Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 634 - 406: Cunning Fox Philip

To be honest, these days, Richard the Lionheart felt that his days were quite good.

Delicious wine, spices that could be used without concern for costs, and the unique gourmet of the East all made him linger forgetting to return.

But it was too leisurely.

A King should live on the battlefield, not waste his ambition in comfort.

"Fuller, let's play another round of Gwent cards. This time I'll use your Jerusalem deck."

Fuller silently nodded and swapped their card decks.

To be honest, playing cards is much more interesting than dice.

If only there wasn't someone beside him constantly chattering.

"Your Majesty, your victory spoils have been stolen, will you just sit here quietly and watch him flaunt it?"

"Simply out-skilled."

Richard somewhat irritably scratched his ear.

Cardinal Sebastian had been flitting about these days, trying to incite him to seize military power in Damietta while Losa was away.

But to him, it was just a troublemaker not recognizing his own status.

Does anyone even care?

Perhaps Philip's court might need such a jester.

At this moment.

A group of people stormed into the tavern.

The newcomer was striking, with carefully maintained brown curly hair, but most prominent was the exquisite golden crown embedded with various gems, and his blue base robe embroidered with many golden fleur-de-lis.

Philip?

Richard stared in astonishment at the arriving person opposite him.

This Augustus, whom he had just mentioned, naturally did not come alone.

Behind him, Reynard, Guy, and other Gaul Crusader nobles, followed this Augustus, clearly stating their stance.

Especially that kid Guy, back then he and his brother only recognized the rule of the Capetian Royal Family, and even attempted to kidnap his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, simply outrageous!

Richard stood up, waved off the guards who wanted to stop them, and frowned at the opposing party.

Philip's face broke into hearty laughter: "Long time no see, my brother. Judging by your splendid expression, you weren't expecting me to come here, were you?"

"Indeed, my brother. After all, you're always cautious in your actions. I never expected to see you here before your army crossed the sea."

"Speaking of which, how long has it been since we last met?"

"That has been quite some time ago."

The atmosphere between the two was congenial, like old friends reuniting after a long absence.

Their relationship used to be quite good, even to the point of sharing a bed, sleeping foot-to-foot, and eating at the same table. Richard also had the capital to challenge his father thanks to Philip II's support.

The historical anecdotes from Losa's time even tales of an extraordinary bond between the two.

Of course, these are baseless rumors.

How could the highest monarchs of Christendom commit a crime tantamount to murder like that?

The so-called sharing a bed was more like signaling to the outside world "we are about to form an alliance."

"I heard you recently suffered a small setback?"

"Somewhat."

Richard's expression soured: "Together we crushed a key force of the Saracens, and the spoils of war were countless, every young soldier gained greatly and clamored to join the next battle."

"Hahaha, then that's even better. By the way, Richard, why aren't you the Crusaders' Commander-in-Chief? Didn't Duke Losa hand the position to you?"

He spoke playfully: "Or do Eastern nobles not know your battle-hardened reputation?"

Richard's smile faltered slightly, and he muttered softly: "The title of Commander-in-Chief naturally should be reserved for the most esteemed Augustus, you."

The honeymoon period between the two had long passed; with him ascending to the throne of Albion, he and King Philip had become the greatest rivals.

He also used the pretext of Princess Alice, Philip's sister, being unfaithful, to annul their engagement, breaking the promise Philip made to help him ascend.

In fact, it was common practice for noble marriages that both parties would keep to themselves.

Richard brought up this reason merely to show that he has unilaterally torn apart the alliance with Philip.

As a result, the two former close friends have long turned their backs on each other, drifting further apart.

"But honestly, Philip, I think it's not a sensible move for you to participate in the Crusade. If you were to become the commander-in-chief, I would be worried about the success of this Eastern Expedition due to your inclination towards intrigue and sowing discord."

"Huh."

Philip sneered, lacking the interest to continue bickering with Richard. In terms of military command ability, he indeed could not measure up to this former friend.

