Excerpt from an unidentified document:

"How many times have you sworn an oath and violated it?” asked my leader, “How many times have you signed agreements you have never respected?" Raynald responded through my voice: "Kings have always acted thus. I did nothing more." During this time King Guy was gasping with thirst, his head dangling as though drunk, his face betraying great fright. The fool thought himself so high, yet now he had lost all dignity. Salah al-din gently spoke the reassuring words of a true king, had cold water brought, and offered it to him. The king slurped, the spilt water cleared the dust from his cheeks and whiskers. I smirked as the water had created a frown upon his face. Dehydrated, King Guy was in a daze and in his hastiness handed what remained to Raynald, who slaked his thirst in turn. The sultan then said to Guy: "You did not ask permission before giving him water. I am therefore not obliged to grant him mercy." After pronouncing these words, the sultan smiled, mounted his horse, and rode off, leaving the captives in terror. As I followed, I could see my ever-pondering friend truly perplexed, but I held my tongue, as he would reveal it to me soon. “When is killing justified?” he questioned me, “I have led to the deaths of thousands, not ever truly knowing if it was justified.” He looked at me, “Will killing Raynald doom my soul, will it ruin all we have fought so hard to obtain?” I answered: “If it is to kill him out of spite, yes… If you mean to kill him for past doings, yes.” As I said this I saw my kings head lower, ashamed, which I would not allow. “If his execution meant that further deaths would be avoided, that crimes he will do or inspire others to do will not come to pass,” I hesitate, “It will be seen as justice.” He smiled at me, nodded, and rode back to the tent. As I lied I felt a sinking feeling in my chest, my first feeling in over one thousand years, and though unpleasant, the feeling was somehow satisfying, as though proving to myself that I was still humane, despite not being quite human. “Sir,” a muslim soldier began, though that was the only word I ever heard from him, as I rode swiftly back to the tent. Upon my arrival, I observed Salah al-din slicing his sword halfway through Raynald’s chest. He’d struck him between the neck and the right shoulder-blade. As I approached I could hear Raynald gasping for life. His hands clutched the blade in pain as it slid into his palms, producing blood. Before Raynald’s strength had fully expired, Salah al-din withdrew the blade from his hated enemy’s torso, as though it were the blade’s sheath. I stood between the two to look at Raynald’s eyes, but I dared not stand in my sultan’s view and disrupt his secret enjoyment. However, Raynald did not look up, as he was in far too much agony. I did not have to see his eyes to realize the pain he was enduring as blood stained the very sand he kneeled at. Then, while perfectly positioned on his hands and knees, Salah al-din cut off his head with one flowing sweep. He dragged the body by its feet to the king, Guy, who began to tremble. Seeing him thus upset, Salah al-din said to him in a reassuring tone: "This man was killed only because of his maleficence and perfidy." After seeing Salah al-din in such a way, I decided it best if I left before corrupting the epitome of chivalry any more. “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world but lose his soul?”. That was the last I saw of my greatest student and mentor, though I am unsure when he saw me last. I left with minimal supplies to keep the horse alive for three days.

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