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Hadi's father couldn't have been more happy even if Allah himself parted the skies and proclaimed him a prophet. A royal advisor. A direct connection to the throne. A position of great influence, even if it was to the second son, as a prince was still a prince. It was more than his father could have ever hoped for. Given how proud his father was… it was all the evidence that Hadi needed to understand that, at some point, he had taken a very wrong turn in life.

He never should have agreed to the officer commission. It wasn't Crete where things went wrong, it was the moment he gave in to his father's demands after being threatened to be cut off from the family treasury yet again. He could have been a merchant. He only agreed to the military because it sounded like less effort -- he had seen plenty of officers in his time. They drank, they whored, they kicked up their feet and offloaded all their duties to their underlings. A truly ideal life, he thought.

What a fool he was.

"At least I'm not in command," Hadi muttered with no small amount of relief as he peered up at the bright blue sky, not so much as a cloud in sight. Meaning no hope that the fleet would be delayed. All around him were the sounds of over eager men, ready for glory and riches, as the port in Acre was alive with noise. The fleet that Hadi had once commanded was solidified again to ferry across another twenty thousand men.

Though, it wasn't the same twenty thousand men. The commanders and nobility that had won wealth and prestige in the raiding were honored by fighting beside the crowned prince. Which left nobility that wasn't currently wreathed in glory biting at the bit for a chance to show up their political rivals.

"You are an advisor. The prince would be foolish to ignore your words," his bodyguard, Zafir said. It had been quite a challenge to talk the man out of killing himself, as he had sworn to do when his words led the army into a trap, but it was well worth the effort because Zafir, once he regained his strength, was a excellent man to have between himself and anyone that wanted to kill Hadi at any given time. He did come as a package deal with the child Alim, who…

Hadi's gaze flickered to Alim, watching the child watch men loading supplies onto boats. His hair was trimmed, his clothing replaced from the rags he once war, but… Alim seemed to sense his gaze because Alim looked at Hadi. There was something odd about the child. Beyond the fact he apparently knew Persian, Egyptian, a strange tongue that Hadi couldn't place, and Arabic. It was Arabic that drew the most questions from Hadi.

It had been just over a century and a half since the prophet's death, and in that time, Arabic had spread amongst the nobility. It was the official language of the courts, so nobility, even minor nobility like he had been, were expected to learn. Wealthy merchants and statesmen would learn in the hopes of currying favor. The people, in large part, still spoke the languages of their forebears. Even if it was a language that Alim just so happened to pick up as he had a talent for learning languages, it raised a question of who exactly had he been around to learn it.

"I'm one of many," Hadi said, looking away. The relationship between the two was a mystery that Hadi hoped to unwrap with time, but it couldn't be his focus. "And I imagine most of my advice will conflict with the rest, all of whom outstrip me in status." Even with his new elevation, he was still quite minor. He had no men at arms to offer, no resources, or influence -- he just had his sound advice, and Hadi knew that it wouldn't be enough. "And I doubt that Prince Harun will risk offending his supporters on my behalf."

Not that Hadi wanted him to. The very last thing he needed was other nobility seeing him as competition. That's how you get assassinated.

"Then what is the point of bringing you at all?" Zafir questioned and that's what Hadi would like to know.

"Alas, it is not my place to question royalty," Hadi said before a commotion drew his attention. He recognized a royal palanquin when he saw one, but he wasn't sure who was arriving. There had already been a send off at Baghdad where the army began its march to the Roman border. And, as it arrived, Hadi saw a messenger breaking off and heading to them and Hadi swallowed a sigh.

He hopped off the crate he had been sitting on as the messenger arrived, bowing his head as he spoke, "My lord, you have been invited to dine with the prince and his sister." A royal invitation. Hadi wanted to weep tears of blood, but it was a relief to see that he was hardly the only one being invited. He saw other nobility, much higher nobility, making their way to the flagship that Prince Harun resided. Hadi nearly started weeping tears of blood then because that was the kind of nobility that would take his mere presence as an insult.

"I would be honored," he lied through his teeth and he could have sworn that he heard the faintests of laughs coming from Alim. A quick glance at him revealed his usual expressionless face. Swallowing a sigh, he bid them farewell before following the messenger. It would be a decent enough opportunity to see the flagship -- as Hadi had no command of a ship or men since he could supply none.

