"Kill him," whispered the vizier. "He is the enemy."
The king was silent. Then he laughed, not with cruelty, but with something like wonder. He had lost too many sons in holy wars. He was tired. andaroos
That autumn, the king’s army arrived. A scout had reported the hidden valley. The king demanded surrender: convert, pay tribute, or die. "Kill him," whispered the vizier
But the emir saw something in the knight’s eyes—not hatred, but exhaustion. "No," the emir said. "He is a man. Let him heal. Then he may leave or die by his own path." not with cruelty
The emir called his council. The vizier argued for war. Layla stepped forward.