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The battle ultimately never happened.

In fact, the moment the enemy realized that Lothar and his party weren't carrying any carriages or camel trains laden with gold and treasures, they had already begun to lose their nerve.

The only reason they still came forward was to try and extort some possessions.

This is an era where the strong prey on the weak.

At any time, when fighting any battle, one must consider the cost-effectiveness of investment versus return.

If he were to lose too many of his trusted men, it could shake his own position, while the gains would be meager.

Coupled with the possibility of being sandwiched by reinforcements sent by Savotding, the enemy retreated on their own.

When Lothar asked him to state his name, he didn't dare to take up the offer, which indicated he wasn't a reckless fool who would act without thinking.

"Lothar, at this moment, we absolutely cannot choose to hand over our wealth."

"In this desert, there are no morals or any rules to restrain your enemy. Handing over your wealth will not make the enemy back down; instead, it will expose your vulnerability and make you seem easy to bully."

Abdullah walked alongside Lothar, teaching him by example.

Lothar, drawing parallels, said, "Furthermore, it would greatly dampen the morale of the soldiers. With their morale dropping and ours rising, even if they originally intended to let us leave, the enemy might change their minds."

"Exactly!"

Another two full days passed.

They bypassed Irbid, personally garrisoned by Savotding, and chose a longer, more desolate route to avoid any potential encounters with the enemy.

Lothar had no confidence that he could once again encounter Savotding and get away with it.

"After this small hill, Caymont is up ahead."

Abdullah smiled and stopped before a sand dune.

Lothar's expression was somewhat complex: "Are you leaving?"

Abdullah nodded: "The Holy Fire be with us, Lord Lothar, it has been my honor to fight alongside you. If I survive this, I might choose to bring the lads and join you." He then added with a smile, "I hope you will have a sufficiently prosperous fief by then, because the wages and benefits my lads require are not cheap."

"I promise I will."

Lothar patted Abdullah on the shoulder, then looked at the Kurdish cavalry behind him and said sincerely:

"You are the bravest and most skilled cavalry I have ever seen. I am proud to have been your commander, and I sincerely wish you all safety on your journey."

He placed his right hand on his shoulder and bowed slightly: "May the Heavenly Father bless you, and may the Holy Fire burn eternal."

The Kurdish cavalrymen placed their hands on their shoulders and returned the salute.

During this time, they had also gotten along well with Lothar.

This had somewhat altered their preconceived notions of Crusader nobles.

Of course, after Lothar displayed his mysterious "sorcery," the Kurdish cavalry's feelings towards Lothar shifted to three parts goodwill and seven parts fear.

Abdullah was a little touched, but he laughed heartily: "Lothar, you pray to two gods in succession; that's not very pious."

Lothar smiled: "Perhaps my god and your god are actually the same god? After all, they are both the Creator."

"Perhaps."

Abdullah remained noncommittal about Lothar's blasphemous words.

He moved away from Lothar, nodded to Hans, and then looked at the two "witches," performing the shoulder-patting gesture in turn.

"Farewell, two esteemed ladies."

"Farewell, brave and diligent squire."

Hans hastily returned the salute.

He had initially felt a bit flattered, but upon hearing the evaluation of "diligent," a hint of resentment inevitably arose.

Am I just a general laborer following the Lord?

He exchanged a final glance with Lothar, a smile appearing on his sun-darkened face, his teeth starkly white.

Then, the cavalry troop slowly departed in succession.

Lothar watched the retreating figures of Abdullah and the Kurdish cavalry, like Gao Jianli at the Yi River, watching Jing Ke's assassination attempt on Qin.

After a long while, he let out a sigh.

A mere few dozen cavalrymen, how much of a stir could they create in Syria, which was guarded by an army of a hundred thousand?

Even if this hundred thousand was just an approximation, even if divided by ten to just ten thousand, it would still be a behemoth that a few dozen cavalrymen couldn't shake.

"They are warriors worthy of respect. Their loyalty to their lord surpasses that of most knights in this era."

