Poor Crusades and the Knight Tournament

Even though the Giant Python had been gone for quite some time.

Lothar still felt his heart pounding wildly.

With the experience of Two Lives combined, he had never seen such a terrifying monster. "How could a creature this huge exist in this world?"

"It's not merely a matter of its size."

Prajna said gravely, "The most terrifying thing about it is the immense magical power contained within its body. That power is somewhat similar to that of some of my fellow sorcerers."

In the darkness, a trace of excitement flashed through her eyes. "Could it be a Witch?"

"A Witch."

"Transformation Magic?"

Lothar guessed.

Though he had never actually encountered a Witch, he had heard a thing or two about such sorcery from legends and street rumors.

Prajna asked, "What is that?"

"Witches are said to drink potions containing the blood of specific monsters, allowing them to transform into all sorts of terrifying beasts and borrow their power. But at the same time, the transformation gradually devours them with beastly instincts."

"Every so often, they uncontrollably turn into monsters."

"In fairy tales, the reason Cinderella fled the prince's sight just before midnight was because she was a Witch skilled in Transformation Magic, about to turn into a giant monster."

Lothar frowned. "Of course, that's only a guess. This world is unfamiliar to you, and it's just as unfamiliar to me."

The original owner of this body had merely been a rural nouveau riche.

Prajna said softly, "The unknown is what makes things interesting. That is a good thing."

Lothar sighed. "I would rather this were a low-magic world, where you and I could easily conquer everything, instead of having to stay alert in case some Witch silently cursed us to death one day."

Prajna pursed her Lips and offered a suggestion. "Then you had better work hard to summon a medical retainer. I can protect you from physical harm, but I cannot stop invisible, intangible curses."

Lothar said helplessly, "That isn't something I can decide. I created the system, but once its rules were set, I did not even have the authority to give myself a backdoor."

He looked out the window.

The Giant Python was long gone, yet the muddy tracks it had left across the ground remained exceptionally clear.

Drip.

A drop of water fell.

The air became damp, and soon a fine drizzle began to fall.

Lothar said in surprise, "It's raining? Could that Giant Python have used sorcery to make it rain, just to cover its tracks?"

Prajna shook her head. "I don't know, but it is possible."

The next day.

The rain still fell without end.

The whole world seemed to have turned gray and gloomy.

After a night of rain, the traces left by the Giant Python on the streets of Small Town had long since been washed away.

The group of six, with six horses, left the inn early and traveled along the muddy country road. Their cloaks and clothes had all become damp from the miserable weather.

The Countess's knights were decent men.

The two warhorses she had promised were Hungarian horses carefully selected by the knights from ordinary stock. They were said to have been bred from local horses and Arabian horses.

Though they were noticeably shorter than Lothar's Nisaan warhorse, they were still fine warhorses. Lothar gave them directly to Prajna and Hans.

Ryan and Moder did not resent the newcomers surpassing them either.

After all, neither of them was skilled at fighting on horseback, so warhorses would have been wasted on them. Besides, one was suspected to be a Witch and close to their lord, while the other was an elite knight who came with his own equipment. Neither dared feel resentful.

When Hans crossed over, he had not brought a lance or a warhorse with him. But that was only because they had not been drawn in his character illustration; it did not mean that, as a knight's squire, he lacked riding or lance skills.

At that moment, they saw a dense crowd moving steadily ahead.

They were dressed in rags and traveled with their families. Among them were thugs and hooligans, as well as mercenary-looking men wearing chainmail.

It was a mixed and complicated assortment of people.

Lothar casually stopped someone and asked, "Where are you from, and where are you going?"

The man replied fearfully, "My lord, we are farmers going on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. My companions and I are all from the Brandenburg March."

"I see."

Was this a new wave of the Poor Crusades?

Lothar led his group into the crowd-packed road.

The ragged, filthy, travel-worn commoners consciously stepped aside to make way for them.

Mud splashed up from the horses' hooves and struck the faces of commoners by the roadside, yet they only dared to be angry in silence.

But Lothar immediately stopped this, signaling everyone to dismount and proceed on foot.

On such a congested road, riding would not make them any faster anyway. And when ordinary commoners saw the group, they did not dare collide with them and moved aside on their own.

From a covered wagon ahead came intermittent sounds of men and women panting. Before long, a listless yet satisfied mercenary climbed down, pulling up his trousers.

Ryan chuckled. "Those are prostitutes traveling with the group. Wandering Oriole is the perfect name for them. They follow the pilgrims, earning enough for the road. In the end, they may settle down in a city along the way, or they may follow the whole journey to the Holy Land to cleanse their sins."

