The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 41 Gathering of Young and Old

Although he inwardly felt that Reinald's call was incredibly timely, Baldwin remained calm: "Reinald, while I don't expect you to be a considerate gentleman, please don't offend our bishop in such a rude manner."

Reinald bowed respectfully and smiled, "Please forgive my excitement, Your Majesty. Your words about allocating funds to the military to fight Saladin are more pleasing to my ears than ever before. Compared to this..." He glared fiercely at Heraclius and sneered, "What does offending His Excellency the Bishop matter? Your Excellency, do you think I have offended you?"

Chirac shuddered slightly. He recalled the torture his colleague from Antioch had suffered years ago. His solemn expression crumbled, replaced by an extremely humble, cowardly, and fearful look. He stammered, "No...no..."

Reinald stroked his thick beard, looking regretful. "Ah, that's wonderful... I was just thinking of giving you some of my treasured honey as an apology..."

Heraclius's legs gave way, and he slid to the ground, but Baldwin caught him in time. At that moment, the ailing Baldwin became Heraclius's lifeline. Trembling, Heraclius leaned close to Baldwin's ear and, in a voice loud enough for both Baldwin and Reynald to hear, said, "As...as Your Majesty commands!"

Watching the archbishop leave, still shaken, Baldwin let out a satisfied sigh, turned to Reinald, and said in a clear voice, "Reinald, your way of solving problems... is still so simple and crude."

Reynald looked at Baldwin with approval in his eyes: "It is my honor to share Your Majesty's burdens. And I am also pleased to see Your Majesty's efforts to deal with Saladin. As long as the heretics are killed, Reynald of Satyrón will offer you absolute loyalty."

A soft, ambiguous hum came from behind the mask.

"However, offering some advice to our Archbishop was merely a side matter. I've come here to inquire about some... strange things happening in the kingdom and my fiefdom," Reinald paused, then asked, "what's the deal with that bearded man who claims to be from Lombardy, and the 'chaotic' tax system that the merchants are talking about?"

Baldwin didn't look at him, and replied calmly, "Jerusalem has implemented a new tax system. You wouldn't understand the specifics anyway, but in short, the taxes collected are higher than before. Robert, that Lombard merchant, is my appointed 'Construction Supervisor.' I've reached a cooperation agreement with him. He will help us provide materials and labor for building and upgrading castles and fortresses. He also has connections in Sicily to help us build irrigation works and reclaim wasteland..."

Reinald's eyes lit up, and he eagerly took a step closer to Baldwin, exclaiming excitedly, "So, it's the water needed to cross the desert and wasteland, and the provisions necessary for the army and warhorses?!"

Seeing Baldwin nod slightly, Reynald was overjoyed, like a wild beast that had caught the scent of prey: "Oh, why didn't you say so sooner? I, Reynald, must lend a hand in preparing for war!" He patted his chest, full of confidence, "When I return to Calleburg, I will definitely apologize to that big-bearded man! I will cover all his expenses in Jordan!"

"Ha, your measly dinars weren't even taken from the treasury by Joslin," Baldwin thought to himself, then rose and walked towards the center of the hall. "You'd better be. The banquet is about to begin, let's go."

"Wait, Your Majesty, there is one more thing," Reynald called to Baldwin. "Regarding that prince who suddenly appeared... If he inherits your throne, I will have serious doubts about his ability to fulfill the sacred duty that the Lord has entrusted to us believers—to slay heretics..."

Baldwin didn't turn around, but simply said, "He'll be here soon."

Reinald seemed to be deep in thought, then followed the king into the center of the hall.

Meanwhile, Princess Sibylla led young Baldwin out of the inner chamber, followed by his tutor, William of Tyre. The nobles ended their conversation and bowed in unison to the princess and Bishop William.

Lyon, dressed in a blue children's suit, peeked half his face out from the inner room, carefully observing the nobles in the hall.

Standing at the door is Balian, and the tall, sullen-looking man in the corner must be Guy. Who's that next to Guy? I don't recognize him. There's also Earl Raymond, chatting with two other people; the three of them seem to know each other well. Leaning against the wall, scribbling and drawing, is Jocelyn; he's probably keeping accounts—very dedicated. Where's Reinald? Didn't that heavyweight come?

"Leon, are you nervous?"

Isabella's soft whisper interrupted his observation. He turned his head and met his sister's clear eyes.

"If you're nervous, hold my hand." She smiled and extended her hand, then winked playfully. "If you're still scared... you can hold your mother's hand."

Mary's footsteps drew closer. Seeing his sister's concerned expression, Leon shook his head sheepishly, took a deep breath, and stepped into the bustling hall.

As Lyon slowly emerged from behind the heavy doors of the inner room, he felt less like he was stepping into a grand feast and more like he was being placed on an invisible judgment seat.

The noisy hall fell silent. All eyes were fixed on the new prince who walked ahead of the Queen Mother and the princess, each gaze carrying undisguised scrutiny, to the point that everyone forgot to bow to Queen Mary.

The first to break the deathly silence was Baldwin, who returned from the balcony. The nobles, as if waking from a dream, bowed to the king, only to find awkwardly that their greetings were directed at Reynald, who was winking and making faces behind the king.

The crowd felt disgusted, as if they had swallowed a fly. They hastily finished their greetings and glared angrily at Reinald. The duke, however, arrogantly returned the greeting with exaggerated courtesy and then strode towards Lyon.

"Tsk, what can such a little brat do against Saladin?" Reynald looked Lyon up and down without any attempt to hide it, completely ignoring the disapproving glances coming from all around.

Lyon was also sizing up the mountain-like man before him. Hearing Reinald's disdain, he pretended not to understand and innocently looked up at him, asking, "Uncle, are you the kingdom's Grand Marshal?"

"Hmm?" Reinald paused, a secret joy welling up inside him, and asked curiously, "Why do you feel that way?"

Lyon replied solemnly, "Because of all the nobles present, you are the tallest and most majestic! Only a knight as powerful as you could defeat the evil Saladin!"

He paused, then added in a childish yet clear voice, "If I were your elder brother, I would definitely appoint you as the Grand Marshal of the Kingdom's army!"

The young prince's innocent words were like a kiss from God, and Reynald was overjoyed, feeling as if he were floating in heaven.

Damn it, who said this kid is no good? Screw him! This kid is clearly the chosen one!

Immersed in immense satisfaction, Reynald's heart had unconsciously tipped towards the little prince.