Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 662 - 432: Military Council (Part 2)

Philip II began to speak.

He had evidently consumed the magic potion known as "Loud Military Horn," his voice extraordinarily resonant, standing against the dawn, his entire being seemed coated in a layer of golden radiance, invoking a sense of reverence and worship in anyone who heard him.

Richard couldn't help but mutter, "Despicable!"

"Martha, get me a similar potion!"

After a slew of what seemed to Richard as nutritional nonsense, Philip suddenly raised a letter, "However, a shocking scene unfolded before everyone's eyes yesterday. Reynard of Chatillon, a brave and honest Crusader Knight, was assassinated on the street."

This news was no secret, having already spread throughout the Crusaders, so the atmosphere remained calm, but with his next statement, it changed completely.

"On the bodies of these Assassins, we found a confidential letter about His Majesty Richard."

As the words fell, a tidal wave of questioning arose.

"Hah."

The Lionheart snorted coldly, disdaining to even stand out to refute anything.

No one would believe such a shallow conspiracy. Given the Lionheart's reputation, people would rather believe he would rip Reynard's heart out on the street than believe he would hire killers to commit such a dishonorable act.

Philip raised his hand, signaling Richard's followers to calm down, "Yes, indeed, this murder case is childishly laughable. If it truly was a Crusader-internal planned assassination, wouldn't hiring some heretic Assassins be a clearer severance of responsibility?"

"As I said yesterday, this is a conspiracy concocted by the Saracens, a plot to make us hate each other and fight endlessly! If the heretics can carry out a street assassination of Lord Reynard, couldn't they commit even more dreadful acts of sabotage? In Semanud City, a city recaptured by Duke Losa himself, such Saracen spies still lie hidden. How can I rest easy upon learning this?"

He raised his voice, "I do not concern myself with personal safety but with the safety of the great cause of all Crusaders. For this reason, I spent an entire night to finally ferret out those hidden in Semanud City, the claws of Saladin!"

"Men, bring him up, and in front of everyone's eyes, put him to the rack!"

The elder Saman was dragged up, his legs limp, wearing heavy shackles, his face frighteningly pale.

Until now, he still didn't understand why Adil had betrayed him.

Could it be that he, the Hidden Monarch of Semanud City, a great merchant who had woven a vast trade network with his own hands, didn't even have this little value to be swayed?

That demon Duke is like this.

The twin kings of the Franks are like this.

Even Adil, whom he regarded as his own person, is the same.

With four ropes encircling his limbs, he closed his eyes in despair.

...

At this moment.

In the Saracen camp on the west shore of Burullus Lake.

The Governor of Egypt, brother to King Saladin, Adil, was also passionately addressing the Saracen army gathered under the Holy Fire Banner.

He paused mid-speech, his voice turning grief-stricken, "Brothers, I have just received word that the Crusaders executed a revered sage, Saman of Semanud. They used four swift horses, each pulling on one of this poor old man's limbs...

See the fate of those who sought refuge with the Crusaders. Saman, a man of noble birth and high morals, trusted the Franks' false words. After losing his utility, he was reduced to such a horrific end."

"Poor Sage Saman, in his quest for survival, had already offered everything of himself. When the Crusaders demanded money, he offered the wealth he painstakingly accrued. When they demanded grain, he opened the granaries he had spent decades accumulating, and yet, even with all this, the greedy, brutal Franks were still unwilling to spare this virtuous sage. After squeezing every bit of him, they executed this poor old man with such cruel punishment!"

Someone shouted from the crowd:

"This is the traitor's end!"

"Serves him right, it's the will of the Holy Fire, betrayal's retribution!"

Adil shook his head and said, "No, he only wanted to live!"

Speaking with emotion, tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes, "Should we blame a brother trying to survive under the Franks' blades and guns? No. Even if King Saladin were here, he would only pity the sage's tragic fate, not blame him for his betrayal."

"Because he was forced into it, it's the Franks' fault, those greedy, shameless Crusaders who, under the holy banner, are more savage than the cruelest of robbers!"

"Brothers, among you, there are Sunnis, Shias, Christians, and Old God worshippers. Perhaps you once thought that this is not your war, but please know, as long as you live on this land, with the Franks' barbaric and tyrannical ways, once they gain power, they will show you no mercy. Even if you gain temporary peace, you would become slaves, overpowered by those savages."

"Would you willingly become slaves, begging for survival from heretics in exchange for your survival?"

The Saracen army roared in unison, "No, of course not!"

"Kill all heretics!"

"Fight them to the end!"

"Holy Fire Everlasting, almighty and supreme!"

Adil waited for the crowd to calm down before speaking again, "You are all fearless warriors, unyielding in the face of survival, I truly believe this. Were it not so, you would not gather under this banner."

"Warriors, the moment for the decisive battle with the barbaric Franks is upon us. We have built the siege weapons, prepared ample food and water supplies. Next, please follow me into battle and let those barbarians witness a valor superior to theirs!"

He shouted as he mounted his steed, leading his guards out of the camp first.

The Saracen allied forces responded immediately, following in an orderly manner.

Witnessing the flushed faces, every individual was already boiling with rage, eager to engage the Franks in a life-and-death struggle.

"What an impressive speech."

Baron Fulk marveled.

He had also once led his vassal knights into battle against neighboring lords, but before the war, all he had were a few phrases like "the will of God" and "grab the neighboring village's food and women," nothing as eloquent as Adil.

Not just in content, Governor Adil's voice itself seemed to carry a certain magic power, such that even as a Frank, he couldn't help but feel his blood boil upon hearing it.

Ivan laughed and said, "Is what Mr. Adil said untrue?"

Fuller shook his head helplessly.

Although he was a Frank, he couldn't argue against it. The Frankish army was indeed more barbaric compared to the Saracens. If the Saracens captured a Frankish city, they would ravage the women of the entire city and sell all the men and women into slavery.

But if it were reversed, with the Franks capturing a Saracen city.

Then, likely as not, they would initiate a monstrous massacre, regardless of gender (Crusaders generally would only violate prostitutes from Europe, not Saracen women, whereas Saracens very much favored Frankish women).

However, despite saying this, didn't the Kingdom of Jerusalem still achieve coexistence with local heretic chiefs? After the chaos wrought by massacres, order is always restored, and even among the Franks, there are different kinds.

For example, Duke Losa stands thus.

King Philip is like that.

Even Adil, whom he considers one of his own, is so.

As the four ropes wrapped around his limbs, he closed his eyes in despair.

…

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