The messenger led him down the docks and to the ship -- there, he saw that a tent had been put up on the upper deck where Hadi arrived just in time to see the princess stepping out of the palanquin. She wore light blue silks and a veil, while dark hair fell in long black curls down her back. She was richly adorned with gold and sapphires, and the largest that Hadi had ever seen sat in the jeweled band around her head. She wore a king's ransom.

"Jasmine. Father would be quite wroth if he heard of this," Harun said, seated at a low flat table. Jasmine. The name didn't ring any bells to Hadi's ear as he took a place at the very end of the table, as was befitting of his station. He purposefully avoided the gaze of Emir Muhammad, high nobility. Very high. Hopefully, he would forget Hadi existed soon enough.

The princess herself was likely the child of a second or third wife, or perhaps even a child of a concubine. But, given that she bore the title of princess, she was likely a child of a wife or the Caliph held her in particular esteem.

"By the time he returns, he'll have forgotten all about it," she seemed confident, "At least I didn't sneak away as a commoner -- I would have if I could have taken Rajah with me." Hadi had no idea who Rajah was, but based on how amused Prince Harun seemed, Hadi was convinced he didn't want to find out.

"And why has my sweet sister come all this way? The journey between the palace and Acre is no small trip," Prince Harun questioned and beneath the veil, Hadi saw Princess Jasmine smile.

"I am to see my favorite brother off as he rides to war," Princess Jasmine decided, taking a seat beside her brother. Willful. But Hadi supposed being a child of the Caliph came with some advantages. "Perhaps even join?"

"No," Prince Harun declined and behind the veil, Hadi saw her pout, even if she didn't seem surprised. "It is too dangerous. War is not a place for women."

"I've heard tales that the Pagan allows his women to fight," Princess Jasmine argued without any real heat, seemingly accepting the answer for what it was.

"A savage, my princess. With godless and barbaric ways," Emir Muhammad offered.

Then something rather unfortunate happened. The Princess looked to Hadi, "Lord Hadi, have you seen such things? Do the rumors have any substance to them?"

Why? Why were you people doing this to him? "They do, my princess," Hadi answered and he saw that Princess Jasmine was all too delighted with the news. "Siegfried's wife, Princess Astrid, seems to be a warrior of some renown. At least before finding herself with child." It was a strange custom, and Hadi wondered what brought it about. What land could be so harsh that women were needed to fight?

Hadi swallowed anything else he had to say because Emir Muhammad seemed to take it as a personal insult that Hadi had spoken. Or that he was acknowledged in any way.

"I would like to see this princess. Can you not at least send for me, dear brother? You will have to spend some time on Crete before continuing the invasion?" She tried and Hadi saw her game. Offer high, settle lower -- a bargaining tactic that existed as long as there was bargaining.

Prince Harun pondered that, and the fact that he did told Hadi that the two were close. Close enough that the prince wished to indulge her curiosity. To that, he looked to Emir Muhammad, who seemed all too happy to give his opinion. "We will spend at least a moon turn on Crete after we take it. To give the Roman's pause. I see no reason why you could not join us. Perhaps the Pagan shall make a fine pet." He laughed lightly at his own joke and Hadi's gaze turned to his cup before him. No wine. Just juice. How unfortunate.

Emir Muhammad's game was easy enough to figure out. A month in close proximity with a princess. Hadi was too new at court to tell who was in favor and who wasn't, but given that Emir Muhammad was here Hadi assumed that he wasn't particularly in favor. Powerful enough to not be ignored, certainly, but not lavished with royal attention. Seducing a princess could change that, Hadi thought, taking a sip of his juice, especially when he was high enough nobility to warrant such a match.

"How lovely. Then I shall remain in Acre, awaiting your ships," Princess Jasmine said, patting her brother's hand, getting everything that she wanted. Harun seemed to realize what his sister did based on his mildly amused look, but he didn't correct her. Right. Well, so long as the two of them stayed far away from him, he physically couldn't care less even if he really wanted to. "Do you think I could speak to the Pagan? The tales that surround him are fascinating."

Why was Emir Muhammad glaring at him? What did he do? Ah- royal attention. Again. Prince Harun gestured to him, "Sheikh Hadi has had some experience with him. Do you believe my sister's desires have hope of being fulfilled?" Why are you phrasing it like that? Stop it.

He should say yes. Say yes, and be done with it, but the conversation was far too light. Too simple. They spoke as if they had already won, and it was that very same attitude that led to the disaster that ended with him in charge of twenty thousand men. No. Not again. He refused. He'd rather let everyone die than to pick up the mantle of responsibility. So, better to tell the truth -- a little unpleasantness now beats a lot of unpleasantness later. "It is most unlikely, I am most afraid to say. Siegfried's people glorify death."

