Chapter 464: Balha's Wisdom

Eric didn’t answer immediately. He feigned a weak cough, considering how he should reply.

When Eric didn’t answer, Governor Yajisiyan looked to Ahmed, who was standing to the side.

“Er, he took a nasty blow to the head. Something’s wrong with his throat,” Ahmed explained.

“What’s his name? Ahmed, you’re Balha’s second-in-command, are you not?” Yajisiyan asked.

“Er…” Ahmed froze, staring blankly at Yajisiyan before turning to Eric. “What was your name, again?”

“Hmm?” Yajisiyan was puzzled.

“What I mean is, I’m just a second-in-command. Personnel matters for the City Guard were always handled by Balha himself. He always liked to bring in fresh blood… But, but, without a doubt, he always found some… some outstanding Warriors.” Ahmed glanced toward the doorway, at the few emaciated peasant conscripts who had followed him in, then turned back to Yajisiyan and spoke with an air of great sincerity.

Ahmed’s old superior, Balha, had a clever mind and was adept at leveraging every last ounce of his power.

Balha always had a saying on his lips: even a sesame seed can be squeezed for its juice.

Balha was the highest-ranking commander in charge of the city’s security and defense, and he also handled personnel for the City Guard.

Whenever soldiers retired and new recruits were needed for the City Guard, if the order was to hire fifty men, he would only hire ten. If the order was for ten, he’d hire only one.

These unfilled positions still had their salaries paid out, providing Balha with a substantial extra income.

At the same time, because actual openings were so scarce, citizens hoping to secure a position in the City Guard for their sons would scrape together more money to bribe Balha.

Although Governor Yajisiyan was a Turkic and had been a brave and skilled soldier in his youth, he was now just a sixty-year-old man. With the recent birth of his youngest son, he was more inclined to use flexible diplomacy than to wage war and expand his power. He much preferred peace over war.

The conquest of Syria by the Seljuk Turks and the Fatimids was a constant tug-of-war. Consequently, both sides were often content with mere superficial submission, and Governor Yajisiyan always knew the right time to bow his head.

Hama City hadn’t seen a real war in nearly twenty years, though it occasionally dealt with a few unruly mobs.

For many city-dwellers and villagers, joining the City Guard was an excellent post. It was respectable, offered a stable income, and provided plenty of opportunities to extort extra money from the populace. Now and then, they could even throw their weight around, lording their authority over others.

Whenever Governor Yajisiyan decided to inspect the City Guard on a whim, Balha always found a way to scrape together a group of passable fill-ins for the review. He was never caught.

As a result, Ahmed was always seeing new faces in the City Guard. This sometimes caused him trouble, but thankfully, Balha knew how to share the wealth. Ahmed and the other senior City Guard officers typically received a rather handsome cut from Balha’s schemes.

It was a wonderful life, in the ever-peaceful, war-free Hama City.

Wealthy townsfolk and villagers could buy their children cushy jobs in the city. A soldier in the City Guard commanded both status and fear. The officers could earn an income comparable to spoils of war for doing nothing at all, and Governor Yajisiyan remained satisfied with Hama City’s defenses.

Sometimes Ahmed would worriedly ask Balha, “Sir, is this really all right?”

Balha would retort, “Ahmed, what do you think is the purpose of defending a city?”

“To protect Hama City?”

“No, Ahmed. It’s to make people *believe* Hama is defended!”

As long as war never came to Hama City, the system could be maintained.

So even though Ahmed didn’t recognize Eric, he wasn’t suspicious. He immediately assumed Eric was just another warm body Balha had drafted to fill the ranks for show.

Just as the atmosphere grew tense, another voice cut in.

“I’ve seen him before. His name is Said, son of a silk merchant. He just joined the City Guard this month. I saw him when I went to see Balha the day before yesterday.” The speaker was a young man with bronzed skin, clad in heavy Zha Armor. With his hands tucked into the slits at his sides, he walked before Yajisiyan, clapped Eric on the shoulder, and said, “I picked him out the moment I saw him. He’s a fine Warrior, isn’t he, my esteemed uncle?”

This was Yajisiyan’s nephew, Mahmud.

“Of course… He is indeed a fine Warrior. He has a solid build,” Yajisiyan said, nodding.

The tension in the air instantly dissipated.

Eric glanced at Mahmud, surprised.

Mahmud continued, “I was planning on going to Balha in the next few days to have this fellow transferred to my Personal Guard. I never expected to hear such terrible news about Balha today. A true pity. May the people of Hama City remember him. He was a good man.”

“Yes, may everyone remember him.” Yajisiyan sighed and turned to Eric. “This army of Heretics, how many are there?”

“It’s a massive army, at least five thousand strong, with a large number of cavalry.” Eric glanced at Ahmed before giving a number he hoped was a safe compromise.

“Are you certain they’re Christians?”

“They have prominent Crosses stitched onto their clothes, easy to see. The Christian villagers from the lands governed by Hama City were flocking to them,” Eric replied.

“Holy Warriors of Christ,” the Jurist Scholar, Abdullah, chimed in. “The Emperor of Constantinople has used this trick before. It is nothing more than a clumsy imitation of our Jihad. The will of the Christians has never been as strong as that of the Muslims. Christ’s teachings keep them as a flock of sheep, and their attempt to imitate Jihad merely turns them into goats that know how to butt. He then added a timely reminder: “Those Christian villagers see these Holy Warriors as saviors. It is just like the Shiite Believers who stray from the true path and flock to the Fatima Caliphate. For their cause, they will stop at nothing.

They are quite alike, are they not?

Let them play the part of heroes.

However, if I had to make a choice, I would sooner side with the Shiites. Let the Christians die! Let them face their punishment—death by stoning!”

“Perhaps they are just a band of posturing Mercenaries hired by the Greeks. The Greeks do love to bluff,” Yajisiyan said, still hesitant.

“Let the Christians die in place of Hama’s Shiites. That way, we can satisfy Tutush’s demands. And, in the event Tutush is defeated, we can then show goodwill to the Fatimids when they make their return.”