All days in this time of year were hot in Jerusalem. Herod’s Palace stood tall, casting a shadow over the city, which he could see from the height of the balcony he rest in. Becoming used to life in the Kingdom of Heaven with the impending threat of Saladin was taking a toll on the young man, though he trusted his king, and frankly appreciated this new environment, although he had yet to get used to being treated as a nobleman.

A thin red veil kept the sand out of his hair, which was beginning to drip with sweat while he looked around, deep in thought. Was he really doing the right thing, joining the crusades? Weren’t the Muslims merely trying to defend their religion just like he was? All those questions floating in his mind are interrupted with the sound of footsteps, and he perks up.

“Who’s coming?”