Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 472 - 252: Confrontation

In Saladin’s camp.

Baron Fulk repeatedly counted his equipment, lance, bow and arrows, water bottle, quiver...until Ivan came to urge him. He hastily drew a cross on his chest, his face full of shame.

"Heavenly Father above, I am forced to serve the Heretics, my Lord, please know that I do this not of my own will. On the battlefield, I will seize any opportunity to escape and will avoid harming any Christian brothers as much as possible."

"Fulk, hurry up!"

Ivan’s urging voice rang from outside the tent.

With Saladin’s military order, the entire Saracen camp moved swiftly like a hibernating giant beast awakening. They seemed chaotic, yet each gathered under their respective commanders, coming together according to the instructions from their superior lords.

...

"Get out of the way, I am here under my lord’s orders to command these dragon beasts, open the gate quickly!"

Ivan put on his iron gauntlets, standing at the most prominent spot in his camp, watching the figure swaggering towards the beast pen. His face displayed undisguised disgust— it was Torle, the Cannibal Evil Beast!

Not only Ivan but many soldiers who lost loved ones also detested him.

During this period, ordinary soldiers had been devoured by the Cannibal Evil Beast daily. The Saracens had heightened their vigilance, but for such a vast camp, it was merely a drop in the ocean.

If looks could kill, Torle would die a hundred times the moment he appeared before the Saracen soldiers.

Torle, clad in black scale armor and wearing a top chain armor helmet, revealed a mad, wanton face beneath the lifted visor, showing no trace of fear towards the angry stares.

"That damned beast."

"Ivan, keep your voice down."

Fulk reminded.

Torle paused for a moment, his head suddenly turning towards Ivan with a malicious smile on his face.

Then, without looking back, he arrived at the beast pen, using both hands to forcefully break open the arm-thick iron bars, causing a wave of suppressed gasps.

Boom—

The ferocious dragon, full of wickedness, was incredibly tame in front of Torle, the Dragon Descendant with the True Dragon Bloodline. It lowered its head, allowing Torle to step on it and reach the dragon saddle on its back.

"Let’s go, little one!"

He swung his long whip, looking down arrogantly at the onlooking soldiers.

He was not unaware of the rumors circulating in the camp; he simply did not care.

In his eyes, ordinary people were nothing more than a bunch of weak and insignificant insects.

If he had the hobby of eating humans, the rumors would no longer be just rumors.

The soldiers made way, allowing Torle to ride a ferocious dragon, leading over ten dragon beasts behind him, walking out of the camp together.

But Ivan did not move.

He stood firmly at the camp gate, staring coldly at Torle on the dragon’s back.

Fulk grabbed Ivan’s arm, trying to pull him aside, his tone urgent: "Ivan, don’t be foolish."

Yet Ivan remained unmoved, his eyes glued to the dragon beast and the big fool atop it.

Torle, intrigued by the man who dared to block him, lightly patted the neck of the ferocious dragon, which immediately lowered its head, baring its bloodthirsty, sharp-toothed maw right in front of Ivan.

Even so, Ivan did not budge.

Fulk was sweating profusely in anxiety; he could even smell the stinking odor emanating from the dragon beast’s mouth.

It was his first close encounter with these hulking monsters outside a cage, and he knew very well that creatures capable of swallowing a sheep whole could just as easily swallow them.

It seemed that many days of feeding had made the ferocious dragon remember Ivan and Fulk’s scent, so Fulk’s worries did not come to pass.

The ferocious dragon lifted its head, ignoring the two tiny roadblocks, stepping over them with heavy claws— over ten giant beasts filed out of the camp, kicking up dust that left everyone covered in grime.

After a while after the dragon herd left.

Someone shouted, "Abdullah! The great Dragon Tamer!"

"Fearless warrior Abdullah!"

Amid the cheers, Fulk wiped away his sweat: "Idiot, can you please not drag me into your suicidal stunts next time?"

Ivan smiled at the corner of his mouth: "I told you long ago, there’s nothing to fear about that big brute."

In the midst of the cheers, he shouted loudly, "All Ghazi Warriors, the king’s orders have been given, it’s time to engage in a decisive battle with the savage Franks. Everyone, mount your steeds immediately and follow me under Lord Taqidin’s command!"

He issued military orders one by one, and the troops under him, previously demoralized, were reinvigorated with fighting spirit by Ivan’s brave act.

...

On the opposing hillside.

Square banners bearing various cross badges and the personal emblems of knights and nobles, Iris Banners fluttered in the wind.

The scorching sunlight illuminated each soldier’s sweaty cheek. They squinted their eyes, as the enemy’s formation seemed to consider the backlight factor, forcing the Crusaders to march facing the blazing sun.

Every insignificant factor on the battlefield, when spread across tens of thousands of people, becomes a critical decisive factor.

Losa looked at the Kurdish Cavalry leader beside him and said with a smile, "Abdullah, it’s time for your Kurdish heroes and us to have a duel. How do you feel?"

Abdullah smiled wryly, "Sir, with the great battle approaching, you still have the heart to joke?"

Kurds considered many to see Saladin as a hero. Under Saladin’s command, the Mamluks weren’t mostly Kurds but rather many being Turks, Turkmen, and Kumans.

"Of course, because I know that victory is ours without doubt." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Losa tightened the whip in his hand, his face full of confidence.

As a Commander-in-Chief, whatever he thought deep inside, outwardly, he must appear assured and confident.

Behind him, the Winged Cavalry Guards held three-meter-long hollow lances with high morale; no wonder they often mocked the Varangian Guard for merely having the name of the Count’s Guard, for in every battle, it was the Winged Cavalry that could follow Losa closely.

Behind the Winged Cavalry were the Armored Archers; their numbers were too few to form a full army.

Scattered among them were a dozen individuals, placed in the Armored Cavalry unit. The Imperial Knights appeared in various units as Commanders, not gathered entirely for battle.

Further out were the Monastic Knights and the rest of the lords’ Armored Cavalry. Many of them were equipped with simple horse armors or horse clothing to resist Saracen arrows.

A dense forest of Armored Cavalry stood on both sides of the camp, whether in attack or defense, emphasizing mobility meant the cavalry must be the first to exit the camp.

Only a quarter of them were knights, the rest composed of cavalry self-equipped by the prosperous citizen class and other Professional Heavy Cavalry under Losa’s command.

The knights of this era had less prestige than those in the age of plate armor; by the Hundred Years’ War, the proportion of knights among heavy cavalry had shrunk to as little as one in twenty.

This could be observed from the disparity in the application of plate armor versus chain armor among the knights of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Plate armor was a luxury far too expensive for knights who owned only a bridge, a mill, or a small manor.

Light-armored or unarmored light cavalry roamed back and forth before and behind the formations, equipped with light cavalry lances, bows, and javelins, acting as the eyes of Losa’s army and responsible for harassing and delaying the enemy’s advances.

Their combat strength was limited but indispensable.