Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 513 - 292: Southward

In the dim military camp, the sound of running water could be heard.

Chelina immersed herself in the bathtub, taking her time before surfacing to catch her breath.

"Huh?"

She looked at the little bat standing on the table, with white fur at its collar like a little white scarf: "Why are you here?"

The little bat flapped its wings to the edge of the bathtub, moving slowly and silently, with a hint of disappointment in its voice: "Where did you hide the cookie box? I can’t find it anywhere."

"I didn’t hide it; it’s in the drawer."

The little bat let out an "Oh," reluctantly transformed back into human form, ran to the cabinet, took out the cookie box from the drawer, and pulled out a cookie coated with rich chocolate sauce, chewing it seriously.

"Nina, don’t you feel bored during the time I’m not with you?"

"It’s okay."

Chelina smiled slightly: "The adult gave me some tasks to do, like calculating the daily forage and grains needed for the warhorses in the camp, so I’m quite busy."

"Why do you all have things to do?"

Furinjiira was not satisfied.

Chelina said helplessly: "If you really feel bored, just do something serious. For example, the wolf poison potion you mixed this time played a very crucial role. Furin, you have talent in this area."

"But I don’t want to delve into magic potions."

Furinjiira yawned lazily: "You all don’t need me, and I think it’s time to prepare a coffin for myself, to take a long nap—I just worry that when I wake up, you’ve all forgotten about me."

Chelina coaxed her as if coaxing a child: "No, for the past two days you haven’t shown up much, the adult was looking for you, too. Your blood addiction should have subsided by now, don’t hide from him anymore."

"Oh."

Furinjiira’s face was full of conflict.

Losa’s Dragon Bloodline gathered the most essential parts of every dragon species’ life. Craving his blood is an instinct for all vampires; for those like Kurs who have never tasted it, it’s fine, but once tasted, it feels addictive.

"Nina, I want to sleep with you tonight."

"Alright, but you need to take a bath first. You’re soaked in the smell of blood."

"Then let’s bathe together."

Nina hadn’t reacted yet when a snow-white body had already entered the tub: "You’re so cold."

"Tsk, I didn’t think your stuff is not big, but so elastic, Nina."

"Stop touching randomly."

"Your butt is also quite bouncy."

"If you continue, I’m going to leave."

"Okay... okay."

Furinjiira reluctantly retracted her restless little hand.

...

Early the next morning.

Clang!

Losa’s Cross Sword fiercely deflected Hans’s longsword, stepping forward with his left foot, shoulder bumping into Hans’s chest, knocking him back a step, then a reverse stab aimed straight at Hans’s chest.

"You got careless, Hans."

Hans’s face filled with surprise: "Master, did you gain some new ability?"

As a fellow swordsmanship expert, it was easy for Hans to see Losa’s transformation, seemingly just a step forward, but the actual gap was much larger.

"No, I just went through some special training."

Prajna’s world within the book is actually very suitable as a training ground, but Prajna’s capabilities are limited, unable to send too many people in at once.

Even sending just Losa alone was strenuous.

Moreover, in the world within the book, only the scenery seen by Losa would become real, the rest was truly nothingness. Prajna couldn’t create a world, even with a book as a medium.

"By the way, what about that scoundrel lord you mentioned to me before?"

"He’s dead."

Hans spoke with a bit of guilt.

Losa showed interest and asked: "How did you do it?"

"He drank too much that day, so I found a prostitute he had a grudge with and stabbed him in bed with a sword."

"What about the prostitute?"

"I gave her a sum of money and sent her onto a merchant ship bound for Apennines. She might have already found a decent man to marry now."

"This was handled a bit roughly. The camp doctors are all ours; a bit of poison in his drink disguised as a stroke is far more secretive than using a knife directly."

Losa continued after speaking: "Why didn’t you discuss this matter with me?"

"Mr. Kurs said this kind of lowly matter doesn’t need to trouble you."

Losa nodded expressionlessly: "Next time you encounter such a thing, just toss a glove at his face directly. There’s no need for such conspiracy and trickery with your character."

Hans felt somewhat ashamed: "I’m sorry, my lord."

"Hans, you are an honest person, and there is nothing wrong with that in itself."

Losa smiled and patted him on the shoulder: "But this world is neither black nor white; it’s gray."

His expression was somewhat inexplicable as they were leading the army southward, not yet knowing how much carnage would result.

...

Time flew by.

The Crusaders were mobilizing intensively, with large amounts of supplies being shipped to the Holy Land from Cyprus and Sicily.

Countless carts loaded with provisions and gear drove into cities and forts on the Crusaders’ southern route, waiting to be used by them.

In ten days, the Crusaders, having rested and reorganized, embarked on the road south towards Egypt.

