I Became The King Of Crusaders [EN]: Chapter 135

Became the King of Crusaders-135

The Great Knight (5)

* * *

“I didn’t expect the day I’d cross spears with you would come so soon, esteemed one,” Marshall called out with a smile.

He held his helmet in one hand, the other resting on his hip.

Around him, knights were busily preparing for the tournament. The air buzzed with anticipation.

The trumpets blared, signaling the commencement of the tournament.

“Is this why you asked me to train you—in preparation for this moment?”

“The student always surpasses the teacher. It’s too late for regrets,” I replied, a smile playing on my lips.

Marshall approached me, his expression earnest.

“Unfortunately, it seems I won’t have the chance to fight you today. We’ll be too busy dealing with Philippe.”

He gestured towards the French camp with his chin.

A blue background emblazoned with golden lilies—the French royal banners fluttered everywhere.

Alongside them were the crests of nobles, lords, and knights. A flamboyant display, certainly.

Compared to the Knights Templar or the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, they looked like a traveling circus troupe.

A moderate tension hung in the air, thick enough to taste.

But there was no animosity or hatred, merely professional rivalry.

Marshall came closer and whispered, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Are you sure you don’t need any help? Just say the word, and I’ll send some knights towards Duke Geoffrey.”

He added, “Young Henry would gladly allow it. To catch a fox, the more the merrier.”

“Geoffrey is not a lion, but a fox,” I countered, shaking my head.

This battle had to be won by my own strength. I needed to prove myself.

“No need to bring an army to catch a fox. One arrow is enough.”

“You are the most skilled disciple I have ever taught,” Marshall said, finally putting on his helmet. The metal gleamed in the sunlight.

“I have no doubt you will be victorious.”

“More skilled than young Henry?”

“Keep it a secret from His Majesty,” Marshall said with a playful tone, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Then I’ll see you on the battlefield later. May the Lord be with you.”

I nodded instead of replying, my gaze fixed on the French banners.

Marshall left, and Ruark and Eig came up to me, their faces serious.

“All preparations are complete, esteemed one,” Eig reported.

“Geoffrey’s camp is quite splendid. Packed with knights of renown, starting with Humphrey of Toulouse….”

The list went on, a litany of names I didn’t recognize.

I interrupted Eig, cutting him off. “I haven’t heard of any of those names. Anyway, aside from Marshall, there’s no one to fear.”

I knew Marshall had no intention of truly fighting us.

Young Henry and Richard were on the opposing team, but they wouldn’t really fight with any real intent to harm.

“And our Knights Templar and Knights of the Holy Sepulchre have been fighting together for months. Our unity is our strength.”

I looked at our assembled members. Their simple armor and plain banners stood in stark contrast to the French and other factions.

No flashy crests or ostentatious displays were to be seen.

‘It’s unusual for knightly orders to participate in a tournament in the first place,’ I mused.

A jousting match willed by God!

They were all participating because of my announcement, my call to action.

Even if the Knights Templar earned prisoners or spoils in the tournament, they could not gain personal profit. All proceeds would go to the Order, to further their holy mission.

But the morale of the members was as high as ever. Their faith was their driving force.

The same went for the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre. They sought to prove their devotion.

“No matter how many expensive knights they’ve gathered, we have the advantage in unity and purpose.”

“Our Knights of the Holy Sepulchre have also decided not to receive allowances this time,” Ruark said, his voice filled with conviction.

His tone was resolute, unwavering.

“If you allow it, we will fight at the forefront, leading the charge.”

“Hasn’t the Holy Sepulchre Guard always been at the forefront? I’ll trust you with it this time as well,” I said with a nod of approval.

“The most important thing in a tournament is to move and retreat according to orders. Individual actions are absolutely not allowed. We must act as one.”

“All of our members are aware of that,” Ruark assured me.

I looked at the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre. They seemed more energized than usual, their eyes shining with zeal.

‘Is it because of the wings [referring to their winged helmets or perhaps a metaphorical desire to rise above their past]?’

They had been waiting for a chance to restore their honor since leaving Italy, to prove their worth once more.

I turned my head and looked ahead. Hundreds of knights and squires on horseback crossed the plains, forming lines of battle.

The jousting match, the tournament, to be held here was quite different from the ones I had held in Eilat or Constantinople. This was a grand affair, a spectacle of martial prowess.

‘It’s more like a brawl,’ I thought, assessing the chaotic scene.

Dividing into teams and fighting each other. It was closer to actual combat than a 1-on-1 joust, a true test of skill and strategy.

Capturing the opponent’s leader to obtain ransom and spoils. That was the most important objective.

‘It’s also a chance to make a fortune,’ I realized, the possibilities swirling in my mind.

The same was true in Last Crusaders [referring to the game or world the protagonist is from].