Princess Jasmine seemed genuinely saddened while Prince Harun seemed genuinely distraught. "They glorify it?"

"I cannot claim to be an expert, but among my retinue are those that spent some time in Norland. Their gods are strange, but the important bit is that they wish to enter Valhalla. One of their afterlives that is reserved for those who die gloriously in battle. The pagans seem to have many realms of death, but it is Valhalla they most desire. So, it burdens me to sadden my princess, but it is most likely that the pagans will fight to the death. They'll want to." They were a strange people. Hadi personally didn't at all care for it. He liked living far too much.

Emir Muhammad sneered at him, "There is no Valhalla," he cursed. "And I wonder why you know so much about these pagan ways." Why. Why would you do this? Just…

Hadi inclined his head, "Of course there is no Valhalla. But, to them, it is real. As real as Jannah is to us. So, they shall fight and die for the right to enter. As for why I know so much… I wish to know my enemy before I face him." He'd interrogated both Zafir and Alim for everything they knew. He poured over the reports his spies managed to send him with dead drops. And it all painted a damning picture. "After all… The Pagan felt comfortable facing twenty thousand men with two thousand before. Now he faces twenty thousand with five. I imagine, right now, he feels confident that he can win."

"Then he is a most dangerous foe," Princess Jasmine stated and he was glad at least someone understood. She turned to her brother, grabbing his wrist. "You'll take care, won't you?"

Prince Harun seemed pensive. Not afraid, per say, but unsure. "Of course, dear sister."

Emir Muhammad nodded, "The pagans are not even heathens. They are godless. Despite Hadi's warnings, with the light of Allah on our side, we shall be victorious." No title, huh?

It was a cold comfort, Hadi thought as he sipped his juice, that Emir Muhammad was likely among the first that would die in the coming battles.

…

They set sail that same day, the journey to Crete was a short one, no more than a day of travel with such numbers. Hadi remained on the flagship, joined by Zafir, Alim, and his brother, Naeem. Naeem was less than pleased to learn that he had stepped on the toes of an Emir, but there was little to be done. At the very least, he was on his own flagship with the ten thousand men that he had committed to the invasion. The other lords, the lesser lords, made up the other ten thousand.

Despite Hadi's wishes, the weather held. It was smooth sailing the first day of the journey, slowing at night, and it was during the evening of the second day that the island of Crete arrived on the horizon. There, they would disembark at the Abbasid settlement to rejoin with a force that was left behind to maintain their presence on the island. The plan was an assault by sea and land, and with sheer numbers, they would overwhelm Siegfried's forces.

Under normal circumstances, Hadi would say it was a fair plan. Siegfried would be a fool to attack an army four times the size of his, closer to five even with the men left behind. The smartest thing he could do was hold out against their numbers behind his walls. Yet…

Yet, Hadi saw the first sign that Seigfried wasn't content to stay behind his walls when between them and Crete was a single ship. Roman make. "My prince, we should give that ship a wide berth," he offered his advice, watching as the distance between them gradually shrunk. From where Hadi stood, he saw Romans on the deck of the ship, scurrying about like they were doing something.

"They have signaled that they wish to parlay," Yahya, the chief advisor to Prince Harun, replied as he stood on the other side of the prince. Hadi worked his jaw.

"A single ship then," Hadi argued, "but not this one. I have heard tales of the Roman fireships -- just two of them managed to lay waste to the pirates on Crete."

"Lord Hadi speaks sense. It's an unnecessary risk -- send a ship ahead to see what they wish to say," Prince Harun decided and a knot of tension unwound from between Hadi's shoulders. Prince Harun favored him a glance, "I too have heard of these fire ships. Yet, to many, they are a thing of legend."

"I hope I am wrong, my prince. But the consequences of being right are too grave to ignore," Hadi offered, earning a small nod from Prince Harun. They watched as a ship was chosen to sail forward to interact with the lone Roman ship. The tension returned as Hadi watched the two draw near… only for the Roman ship to betray its intentions by surging past it.

"Archers!" Prince Harun shouted out as the Roman ship pressed forward. "Engage the enemy!" Two ships broke off from the formation to clash against the Roman ship, preventing it from nearing the flagship. Archers lined up on the bow of the ships, drawing their arrows and letting them fly. A good number of the arrows sank harmlessly into the water, but some struck true. The Romans, however, retaliated.

