The low horns droned as the Crusaders' sprawling camps threw open their gates one after another.
Teams of knights bearing square banners and fleur-de-lis standards of various colors charged out first, forming ranks atop the hills below the city. Each group clustered around a distinctly armored noble officer.
Aside from those under Lothar's command, the officers in the vast majority of armies were nobles.
If the Western clergy monopolized knowledge like the scholarly clans and powerful families of the East, then the nobility monopolized military merit through generations. No matter how outstanding a common soldier was, he could only obey under a noble's command, serving much like a household retainer.
Boom—
Another volley of stones flew out. A tower was smashed clean through, and the falling rubble drew a chain of screams.
The giant trebuchets built by the Crusaders required a great deal of time to reload Stone Bullets after every strike.
But the city walls stood right there. They could neither dodge nor strike back.
Though the Saracens knew how to construct large siege engines, they obviously could not set them up atop the walls.
Being beaten without being able to fight back dealt a devastating blow to the soldiers' morale. Malik understood this well. After hesitating briefly, he finally made up his mind.
"Gentlemen, return to your posts. Pass on my order: raise my banner on the walls and tell the soldiers that I will stand with them!"
The generals hurriedly tried to dissuade him. "Your Highness, this is too dangerous!"
"If I still feared danger at a time like this, I ought to have abandoned the city and fled with my brother!"
He drew his sword, forcibly suppressing the fear in his heart as he sprinted toward the city walls.
Malik knew very well that at such