Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 450 - 232: Karelian Fire Dragon

Not just Fulk.

Almost everyone in the camp was stunned by this giant beast, with mouths agape, as if petrified. Compared to it, the scorpion-tailed lions that people feared in the desert seemed as tame and lovely as kittens.

As the massive figure drew closer to the camp, people could finally see its full appearance.

Black triangular scale armor neatly covered its body, with red patterns between the gaps, like flowing hot molten lava.

Its broad fleshy wings connected with its forelimbs, with sharp claws extending like knives. Even the strongest shield and armor seemed like they could easily be shredded into pieces if it chose to use those claws.

On its head, its knotted dragon horns served as its crown.

A row of sharp bone spikes resembling fish fins grew along its neck.

This was the Karelian Fire Dragon, a terrifying giant beast that lived in polar regions yet harbored extreme high temperatures.

The originally growling violent dragons—brutes with no intelligence—had long since stopped, whimpering like puppies from their throats, shivering uncontrollably.

Perhaps they yearned for the Dragon Blood Essence contained within a lower-class dragon, which could transform them from lowly beasts, only similar to dragon species in form but unrelated in truth, into a true dragon species.

But they would never be foolish enough to show hostility and greed towards a truly high-ranking giant dragon.

With a loud noise from afar, the giant dragon successfully landed in its own camp.

Fulk let out a sigh of relief, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and drew a cross over his chest, for aside from praying for God’s protection, there was nothing else he could do.

He knew very clearly that after the giant beast circled the sky, all hidden rebellious forces within the camp would have to cease, and all the Saracen soldiers would no longer doubt the inevitability of their victory in this battle.

One soldier after another prostrated themselves.

They faced the direction of the giant dragon in worship.

The scholars had said that this dragon, capable of spitting scorching Dragon Flame, was the embodiment of the will of the Holy Fire, meant to help them reclaim the Holy Land occupied by the evil Franks.

"Truly a fierce yet beautiful giant creature."

Attracted by the exclamation, Fulk looked towards the man not far away.

He was the only man nearby not bowing in reverence, wearing black scale armor and holding an iron helmet in his arms, with a black goatee at his chin and a gentle smile on his face.

"What do you think?"

Fulk responded somewhat perfunctorily, "It is very beautiful."

"Come with me, there’s a task that’s been assigned."

Fulk inquired, "What task?"

The man raised an eyebrow, "You still refuse to call me master, don’t you?"

Fulk remained silent.

This man was the "master" who bought him from slave traders; he was Saladin’s nephew, a Mamluk officer under Taqidin, whose ancestors came from the Rus States across the Black Sea, but had long adopted the Fire Worship, and, aside from appearance, behaved completely like Saracens.

Though it was a settled matter, Fulk was still unwilling to acknowledge that he was now serving a heretic, even though this "master" of his treated him quite well.

Mamluks, though nominally slaves, were more like the personal attendants and private soldiers of the Eastern Dynasty.

In reality, their status was higher than that of ordinary civilians.

Many Mamluks, slaves by name yet noble through their masters, could hold high positions.

Admittedly, being a slave seemed to offer a better life for Fulk than being a minor feudal lord in Languedoc.

Although he held the title of "Baron," he only had a small fief in the southern part of Languedoc, near the Pyrenees Mountains, his dominion was so small that it was not even comparable to more affluent knights.

The man, not minding, laughed lightly, "Haha, follow me, we’ll talk as we walk, Master Shemir has assigned us a light yet urgent task, daily food delivery for those big guys."

"That one just now?"

"Of course not, that’s Master Shemir’s prized treasure; he feeds it personally every day—I mean those big ones with no brains."

"We won’t get eaten, will we?"

"No, they’re all caged up, with bars as thick as my arm; even if they went mad, they wouldn’t break out quickly. With Master Shemir around, they’re quite docile actually."

Both of them headed towards another camp, with a rather harmonious atmosphere.

"Hey, truth be told, with them around, I don’t know if there’s room for us on the battlefield, when those big guys charge all lined up, I can’t think of anyone who can withstand that."

Fulk let out a soft moan, "What a world, ten years ago, no one would have believed that future wars would feature these gigantic beasts; except for minstrels, not even drunken fools would believe that broom-riding, black cat-coddling wizards could dominate the course of wars."

"Yet that’s the reality."

His master said lightly and sentimentally, "Luckily, those big guys are on our side. Fulk, you should feel fortunate you’re with us; otherwise, facing them in battle would be you."

Fulk shook his head and said, "I was about to return to Languedoc; it’s not wealthy, but has the best wine in all of Gaul."

"Hey—"

The man raised his tone, "When in Rome, you should call those beautiful and enchanting red drinks fermented grape juice."

Fulk shrugged, "King Saladin allows us to keep our original faith."

"Yes, he is a generous king."

The man smiled, full of reverence, as for these Mamluk "nobles," Saladin was the embodiment of the Holy Fire they venerated.

...

Inside Saladin’s tent.

Taqidin returned from the siege camp, somewhat puzzled, looking at Saladin who was seated, reviewing documents.

"My king, why don’t we advance further? It’s just a small castle; taking it requires hardly any effort."

"Jerusalem is just there; it cannot escape."

Saladin smiled, handing his nephew a golden bowl of drink, sweetened with honey and ice.

"Once I crush the Frankish main forces, the entire Levant will belong to me."

"But we should at least seize Tiberias or the Knight Castle!"

Taqidin solemnly said, "Capturing those would greatly shorten our supply lines, and the warriors and the livestock could have adequate water sources."

Saladin replied tranquilly, "You know, and the Franks know this as well."

...

Duke Raymond was both the ruler of the County of Tripoli and the Duke of Galilee within the Kingdom, thus often referred to as Duke Raymond.

Meanwhile,

The Hospital Knight Order contributed five hundred monastic knights to this battle, a thousand attendants, and over a thousand spear soldiers, amounting to a total force of three thousand when including the hired horse archers employed by the knight order.

The Templar Order contributed more military strength.

Not because the Templar Order was significantly more powerful than the Hospital Knight Order, but because the former’s headquarters was located on Jerusalem’s Temple Mount, while the latter’s headquarters was in the northern Knight Castle.

The Hospital Knight Order controlled numerous castles in the North, all required to face the threat of Saladin’s army directly.

For instance, the Hospital Knight Order stationed two thousand troops at the Knight Castle near the Saracen border, and other fortifications within northern territories were also garrisoned. Typically, the Hospital Knight Order could leverage its geographical advantage to raid and plunder Saracen border residents; however, now they must confront Saladin’s army on the front lines directly.

"In terms of forces, we appear not to be weaker than Saladin."

Baldwin IV nodded, "We must also beware of Adil from Egypt; he is Saladin’s strongest arm and unlikely to be absent from this battle."

"It’s merely a two-pronged attack."

"Indeed, it’s merely..."

The young king sighed helplessly; this was not a conspiracy, but an openly declared strategy, competing against national power disparities. Adil manages the entire Governorate of Egypt, boasting formidable strength, and if supported by wizards, those front-line castles might indeed struggle to endure.

"The involvement of casters brings too much uncertainty to the war."

"Distributing too many forces for defense seems unrealistic."

"We can only look for opportunities to eliminate the enemy casters; without their assistance, they cannot quickly seize territory for advancement. The conditions in the Sinai Corridor are there; it’s easy to defend and hard to attack, challenging to sustain an army’s push."

"Do you have suitable candidates?"

"Yes."

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