Falastin

3,705 years since initial death
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Tiberias has already fallen, making Guy's efforts absolutely worthless.

The Crusaders were entirely surrounded and outnumbered, with a total estimate of around forty thousand Muslim fighters to twenty thousand Christians. But these statistics were before the battle had even begun, as by now the Christians had already suffered through thousands of casualties. Meanwhile the Muslims remained, with only a very minor loss in cavalry and infantry.

Maalik already knew the outcome of this fight. Despite the fact that he had managed to persevere before in the past and still win battles when being outnumbered, this battle was different. Before, he had friends he could depend on, friends that he was willing to sacrifice his life for.

He had nothing now. He's entirely alone, there isn't a single person nearby that he could call as a friend. In that case, they had already lost. But the Christians still believed they had a chance. They have been on the defensive this whole fight, and they're willing to try for an offensive strategy the next morning.

They decided to set up camp where they stood. Night had approached, and tents were already formed. Even Saladin ceased the fight to set up camp nearby. While most of the Ayyubid army prayed during the night and slept, parts of them continued the assault on the Crusaders.

Muslim soldiers infiltrated the Christian camps during the dark, striking them with more arrows while the rest of them set fires to their tents. The Crusaders couldn't sleep at all, and even their supplies ended up burning away. They were out of food and water, their hopes of survival had diminished away overnight.

Maalik stood outside in utter blackness of the night, accompanied by a few other soldiers who couldn't sleep. Overlooking the battlefield, they could all spot a royal tent with torches illuminating it as a holy shed of light. But once the Immortal squinted his eyes, he could make out a particular figure standing and watching back.

Saladin was there, unmistaken by his blue and orange robes. Some of the Crusaders spotted him also, noting how he was standing there without ever moving a muscle. Suddenly, the sultan knelt and lowered his head. 

"What is the sultan doing?" One knight asked amidst the confusion.

"Looks like he's surrendering, but that's clearly not right." Another exclaimed. 

Maalik wanted to laugh, but these idiots just continued to frustrate him. "He's praying, you coxcombs. You should all know your enemy, that is an Islamic prayer." 

"Whichever God he prays to, his head will soon fall one way or another." One of the soldiers spoke, further agitating Maalik in the process.

"He prays to the same God you pray to."

"He believes in Christ?" 

As much as he wanted to scream, he resisted the urge and avoided the unwanted attention. "Not Christ. He believes in him, yes, but he prays to God himself. Do you know nothing about their religion?"

One Crusader joined the conversation. "All I know is their religion breeds off of war, it's why they must be cleansed."

"A false statement." Maalik continued to stare at the sultan up ahead, finishing his prayer. "Islam is a religion of peace. I've read their book and listened to their teachings out of curiosity. They're sworn protectors of these lands, not conquering barbarians."

Another Christian questioned him. "If their religion teaches peace, what explains their expansion and the deaths they have caused? 

"Because all men are corruptible. I've seen them violate their own religious codes to spread their rule and beliefs onto others. But before we point our fingers to blame them, don't forget why we are here today. We are the oppressors in this war, not them."

Although he planted suspicion in all their minds, Maalik pondered at the sight before him. The sultan concluded his prayer, retreating to his tent slowly and disappearing from view. Does he pray for good fortune or is it to mourn the casualties of this pointless war?

Turning back to face the Crusaders, Maalik made his final statement. "For centuries, we have killed and stolen in the name of Christianity. We've divided our religion into branches, and if we're not at war with the Muslims, then we'll tear into ourselves and murder our own people over beliefs, opinions and most importantly; power. I believe the Muslims will do the same and massacre thousands, if not, millions of people all over religion and power. But that is the will of humanity. Christian or Muslim, we are all sinners." 

Avoiding a potential argument, he lowered his head and walked off. He hoped to get some rest before sunrise. Despite the Muslims harassing them all throughout the night, Maalik closed his eyes and slept, leaving his brothers to panic all for themselves.

By the time dawn had approached, the fighting had finally stopped. Saladin had looked out onto the Crusaders, and signaled his troops to hold. It was clear they were waiting to see what the Christians would do. During this moment of peace, the Christians argued with one another as to what their next course of action would be.

Later that morning, a messenger on horseback arrived from the frontal position. "We have orders from Guy of Lusignan! Our troops are to make haste for Hattin in hopes of obtaining fresh food and water. We leave immediately!"

Their orders were clear, and Maalik saw this as a sign. In the rare circumstance they make it to Hattin in one piece, he doubts finding any resources there would change the outcome of this fight. The Christians were doomed.