Fire. Fire leapt from the Roman ship, dousing the two that intercede it, and across the water Hadi heard screaming. The ships were almost instantly doused in flames, burning, thick black smoke rising as Hadi soon smelled burnt meat and hair. His stomach clenched, bile starting to rise in the back of his throat. Prince Harun stopped, staring at the grisly display with naked horror and disgust. "My prince, the fire ship cannot reach the main fleet."

"I-" he was uncertain, but Prince Harun, to his credit, swallowed down his revulsion. "Divert course," he ordered but Hadi knew it wouldn't be enough. The fire ship sailed beyond the two burning ships, heading to the bulk of the fleet and igniting another ship, this one closer. Hadi saw men jump overboard as they were wreathed in flames, only for the flames to continue to burn underwater as the men sank below the waves.

Hellfire. The Romans had tamed hellfire.

The order went out, and under normal circumstances, the maneuver would have been smooth. Only now there was a ship belching fire at them -- those that were too close to the fire ship for comfort diverted course too hard, slamming into the ships at their sides in an effort to get away. And it was then that Hadi realized the true danger of the fire ship. The fire was deadly, but a lone ship was a lone ship. With calm and resolute men, it could easily be dispatched.

Fire inspired fear. Fear gave way to panic. Panic led to poor decisions and those poor decisions made a situation that could have been mangable into an unmitigated disaster.

The ships that crashed were targeted, dousing one ship caused it to spread. The spreading of the fire incited further panic into other ships, causing further crashes as the fire ship burned a bloody path through their formation. And there was only one way for it to get worse, Hadi decided, looking out to the horizon, and he saw exactly what he feared to see.

"Ships incoming! Ships incoming!" he called out, seeing a dozen of the Norse ships racing towards them at what felt like impossible speeds. They sat low in the water, a full sail carrying them forward -- the ships were entirely too fast for Hadi's liking, and they were going to capitalize on their disarray to inflict even more damage upon them. And… "My prince… we must sail forward."

Prince Harun looked to him, his skin pale and sweat upon his brow. "Forward?"

"Accept the cost in blood, and sail forward. The norsemen will pick us off otherwise," Hadi advised, knowing it in his gut that it was true. It was a cunning plan. Use the fireship to incite panic while the Norsemen harried them, panicking them further while they couldn't muster a proper response. And, from the looks of it, Prince Harun suspected it too.

He gave the order to sail forward, the command echoing out and the response was sluggish. Too sluggish. The fireship inflicted further cost, and some men disobeyed the order entirely to chase the norsemen. They all suffered for it, but the order to go in a single direction prevented any more crashs and clumping. In the end, the fire ship used up its hellfire, and it was swiftly destroyed when it began to flee. And, to Hadi's immense horror, the men chose to set fire to the very ship that they were on rather than let it fall into their hands.

The damage was harsh, but moving in a formation lessened the impact of the norsemen that circled them, firing arrows with deadly accuracy. But, once it was clear that the plan hadn't worked as they wished, the norsemen were quick to abandon the attack and sail back towards Norland. Leaving their fleet a moment to regather itself.

The damage was severe, but less than first impressions would assume. Hadi's worst estimate was that they lost half the fleet, but the truth of the matter was that they had only lost a dozen ships. Still a heavy loss, but a significant portion of those that were on the ships were fished out of the water. They would need to land to get an accurate count of their losses, but things weren't so disastrous that the invasion needed to be called off before it began.

"My prince?" Yahya prompted as a few hours passed in the open water, fishing people out if it while gathering the fleet up once more. Prince Harun looked out at the burnt out ships, only some remaining above water.

"Lord Hadi -- this is the Pagan's doing?" the Prince questioned and Hadi didn't even hesitate to nod.

"Almost certainly. The Pagan is clever, my prince. And ruthless to his enemies. We will not find an easy foe in him," Hadi advised, glad that he was starting to understand. His words were absolutely worthless without understanding or action.

Hadi never wanted to face Siegfried in battle, but by royal command, that choice was robbed of him. Leaving him only with trying to endure his own survival.

Prince Harun seemed to mull that over before he nodded to himself. "We continue to port. Lord Hadi, you shall be by my side," he informed and… well… dealing with jealous nobles was about as deadly as a pagan demi-god, but they could be a problem for another day.

With the decision made… they continued on to sail into port.

Hadi only realized far too late that they had stepped head first into a noose.

...

I'm doing something a little different for this next conflict. We're going to see what it's like fighting Siegfried.

