Arrival in the Holy Land

Today was a rare day of fine weather.

The sky was clear for miles, the wind gentle, and the waves calm.

After that harsh, miserly Jewish merchant died,

the captain and sailors no longer had to pretend to be busy. They bared their damp, sticky skin and stood leisurely on deck, soaking up the sun.

All manner of freshly washed clothes hung from the mast.

The passengers also gathered in small groups on deck to chat. No one wanted to remain cooped up in the stifling cabins.

For the past two days, the atmosphere aboard had been extremely awkward.

Several passengers had simply disembarked at Crete, planning to take other ships to the Holy Land and escape this predicament.

On the night of the sirens, Lothar had seen many unspeakable scenes. Passengers and sailors alike, regardless of gender, had embraced one another in a tangled heap. Yet under Catholic doctrine, both adultery and homosexuality were sins.

"Once we reach the Holy Land, all sins shall be washed away."

That was what Father Beckett told everyone.

That night, under the sirens' song, he had rolled about in a cabin with a male sailor for quite some time.

Jesus surely did not believe that reaching the Holy Land erased all sins, but the priest had said it anyway.

Just as Jesus would not have believed killing heathens was guiltless, much less a path to Heaven, yet His Holiness the Pope had said so anyway.

The sailors saw these matters far more clearly. Having spent their lives at sea, their faith was hardly devout.

When tsunamis, pirates, and storms struck, they would even pray to Poseidon, the heathen god of the sea.

And aboard a cramped ship that was practically cut off from the world, intimacy between men was not exactly commonplace, but neither was it unimaginable.

It was said that siren corpses could be rendered into a precious aphrodisiac fragrance comparable to ambergris, but Lothar had abandoned the idea of cutting them open to extract it.

He still could not bring himself to butcher humanoid creatures as though they were pigs or sheep.

A full two days had passed since they left Crete.

They had passed by Cyprus during that time, but did not linger there. After replenishing their freshwater supplies, they set sail again.

It had once been core territory of the Eastern Empire. After the Eastern Empire's Regent Empress was crowned, it had seized the chance to become independent and now possessed a formidable naval force.

After passing Cyprus, they were already very close to the Holy Land. From time to time, they could vaguely make out the yellowed coastline in the distance.

The waters here had also become far more crowded with ships.

Merchant vessels laden with spices and silk from the East; passenger ships carrying scattered Crusaders; and pirate rowing warships fitted with many great oars and ballistae at their bows, darting to and fro like the wind. Broken planks and barrels often floated across the sea.

They were the remains of plundered and destroyed merchant ships, as well as pirate vessels smashed by naval forces.

"Look!"

The sailors suddenly grew excited.

Someone cheered, "They're our ships!"

On the distant horizon, a massive fleet gradually appeared before them.

Smaller escort ships, enormous capital ships, and galleys.

White cross emblems were emblazoned upon their enormous black sails.

Sail after sail billowed in the wind, generating tremendous power and driving the great ships across the waves.

"That's... the Knights Hospitaller fleet!"

Lothar immediately ordered, "Raise the Crusader banner. Don't let our Christian brothers mistake who we are!"

Father Beckett said proudly, "The Knights Hospitaller possess a powerful naval force in the Holy Land. They frequently patrol the seas, protecting trade routes and the safety of pilgrims at sea."

This was the power of the Knightly Orders today.

They were not kingdoms, yet surpassed kingdoms.

Lothar cast him a sidelong glance, making him feel somewhat guilty.

Over the past few days, Father Beckett had clearly quieted down considerably. The old man's disgrace had cost him dearly in the eyes of those aboard, and he feared Lothar would spread word of it, leaving him anxious and unsettled.

When the carrack arrived at the harbor outside Jaffa, it happened to be noon, when the sunlight was at its harshest.

The terrain here was severely weathered, with deserts and Gobi Desert everywhere. In the distance, a few heavily eroded tower-like structures could be seen rising from the endless wasteland.

Fringilla's languid voice sounded. "My lord, the sun is so fierce. I'm practically dying."

Lothar felt helpless. "Stop pretending. You only overextended your mental power once. After sleeping for two days, you were fine long ago. How could a royal vampire like you be so fragile?"

"It's because I'm a vampire that I'm afraid of sunlight!"

Prajna still followed quietly at Lothar's side, like his shadow.

She usually tried her best to minimize her presence, yet at crucial moments, she always gave people peace of mind.

"Hans, raise my swallowtail banner!"

Lothar ordered, "From today onward, we will likely have to deal with many nobles. You will serve as herald for the time being."

Hans looked troubled. "My lord, while I am honored to accept this position, my knowledge of heraldry is limited. I fear I may not be qualified."

Lothar shook his head. "Qualified or not, there has to be someone. Besides, your knowledge of heraldry already surpasses that of most knights."

Ryan instructed the peasants under his command, shouting, "Stand up straight! Remember what Sergeant Moder and I taught you these past few days. Don't disgrace our lord!"

"Yes!"

Among these peasants, every man now carried a spear and shield. Though they wore no armor, they were all draped in uniform surcoats, making them look fairly presentable.

