The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 25 Disconnection

The atmosphere in Jocelyn's drawing room was somber.

"Jocelyn, we agreed before that we would focus all our resources on the military!"

Guy slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes rattle, and his spittle almost landed on the face of Chancellor of the Exchequer Jocelyn across from him. Jocelyn remained seated, calmly watching Guy's outburst.

Princess Sibylla's displeased voice came from outside the door: "Guy, can't you act like a nobleman? If you keep going like this, even Reinald will seem more like a gentleman than you."

"Guy, you've dragged me into this mess." Jocelyn finally spoke, his voice calm yet distant. "I only helped you because you're my nephew-in-law. Now that Earl Raymond has brought back news of peace talks, I have no reason to continue your and Reinald's plans."

Guy gritted his teeth, practically forcing the words out: "Don't you understand? Saladin only made a temporary truce because he had to deal with internal affairs and the Zengid dynasty! We must prepare for the future!"

"Prepare for a rainy day?" Jocelyn gave a barely audible chuckle and muttered, "Does it mean spending all the money on military equipment and then sending it all to Saladin in one fell swoop?"

"What did you say?"

"I said—" Jocelyn forced a stiff smile, "Your Excellency is wise."

"Hmph, I hope you recognize the situation. I'll give you time to think it over." Guy glared at Jocelyn, then abruptly turned and strode away. Sibylla straightened up, gave Jocelyn a helpless look, and then followed her husband.

"Guy, what are you going to do now? Uncle seems... wavering."

Guy's anger hadn't subsided, and he said grimly, "Go to the Al-Aqsa Mosque and find the Grand Master. See if you can get some dinars from him; Reinald's plan absolutely cannot fail."

"What exactly is this plan of Reinald that you keep mentioning?" The princess turned her head and asked, puzzled. "It's been a long time since anything has excited you this much." As if struck by a thought, a mocking smile appeared on her face. "It's not going to be like before, leading the Templars to plunder Saladin's caravan, is it?"

"Ha, a woman's view," Guy said, spurring his horse, seemingly full of confidence and certain of victory. "This is absolutely a brilliant plan, only a madman like Reinald could come up with it! Even Saladin will probably be completely fooled by that fellow Reinald."

The princess chuckled and said, "I hope so. Otherwise, Saladin might catch him and throw him in jail for another ten years, leaving all his crazy plans to be discussed with his cellmates in prison..."

The road to the Temple Mount was scorching in the afternoon sun. Guy and Princess Sibylla's procession wound their way through the narrow streets, flanked by several fully armed Templar Knights.

However, just as the group reached a section of road flanked by towering stone walls on both sides, a sudden change occurred.

A ceramic pot was precisely hurled from the rooftop above and to the side, exploding with a deafening roar in the middle of the knights' ranks and billowing a thick plume of black smoke mixed with a pungent, acrid odor. The smoke instantly spread, engulfing the narrow street.

"Enemy attack! Protect the princess and the knight!"

The well-trained Templar Knights sprang into action, but amidst the thick smoke and the neighing of frightened horses, their formation inevitably crumbled. Guy instinctively drew his sword, attempting to steady Sibylla's horse beside him, but another smoke grenade exploded almost simultaneously in front of his horse. Acrid smoke filled his mouth and nose, and his mount reared up, throwing him violently from the saddle.

Guy landed heavily, but his battle-hardened instincts allowed him to roll to his feet and grip his longsword tightly. From the smoke, a white figure appeared like a ghost, its curved blade gleaming coldly as it aimed for Guy's throat.

clang!

Guy barely managed to parry the fatal blow, his hand numbing from the impact. He couldn't see his opponent clearly, relying only on footsteps, the whistling of blades, and glimpses of white clothing in the smoke to deflect the attack. The two fought fiercely in the narrow, smoky maze. Although Guy was at a disadvantage, his solid knightly swordsmanship and experience allowed him to narrowly avoid fatal blows several times. Sparks flew intermittently from the clashing blades in the thick fog.

However, just when Guy thought he could not hold on, he clearly felt his opponent's figure tremble, his movements slowed down, his attacks were no longer fierce, and the power of his sword swings was much weaker than before.

"Is he exhausted?" The thought flashed through his mind. Without hesitation, Guy spotted an opening and thrust forward with all his might.

With a soft "thud," the feeling of the blade piercing flesh filled Guy's heart. He was overjoyed; he had succeeded!

A gust of wind blew in at just the right moment, dispersing the smoke slightly. The Assassin staggered backward, his blood-stained left hand clutching Guy's sword embedded in his abdomen, his right-hand scimitar clattering to the ground. Guy pulled the sword out, and the Assassin's blood gushed forth, quickly staining his white robes crimson. He swayed, then finally collapsed to the ground.

"The Assassins? They're nothing but my defeated foe!" Guy shouted triumphantly, panting heavily. The still-shaken Sibylla and the Templar Knights, their eyes filled with admiration and respect, gathered around and examined the Assassin's corpse.

Then another loud bang rang out, and another smoke bomb exploded beside the corpse, even denser than before. Guy instinctively raised his sword, this time already on guard, gripping the hilt with his right hand in front and his left hand behind, leaning slightly forward, assuming a ready stance.

"Watch out! There are accomplices!"

The attack Guy had anticipated did not come. However, when the knights dispersed the new smoke, apart from the pool of blood on the ground, the Assassin's body that had just been lying there had vanished. Guy lowered his sword-wielding hands, staring blankly at the empty ground before him.

In a deserted, dark alley, Altaïr and Malik gently laid Assassin's body down.

"We're too late, he's already dead," Malik whispered.

Altaïr did not answer; his gaze swept over the corpse like a hawk's. The abdominal wound inflicted by Guy's sword was gruesome, but Altaïr's eyes instantly froze on the corpse's neck—a tiny, precise, and clean puncture wound.

"The fatal wound is here. Someone finished him off the other way around before us. But..." Altaïr examined the wound strangely. "It doesn't look like a hidden blade; it's too small. It's more like... a needle?"

"It's a blowgun, a tool exclusively for Assassins," Malik said, his brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on the waist of the corpse's undergarment, his voice trembling. "And... the emerald... that emerald is gone..."