The Final Battle (3)

Walter shouted, "Too despicable!"

A force of Bedouin cavalry was swiftly sweeping toward the rear of the Crusader camp. Row upon row of neat white tents stood there, with people rushing in and out, busy beyond measure.

Cesar had a habit: wherever he was, he always sought unity and order. At times, this was not necessarily a good thing, because it allowed the enemy to spot at a glance where the things he cared about most were.

Saladin also maintained field hospitals, but never on Cesar's scale or with his professionalism. Within those snow-white tents were priests and monks unsuited for battle, as well as ordinary people willing to tend to the wounded.

Seeing these vile Saracens actually attempting to attack the medical camp, both the Templars and the Knights Hospitaller were boiling with fury.

As they loudly called upon the saints' names, they charged forward without hesitation. But Lorenz was faster than any of them.

When everyone was clad head to toe in armor, it was difficult to tell whether one's opponent was a man or a woman. Naturally, there could be no mutual sympathy, nor any mercy shown.

Leading those warriors at the forefront was a strong Bedouin emir, vicious light flickering in his eyes. He did not believe he was bullying the weak. In earlier days, once the Saracens conquered a city, they would inevitably force all unbelievers to convert to their religion and submit to their Allah. Those unwilling would be killed, sold, or expelled; even those fortunate enough to remain had to pay crushing taxes.

In one burst of momentum, he charged straight at the nearest white tent.

But at that moment, a cavalry unit cut violently between him and the tent. He raised his eyes for a glance and discovered that his opponent was