It was almost dawn when Fadil prepared to go to the Citadel of Saladin.
At this moment, Damascus is shrouded in a gray-blue morning mist.
Fadhil rode a black horse and led a small group of elite guards through the quiet streets and alleys, galloping towards Saladin's castle.
The shops on both sides of the street have not yet opened, only a few bakery chimneys are emitting wisps of smoke.
The city continues to operate normally as usual.
However, people did not know that the soul of their great monarch had quietly and forever disappeared in Damascus.
When they arrived at the castle gate, two fully armed Mamluk cavalrymen immediately stepped forward and saluted.
Their eyes were bloodshot and their faces were stained with tears.
They had obviously not slept all night.
"grown ups!"
Upon seeing Fadhil, one of the cavalrymen immediately knelt on one knee.
"His Majesty Saladin...he..."
Fadhil nodded, without saying anything more, dismounted and walked into the castle.
The hall was empty. The servants and clerks who were usually busy were now hiding in their respective posts, not daring to make any noise.
The air seemed to have become much heavier.
Walking up the wide staircase, Fadhil arrived at the door of Saladin's private chamber.
Four guards stood at the door, their armor decorated with the unique eagle emblem of the Saladin family.
When they saw Fadhil, they all bowed their heads in greeting, but no one dared to speak, only their eyes conveyed their sorrow.
Fadhil took a deep breath.
He stared at the door of Saladin's room, unable to raise his arms for a long time.
"Open the door for me."
In the end, he had no choice but to ask the guards to help him open the door.
Then he saw Saladin lying peacefully on the bed.
Saladin had his eyes slightly closed and his face expressionless, as if he was just sleeping.
However, his skin color was an almost transparent paleness, completely different from the healthy wheat color he had when he was alive.
At this moment, a ray of morning light shone through the gap in the curtains onto his face, casting a layer of sacred light on the great monarch.
"My king..."
"My...brother."
Fadhil walked to the bedside involuntarily and knelt down.
He stretched out his hand and hesitated in mid-air, but finally placed it gently on the back of Saladin's cold hand.
"How could you... just leave us like this?"
He sobbed softly and tears began to fall in big drops.
"You promised to lead us to the unification of Arabia, to let our flag fly from the walls of every city."
"You said it was only a matter of time..."
Silent tears streamed down Fadhil's cheeks.
At this moment, he took off all his masks and disguises, showing his rare and vulnerable side.
"You know, just last night, I was still thinking about what you once taught me."
“A leader must learn to control his emotions, but he must never lose them.”
"And today, you left me..."
There were footsteps outside the door, and several ministers quietly entered the room.
When they saw Fadhil kneeling beside the bed, they all remained silent.
After a long time, Fadhil wiped away his tears and slowly stood up.
Then he turned to the ministers.
"Although His Majesty Saladin has passed away, the responsibility on the shoulders of the living remains heavy."
"We must discuss countermeasures immediately."
"The departure of His Majesty Saladin is a crisis for Arabia."
"The rebels will eventually learn of this news, so we must prepare in advance."
Everyone nodded in agreement and followed Fadhil to the meeting room next door.
It was a simple room with a map of Arabia hanging on the wall, with the names of various tribes and cities marked on it.
In the center of the map, lines drawn in red ink represent areas of rebellion that have not yet been fully quelled.
"Today, the situation is more serious than we imagined."
Fadhil spoke straight to the point.
"The civil unrest that was difficult to suppress during the lifetime of His Majesty Saladin will surely become even more rampant after his death."
A military advisor in a blue robe nodded, and then he unfolded a piece of intelligence.
"According to the latest news, the three northern tribes have begun to stir. Their leaders have always harbored resentment towards His Majesty Saladin, but they are afraid to act rashly due to his prestige."
Another minister also added.
“That’s not all.”
"The tribes on the eastern border are also ready to make a move. If they learn of the news about His Majesty Saladin, they will surely see this as the perfect opportunity to break free from our control."
Fadhil sighed and paced in front of the map.
"If this news reaches the ears of the public, it will inevitably cause panic and chaos."
"Our treasury is already tight, and if panic buying and hoarding occur, the economic situation will be further strained."
The atmosphere in the conference room became increasingly solemn.
Everyone understood that Saladin's death was not just the loss of a great leader, but also shook the foundation of the entire Arab League.
Over the years, it was Saladin's personal charm, military talent and political wisdom that united these loose tribes and formed a rudimentary unified country.
Now, that pillar has collapsed.
The entire structure could fall apart at any moment.
An elderly minister said firmly: "We must conceal the death of His Majesty Saladin."
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