Disembarking was a long and time consuming affair. The settlement of Fajr was in good order, as it had been when Hadi left it some months ago. Five thousand men remained in it to secure their foothold, and they welcomed their countrymen with open arms. Hadi found himself rather busy taking stock of the situation -- collecting spy reports that had yet to be sent to him, inspecting the damage that the fire ship had done to their fleet, and steeling himself for everything to come.

The damage done to the fleet was severe, but it could have been worse. A dozen ships were burnt, and they lost around two thousand men. A harsh number, but their forces were more than replenished by the soldiers holding Fajr. The greater issue was the loss of the horses. While their army was not particularly reliant on cavalry, it was still a great inconvenience -- of the twenty-three thousand men, only four thousand were cavalry, with around five hundred of them being scouts. However, they lost a great many horses. Enough so that of the four thousand, only one in eight had a horse.

Food was a similar issue, but less so. An army of over twenty thousand men ate truly staggering amounts of food a day, and while they had brought a significant amount with them -- hard bread, salted meat, oats, barley, and grain -- the loss of a single supply ship was punishing. Crete lacked plentiful foraging, which meant they would have to turn to fishing to help keep the army fed. By Hadi's calculations, they had enough food for about two weeks, a fair amount of time given that it was expected that they would forage.

Once the army was fully disembarked, the ships would return to Acre, filled up with food, and when the army was ready to march, they would then sail into Anatolia. Assuming that everything went to plan, that was.

"What news do you bring us, Lord Hadi?" Prince Harun questioned as they assembled in an upper class house. It wasn't fit to be called a villa or manor, but it was the closest thing they had in the settlement. The war council was fully assembled with the prince seated at the head of the table, Yahya Birkhmid standing to his right while Emir Muhammad was seated at his left. There were other nobility seated between them, but they were of a lesser concern at the moment.

"My prince, Chania has been evacuated -- the inhabitants, the few left, are in Norland. Additionally, a fire ship wasn't all that the Romans saw fit to give them. Norland is reinforced by two thousand levies," Hadi answered, passing the strips of parchment or cloth that the information was written on down. Reinforcements weren't ideal, but it either spoke of the Romans confidence that they sent so few, or their inability to send more. "The walls have been completed, both outer and inner. Furthermore, a ditch has been dug out before the walls. Interestingly, it seems that the slaves taken have been released from their bondage upon completion of the works."

Seigfried didn't trust his slaves, it seemed. A fair concern given that they were former soldiers and their countrymen were here. That being said, Hadi didn't have any expectations for them in battle. Siegfried had given them months of hard labor to build the settlement, and any strength that they had left wouldn't amount to much in battle.

"The reinforcements change nothing. We still outnumber them three to one," Emir Muhammad spoke up, earning some nods. Prince Harun offered nothing in response. "Walls hastily made are flawed. I say that we teach them this -- March our men to this fort, tear down these godless fortifications, while we attack from the sea. The Pagan does not have the numbers to match us." A full assault.

It wasn't a bad plan. It was pretty spot on for what they intended when they first sailed to Norland, but that was before it became a city that was now defended by seven thousand men- Hadi frowned in thought, and to his cursed luck, Prince Harun noticed.

"You disagree?" The prince asked and the Emir looked like he wished he had arms long enough to reach down the table to strangle him.

Hadi didn't particularly care about the war. Win, lose -- it was all the same to him. However, what did concern him rather greatly was the prospect of getting his head ripped off by the Pagan. "My Prince, my lords… Seigfried is a man of action. I have listened closely to the tales, and I have heard second hand accounts of his battles. The information is less ironclad than I would like, but it is enough to establish a pattern… and that pattern is that Siegfried has only twice, fought defensively. The first time, he was but a boy under the command of another, and the second was not of his own volition."

The second time was a worrisome tale -- that he head been trapped by an army several times his size, but he still managed to cut through them to escape.

Emir Muhammad looked at him as if he had grown a second head, "You say he will attack? An army three times his number? When he has walls?" He questioned, playing up his doubts to discredit him. "I can't tell who would be more mad -- the Pagan, or you."

It was incredibly frustrating to admit that he had a point. It was madness to attack an army many times the size of your own when you had a perfectly serviceable defensive position. Only Hadi had studied his enemy, and he had studied him well. Siegfried was an offensive fighter. An aggressive one. He attacked, and when he gave ground, it was to secure a position that would further enable his offensive.