Following their final signal, they continued down the road to Hattin, which remained directly north-east of their positions. By now, desperation got the better of the Crusaders, and every soldier disbanded on their own. They were no longer organized, the vanguard, center and rearguard were no more. Just like during their fights, it was officially every man for himself.

Despite their orders, some soldiers tried to make a run for it in the opposite direction. Maalik couldn't see what happened to them, but he had a pretty good guess that they were captured, killed, or both. By now, the real conflict had truly begun. With no defenses in place, more blood spilt as casualties continued to rise by the hundreds.

Along the west, the Muslims set fire to the hills, causing smoke to pollute the air. It was already unbearably hot outside, and the smoke only made it worse. Maalik was fine with it, his years of experience in the harsh desert climate prepared him for this moment. Meanwhile, other soldiers began to take off parts of their armor for greater mobility, but exertion befell them.

Several other men succumbed to their thirst and abandoned the fight. Saladin had already positioned a wall of infantry and cavalry in front of Hattin, while more of his troops continued to attack from the sides and even from behind. Maalik could see Raymond push through an Ayyubid group of soldiers in the north and manage an escape from the battlefield, retreating off into the far distance.

The same occurred with Balian, as he retreated north-west and managed to flee. But the rest of the Christians were trapped and continued to withstand heavy fire. Their numbers had massively fallen, and at this point they all knew the battle was lost. They only carried on in hopes of finding water to quench their thirsts.

Alas, when they finally reached the top of the valley and arrived near Hattin, they found no water. By now, the Muslims closed in on them from every single direction. Waves of arrows consistently rained over them, Ayyubid cavalry harassed the soldiers and the infantry marched towards them.

Their lines were broken, and during the fight, the Muslims captured the cross of Jesus. They carried it back to their camps, leaving nothing behind for the Christians as they continued to scramble. Maalik never fought back once against the enemy. In every encounter, he only disarmed the soldiers, allowing them to recover later on. The only time he would need to fight back was in defense, when the Muslims kept their assault.

He stopped using his staff in fear of its collapse, choosing to keep it strapped to his back scabbard. Therefore, he used his own fists. He'd wrestle with the soldiers if he had to, forcing them back. But even he had to succumb to the heat, the thirst, and the anguish. 

Maalik collapsed to his knees, taking in deep breaths of polluted air in hopes of catching his breath. Lifting his head up, he was forced to bear witness to the raw brutality and carnage of warfare. But his vision was interrupted by the sight of a familiar entity approaching him.

Face-to-face with the dreaded lion, they stared at one another. The animal's red eyes almost resembled a fire from this close. Ever since Vesuvius and its destruction that fateful night, this lion has continued to haunt him without any indication of its purpose. Perhaps now, Maalik could find some answers.

"Tell me, beast." He maintained his glare, banishing any previous fear he held. "What do you seek from me?" 

There was no answer, forcing Maalik to speak again. "Do you appear as my guide towards the truth, or are you simply here to further torment me? Is there a reason my hand burns at every sight of the great pyramids? Do you carry the power to end my life, and never shall I rise again?"

Distant cries echoed all around him. The bloodshed surrounding his confrontation continued, but he paid it no mind. He only wanted an answer, but the lion's sealed lips only aggravated him. 

The silence he was given in response worsened his state. He felt himself losing grasp of his mind once more, and now he stood to gain a higher sense over his mysterious visitor. 

"Answer me!" He stood merely a few feet away from the animal itself, continuing to look into its fiery eyes. "What purpose do you serve?!" 

Sweat dripped from the surrounding heat he endured, only worsening with his severe stress. "Every moment I've laid my eyes upon you, disaster awaits! I demanded the presence of gods and you sauntered before me. I scorched Britain with flames as you stalked me and fed me to the fire. You have always appeared during every anguish and every raging moment of my life!"

As he said it, he suddenly turned around. A realization struck him. None of the lion's encounters could have been a coincidence. "Each time you appear, my wrath lingers. Just your presence alone now caused me to raise my voice yet again. You're a manifestation of my very own anger, a reminder of my curse. Is that right?" 

He was given no answer, but that didn't matter to him. He wasn't expecting an answer anyways, not when he had uncovered the beast's secret. 

"What I do not know and wish to understand is what does all of this lead to? When will I know of my curse's end?" Maalik looked back towards the lion, feeling his anger diminishing. 

"That is for you and the others to discover for yourselves."

The deep and somewhat demonic voice that mimicked his finally spoke out. Maalik halted, realizing that only the lion could have spoken those words. But what interested him the most was what the lion said.

