The newcomers were all Hospitaller Knights under Lothar's command. Their strength had progressed rapidly; aside from the tempering recorded in the Combat Record, this era, steeped in religious fervor, truly provided fertile ground for the growth and expansion of "Holy Radiance."
"These men are no ordinary foes. They should be Saladin's elite."
"The enemy commander looks like a big fish. He might be some prince or noble."
The Hospitaller Knight at the head of the group wielded a flail warhammer. The spiked head was still stained with mottled, uncleared blood, and he spun the flail in a small flourish.
"Taking them alive?"
"Of course!"
The flail knight laughed heartily and charged forward, taking the lead at the very front.
Malik was furious. He could feel the undisguised contempt on his opponent's face.
Your Frankish king looks down on me, but even you little lackeys beneath him think you have the right to look down on me too?
"Kill them all!"
He roared and charged with his sword raised.
The Qasari Guard behind him followed closely, marching in silence.
Boom—
With a howl through the air, the flail's hammerhead came crashing toward his skull. This weapon, modeled after a farming tool, could snap his neck and shatter his bones with a single blow, even if he wore the finest helmet in all Damascus.
He hastily raised his sword to block, only for the knight opposite him to flash a vicious grin. The hammerhead he had swung instead wrapped its chain around Malik's weapon.
The knight made as though to pull, frightening Malik into hastily abandoning his sword and drawing the saber at his waist. Yet the knight merely used the flail to seize his sword, then stood where he was, studying his prize with interest.
"They say Damascus has the finest