamble!"