"I do agree with the general sentiment of Emir Muhammad's plan," Hadi said, his tone placating as he swallowed much sharper words. He had an in with the Prince, which was a horrid thought, but if the rest of the lords didn't like him… they could tip the scales against sound advice. Because it didn't matter how sound it was. Prince Harun couldn't alienate most of his supporters as his actions reflected the crown and his family. "We besiege the settlement by land and sea, but we should maintain a reserve in Fajr to secure our food and ships."

The military wasn't all that different from politics, rather unfortunately. It required saying the right things the right way to the right person at the right time. Those out of favor had their voices drowned out, and suffered sabotage when it came to supplies and even orders. So, as much as he would like to scream at the top of his lungs, he had to adapt his approach to the general consensus. He could survive standing out, but he would not survive standing against the will of the nobility.

"However, I would recommend a larger force to remain behind. Say… five thousand men. In addition, I would recommend building up defenses for our camp outside of Norland," he added. The first part was already within expectations, just increasing from two thousand to five. He could make solid arguments for it -- securing more food, greater security for their fodder and their ships. The second part, Hadi knew, would rub them the wrong way. "The Pagan is audacious, and fortune has favored him for it. I would not expect him to leave Norland defenseless, but it would be well within his character to keep… a thousand men outside the settlement. All for the sake of prodding us and making our siege painful."

Hadi almost cried in relief when he saw Prince Harun nod slowly, "Allah smiles upon those who do not invite disaster into their homes. These measures are prudent and cost us nothing," he spoke in favor of them, which meant no one could speak against them. "We shall take ten thousand men to besiege Norland, ten ships will arrange themselves outside of the harbor, and the remainder shall remain here to be called upon as needed." Meaning that the split was roughly what Hadi had sought.

Then the Prince stood, "We shall depart immediately. Ready the men," he instructed and the war council broke up. Prince Harun took further counsel from Yahya, leaving Hadi free of any obligations.

Already, he felt the cold wind coming from the rest of the nobility. Too high, Hadi thought, as he made his way back to the few he could call allies. His father was an ambitious man, but a cautious one. A rise to power must happen over a long period of time. To rise too quickly was to invite disaster -- the high nobility would turn their nose up in disgust at low nobility grasping for a higher station, while the lower nobility would be fiercely jealous of one of their own rising so high. Staggering the rise over the course of generations would be far easier to swallow by both ends of the court.

He found his brother Naeem speaking to Zafir, both men noticing his approach. Alim, however, seemed content drawing… what seemed to be Nordic script in the sand. Hadi paid it little mind as he closed in on his brother, and Naeem seemed to recognize his expression. "What did you do?"

Hadi couldn't even pretend to be offended. "I spoke too freely," he admitted. "The situation is not so terrible that it can't be overturned… but only once we encounter Siegfried. Until then, I find myself with enemies." Hopefully, the Pagan will kill some of them. Not enough to leave Hadi in a position of power, but just enough to make it clear to the others that Hadi was right all along. It may not soothe their ruffled feathers, but it would prevent them from acting.

"I ache to face him in battle," Zafir muttered, grabbing hold of his scimitar by the hilt. "He is a great warrior, this is true, but I must wash out the stain he put upon my honor." That had been the price Hadi negotiated to prevent Zafir from killing himself. It wasn't a promise he had any intentions of fulfilling when he made it -- he just wanted someone who actually understood how a fleet was supposed to function around. Allah did love his jokes.

"We'll be setting out shortly. Ready yourself," Hadi said, turning to his little brother. Who wasn't so little anymore. He wasn't a boy to be protected, but Hadi was loathe to put him in danger. "Naeem. You will ride beside me, but I want you to swear to me that you will not fight him."

Naeem opened his mouth, but Hadi cut him off by grabbing him by the shoulders. "You won't win. Zafir won't win. I don't care if he's going to take my head, or the Prince's -- swear to me that you will not face him in battle." Hadi had barely saw Siegfried fight in truth, but he couldn't forget it regardless. In the span of three breaths, three men were dead.

To Hadi's immense disappointment, Naeem shook his head. "I cannot be seen as a coward, brother. It would cost the family too much." The family. Father's catch all excuse for using his children like pawns.

"It would cost the family more if you die," Hadi argued, his lips thinning. Where was the safest place for Naeem? The settlement? The ships? The Prince's side? All were in danger of being attacked by the Pagan.

"Then I shall not die," Naeem replied with a cheeky smile, which slipped when Hadi didn't return it.

The fool. The only way Hadi could make sure he didn't get killed was if he kept Naeem in his view at all times.

