The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 35 Blueprints

The streets near the Temple Mount in Jerusalem were noticeably cooler than other streets. Lyon followed Altaïr, weaving through narrow alleyways flanked by stone walls, and finally stopped in front of a shop with a wooden signboard next to the door bearing the bilingual name in Latin and Arabic: "Oriental Treasures".

As the shop door opened, the small bell above the door rang softly. The shop was cool and quiet, a world apart from the hustle and bustle outside.

Malik strode out of the inner room, his right hand instinctively resting on his waist. Upon seeing Altaïr, his tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and a genuine smile appeared on his lips.

"Atallo, why the rush this time?" His gaze passed over Altaïr and landed on Leon, his expression undisguisedly scrutinizing. "Who is this child?"

"Malik." Altaïr nodded in greeting and stepped aside to let Leon pass. "This is Leon, my... collaborator. This is Malik, the head of the Jerusalem outpost. This shop is his disguise."

Lyon curiously surveyed the shop's furnishings, his gaze sweeping over the porcelain that still shimmered with a warm luster in the dim light. He couldn't help but exclaim, "I knew your Assassins' business was quite large, but I never imagined..." He clicked his tongue, "to this extent."

Malik didn't reply, but merely narrowed his eyes slightly. A child who could come here with Altaïr was already extraordinary. But such a composed attitude and mature tone still made him wary.

"Do you have close ties with Seris in the East... which is the Song Kingdom?" Lyon continued to ask, his tone as natural as if he were chatting with a peer.

Malik nodded calmly: "I suppose so. For the Assassins, business is just a sideline; gathering intelligence is far more important. Sometimes, a single crucial secret is more valuable than a whole ship full of porcelain."

"You only deal in porcelain?"

“Not just porcelain.” Malik shook his head, his gaze thoughtfully sweeping over Lyon’s young yet unusually calm face. “Silk too. But silk isn’t as valuable as porcelain, and it was basically ‘looted’ by noblewomen along the way. It was even more outrageous in Constantinople, where the whole city was full of nobles who loved wearing silk…” His tone was flat, but his eyes never left Lyon, as if assessing the boy’s every reaction.

Lyon seemed completely oblivious to the scrutinizing gaze, instead revealing a mysterious smile that belied his age: "In that case, Malik, I happen to know a way that can significantly reduce your procurement costs and dye white silk a vibrant red using the simplest process."

Altaïr and Malik exchanged a glance, then looked at him suspiciously.

"First, boil madder root over a low flame and keep it warm," Leon continued nonchalantly, gesturing with his finger in the air. "Then, in another pot, put the raw silk in and add alum equivalent to a quarter of the fabric's weight, and boil it together. Finally, pour in the madder root juice..." He suddenly stopped, scratching his head sheepishly. "But, well, it's all hearsay. You'll have to figure out the exact dosage and proportions yourself."

Malik listened intently, a businessman's shrewdness flashing in his sharp eyes.

“We’ve always sourced ready-made colored silk from the Song Dynasty, which is very expensive. If we could dye silk of the same or even better quality ourselves… no, even if it’s of lower quality, such a simple process would be incredibly profitable…” He pondered for a moment, then nodded decisively. “I’ll have my men try it right away. If it works, we’ll split the profits.”

Altaïr looked at his serious-looking friend, smiled but said nothing. Should he tell Marley Creon that he had already been their largest shareholder?

Lyon waved his hand dismissively, then casually asked, "Malik, do you Assassins... have branches in the far east, like the Song Dynasty?"

"Yes, but it's the same as no." Malik shook his head, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "Our brothers in the East have their own creed and enemies in the mountains and plains. They are highly independent and, apart from the most basic principle of mutual assistance, they almost completely ignore the affairs of other branches or even headquarters. You wouldn't be thinking of..." He immediately shook his head. "That's difficult, almost impossible. They won't be moved by such a request."

Hey, I haven't even said what I want to do yet, what does he think I want to do?

Lyon's face showed a timely look of disappointment, and he sighed, "It seems that there is no hope of replicating the Song Dynasty's Divine Arm Crossbow."

"The Divine Arm Crossbow?" Malik paused for a moment, then seemed to remember something. "We do have a few Eastern design drawings of crossbows here."

"What?" Leon and Altaïr exclaimed almost simultaneously.

Malik turned around, fumbled around behind the counter for a moment, and took out a long, thin cylinder tightly wrapped in a moisture-proof tarpaulin. He carefully untied the rope and poured out several rolls of slightly worn parchment.

"About a year ago, one of our caravans was returning from the east. While crossing the Hexi Corridor, they encountered several Song soldiers being chased by Jin cavalry," Malik said in a low voice as he slowly unfolded the blueprints. "Those Song soldiers, in order to survive, gave the caravan their crossbows and everything else they had, just asking to hide. Our brothers disguised them as laborers and mingled them with the caravan."

"The border checks were strict at the time, but coincidentally, one of our brothers, whose public identity was a trade agent for a Seljuk nobleman, happened to be carrying a pass issued by the Khwarazmian Sultanate a few years earlier, which was still recognized by some Jin border officers in this area." Malik pointed to the parchment. "With this expired authority and a little dinar, we evaded the search. Those Song soldiers later parted ways with us in the Western Regions and went to find their own way. These drawings, along with those strangely designed crossbows, were left behind. The crossbows have been sent to Alamut for research, while these replica drawings remain with me, hoping to encounter some knowledgeable Song people along the Silk Road to decipher their secrets."

The drawing was fully unfolded, the ink on it already somewhat faded. Lyon's breath almost stopped. The crossbow in the drawing had its bow not in the center of the crossbow arm, but significantly offset to one side, forming a unique "offset frame" structure. Next to it, disassembled parts were drawn in fine strokes: an iron footrest, and a complex bronze crossbow mechanism labeled "horse-faced fangs."

According to Malik, the most troublesome part was the densely packed annotations. These weren't the common Chinese the Assassins used in their trade, but rather a highly archaic and concise written language, interspersed with numerous specific terms. Lyon could barely decipher fragmented sentences like "using mulberry for the body and sandalwood for the bow" and "shooting over three hundred and forty paces, penetrating half a sliver of elm wood," but many more details, especially the crucial instructions regarding material handling, tolerances, and the internal structure of the crossbow, were like gibberish.

“Some of us can speak some of the common language of the Song Dynasty for trading,” Malik said with a wry smile, pointing to the square characters with his finger. “But when it comes to this… this script that belongs to craftsmen and scholars, we’re practically blind. It recognizes us, but we don’t recognize it.”

Lyon's fingers lightly brushed over the "partial frame" structural diagram on the parchment, then he looked up at Altaïr and Malik, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and challenge.

"It's okay," he said softly, but his tone was unusually firm. "Give us some time, and we'll figure it out."