"Others?" Maalik's eyes fell short, and his mind rushed in a storm that rendered him with an aching feeling. He pondered the past, remembering words of fallen friends and foes. It never seemed logical that only he would have this curse. Even the oracle somehow knew of this, claiming he would never be alone. 

"When you say others, how many people do you speak of?" 

The lion didn't elaborate, instead it turned its head away. The Immortal behind it wasn't finished talking. "Do not back away from me! How many of us are there?"

"Seven Capital Sins, Seven Cardinal Sinners."

He wasn't expecting another answer, yet the news still left him startled. Maalik felt his knees grow weaker, and he stumbled forward as he processed everything. The lion's words echoed in his brain, causing him to lower his head and look at the dirt scattered along the sandy surface. But when he lifted his vision, the animal was gone.

He always knew he wasn't destined to be alone. But he never knew just how many there were. For over a millennium, he's met hundreds of people that he's suspected of being immortal. Many were disproven, some still casted doubts, and one still lingered in his head. To know that he is one of seven, it made him feel smaller than he already was. 

Whomever and wherever these people are, he plans on finding them. Even if he must doubt everyone he's ever known or will eventually meet throughout his infinite life, he must uncover the truth.

Now that he sits alone amidst the ongoing conflict, he turned his attention back towards his surroundings. Pure carnage awaited his eyes, and he would witness all of it.

Blades tore people apart. Arrows plunged into their flesh. Flames deteriorated them into ash and bones.

The horrible screams burst beyond his eardrum's defenses. He could hear the final cry sung out from one's lips, as one last breath is taken. A life is forever gone from this world within the single beat of a heart. 

Maalik didn't have to imagine how it would feel to stare deep into another man's eyes as he jabs a dagger through his side. It's happened a thousand times before, and now he gets to see it from a spectator's perspective. He could swear that a faint, but barely visible soul departs from the vessels they call human bodies every time he takes a life away.

How many families would be left devastated? How many wives would turn into widows? Whether they were Christian or Muslim, do they deserve to lose their loved ones to the horrors of war?

So much blood had been spilled. So many voices were heard unify at once until they all fell silent.

Then, one more sound followed. It was a single voice riddled with fear and regret. Guy ordered the Crusaders to stand down. He officially surrendered.

At long last, it was over.

Muslim knights surrounded the area in no time. Christian soldiers were dragged to the side, all of whom were now held as prisoners of war. Maalik stayed in his spot with his head lowered. He heard several footsteps approach him. A part of him began to brace for impact, expecting a sword to decapitate him from behind.

But no harm befell him. The footsteps stopped, and there was a sound of clothes draping in the sudden wind. Raising his head, he immediately spotted the sultan's robes. 

A few Muslim soldiers were pointing at the Immortal man, whispering things to Saladin. Then, the sultan reached for his waist and unsheathed his weapon.

He raised his sword and placed it over Maalik's left shoulder. Suddenly, he spoke in Arabic. "State your name."

Maalik hesitated for a moment. It was as if his whole life flashed before his eyes. Thinking of his own name brought back all the previous conflicts and the oldest friends and families of his life. Every name he's ever had carried forth ultimate horrors and sorrows he wished to conceal forever. Taking a deep breath, he finally responded with his real, original name. "Maalik Seti." 

For a few seconds, there was silence. Saladin kept his sword in place. "There are reports of a false, unmasked Crusader that turned against his allies and never took a single life away throughout the conflict. It has been brought to my attention, these reports speak of you."

With a simple nod, Maalik confirmed it. "I wanted no involvement in this war. Nobody had to die today, I only did my part in saving as many lives as I could."

Saladin removed his sword and sheathed it. He turned to one of his soldiers and gave an order that Maalik couldn't hear. Just a minute later, the sultan was given a glass of water. It was then handed to the Immortal to drink. All he could do was accept it and thank him. 

The moment he finished it, Saladin reached a hand out and helped him back up on his feet. "There is an important matter I must attend to. But I do not wish to partake it alone. I want you to walk with me and serve as my translator, Al-Seti."

Al-Seti. He thought it over, and it felt appropriate. He likes the ring it gave, perhaps he'll keep this name. Maalik Al-Seti.

He followed the sultan as he was led towards a red tent near the outskirts of the battlefield. Along the way, all of the Crusaders and Templars had been captured, the Muslims formed a line of troops holding their spears as Saladin entered the tent. Inside, Saladin took a seat atop of a throne. He gestured his hand towards a chair beside him for Maalik to sit on.

For several minutes, they waited. Maalik never questioned any of this. He sat willingly, noticing just how odd he stood out from the rest. In a sea of Arab fighters wearing assortments of armor ranging in colors of dark shades of green and blue; he was the only one dressed in white and black armor with a bright red cross in the center.