"You won't, little brother. I shall make sure of it."

…

The army set out by noon, marching overland towards the settlement of Norland. Hadi found himself accompanying the Prince and other nobility, but he was thankfully left out of the discussions. Purposely snubbed, Hadi thought, not minding one bit. It left him free to inspect the terrain. The land was arid with sand colored rocks. There was greenery to be found, but a great deal of it was sparse shrubbery.

The army marched slowly, Hadi found. Noon soon gave way to dusk as the terrain began to gently change. The large uneven plains gave way to rolling hills, which in turn gave way to cliffsides. Hadi eyed them with suspicion -- the scouts rode ahead, so an ambush was unlikely, but as the day wore on, Hadi found himself increasingly anxious.

Fears that were proven well founded when one of the scouts rode back with a message, "My Prince! The way is blocked!" The scout reported, making Hadi frown. Blocked? What did that mean? "The heathens have built a wall and earth works."

One of the nobles that accompanied the prince turned to Hadi, "Did your spies not report this?" It was a rebuke, and one that Hadi found worrisome.

"They didn't. I would see this wall with my own eyes. Is it manned?" Hadi questioned, making the scout nod his head. That was…

"We could not get a good count, but there are at least a hundred of them there," he informed and… Hadi felt uneasy. A manned wall… they weren't far away from Norland, but they weren't exactly close. At least a dozen to twenty miles away. With how slowly the army marched, they would need to camp for the night and arrive at noon on the morrow. A wall that far out made little sense tactically, and having a hundred men…

"He wishes to bleed us. He sacrifices his men to us to delay our journey," Emir Muhammad spoke up, but it was Prince Harun that spoke next.

"Or they are bait. Lead the way," he instructed, ushering his palanquin forward. The scout quickly nodded, leading them to the forefront of the army. It was then that Hadi saw the wall in question -- a palisade reinforced with earthworks and a ditch. No gate to speak of. It ran the length between two problematically steep hills. As the scout had informed, Hadi saw around a hundred men armed with bows and javelins upon the wall.

It didn't make sense, Hadi quickly decided, taking in the situation. The fortification wasn't so well situated that it was impossible to assail, it was just… annoying, if Hadi to call it something. They could climb the hill, but it would be bloody. Or…

"They tempt us to go around?" Prince Harun spoke, echoing his thoughts. The wall blocked off a path, but it was hardly the only one that led to Norland. "Have our scouts spread wide -- if the heathen army is waiting in ambush, then I will not be caught unaware." Prince Harun, in large part, struck Hadi as a shy boy. Not particularly outspoken. However, Hadi was starting to see that underneath that shyness was a sharp mind and an iron will.

Emir Muhammad looked to Hadi, "It seems that the Pagan is as mad as you said." He acknowledged, but it was a cold comfort. Hadi didn't like this entire situation. At all. Even if it was an ambush… it wouldn't be enough. They marched with fifteen thousand men. In the right circumstances, Hadi would say defeat was possible, but not these circumstances. A petty fortification, an ambush…

Hadi found himself digging a fingernail underneath the nail of his thumb, the pinching pain helping him focus as they awaited the scout's report. The pagans jeered at them as they remained at a distance, but Hadi couldn't understand a word that they were saying. He could guess, though. He looked out at them, trying to see what their purpose was.

"Is it a delaying tactic?" Hadi muttered, closing his eyes in thought. He didn't know enough about the terrain, Hadi realized. Well, he knew enough about the terrain -- arid, dry, little forging in terms of berries or nuts -- but the shape of the terrain was largely a mystery to him.

"What say you?" Prince Harun questioned, looking at him with sharp eyes.

Hadi chewed on his thoughts for a moment more, "I fear it is a delaying tactic. I know little of the march there, but I do know there aren't many roads that can handle nearly twenty thousand men and our baggage train going down it. The Pagan may wish to force us down this road. Or, if we attack, we are still delayed and bloodied for it. A drop in the bucket, but still bloodied." A win-win situation for them. The roads on the island were narrow, and the rocky soil made for treacherous footing -- it may be fine for the first five thousand men, but on the tenth, it could give way.

Still, it was a question of a delaying tactic for what-

An image flashed in Hadi's mind. Siegfried jumping an impossible distance to attack a ship of warriors on his own. Bold. No, fearless. Siegfried would know the odds. He would know the numbers. He was unflinching from any danger and mighty enough to make the impossible possible.

What was the single most damaging thing that he could do to the army?