Lothar instinctively asked, "Aren't they afraid of getting sick?"

Ryan burst out laughing. "Hey, would they not get sick doing it in a big city? By following the pilgrims, these Wandering Orioles can at least avoid paying so many taxes to those lordly masters."

Lothar fell silent for a moment.

"Even money earned by selling one's body has to be taxed?"

"Of course, and not lightly. Add in the tithe, labor levies, military taxes, and all the new taxes lords invent for their own selfish desires."

Ryan paused slightly before continuing, "My lord, your father was a kind lord, but most lords do not treat commoners as people."

Lothar nodded. He glanced at Prajna and recalled their conversation that night.

Since he was a transmigrator, he had to do something in the face of such a world.

Even if he could not change this world, he at least had to make his own people live happier lives in the future.

From time to time, people who were sick or too hungry to walk collapsed headfirst into the mud beside the road.

Someone approached Lothar with a broken bowl, begging, "Honored lord, please show mercy. My wife is about to starve to death. Please give me some grain."

Others held up Crusader banners they had sewn themselves and shouted, "Knight lords, we are Crusaders too! Let us follow you! We can be squires and servants, feed your livestock, and till your fields!"

An old woman, her face streaked with tears, held her daughter, who was little more than skin and bones, and pleaded, "Please take in my daughter. She is about to starve to death."

Lothar was moved.

But Moder immediately reminded him in a low voice, "My lord, you cannot help everyone."

Lothar nodded. "Indeed. Even if I can help them for a moment, I cannot help them for a lifetime. A few silver coins and a few loaves of bread cannot save their lives."

Of these Poor Crusades led by impoverished priests, perhaps not even one-third would ultimately reach the Holy Land.

"But we still have to do something."

Lothar quietly instructed, "Moder, later, bring that woman some food. Help the others where we can as well. Give away half of the rations we brought."

He cautioned, "Remember, do not draw too much attention. If others come to fight over it, we will not be helping them—we will be harming them."

Someone dragged a fair-faced youth over to the Nisaan warhorse and said obsequiously, "Knight lord, those scrawny little girls are no fun. Why not give this one a try?"

"Get lost!"

The knight in a horned helmet raised his whip and barked, "How dare you offer such an unclean thing to my noble lord? Are you trying to make my lord commit an unforgivable sin?"

Under Catholicism doctrine, homosexuality was a grave sin!

The peddler immediately looked horrified. He had assumed that this equally valiant-looking knight was Lothar's companion, never imagining that he was actually a squire.

In his eyes, Lothar's status immediately rose from that of a knight to a high-ranking noble, since no knight could possibly have another knight serving beneath him.

"Please forgive my offense, but he is not a man. He is a Castrato, castrated from childhood using the Eastern Empire court secret art. He is not an unclean thing. The emperors of the Eastern Empire most favored appointing eunuchs as confidants and having them govern the realm for them."

The merchant was trembling with fear.

In many places, eunuchs were already regarded as a third gender and were deeply favored by Princes and Nobles.

Yet many people still considered eunuchs nothing more than incomplete men, and deeply despised and detested them.

Lothar waved him off, signaling him to leave at once.

"Hans, do not get so worked up. Eunuchs have existed for centuries. In the Eastern Empire, there have even been eunuchs who became Grand Patriarchs. That is a rank equal to His Holiness the Pope."

Lowering his voice, he said, "I am curious whether you are a knight of the Heavenly Father, or a knight who serves only me—one who would remain utterly loyal even if I gave myself to the devils of a foreign faith."

Lothar swung himself onto his mount and rode ahead.

Hans's face beneath his helmet changed drastically.

The color drained from his Lips, and he began to tremble.

After a moment, he slowly turned his horse and followed. He said to Lothar, "My lord, forgive me. Perhaps I have adapted too well to this world. Even if the Heavenly Father truly exists in this world, you are still my creator, the only lord I worship. Please forgive the presumptuous decision I made for you. I will immediately find that merchant and buy the eunuch."

Lothar did not know whether to laugh or cry. "There is no need. I do not fancy that eunuch, nor do I have such peculiar tastes. But I value your loyalty, Hans."

"A philosopher once said that loyalty which is not absolute is absolute disloyalty."

Lothar spoke with great seriousness.

If he became a lord, conflict with the Church was inevitable. He could not allow the Church to share half his authority, much less accept that his people would be more loyal to the Church than to him.

Hans hurriedly said, "Please believe in my loyalty. My sword and lance were born for you and are yours to command."

