Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 625 - 398: The Rebel Army

Survived.

Gallio stumbled into the dilapidated house, his heart still pounding hard.

Everything that happened tonight was a nightmare for someone as ordinary as an unloader like him.

Whether it was those deformed, man-eating werewolf demons.

The Frankish Faris with the horned helmet who saved him at the moment of crisis.

And the city wall that seemed to pave a road with corpses after the Knight left.

And...

And when he was allowed to leave.

The werewolf demons almost slaughtered to extinction.

He sat powerlessly on the bed made of straw on the ground, thinking, those Franks, who can easily defeat the demon army, is there anyone in this world who can stop them?

At this moment.

There was a sound of footsteps outside the door.

Mr. Hussein, the most respected man in this neighborhood, led a crowd of residents in.

"Why are you back?"

"Gallio, what happened outside, did General Jabri defeat the Crusaders?"

"Look at him, so disheveled, could he have deserted?"

"That's right, he must have deserted. Even if General Jabri won the battle, he should fulfill his duty to guard the city, not appear in his doghouse!"

This slum area where he lived couldn't keep secrets; even before he entered the alley, someone probably noticed he was back. After all, the moon was bright tonight, and the citizens didn't feel like sleeping early.

The crowd gradually filled the entrance to Gallio's broken house.

Someone shouted loudly, "No matter what, catch him first!"

"This kid deserted, betrayed Governor Mahri. If we don't catch him, everyone will suffer."

"Mr. Hussein, what do you think?"

"Catch me?"

Already feeling physically and mentally exhausted, Gallio, perhaps used to seeing dead people tonight, added a bit of hostility in his chest, picked up an iron sword he scavenged from a pile of corpses, and his expression turned somewhat ferocious.

He was forcibly sent out by these people to serve the neighborhood.

As a migrant worker, Gallio couldn't really be considered a "citizen," at most a "commoner," limited to the cheapest physical labor in this city, while suffering guild exploitation.

Got little benefits and almost lost his life.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, pointing to the noisy figure in the crowd and shouting, "I'm just an unloader. Do I have to let myself be slaughtered by the Franks like a chicken to fulfill my duty?"

"Everyone is dead, Jabri, Himiro, Fadaro—those big shots, who among them isn't stronger than me, but they all died. Semanud City is no longer under Governor Mahri's control!"

The young unloader with a weapon picked up the weapon in hand and said coldly, "I am indeed a deserter, but I am a Christian. What wrong is there not wanting to fight for the heretics?"

"Oh God, Holy Fire above!"

"This is simply a disaster."

"What Holy Fire, it's Heavenly Father above!"

The smart ones had already started drawing crosses in front of them, preparing to take out the ancestral holy images and crosses at home, placing them in the most conspicuous places, and even planning to hang cross banners at their doorsteps.

"Traitor, you have forsaken the Holy Fire!"

Immediately, the devout citizens stepped out to accuse that person.

"Nonsense, I only pretended to convert, and will repent once King Saladin retakes Semanud."

"That's right, little Hassan is right, we only pretended to convert."

A group of citizens said one after another, ignoring the inconspicuous unloader Gallio.

Mr. Hussein then coughed once, making everyone quiet down, and then said: "Little Hassan is right, let's all go back, have your wives work overnight to make flags embroidered with crosses."

He continued: "Gallio, you must leave here. You served as a soldier for the heretics. Who knows if you have killed Crusader soldiers; if you stay here, we might suffer because of you."

Gallio was stunned.

His expression was very colorful, then burst out in laughter.

In his view, this scene was utterly ironic.

Hussein's face turned a bit awkward; given his status and position, when did he need to endure mockery from such lowly civilians?

"Move aside!"

Gallio picked up the weapon: "I will leave, but let me tell you all, in this battle I indeed deserted and was almost killed by a monster from the supervision team. It was a Knight of the Crusaders who saved me."

He sneered: "That Knight promised to make me his attendant, so from now on, please leave my room, and I will leave after gathering my things."

"A deserter as an attendant?"

"He's lying!"

"Tie him up and hand him over to the Franks!"

Hussein's cheek twitched slightly, but he eventually said: "Gallio, your time is limited. After gathering your things, leave as soon as possible; I don't want to see you still on this street quarter of an hour from now."

Nobody believed Gallio would be valued by a Knight.

What truly made Hussein choose to back down was Gallio's weapon and those eyes unafraid of death—eyes that no commoner would possess.

...

Governor's Mansion.

Losa was studying a map.

It clearly marked the various neighborhoods and distribution of towers in Semanud City.

Under normal circumstances, cities were self-managed by the citizen class (respected guildsmen and merchants).

The owner of the city often also gladly granted citizens the right of self-governance in exchange for a large sum of money or signed tax systems similar to tax collectors, waiting for the yearly revenue without taking part in city management.

Besides citizen autonomy, there's also a tradition in the Apennine region of enfeoffment to city nobility.

Dividing the neighborhoods into pieces assigned to a noble; sometimes, stepping onto another street was enough to notice differences in the guards' emblems, cloaks' colors, and shields on walls.

Many city towers were built by such city nobility for a vantage point, for discovering enemies' movements in densely built-up areas promptly, and asserting authority.

Their internal conflicts often show in gang-style street brawls, inspiring Losa when designing the "Two Sicilies Wolf Race" model.

In truth, city nobility tends to be the worst choice.

Under citizen autonomy, there's no need to exert oneself, allowing yearly reception of money, or even summoning city militia for combat.

Of course, whether military service is needed depends on contracts and the power balance between the Lord and the citizen class. Many Free Cities in Europe even defeated local Lords, forcing them to grant city autonomy; such Free Cities often do not require military service and even pay meager sums to the Lord.

"Kurs, you don't look good, is something wrong?"

"Yes, sir."

"Peasant uprising?"

Losa honestly wasn't surprised; where there is oppression, there is resistance.

"They were not only undeterred, but they also killed the local Lord, a…"

When it comes to peasant uprisings, most people only think of one term: "mob."

Peasants are undoubtedly the lowest and largest group in the world, but their power compared to nobles, priests, and even weaker citizens is the weakest link.

The only advantage, "numerous and strong," remains untapped due to the fact that the leaders of uprisings are often illiterate and possess narrow perspectives.

If the peasant uprisings don't descend into infighting, that's above average, let alone uniting together.