Hans said with deep emotion.

Lothar patted Hans on the shoulder: "You've worked hard these past few days."

Hans nodded in full agreement: "Indeed, my lord. You've assigned all the rough work to me. I had to set up two tents and feed eight horses by myself. I sincerely hope you can find me some companions soon."

Lothar's face darkened.

Bad luck!

Was this kid cursing me to only draw one-star cards from now on?

"Don't be like that, I've helped plenty too!"

Without waiting for him to retort, Lothar said, "Let's pick up the pace. We need to get into the city and rest."

The thing he wanted to do most right now was take a cold shower.

He hadn't bathed in nearly a week. Trekking under the scorching sun every day, even with Banya's air-conditioning effect, he often found himself drenched in sweat.

Caymont was a somewhat dilapidated border town.

The walls, due to years of disrepair, had large chunks of plaster peeling off.

The occasional merchant caravan that passed through would only stop briefly before heading further inland.

There were no fountains in the city; only a filthy drainage ditch ran through the center, filled with a thick layer of slippery filth that smelled like a sun-baked latrine.

It was located on the northeastern frontier of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, with the former Duchy of Antioch, now the Syrian governorate of the Ayyubid Kingdom, to the north.

As a gateway city.

It constantly had to face Saladin's army of a hundred thousand men mustering in the north. Consequently, even the lord of the city had abandoned his fief to become the Master of the Horse at the royal palace in Jerusalem.

Inside the tavern.

Only a few patrons were drinking.

Lothar and his party pushed the door open. Two womenfolk quickly found a corner to sit, while Lothar, along with Hans, approached the bar.

Someone chuckled and teased, "Ha, two noble knights. They're actually sitting at the same table as us. Care for a drink?"

Lothar offered a humble and polite smile. "Of course, my treat."

As he spoke, he flicked a silver coin.

"Get these folks, and my companion and I, a mug of ale each."

"Thank you, generous sir!"

"May Heavenly Father bless you, Sir Knight."

The patrons beamed with joy.

Lothar flicked two more silver coins onto the counter. "Prepare two clean rooms and enough bath tubs for four people to bathe separately."

Afterward, he looked at the patrons.

"Gentlemen, have there been any unusual events in the Holy Land these past few days?"

The patrons exchanged glances, unsure what qualified as unusual.

Did the knight perhaps want to hear gossip about the stonemason's wife next door, who had been thoroughly cuckolded while her husband was away?

Just then, someone who seemed knowledgeable stepped forward and said, "Sir Knight, you're a German, aren't you?"

Lothar nodded. "That's right. I am Lothar of Argao, from Swiss Swabia."

The man said, "Yesterday, I heard a merchant say that your Emperor has gotten into a fight with the Lombards on the Apennine Peninsula."

"Apparently, it's because the Lombards refused to pay the Crusader tax despite the Emperor's orders. The Emperor, unable to bear it any longer, decided to take action against them."

"Ah, this..."

Lothar found it hard to believe.

This Emperor Henry was not as ambitious as the famous Frederick Barbarossa of the same period in history.

His attitude towards the domestic lords, especially those in Northern Italy separated from Greater Germania by the Alps, had always been quite lenient.

Why, at this critical juncture where relations with the Pope were about to ease, did he suddenly change tack and resort to thunderous measures?

Someone said worriedly, "In that case, the German Crusaders will likely be delayed for a long time."

"This is indeed a significant matter."

Lothar nodded, raising his mug and taking a large gulp of ale. The ale from this small tavern had a faint bitterness and malt aroma, with negligible alcohol content. It was a divine artifact for quenching thirst.

The man continued, "Besides that, there's Balian of Ibelin, who is reportedly going to duel Guy of Lusignan."

As he spoke, his face lit up as if he had witnessed it himself. "Both of them have fallen for Princess Sibylla. To determine who is more suitable to be the Princess's husband, they have decided to hold a fair knightly duel in Jerusalem three days from now."