Prajna's indifferent voice rang out. "He was not lying. Lothar, you need not worry over whether we are loyal. We exist because of you. Even if I disliked you or hated you, I would still obey your orders, and I could never do anything to harm you."

"I understand."

Lothar nodded faintly, then probed, "Prajna, do you dislike me?"

Prajna paused, her brows knitting. After a long moment, she said softly, "No."

A smile immediately appeared on Lothar's face.

Hans followed behind him, his face full of remorse and shame. Even General Prajna regards my lord differently. How could a mere one-star retainer like me dare make decisions for him? That was an outrageous overstep.

Their intimacy had risen rather than fallen.

Lothar patted Hans on the shoulder with an odd expression, feeling that he might have grasped the essence of PUA.

The crowd became increasingly dense.

Ahead stood a checkpoint guarded by soldiers. A knight sat atop a brown warhorse, one hand resting on the sword at his waist as he called out loudly.

"Pilgrims who have come from afar, ahead lies Lienz, the domain of Lord Leopold of Babenberg. By my lord's command, I will distribute grain to you. But you must not proceed any farther. A Knight Tournament is being held deeper within, and many nobles and knights have gathered there. Should you offend the highborn, severe punishment awaits you."

"Everyone, collect your grain and immediately head south. If our patrols encounter you again, you will face cruel punishment!"

Lothar let out a long sigh. "So we have reached Lienz already."

This place already belonged to the Austrian March.

It was land belonging to the Babenberg family.

Though Count Leopold, who ruled here, was nominally only a count, both his authority and military power far exceeded those of an ordinary count.

In terms of size, the Austrian March likely surpassed even an ordinary duchy. But it was a frontier region with many mountains and barren land.

Hans followed behind Lothar and quietly declared his loyalty. "My lord, this place should belong to your family."

That was true.

Historically, Austria had always been the Habsburg family's base.

Lothar shook his head. "I heard Father mention that Count Leopold is no easy opponent. Besides, the Habsburg family rose to prominence in history not because of Austria. This may be our base, but it is not irreplaceable."

Lothar had no intention of setting his sights on Austria. Both the King of Bohemia and Lionheart had coveted this land for a long time. Even after returning from the Holy Land, he would not rashly make a move here.

If he had a choice, he would rather establish a foothold in the Low Countries. That was where true wealth lay.

Lienz was a city built around a castle.

The castle stood at the city's center, with the tallest and strongest walls.

The outer edge of the city had only a low wall. The haphazardly arranged buildings made it difficult to realize that this was already a fairly large city.

Outside the city gates, servants were conducting registrations. Seeing Lothar, one hurriedly greeted him. "My lord, are you here for the Knight Tournament as well? If you wish to register, please come with me. The deadline is almost here."

Lothar asked, "What are the rewards for the tournament?"

The servant smiled. "The victor may win the favor of my master, Lord Leopold. You may be granted land and an honorary title, or receive a large sum of shining coins and charming maidservants."

Land was tempting, but he had already made up his mind and would not be swayed.

As for maidservants, he had no need for them.

Only the wealth was something he required.

Lothar nodded. "My squire and I will both participate. Take me to register."

"A squire?"

The servant looked somewhat disdainful. "Ha, my lord, do not underestimate this tournament. There are quite a number of renowned knights, and its scale is no smaller than the last one held in Vienna. If he is only a squire, he may not be able to withstand it and could be beaten to death."

Squires generally wore no armor.

And participants in a Knight Tournament had to provide their own armor.

"Do not underestimate my squire."

Lothar pointed at Hans. "His armor is complete, and his martial skill is exceptional. Even many formal knights are no match for him. If he had earned sufficient merit, I would have made him a true knight long ago."

As he registered, he said to Ryan behind him, "Ryan, I need four lances made of white beech, two lances made of applewood, and a well-made Kite Shield for Hans, either leather-covered or iron-banded."

White beech lances were brittle and easily broke, making them perfect for tournaments.

Applewood lances, meanwhile, were much tougher and suitable for use in battle.

Having received his orders, Ryan immediately left with the money pouch.

Hans said excitedly, "My lord, I will not disgrace you."

The servant looked astonished. "He is actually a squire? In that armor, he looks even more like a knight lord than a real knight lord."

He quickly wrote down both of their names on the registration paper. Since Hans had no surname, he borrowed the Habsburg name as well.

"Gentlemen, the tournament will begin promptly this afternoon at the Hunting Ground outside the city. Please make your preparations in advance."