Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 651 - 423: Boundaries
novelbuddyrod Duchy, Karelia, Dragon's Nest.
Losa stood at the edge of the cliff, beneath him lay the bottomless abyss. The snow and wind were fierce, biting cold, yet he felt little of it on his body; he sensed how his taste, smell, and perception were leaning towards those of the Ghost Dragon when it was alive.
At this rate, the Ghost Dragon might indeed take over his body and "die" and resurrect unpredictably.
The young girl carried a basket woven from vines, filled with those glow-in-the-dark plants, which should be a type of fungi reliant on the breath of the Giant Dragon for growth,
She too was no longer an ordinary person; within her body was a faint presence of Dragon Descendant Qi, just like the Dragon Descendant Warrior Torle dispatched by Shemir back then, only much weaker.
Losa surmised that perhaps when the Ghost Dragon's awareness was dominant, it used its Dragon Blood to elevate her life level. It probably brought this woman back not as reserve food but with the intention to "use" her.
Looking down at the abyss, she felt a dizzy spell, quickly withdrawing her gaze.
"You are sure you can fly, right?"
She asked with trepidation.
"Relax, Miss Rognerda."
Losa smiled and nodded, black scale armor covering his body, and a pair of wide, fleshy wings unfolded from his back.
This image made Miss Rognerda somewhat fearful, causing her to step back half a pace, uneasy and uncertain: "Are you the Dragon, or are you Losa?"
"Of course, I'm Losa."
Losa asked again, "Are you ready?"
"Wait, wait a moment..."
Before she could finish, Losa stepped into the void.
The sudden rush of weightlessness made her instinctively scream.
Are your wings just for show?
Come on, fly, fly!
Losa remained immobile, his golden eyes glowing brightly in the wind and snow, and their descent speed grew faster and faster.
Until they were no longer visible from the heights.
Only then did he abruptly spread his wings...
When Rognerda opened her eyes again, they were gliding in the sky.
The girl wrapped her arms around Losa's neck, the biting cold wind making her inhale sharply.
They flew over the wasteland of a town, reduced to only withered branches, not even worthy of being called ruins: "Is there someone there, are they from your family?"
Rognerda shook her head: "I don't know, perhaps they are peasants from the farm below, rummaging through the ruins for something."
From the Neva Riverbank, upstream to Lake Ladoga, then taking a ship southward, a short walk in Tver Duchy, and reaching the Dnieper River to board the Amber merchant ships, to travel south into the Black Sea.
Losa still intended to head south.
If this was the world constructed from the Ghost Dragon's memories, there would definitely be a "world's end"; perhaps an impenetrable air wall, or possibly endless void.
He planned to take a look.
To see what consequences it might bring if he were to break free from the limits of the world created from the Ghost Dragon's memories.
...
Reality.
Central Nile Delta.
A small Crusader team was rushing along with carts, camels, riding on various pack animals, loaded with boxes of jewels, exquisite fabrics, large gold and silver vessels, candelabras, and tableware.
Many of these treasures were stained with blood.
They had raided a Saracen village and, taking advantage of the element of surprise, had stormed into the Heretics' chief's estate with heavy casualties, engaging in burning and plundering to vent their rage.
They were tense, frequently looking back.
Accompanied by the screech of a hawk, the Crusaders exclaimed: "The Heretics' falcon has caught up with us!"
"I've heard some Lord Knights say that, in the Holy Land, seeing a Heretics' falcon means the Saracen Riding Cavalry is not far away. With our slow speed, we can't escape their pursuit!"
"Why don't we leave these large carts behind? At this rate, we won't make it back."
"These are treasures we exchanged for our lives!"
"It's proof of our devotion, a symbol of our accomplishments!"
Many Crusaders were unwilling to part with them.
As long as they brought these treasures home, their participation in the Crusades would not have been in vain, selling the inconvenient ones at Semmanud Port to Latin merchants and taking the portable ones back to their homeland.
They seemed to see those unreachable territories and fame beckoning them.
As long as they had money, even a common soldier could make leaps and become a noble Lord.
Richard once said, if given a price, he would even consider selling London.
Leaders like him who sold positions and honors were never few in Europe, and many city aristocrats arose in such a manner.
Was this some paltry wealth?
No, it represented their beautiful future, their endlessly fantasized dreams along the way!
"Then you continue to keep them; I renounce my claim to these treasures!"
A knight sneered, bearing easily carried gold and silver; though most riches lay on those carts and camels, he decisively chose to sacrifice them, urging his mount to accelerate and rush ahead.
The Crusaders struggled internally but ultimately, no one wished to abandon them.
They climbed a sand dune, someone shouting: "We're almost at Burullus Lake, guys, push a little more, soon we'll return to Semmanude." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂
The Crusaders cheered enthusiastically.
Their equipment was not superb, many wore bloodstained, hole-ridden old armor stripped from Saracens. Few were knights, more were mere landless farmers, so-called drifters.
They were the prototype of Children's Crusade, hoping to redeem wealth and land by punishing Heretics, escaping destitution. But fortune was never common, the majority of poor Crusaders merely found burials in foreign lands.
Nonetheless.
As they cheered, far off, dust rose.
Above, vultures hovered like sharks sensing blood, circling above people's heads, casting a shadow in the hearts of Crusaders, seen as Divine Envoys of death by locals.
Soon.
A group of black cavalry charged towards them like phantoms.
Leading them was a man holding a riding spear aloft, with a head of a person who couldn't rest in peace on its tip, precisely the Crusader Knight who recently fled.
Quickly.
A group of black cavalry charged towards them like phantoms.
Leading them was a man holding a riding spear aloft, with a head of a person who couldn't rest in peace on its tip, precisely the Crusader Knight who recently fled.
