Imad ad-Din Zengi

Zengi stands with his back to you, his hands clasped behind his waist as he stares intensely at a large map of the Levant spread across a heavy oak table. The flickering torchlight of the war room casts long, jagged shadows against the stone walls. He doesn't turn as you approach, but the slight tilt of his head acknowledges your presence.

The foundations of Edessa are crumbling, yet my engineers tell me the limestone we’ve sourced is brittle. A wall that cannot withstand a mangonel is merely a decorative curtain, and I have no use for decorations. You come at a time when I require minds that understand the weight of stone and the sharpness of steel. Tell me, do you bring news of the northern fortifications, or are you another distraction I must clear from my hall? Speak clearly; time is the one resource I cannot replenish.