Hadi opened his eyes and looked to Prince Harun. Capturing or killing him would freeze the army in its tracks. A prince was a powerful hostage to have. Similarly, killing the majority of the nobility would lead to fracturing. But, they were all well guarded. Siegfried could not reach them without great cost, and the odds were not in his favor.

The second thing was…

"Our ships. Our food. That mad bastard is going to attack Fajr," Hadi breathed as panic shot down his spine. He felt it in his bones, he was right. It would be a killing blow to an army of this size.

Emir Muhammad seemed vaguely concerned, "We left five thousand men in a walled settlement. Even if they left their own settlement empty, they could not hope to destroy our ships or supplies without destroying themselves." He was right. Completely and utterly. That was exactly why he cautioned that they leave more men behind. "What Shiekh Hadi fears is a concern, but it is one that we have already mitigated."

He was right. He was right, but Hadi still felt uncertain as he met Prince Harun's gaze.

And Prince Harun made the decision, "Take our cavalry and return to Fajr with haste, Sheikh Hadi. If nothing else, you can warn them of an impending attack," He ordered and Hadi nodded curtly before breaking off. It was well handled, Hadi thought with some admiration -- he was dismissed without giving slight, while soothing any wounded pride on behalf of the nobility.

Hadi quickly did as he was ordered. The army itself decided to ignore the wall, heading down in a unified march down the other path. Meanwhile, he gathered up five hundred cavalrymen and began to gallop the way that they came.

It was only an odd thirty miles, and he rode the horses hard, yet the horses could not gallop for hours on end. It was just over eight hours later when he saw exactly what he had feared to see.

Smoke rising in the distance.

Hadi dug his heels into his horse's flanks, urging the steed to go faster as he clenched his teeth. His arse was going to be sore, but that was a concern for tomorrow, he thought. Provided that he lived that long. Rising up over the crest of a hill, Hadi saw Fajr and he saw it burning. Houses were set alight, the fire spreading uncontrollably. Worse still, Hadi saw that the ships were burning as well.

His heart sank to his stomach like a stone -- they were already too late. That was…

That was impossible. Hadi wanted to scream the words out, but it clearly wasn't. Five thousand men. Five thousand men. How could five thousand men and walls not be enough to last more than a few hours?

Any trace of moisture in his mouth vanished at the sight, even as they rode on, spurred by the destruction. And it was only as they neared that they saw the culprits leaving the scene -- men that were hidden out of view rushed forward, carrying an extra horse behind them to meet the men fleeing the burning settlement. And Hadi despaired.

A hundred men. A hundred men had burnt the settlement to the ground.

And he understood why.

Hadi caught sight of a blood soaked man with red hair jumping onto a horse. Siegfried the Wolfkissed. The Pagan. His men gathered themselves up, saddling their horses, and started to flee. Hadi knew exactly who was to blame for their current circumstances. And, for a moment, Hadi was struck with indecision. Cold dread gripped his heart and his breathing hitched when Siegfried seemed to sense them.

He was younger than Hadi expected, and of all things, that's what he first noticed. He was an age closer to his brother than Hadi himself. You wouldn't think it seeing as he was a man grown in size, with blood red hair and bright blue eyes. Handsome, but he still had a boyish look with a thin red beard on his cheeks. His epitaph was well earned, Hadi saw, with a large bite wound on his neck.

Then Siegfried smiled a smile that froze Hadi's blood in his veins. Before he had a chance to decide a thing, Siegfried made the choice for them all and wheeled his horsemen around, charging straight for them. His harburk was dyed red, as were the segmented plates on one of his arms. In one hand he carried a large axe that dripped freely of crimson blood.

I'm going to die. The thought was certain as Hadi found himself facing a charge from what he could only describe as a demigod. One who saw he was outnumbered five times over and decided that the odds were in his favor. It ran out in his head again and again and again, even as he numbly unsheathed his scimitar. The only hope, the only chance, was that the remainder in the city was too much of a threat for a long battle. That they would flee instead.

Yet, Siegfried didn't swerve his horse. And Hadi found himself charging straight towards him. He hefted his blade, and Siegfried hefted his axe…

I'm dead.

Instinct took over before Hadi even realized what he was doing, yanking back the reigns to his horse to jerk its head up just as Siegfried swung. To Hadi's immense horror, he was showered in blood as Siegfried beheaded his horse with a single strike, and his horse crumpled forward, saving Hadi's own head. His blade fell from his hand and through the layer of red that now covered his face…

The last thing he saw was the earth racing up to greet him.