Finally, they were met with two individuals who approached the tent. Guy of Lusignan and Raynald of Châtillon, both kneeling before him.

Without hesitation, Saladin ordered for another glass of ice water to be brought over and given to Guy. They watched as Guy stared at the glass for a few seconds upon receiving it before taking a sip. Then, he passed it to Raynald so he may drink and be spared.

Saladin turned to Maalik and said to him, "Say to the king, it is you who give him to drink. But I give him neither to drink, nor to eat."

Maalik obeyed and repeated the sultan's words in English. He was also instructed to add the following lines, "honor forbids the fair sultan to harm any man that has tasted his hospitality."

His attention was then turned towards Raynald. Maalik continued. "A king does not kill a king, but your insolence has simply gone too far. Therefore you are given a choice. Convert to Islam and live, or choose death."

Raynald didn't respond. Anyone in his position would be smart enough to know there was no escaping a fate such as his. Standing up, he scoffed and shook his head. His decision was clear.

Saladin gently stood up and turned to place a hand over his sword. His actions were instant, swinging his sword forward to strike him. Raynald fell onto his knees and groaned in pain, still alive. 

The slash across the Christian's torso wasn't deep, rather it was meant to help increase the precision for the next strike. His life came to an inevitable end as Saladin sent his blade plummeting over his neck. Raynald's decapitated head rolled over and stopped by Maalik's boots. Upon his death, the sultan had finally delivered on his promise to kill him with his own hands.

With negotiations ending, the Christian prisoners including the King of Jerusalem were taken away. Maalik was then granted freedom by the sultan himself.

The Crusader kingdom fell after this devastating defeat. News of its fall reached Europe, including the city of Rome. Even Maalik was stunned to hear that Pope Urban the Third literally died of grief upon learning that Jerusalem had fallen to Saladin's hands. 

The following years saw further bloodshed across the never-ending conflict in the Holy Land, but Maalik's life grew peaceful. Ever since earning his freedom in Hattin, he immediately made preparations to leave the Middle East. It was time to head back into Europe. The possibilities from there were endless, as he ventured across the Medieval world in search of new adventures.

Despite the terrible battles, he was saddened to hear in 1192 that Saladin was defeated by the newly formed Third Crusade. Although he didn't die, his army was destroyed and he was forced to retreat. However, he passed away a year later due to a bad fever at the age of 56. 

After the ordeal was over, it seemed that the world was ready to finally relax. While more wars and invasions were imminent, especially during a time when the Mongolian Empire was on the rise; it would all inevitably end.

However, a certain number of events caused him to develop doubts about the future. When all seemed right in the world, and he discovered a new life in Central Spain, he was able to experience something new.

A brand new invasion was conquering the world, one that he's never seen or faced before. This dreadful invasion did not arrive with swords and bows, nor did it triumph with boots and the clattering of steel armor. Nearly four thousand years worth of history's most destructive events, nothing has come close to matching this level of horridness. 

All throughout it, his hunt for the Immortals remains ongoing.

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Historical Notes:

Saladin's 17 year old son was present during the battle, acting as an eye-witnesses account. He helped boost morale by often chanting, "We have beaten them!" It was short lived, as each time he said it, the Crusaders were able to push the Muslims back only to fall once more. He also recorded his father's (Saladin) iconic command before leading a charge, quoting, "Give the lie to the devil!"

His son turned out to be a distraction as he often acted immaturely and showed far too much energy and enthusiasm. It reached a point where Saladin himself had to tell his own son to shut up.

Raymond III's escape from Hattin was short-lived, as he soon died of pleurisy, most likely due to the fires started by the Muslims suffocating his lungs. 

Balian of Ibelin on the other hand escaped through any means necessary, even trampling over his own men and the cross. He would take a defensive stance in the city of Jerusalem, but he would inevitably lose and personally surrender the city to Saladin.

Surrender of Guy

Guy of Lusignan was taken to Damascus as a prisoner with the Cross of Jesus tied upside down on a lance. He would be released from captivity a year later. Guy would later seek refuge in the city of Tyre, but upon his wife's death, his title of King was stripped. Guy however continued to declare himself a King. 

He would later be a part of an election for Kingship against a nobleman named Conrad. Guy lost the election, but a few days later, Conrad was murdered by two cloaked and stealthy assassins from behind. The assassins belonged to a secret group known as The Order of Assassins.

Finally, Guy purchased Cyprus from the Templars and became known as the Lord of Cyprus until his death in 1194.

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