The battle did not fully end until several dozen minutes had passed.
Our losses were light.
One horse lost. No dead.
Four lightly wounded—including myself.
Compared to the camels, horses, and equipment we gained as spoils, it was a small price.
After spending one night nearby, we resumed our journey.
With the Bedouin tribes nowhere in sight, Eila finally came into view in the distance.
"Your Highness, that ahead is Eila."
Sir Garnier said, pointing toward the shimmering Red Sea.
The knights and soldiers cheered, but those who rejoiced most were the Jews.
"Home! We've returned home!"
Watching them, I smiled.
I could leave the reconstruction of the port to the Venetians and idle around until something happened.
'At last, I can rest a little.'
It took less than two days for that hope to be shattered.
Not even two full days.
"Has the verdict been reached?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Sir Garnier rose and nodded.
Everyone in the room looked at him with tense expressions.
"We have determined that the Venetian merchant, Raynal, has no right to demand additional payment from the Jewish farmer."
"Then let that be the ruling. Are there any objections?"
I stretched as I spoke.
Was this already the third hearing today?
I had not known suppressing a yawn could be so difficult.
"But, Your Highness!"
The merchant sprang to his feet, pointing at the farmer beside him.
Both men were flushed with anger.
"The man paid only for one goat. The animal carried a kid inside—naturally there must be additional payment—"
"If you feel wronged, you may choose trial by combat," I said. "Or you may undergo the water test."
Both are simple enough.
In trial by combat, the one who wins is justified.
As for the water test—if you float, you are guilty; if you sink, you are innocent.
"Choose whichever you prefer."
"I do not object to trial by combat."
The farmer stood.
The difference in build between him and the merchant was obvious at a glance.
The merchant frowned and fell silent.
"…."
"Then I shall consider the ruling accepted. This hearing is concluded."
I rose with another stifled yawn.
I never imagined I would end up playing judge.
Through the window, the harbor spread out below.
A great port and docks.
Emerald sea ahead.
Wide plains beyond.
Dockworkers and sailors shouted as ships unloaded cargo.
Merchant vessels entered one by one.
By scenery alone, it felt like a holiday.
Reality, of course, was the opposite.
Three weeks.
It had been nearly a month since we settled in Eila.
'Things have progressed faster than expected.'
With the Jews who followed us, manpower was sufficient.
Eila had lacked inhabitants, not infrastructure.
'And necessary supplies were drawn from nearby fortresses…'
The partially ruined walls were nearly restored.
Muslim merchants from nearby regions began arriving once word spread that the port was reopening.
Inns for caravans were established. Pilgrims gathered.
The harbor regained life.
That did not make my work easier.
All day long I heard petitions and presided over disputes.
The matters to resolve were endless.
So this is what it means to be royalty.
'With great power comes great responsibility.'
Though in my case, I seemed to have responsibility without power.
Lost in thought, I noticed Sir Garnier approach.
"You have labored much today, Your Highness."
"You as well, Sir Garnier. The hearings ended late today—perhaps we may postpone sword training—"
"A blade left unused rusts quickly. Then we shall shorten it."
"…Very well."
As expected.
Since the last battle, training seemed even harsher.
Archery, crossbows, lance charges, sword cuts, dagger thrusts.
There was a reason the knights were called machines of war.
Eat and train all day—one cannot help but grow strong.
"As you requested, we have established watchtowers and temporary fortifications outside the city. But the fundamental problem remains."
Sir Garnier spoke evenly.
"We lack manpower. Once we depart, defense will be even more difficult."
"If we can endure until reinforcements arrive from nearby fortresses, that will suffice."
Eila had been abandoned for years.
It could not immediately become a strong defensive base.
"In urgent circumstances, we could conscript the Jews for defense."
"I am uncertain," Sir Garnier replied. "They aided us in the valley. But… when danger comes, they may choose flight. They have done so before."
"Anyone untrained would flee," I answered.
Under Islamic rule, non-Muslims were forbidden to bear arms or ride horses.
Those prohibitions had lasted centuries.
Flight over resistance was hardly surprising.
"Let us speak with their leaders. If there is little objection, we will entrust training to the Hospitallers."
"If it fails, little is lost. I shall attempt to make warriors of them."
Sir Garnier nodded.
"For now, there should be no immediate threat. The desert tribes suffered greatly in the last battle. They will not dare attack such a port."
"I hope so."
When the Bedouin attacked us, I had sensed something desperate.
'They were not driven by plunder alone.'
Still, we could not simply yield.
"If trouble arises, the Venetians will take up arms. That is why they were granted exclusive rights to the port."
Even under truce, the Red Sea remained Muslim waters.
It could become a battlefield at any time.
'And in naval strength, Venice surpasses other maritime cities.'
Venetian ships were crewed by free citizens.
If attacked, they fought.
Each vessel carried three to five hundred men capable of combat.
Far superior to Muslim ships rowed by slaves.
"And the Venetians act collectively, unlike other sea cities."
Venice had once led a crusade that captured Constantinople itself.
"They will not abandon the profits from this place easily."
Sir Garnier looked at me with widened eyes.
"You considered even that at your age? Remarkable."
"I did not think so far from the beginning."
That was true.
Much of it came unconsciously—from having played Last Crusaders countless times.
Reflex rather than foresight.
Just then Aig burst through the door.
"Your Highness! The Venetian merchants have brought sacks of coin!"
"Coin?"
Ah. Today was the day of final payment.
I stood.
"It seems training must wait a little longer, Sir Garnier."
"I shall be waiting at the yard."
"I will not forget."
Inside the chamber, chests of coin were stacked high.
"So this is what twenty thousand dinars looks like."
Soldiers groaned as they carried sack after sack.
Mercenary officers earned three to five dinars a month.
A tidy sum.
"Incredible… I could not save even a quarter of this in a lifetime," Aig murmured.
I tossed him a few coins.
"Then begin with these."
"I cannot possibly—"
"You rode with me against the desert tribes. Consider it thanks. The others will receive their share as well."
"Th-thank you!"
Aig clutched the coins in disbelief.
I glanced at another handful.
"I would give some to Sir Garnier, but…"
He would refuse.
The Order might be wealthy, but individual knights owned nothing.
They surrendered their property upon entry.
The wealthiest organization, and the poorest members.
I looked back at the chests.
By modern standards, how much was this?
Several buildings at least.
Yet it stirred little feeling.
What use was vast wealth in this age?
No sports cars. No yachts.
Silk and gold ornaments were the height of extravagance.
Still—
Money was essential.
Fortresses. Soldiers' wages. Alliances.
Everything required coin.
If only I had some cheat to generate infinite money.
No system window appeared.
Of course not.
In lesser tales, there would be a status screen.
"Since funds are secured, shall we hold a festival to mark the reconstruction?"
In Last Crusaders, the simplest way to raise morale was to hold a festival.
It did not cost much.
"After a month of labor, they deserve rest."
"Then wine shall flow," Aig said eagerly. "Even the nearby Muslim tribes might gather—"
"Wait. Muslims cannot drink, can they?"
"It depends on interpretation. Some claim medicinal wine is permitted."
I laughed.
In truth, men are the same everywhere.
"Then let us begin planning."
"And afterward, will you return to Jerusalem?"
"Most likely. But there is one matter to settle first."
The Lord of Kerak—Reynald.
Soon he would begin provoking the Muslims again.
Caravans to Mecca.
Pilgrims.
Massacres.
That had to be stopped.
Fortunately, I was in Eila.
With knights and soldiers at hand.
I patted Aig's shoulder and stepped out.
From the yard came the sound of Sir Garnier's blade cutting air.
Very well.
Training first.