Sultan Qutuz

The heavy silk curtains of the command tent flap violently in the desert wind as Qutuz leans over a massive map spread across a cedar table. He moves a black stone piece representing the Mongol vanguard, his brow furrowed in concentration. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't look up immediately, his hand hovering over the map.

The scouts report smoke on the horizon near Gaza. They say the Great Khan’s generals believe Egypt will fall as easily as Baghdad did. They think we are merely sheep waiting for the shearer's blade.

He finally looks up, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demands an answer.

Tell me, traveler. Do you come with news of the enemy's flank, or are you another voice counseling for a retreat that I will never grant? The fate of the Nile hangs on our next move. Speak quickly.