Fadhil returned to his bedroom.
Here, the candlelight flickered. Although his face was haggard, at this moment, he no longer felt any physical fatigue.
All he could feel now was a warm current flowing in his heart.
That's a kind of power.
He first went to the windowsill and took a deep breath.
Full moon.
It is a full moon in Damascus.
Before His Majesty Saladin conquered Damascus, the nights here would never have been as peaceful as they are today.
"Brother..."
His lips twitched a few times, and then he closed his eyes tightly and opened them again.
Now, it's time to think about countermeasures.
It looks like tonight will be another sleepless night.
He sat upright at his desk with a sheepskin map spread out in front of him, which was densely marked with city defense deployment and food distribution.
It is impossible to add any extra strokes to it.
What's more, this map is no longer that important to Fadhil.
What he needs to do now is to come up with a solution.
A way to prevent the generals and ministers in Damascus from feeling despair and panic after learning of the death of the two negotiating ministers.
However, even he showed a look of fear when he saw the two letters and the head, let alone those ministers?
This seems to be an unsolvable problem.
"if......"
"Saladin is still alive. If my brother were faced with the current situation, what would he do?"
"Brother, would you do this?"
"Ah... I have no idea."
Obviously, this is a question that has no standard answer, but it is crucial for Damascus and the Arab Kingdom today.
It was directly related to morale and the state in which they could defend Damascus.
As the saying goes, if one person is determined to die, ten people will find it difficult to stop him.
If a hundred people are determined to die, a thousand people will find it difficult to stop them.
What if a thousand people were determined to die?
So, what can we do to boost everyone’s morale?
But within a few minutes, beads of sweat appeared on Fadhil's forehead.
He frowned and drummed his fingers on the table.
He recalled over and over again every detail of his work with Saladin, trying to find a solution.
At this moment, the oil lamp on the table flickered and a wisp of green smoke rose from the wick.
Only then did Fadhil notice that the light had dimmed. He reached out and moved the wick, and the flame suddenly became brighter.
The darkness was dispelled and the lights were lit again.
"Light in the darkness is like hope in despair..."
He murmured to himself what Saladin had once said to him.
In an instant, a thought flashed through his mind like lightning.
That's right! Saladin has never been a passive defender!
Even under the most unfavorable conditions, he always looks for opportunities and creates turnarounds instead of waiting passively.
Once upon a time, in a battle with the enemy, Saladin knew that he was at a disadvantage in terms of military strength, but he cleverly used the terrain and weather conditions to defeat the enemy in one fell swoop.
Another time, when faced with an internal rebellion, he did not suppress it directly, but instead used division and disintegration to ultimately defeat the enemy without fighting.
Fadhil's eyes lit up slightly at this moment.
Yes, Saladin's wisdom lies in his initiative and his ingenious search for solutions.
The most important thing is that he always believed in the power of human heart.
The power of Arab unity.
And these are exactly what Fadil needs most now.
After figuring this out, he felt a warm current surge from the bottom of his heart and quickly flow throughout his body.
"Brother!"
“You are guiding me now!”
The feeling of powerlessness and confusion that had plagued him for days disappeared, replaced by an unprecedented clarity.
At this moment, he only felt that his brain was working rapidly and he did not feel tired at all.
He quickly sorted out the documents on his desk, changed into a clean white robe, and covered it with a dark blue cloak embroidered with gold thread.
Although he still looked tired in the mirror, his eyes had regained their former sharpness and tenacity.
"Someone come!"
As soon as Fadhil finished speaking, two servants immediately entered and knelt on one knee.
"Notify all ministers and generals to assemble in the meeting hall at dawn."
"This matter is of great importance and no one can be absent."
He gave orders to the servants waiting outside.
"Yes, Your Majesty Fadhil."
The attendant took the order and left, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.
Fadhil took a last look at the portrait of Saladin hanging on the wall.
In the painting, Saladin is dressed in military uniform, with one hand on his sword and the other hand spread out in a gesture of blessing.
Those eyes seemed to have magical powers, as if they could see through Fadhil's mind.
"Brother, today, I will act in the way you taught me."
"What the future holds for Damascus will be tomorrow."
Fadhil bowed respectfully and strode out of the bedroom.
the next day.
Before dawn, the palace's meeting hall was already bustling with activity.
Servants hurried through the room, placing chairs and lighting wall lamps.
In the corner, several book servants had prepared parchment and ink, ready to record Fadhil's words at any time.
In the center of the hall, a round table is particularly eye-catching. It was specially customized by Saladin during his lifetime.
It symbolizes that "there is no head at the round table and everyone is equal."
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