Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 474 - 254: Losa’s Speech
The vultures circled at the edge of the battlefield, neither daring to approach the numerous falcons nor willing to miss the feast in their mouths.
"Many people will die today."
Ivan looked up at the hovering vultures and said nonchalantly, "Are you afraid, Fulk?"
"Yes, I am afraid, Ivan."
Baron Fulk’s fingers trembled as they gripped the lance. He had thought he could escape amid the chaos of the battlefield.
But once on the battlefield, Fulk realized his naivety.
On the slopes before him, the dense array of flags and the colorful crosses all testified to the vast numbers of the Crusader Cavalry.
Around him, the heavily armored knights and light cavalry archers seemed like a black tide enclosing him layer by layer.
This was in the Aquitaine Region near the Pyrenees Abyss, and such a large-scale battle had not been seen since the Battle of Poitiers (Franks and Iberian Arabs in Languedoc), completely surpassing Fulk’s imagination.
The cavalry involved in this battle numbered nearly thirty thousand by his estimation.
In such a vast war, he was like a leaf adrift on the waves, forced into the fray with his kin.
Fulk tried to draw a cross on his chest, but his raised hand paused and then lowered.
He murmured softly, "The Heavenly Father will not bless me."
"I thought I would find redemption in Jerusalem."
He chuckled bitterly.
"Listen to me, lads!"
Ivan rode forward to his troops: "I know many of you harbor discontent, but it must end here. This is the best time to achieve feats, and according to the law, King Saladin will grant us a third of the spoils of this battle—land, wealth, and titles lie before us."
"What you need to do now is follow your lord, me, and seize everything that should belong to us!"
"Hoo!"
"Hoo!"
Under Ivan’s command, the cavalry’s morale soared instantly.
"Taqidin, you have an excellent subordinate."
Watching from afar, Saladin smiled at the scene.
Taqidin smiled wryly: "Yes, he is excellent, but because of the rumors of the ’Cannibal Evil Beast,’ things between us have been tense recently."
"Rumors are just rumors."
Saladin shook his head.
Victory would suppress all problems.
On the other side, the gates and walls of the Crusaders’ camp were ablaze, with thick smoke obscuring Saladin’s view, preventing him from immediately noticing that his once-reliable fierce dragon troops were nearly wiped out.
...
Swoosh!
A sharp arrow pierced the eye of a fierce dragon, causing the beast—already wounded in the belly by a crossbow cannon shot—to unleash a fierce rampage, ignoring the command from the dragon saddle’s driver and trampling wildly.
A woodland archer who had been lying in ambush for a long time loosed the arrow and then turned and ran.
These lightly armored infantry had excellent mobility, and their good training and food had long enhanced their physiques, though they still couldn’t match the true Woodland Elf Archers, but their longbows remained a nightmare for Saracen soldiers.
The berserk fierce dragon charged indiscriminately, and the driver on the dragon saddle had no choice but to pull out a large spear and thrust it towards the dragon’s vital point.
Torle wasn’t in a much better situation.
Though he was a Dragon Descendant Warrior personally created by Master Shemir and possessed extraordinary power, even Demon-Blocking Gold Weapons found it hard to harm him significantly, but he was facing two opponents.
Even though Hans and Venezia had not used their pureblood werewolf’s most powerful werewolf transformation, they still had Torle on the back foot.
Boom—
Venezia rammed Torle, sending him flying.
"You bastards!"
Torle was beginning to doubt his life. These enemies before him, despite suffering many of his heavy blows, did not weaken but seemed to grow stronger the longer the battle went on?
Could he be a Berserker from Scandinavian legends?
Torle lamented inwardly, but his hands never stopped; he thrust two bone spurs from his elbows towards Venezia, who was holding him at the waist.
The sharp bone spurs easily pierced through Venezia’s plate armor, but despite this grave injury, Venezia’s eyes turned blood-red, and his grip seemed to gain tenfold in strength as he held Torle and leaned back, slamming him head-first into the ground.
Even with Torle’s Dragon Bloodline and extraordinary life force, this caused his neck to break and his mind to blur.
Hans seized the opportunity to attack, bringing his half sword down with all his strength towards Torle’s neck.
Bang—
A bone breaks, a head falls.
Hans raised the draconic head of Torle high, letting the blood from the severed neck dye his helmet and battle robe red, roaring loudly: "The enemy general is dead, all Christian warriors, drive the heretics out of our camp!"
Roar!
The Varangian Guard surrounding Hans roared collectively, swinging their two-handed great axes, charging at the retreating Saracen infantry like Viking warriors from the Land of Frost and Winter emerging from forests and frozen lands.
...
The emblem on Losa’s chest suddenly became scorching hot, yet he did not connect the communication. Instead, he directly urged the horse Eclipse beneath him, arriving before his cavalrymen.
The tall and massive Eclipse accentuated Losa’s heroic and extraordinary appearance.
"Soldiers, knights, monks, and sirs— A month ago, we might have been plowing fields, drinking heavily in taverns, playing cards under tree shades, or dozing off in afternoon mills."
"But now, we stand on the battlefield, fighting against heretical armies more numerous than ours, who breed demon dragons."
The nearby Winged Cavalrymen’s expressions subtly shifted.
Hearing Losa’s description, they indeed recalled their once leisurely lives, which now seemed as distant as a century away.
"Do we have a retreat?"
"Let the heretical armies burn our homes, trample our fields, slaughter our brothers?"
"Watch demon dragons fly over our heads, leaving scorched earth and desolation?"
"Or humbly and shamefully kneel to the heretics, sold as slaves, just to survive momentarily?"
Losa’s voice heightened, becoming increasingly passionate: "No, we have no way to retreat."
"Our homes, our beautiful wives, and lovely children are right behind us."
"Today, regardless of rank or nobility, we stand together, united as one identity—Christ warriors defending the kingdom, defending the Holy Land."
"Perhaps many will die, but they are fortunate, for when they wake, they will see the Celestial Kingdom flowing with milk and honey!" 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮
"Those who survive are equally fortunate."
"For history will remember us, minstrels will praise us, and we will gain supreme glory."
"I believe that when news of our victory reaches those knights, lords, and even kings in Europe who have been slow to act, they will feel regretful and ashamed for their inaction."
Losa paused his voice, then let out a hoarse and slightly off-key shout.
"In the name of God!"
Roar!
The knights surrounding Losa shouted in unison.
The battlefield was so chaotic that Losa’s voice could not reach everyone’s ears, but it spread like a tide, swiftly reaching every corner of this vast cavalry force.
Jeanne jokingly whispered: "Perhaps next time you can have Furin cast an amplification technique for you."
"I’ve arranged heralds; they will relay my speech."
Losa continued: "Jeanne, do you remember when we fought side by side?"
Jeanne smiled and said: "Of course, I promise you, my Sun King, Jeanne will present you with victory once again."
"As always?"
"As always."
The two exchanged smiles.
Jeanne left Losa’s line, leading a small team of Winged Cavalry, charging to one side.
Losa then looked at Prajna beside him, her eyes remained clear and calm, giving a sense of steadfast power, as if the sky fell down, there was no need to worry.
Neither spoke a word.
Losa pulled down the mask of his helmet, raising the armored lance from Hans high: "Winged Cavalry, charge with me!"
"Hoo!"
Amidst the shouts.
Iron hooves shattered the earth.
Wings fluttered, banners like forests.
The layers of flag signals passed down, and the enormous cavalry force began to form into several large cavalry formations, dispersedly charging towards the Saracen cavalry under the lead of various commanders’ banners.
Heading straight for Saladin’s central army.
