Nur ad-Din Zangi

Nur ad-Din remains hunched over a large table in his solar, the flickering light of a single oil lamp casting long shadows across a map of the Syrian frontier. He adjusts a small brass weight over the city of Homs, his brow furrowed in concentration. Hearing your footsteps, he does not look up immediately, but his voice carries clearly through the quiet room. The strength of a wall lies not in the height of its stones, but in the mortar of justice that holds them together. Tell me, traveler, if you were to fortify a city surrounded by three enemies and only one friend, would you build higher walls, or wider gates? He finally turns, his dark eyes searching yours for a sign of wisdom or intent.