Yet, in his view, Richard is like a bull that can be blinded by waving a red cloth — a mere brute.

Philip magnanimously sat down at the table and spoke peacefully, "Alright, Richard, we've not seen each other for years, and here we finally reunite in this Holy Land. Why the hostility? I still remember our wonderful times together in Paris. Perhaps we were rivals in Europe, but here, we are not."

Philip picked up the exquisitely crafted Gwent Card on the table and examined it for a moment: "Hmm, a nice little thing. This Duke Losa is quite clever; if he were born in Gaul, I'd happily give him a position as Minister of Finance. But unfortunately, he doesn't seem to recognize his own status."

Perhaps due to the previous condition of the Capet Royal Family's "decrees not extending beyond Gaul Island," Philip disliked feudal delegation and preferred appointing bureaucrats to rule territories for him.

"Philip, you're not thinking of teaming up with me to deal with Losa, are you?"

Richard raised an eyebrow: "Come on, two kings teaming up to deal with a little marquis? You might not feel embarrassed, but I would."

Moreover, it's not certain we could deal with him if we did.

He knows better than anyone the strength Losa currently holds.

Unless Losa makes a significant strategic error in the upcoming battles, his position as Grand Marshal is nearly unshakeable, even if he loses a battle.

Redirecting his words, Richard continued: "But you have a point; here we are not rivals but brothers in Christ, fighting for the Heavenly Lord, for the recovery of the Alexandria District."

Though Richard wore a smile, he thought to himself that they were indeed rivals.

As the King of Gaul, Philip has continually competed with him for the support of Gaul lords.

This competition naturally extends to the Holy Land — as the core of the Crusader forces undeniably has always been Gaul's Crusaders.

Neither of them brought much of their own army, so to expand their power, they must inevitably vie for the support of local Crusaders.

Though Richard is candid, he knows now is not the time for them to openly confront each other.

"By the way, how did you come here?"

Philip smiled and replied, "Naturally, the same way as you. Otherwise, departing by ship from Provence would take who knows how long."

Richard suddenly laughed, "It's Reynard, isn't it? I almost forgot about him."

In the Holy Land, the one with both the capability and the motive to transport this King Philip over is none other than the former King of the Dead Sea.

Reynard is not a minor character; at least the former Duke of Antioch and Count of Transjordan are not.

When mentioned, Reynard bowed humbly to Richard.

Richard nodded perfunctorily, "No wonder he has been frequently launching assaults lately, raiding those Bedouin settlements with little to gain, collecting materials for your teleportation array."

Philip spoke with emphasis, "Lord Reynard acts only to kill heretics and spread the Heavenly Lord's miracle."

He would never admit to using blood sacrifices.

Richard sneered inwardly, calling him "hypocritical," while knowing he himself used the blood sacrifice method to transport his people over.

Otherwise, merely using magic materials, Cardinal Sebastian would bankrupt himself trying to gather them all.

…

Unaware of yet another ambitious monarch arriving in Damietta, Losa stood atop a tower of a grand architectural complex, listening to people's exclamations.

"What is this?"

"No idea, it was just an empty field last night, yet today this massive complex has sprung up."

"It's a miracle!"

"Indeed, a miracle exclusive to the Duke. Have you forgotten what people said last night, the story told in that booklet?"

This towering structure that rose overnight is a cavalry academy.

Its actual name is the Sipahi Heavy Cavalry Camp. This type of cavalry originated in the Ottoman Empire era, equivalent to Western Europe's feudal knights, but with the exception that the fiefs are not hereditary.

They gradually became auxiliary troops after the Janissary Imperial Guards took the lead.

They typically fought light, using riding bows and javelins, though some also served as fully armored heavy cavalry, resembling Crusader Knights.

In the systematic camp, they wore full suits of plate and chain armor, with horses adorned in horse clothing, functioning as heavy shock cavalry, essentially Crusader Knights transformed.