Of course, they were still little more than showpieces, useful only as a ceremonial guard.

Their fighting strength was only slightly better than that of levied peasant soldiers.

Studying warfare on paper could never compare to actual drilling.

Lothar took a deep breath of the dry wind blowing in from the interior.

They had finally arrived!

"This is the Holy Land, where countless people came seeking redemption... and wealth. Impoverished knights from the West could come here and transform themselves into lords of a city."

Standing on the pier, Lothar stepped onto solid ground for the first time in days. His footing unconsciously felt a little unsteady, and Prajna caught him in time.

"Prepare to depart. Jerusalem is not far from here. The sooner we reach our destination, the sooner we can rest."

He handed the carrack over to its captain, but requisitioned all the merchants' wealth aboard as "sacred contributions" toward defending the Holy Land.

They had not gone far.

At that moment, Lothar saw a group coming down from the pier. They bore banners marked with yellow crosses, and most wore dark red and white surcoats.

They were well equipped, clearly professional sergeants and knights.

The leading knight held a horse by the reins and asked directly, "That familiar rampant lion coat of arms... are you of the Habsburg family?"

"And you are?"

Lothar frowned.

Habsburg was not an especially illustrious family, and its influence was limited to Swabia and Bavaria.

He truly had not expected to be recognized so soon after disembarking.

"I am Sir Kevin McKidd, a knight sworn to Baron Godfrey of Ibelin. This is the young lord I serve, Lord Balian, the sole heir of the Baron of Ibelin."

Lothar turned his gaze toward the young man behind the knight, wrapped in a dark red surcoat.

So this was the true principal. He simply looked as though he had little presence.

"I am Lothar of Argao, of the Habsburg family, second son of Count Werner, and also a landless knight."

Lothar nodded to them. "It is an honor to meet you, Lord Balian of Ibelin, Sir Kevin."

"Sir Lothar, your father and my master were very close friends. They once served His Majesty the King together in the Royal Knightly Order of Jerusalem. I personally witnessed the deep friendship they forged fighting side by side."

Sir Kevin looked at Lothar's surcoat, a trace of nostalgia in his eyes. "Robes in precisely this style. It truly brings back memories."

The Royal Knightly Order of Jerusalem was clearly not a military monastic order like the Knights Templar or Knights Hospitaller.

Rather, it was an honorary distinction like Burgundy's later Order of the Golden Fleece, representing rank and glory.

"I simply do not understand why he chose not to remain in the Holy Land, but instead returned to a backwater like Switzerland and became a country count."

"To be honest, I do not understand what he was thinking either—I always assumed he returned to Swabia because he could no longer get by in the Holy Land."

Lothar shrugged.

He had heard of the other man before. Baron Godfrey of Ibelin was one of the comrades Count Werner had occasionally mentioned from his time in the Holy Land.

The Ibelin family was no ordinary house. Though Godfrey was merely a baron, the weight of that title was still beyond anything Count Werner of Argao could compare to.

First of all, Ibelin was so close to Jaffa. It was a thriving trading city, with caravans constantly passing through, and taxes alone brought in an enormous sum.

Moreover, the Kingdom of Jerusalem was limited in size. There were only a dozen or so barons of any note in total.

And the Baron of Ibelin was clearly among the finest of them, a trusted confidant of King Baldwin and a staunch Royalist. He held more than just Ibelin as a fief.

Lothar had already been considering how to establish ties with them while traveling here. He had not expected to encounter the heir and retainer in person.

Sir Kevin asked, "Sir Lothar, are you planning to head to the Holy City?"

"Indeed. Now that we have reached the Holy Land, how could we possibly suppress our eagerness to hurry to the Holy City and pay homage to the Holy Sepulchre and the Cathedral of the Passion on Mount of Olives?"

"Ha, quite so. If you do not mind, let us travel together. The baron is waiting in Jaffa, and I believe he will be delighted to see both himself and the son of an old friend at once."

"That would be wonderful."

Lothar spoke with a broad smile. "Berian, are you Gaulish? Perhaps Balian would suit you better."

Berian nodded slightly. "Yes, that is correct, Sir Lothar."

"Balian, you seem somewhat reserved?"

"Indeed... I am not a noble. I mean, I used to be only a blacksmith, so I am not very skilled at dealing with people like you."

"I understand."

Lothar nodded. "But forgive my bluntness, there are nobles in this age as vile as scoundrels everywhere. So long as you possess a noble soul, even a blacksmith may stand proudly among princes and lords."

Balian's situation, bluntly speaking, was the legitimization of an illegitimate son, and it was not uncommon in this age.

It was most often seen in families without heirs. Of course, because their claims were weaker, their inheritance rights were sometimes forcibly seized by relatives of powerful nobles.

The Middle Ages placed great importance on legal legitimacy, but in the end, it still came down to fists.

P.S. Much of the content in the film Kingdom of Heaven was artistically adapted, or even invented out of thin air. For example, Balian was not an illegitimate son at all, but the family's third son, and he was not as young as in the film.

What needs to be said here is: do not try to learn history from this novel.

Because the author will use some film plotlines, fabricate some plotlines, and finally add a small portion of historical plotlines.