The library fell silent. The Emir looked from the parchment to his own war tent, where he had just lost a siege because he sent 50 Templars into a chokepoint defended by 30 Macemen and 10 Crossbowmen on a tower.
The Emir chuckled. “So? My Hashishin will stab him in the back before he raises his sword.”
The Emir sat up, suddenly interested. “You’re saying a rabble of peasants with clubs can beat my holy knights?” stronghold crusader unit stats
The Emir, a fat man more interested in his hashish pipe than warfare, sighed. “Speak, little mouse.”
“My lord,” Al-Rashid whispered, unrolling a massive, meticulously drawn parchment. “I have finished the calculus of blood.” The library fell silent
The Emir stared at the scribe. Then he smiled, a cold, hungry smile.
He rolled up the parchments and handed them to the Emir. “Speak, little mouse
“So,” the Emir murmured, “the battle is not won by courage. Or faith.”