In this battle, the Hospital Knight Order dispatched two thousand soldiers, including two hundred knights and six hundred squire knights, with the rest being armored soldiers; the Templar Order sent even more, led by Grand Master Gerard with four hundred knights, two hundred honorary knights (members who joined the knight order while married), and over one thousand light cavalry, along with two thousand soldiers.

The difference in troop numbers between the two knight orders lay in their different development focuses, with the Hospital Knight Order’s main force concentrated in the territory of Duke Raymond in the north, which had to be defended against Saladin’s return.

In addition to the forces from the two knight orders, there were the troops sent by various lords, numbering from a dozen to several hundred, or even over a thousand, totaling around twelve thousand.

This was the vast majority of the Kingdom of Jerusalem’s available mobile forces; the rest had to defend their territories and could not be deployed at will.

Excluding these, there were the true Pilgrim Crusaders.

Some were wandering knights from Europe, some had sold all their property to seek redemption in the Holy Land or the opportunity for fame and success, and then there was the large-scale Poor Crusaders.

These Poor Crusaders were not merely recruited from old farmers; they had varying degrees of combat experience, some were former mercenaries, and some were even highway bandits, acutely aware of their grave sins, thus having the strongest desire to seek redemption in the Holy Land. Of course, if they could survive, capture, or rob a Saracen noble, all the better.

This group numbered over eight thousand, and their numbers continued to grow.

Every day, groups of three or five Crusaders, attracted by the fame, joined Losa’s command, some with embroidered crests on their chests.

For these rabble, Losa couldn’t send them back directly, but leaving them in the camp was not of much combat power, and he couldn’t bring himself to use them as cannon fodder. After much thought, he decided to throw them all into a training camp during the supplies stop at Hebron. The ones with poor combat ability and those who were old were given land to settle, while promising individuals were trained as reinforcements.

Losa was unanimously chosen as the Commander-in-Chief of the Crusaders, leading all the Crusaders moving south.

...

Iskenderiyeh (Alexandria Port).

Contrary to Losa’s imagination, Adil did not station his army on the border of the Mansoura Province; the direct distance from Gaza City to Cairo was not much farther than from Gaza to Jerusalem, but he seemed to have no intention of building a defensive city on the border.

Through the window, you could just see the port’s tower, which supposedly housed the Sea God.

Alexander, the famous Conqueror, although the empire he established was as fleeting as a blossom, left traces that proudly announced to the world that he had been here.

Even this lighthouse was built under the aegis of Ptolemy’s son, one of Alexander’s trusted generals.

"Lord Adil, the news you wanted us to spread has already circulated through every street and alley these past days,

"No one doubts it?"

"No, it’s well-known that the Crusader prince named Losa persecutes heretics in his territory."

Adil rested his chin on his hand, a cold smile on his face.

As the Governor of Egypt and the second in command of the Ayyubid Dynasty, second only to Saladin, he had no time for these yang

"Master, are we really giving up Arishe? The city’s lord is very loyal to you."

So, what would you have me do, my loyal servant?

Adil’s eyes flashed with a hint of coldness: "Should I have my brother and my army all buried in that seaside town, then leave Egypt in disgrace in a small boat, wailing at my brother’s feet?"

"Master, I absolutely did not mean that."

"I know you didn’t."

"Muzar, I believe in your loyalty, but you don’t need to concern yourself with strategy. If you truly had the capability, I wouldn’t have you attending to my daily affairs, but rather overseeing a territory or commanding an army."

The current situation indeed was unfavorable for him, and even more so was the unrest among the people of Egypt.

The local chiefs, initially indifferent

Moreover, the marginalized and expelled Shia Fire Worshipers also posed a destabilizing factor; Saladin could be kind to heretics but not to these heretics.

Arishe, the small town that rose along the pilgrimage route, primarily produced dates and castor beans and served as a supply station for pilgrims, as well as a marketplace for Bedouin nomads to trade leather and cheese.

It has no significant defenses and struggles with supply issues.

"Pass my order for Yasal to abandon Arishe immediately and lead his troops to garrison in Feilai Mai. Also, instruct him to burn all supplies before leaving, fill the wells, and destroy even the hidden oases and water sources known only to the Bedouin nomads."

"Master!"

The servant’s face was filled with disbelief.

"I hope you’re right, that Yasal is loyal to me."

He wearily rubbed his rough cheeks, knowing that destroying the precious water sources in the desert, the lifeline for the Bedouin nomads, would certainly spark resistance from the already restless Bedouins.

However, at present, there was not much else he could do.

The enemy was strong and he was weak; now, to defeat the Crusaders, or at the very least only lose the Sinai Peninsula while preserving the precious Delta and Nile River areas, he had to rely on the weather and geographical advantages.

"Yes, master."

The servant responded.