The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 73 Guy's Welcoming Ceremony

Early August, 1182 (Julian calendar), Mediterranean Sea, outside the port of Jaffa.

Lyon sat on Balian's shoulders, the sea breeze caressing his face, tanned a deep wheat color by the Mediterranean sun over the past three months. He gazed ahead through his binoculars and remarked, "I only planned to stay for half a month and then return to Jerusalem; I never imagined it would turn into three months."

Balian remained expressionless, his voice steady yet tinged with helplessness: "Your Highness, it wasn't just three months that were gone, but also three thousand gold Nomi."

"Ahem, Barian, don't say such jarring things," Leon coughed lightly, trying to hide his unease about the financial strain. "Those who achieve great things don't concern themselves with small sums of money; anything that can be solved with money isn't a problem!"

Zahir, standing nearby, asked, "By the way, why didn't Robert come back with us?"

Balian nodded in agreement: "I think that Alberto has some talent. Your Highness, since you're so eager to find capable people, why don't you bring Alberto back as well?"

Lyon chuckled slyly, "Didn't Daniel leave behind the St. Mark's Trading Company? The Venetian authorities will eventually have to auction off or resell the assets, and Robert can't let go of the legacy left to him by his old friend Daniel."

"As for Alberto, he's still obsessed with Redbeard, so we can't recruit him for now. But I did leave him 10,000 gold nomes to help the Kingdom of Jerusalem recruit more mercenaries, and also to recruit blacksmiths to expand the blacksmith shops and buy mines so that it can become a supplier of armor for the Kingdom of Jerusalem in the future."

"Ten...ten thousand!" Balian's face turned pale, and he almost had to hold onto the ship's railing to keep his balance. "This...this is almost..."

"It's a necessary expense, Barian," Leon interrupted him, his tone resolute.

Just then, he raised his binoculars and looked towards Jaffa Port, his brows furrowing suddenly: "Wait... something's wrong at the port."

The port of Jaffa, which should have been bustling with merchant ships and crowds, was now filled with an unusual, somber atmosphere. The docks were no longer filled with busy porters and merchants, but with soldiers in the standard armor of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, holding spears. They stood in neat rows, silent, as if waiting for something.

Although the merchant ships were still operating, the actions of the sailors and merchants were tinged with caution and repression, and the entire port was caught in a delicate and tense balance.

The Jerusalem spearmen were at a loss for words. A month ago, Sir Guy had ordered them to gather at the port, instructing them to report immediately upon seeing Prince Lyon return. The soldiers racked their brains trying to understand why—was it to curry favor, or to escort the prince?

Just when they thought it was another day of waiting in vain, a fleet of galleys flying the flag of the King of Jerusalem was about to arrive at the port. They were overjoyed and quickly sent someone to inform them.

Inside the castle in Jaffa, Guy and Princess Sibylla sat facing each other.

"Is it really okay to mobilize so many troops?" Sibylla asked doubtfully. "Isn't this too much of a commotion?"

Guy scoffed, "Ha, what's there to be afraid of? The King is bedridden. Raymond returned from Constantinople to report to the King, but was then summoned back to Tripoli by Prince Antioch's messenger. Now is the perfect time to confront Lyon."

"We simply haven't found the baptismal record, which doesn't directly prove that Lyon doesn't have the late king's blood. If we act rashly..."

Guy frowned and said sharply, "Your Highness, if you wish to retain your current dignity and power, you must not hesitate! The Queen Mother already looks down on us because of her surname, and now her daughter Isabella is engaged to the Roman Emperor. If Lyon does nothing, we will have no chance in the future!"

Just as Sibylla was about to say something, a guard rushed in to report: "Sir, Your Highness! Prince Lyon's fleet has entered the harbor!"

A glint flashed in Guy's eyes, and he abruptly stood up, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly at his waist: "They've finally arrived. Your Highness, please wait here for good news."

As Lyon and his party stepped onto the long-awaited dock, Guy arrived just in time with a squad of elite guards.

Guy smiled and bowed slightly, but his tone betrayed a hint of hostility to Lyon: "Welcome back, Your Highness. Your 'private trip' lasted three months without a word, causing great concern throughout the kingdom. We even worried that something might have happened to you on your journey."

Lyon accepted the courtesy readily and replied calmly, "Thank you for your concern, Sir. This trip is merely to lay the necessary groundwork and make some investments for the future of the kingdom."

"Investment?" Guy raised an eyebrow, took a step closer, and lowered his voice, but it was enough for the high-ranking soldiers around him to hear. "Speaking of which, I have some questions. Your Highness seems to have been quite close to people from all walks of life in Milan and Venice during this trip. This is probably unbecoming of your noble status."

"Speaking of your identity, I had people check the church archives in Constantinople, but we couldn't find any record of your baptism. This is truly puzzling; how could someone of such noble birth as the Komnenos not be recorded as being baptized in the Hagia Sophia?"

The air froze instantly. All the soldiers' eyes were fixed on Leon. Balian and Zahir already had their hands on their sword hilts.

Lyon showed no sign of panic in the face of this sudden attack. Instead, he chuckled lightly and calmly met Guy's piercing gaze:

"Sir Guy, I am flattered by your interest in my past in Constantinople. However, your spies seem to only recognize the entrance to the archives, but are unfamiliar with the rules of the Imperial court. Didn't your informant tell you that the baptisms of the descendants of Imperial princesses are often not held in public cathedrals, but in the Golden Hall of the Imperial Palace, presided over by the Patriarch himself, and recorded in the Imperial Register, rather than in the ordinary parish archives? It seems that your intelligence network needs to be strengthened."

Guy's face instantly turned ugly.

His facade had been completely ripped off; there was no turning back.

He took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with murderous intent, determined to carry out his final plan—while the king was bedridden and Raymond was not in Jerusalem, he would seize or even "dispose" of this "prince" of unknown origin, and afterwards he could claim that his bloodline was questionable and that he had no choice but to do so in order to preserve the purity of the kingdom's bloodline.

He suddenly raised his hand, preparing to order the soldiers to take action.

"Look at the sea!"

Just then, a sharp-eyed soldier pointed out in alarm to the harbor. On the sea where previously only Lyon's main ship and a few escort vessels had appeared, many more sails had suddenly appeared!

One, two, ten, twenty... more than thirty large galley warships, with their huge sails unfurled, sailed majestically toward Jaffa Port like moving castles.

The ship's prows were teeming with heavily armored soldiers wielding giant axes and iron shields, and fierce-looking Catalan mountain people carrying javelins. The military might was formidable, and an aura of menace seemed to emanate from across the sea. Their elite status and sheer numbers completely overwhelmed the troops Guy had deployed in the port.

Guy and his soldiers were all frozen in place, stunned and bewildered by the sudden appearance of such a massive fleet.

Lyon, as if he had expected this, smiled and turned to Guy, whose face was pale, his expression showing surprise and approval: "So, Sir Guy's grand procession was prepared for the warriors behind me. How thoughtful!"

He paused deliberately, noticing the cold sweat beading on Guy's forehead, and continued, "Since you are so hospitable, Sir, we need not stand on ceremony. Send the order for all soldiers to disembark and rest, and let us also have a good taste of Jaffa's specialty citrus juice!"

The fierceness and determination on Guy's face vanished instantly under the intimidation of absolute force, replaced by a forced, more painful than a grimace of enthusiasm:

"Your Highness...Your Highness is too kind! Your safe return is truly a blessing for the kingdom! These...these warriors have come from afar, please come into port quickly, and I...I will arrange everything they need!"