News of Hisn Akkar's fall spread faster than Roland's army ever could.
By the time Jerusalem's banners were seen from the hills west of Akkar, the County of Tripoli was already tearing itself apart. Three men claimed the title of Count, and none trusted the others enough to stand together.
That division was exactly what Roland expected.
Three Lords, Three Fears
Amalthea laid out the reports in the war tent.
"Lord Raymond controls the inland valleys. He relies on old noble blood and peasant levies."
"Lord Bohemond holds the coastal cities — Tortosa and Baniyas. He's wealthy, but his soldiers are mercenaries."
"And Lord Stefan," Sir Aldric added, "claims Tripoli itself. His power is the weakest… but his pride is the strongest."
Roland studied the map.
"Three lords. Three weaknesses."
He looked up.
"We don't face them together. We face them separately."
Breaking the Inland Lord
Roland struck first at Lord Raymond.
Rather than a full invasion, Roland sent envoys ahead of the army, carrying proof of Arqa's restoration and Hisn Akkar's peaceful surrender.
When the army arrived, Raymond's peasants refused to rise.
His levies deserted him overnight.
Cornered and outnumbered, Raymond rode out under a white banner.
"I will not fight you," Raymond said bitterly. "But I will not kneel either."
Roland dismounted and met him eye to eye.
"Then don't kneel," Roland said. "Rule your lands under Jerusalem's law. Protect your people. Pay your taxes. Or lose everything."
Raymond hesitated.
Then nodded.
The first lord of Tripoli bent — without a battle.
The Coastal Cities Burn
Lord Bohemond chose a different path.
When Roland's fleet approached Tortosa, Bohemond ordered the docks burned, hoping to deny Jerusalem supplies and force a retreat.
It was a mistake.
Roland adapted instantly.
He ordered engineers ashore, rebuilding temporary docks in days — faster than Bohemond's mercenaries could believe possible.
Meanwhile, Jerusalem's archers pinned Bohemond's forces inside the city while cavalry severed inland supply routes.
The mercenaries fled.
Bohemond fled with them.
Tortosa and Baniyas opened their gates before nightfall.
Roland walked the docks personally, ordering repairs and reopening trade.
"Burning cities is how weak men rule," he said. "We rebuild."
The coastal population remembered that.
The Pride of Tripoli
That left Lord Stefan.
Unlike the others, Stefan refused envoys, refused negotiation, and executed anyone suspected of favoring Jerusalem.
Tripoli's people began to starve.
Roland stood outside the city withicerwise.
"We don't rush this," he told his commanders. "Tripoli must fall cleanly — or it will never truly belong to us."
A siege began.
Not brutal.
Not reckless.
Precise.
Supply lines were cut. Wells outside the city were secured. Food was distributed to refugees — not seized.
Inside Tripoli, Stefan's grip weakened by the day.
On the ninth night, the gates opened from within.
Stefan was dragged into the streets by his own men.
Roland entered Tripoli at dawn.
The Choice That Defined a King
Stefan was brought before him, beaten and bleeding.
"Kill me," Stefan spat. "Prove you're no different."
Roland looked at him for a long moment.
Then he turned away.
"Exile him," Roland ordered. "Strip his titles. He will live knowing his cruelty ended his rule."
Some commanders were shocked.
But the people of Tripoli weren't.
They cheered.
Tripoli Joins Jerusalem
That evening, Roland stood in Tripoli's citadel as the banner of Jerusalem rose above the city.
The County of Tripoli was no more.
In its place stood a unified coast — Acre, Tyre, Tripoli — bound not by fear, but by law and order.
Amalthea approached quietly.
"You've reclaimed every former land of the Kingdom of Jerusalem," she said. "And more."
Roland looked out over the city.
"Then now," he said, "we stop being conquerors… and start being a kingdom that lasts."
The war for survival was over.
The age of rule had begun.