If you were lucky, you could earn enough money to live on for decades with a single tournament. The stakes were incredibly high.

‘You can even get ransom from the king,’ I mused, a wry smile forming on my face.

Young Henry was a good example. As king, he participated directly in many jousting matches, putting himself at risk.

Each time, nobles and lords aiming for his ransom rushed to capture him, hoping to gain favor and wealth.

William Marshall had even jumped in to break through the siege, protecting his king with unwavering loyalty.

Things that would be unimaginable in normal times were possible in a jousting match. The rules of engagement were different, more fluid.

Eig came up beside me and whispered, his voice barely audible above the din. “What are you going to do about Geoffrey?”

“What do you mean, what am I going to do?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Didn’t you say you were going to take care of him so he wouldn’t cause any more problems?”

“Winning the tournament comes first,” I said with a disarming smile.

“And I don’t need to step in to clean up the mess. Others will take care of it for me.”

Eig tilted his head at my words, clearly confused by my cryptic response.

I looked at the battlefield, my gaze sweeping across the assembled forces.

Young Henry, Richard, Marshall, and Philippe were all visible, each a key player in this intricate game.

So was Geoffrey. He was talking to his two brothers, plotting his strategy.

I raised my hand and signaled, my eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Then let’s get started.”

* * *

“Everyone, mount your horses!” Geoffrey bellowed, his voice carrying across the field.

“Prepare your lances!” He urged, his eyes blazing with intensity.

The trumpets blared, adding to the cacophony of sounds.

Squires placed knights on their horses and handed them lances and shields, preparing them for the coming clash.

Among them was Duke Geoffrey. He mounted his horse and shouted, his voice filled with authority.

“Are all the knights ready?”

“All are ready to charge from their positions,” the knight captain thumped his chest, his voice ringing with confidence.

“If you give the order, we will immediately crush those Outremer (Levant) bastards!” He declared, his hand gripping his sword.

“Don’t charge before they show any openings. Send the newly hired knights in groups of five as the vanguard,” Geoffrey instructed, shaking his head.

“They have to earn their keep. Let them test the waters.”

“Those ignorant Viking bastards will follow us blindly just by looking at one flag,” the captain sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

“We’ll see about that,” Geoffrey said, looking at the battlefield ahead, his expression unreadable.

The knights on both sides orderly probed each other, testing their defenses and searching for weaknesses.

On the western plains, Richard, young Henry, and King Philippe were facing off, with grapevines beside them, a picturesque backdrop to the impending violence.

Everything was going according to plan, or so it seemed.

“The important thing is to find Baudouin’s position,” Geoffrey said, his voice low and urgent.

“Once you find Baudouin, concentrate the forces there immediately. I don’t care what happens to the others. He is our primary target.”

“But there’s a possibility he’ll run to the rear as soon as the pursuit begins,” the captain pointed out, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Then that will be enough. He’ll look like a scared, fleeing sheep, diminishing his reputation and bolstering ours.”

Geoffrey shrugged, his eyes gleaming with ambition.

“Can you imagine how much ransom we’ll get if we capture him? It’ll probably be several years’ worth of England’s taxes. We’d be set for life!”

Cheers erupted, filling the air with excitement and anticipation.

The knights, who had been sizing each other up, began to charge, their horses thundering across the field.

Lances clashed, and knights struck in the chest fell from their saddles, their bodies hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Geoffrey watched the scene and waved his hand, directing his forces.

“Aim for the waist of their formation. If a hole opens up, penetrate it immediately. Exploit their weaknesses!”

* * *

“They’re not bad,” I commented, lowering the telescope I was holding.

A light probing battle was taking place, a dance of steel and muscle.

The Knights Templar and Knights of the Holy Sepulchre intercepted enemy knights who approached, forming an impenetrable wall.

The enemies provoked us with shouts and curses, trying to break our resolve.

“Are you afraid to come out and fight!” One knight yelled, his face contorted with rage.

“Dirty Nordic bastards who only know how to screw goats!” Another shouted, his words laced with venom.

As the insults continued, anger and excitement flared among our ranks.

But the ranks did not waver. Discipline held firm.

No knights had disobeyed orders and charged yet, a testament to their training and loyalty.

“If jousting matches were fought with words, those guys wouldn’t be bad,” Ruark said dryly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

He continued to gesture, signaling the troops to advance and stand by, maintaining the delicate balance of the battle.

“King Philippe has sent some knights this way. He says he’ll come to support us if the situation calls for it,” Ruark reported, relaying the message.

“I expected Philippe to do that,” I said with a shrug, unfazed by the news.

Philippe was trying to instigate a fight between me and Geoffrey, hoping to benefit from our conflict.

If I asked him for support, Jerusalem would be indebted to France, a debt he would undoubtedly call in later.

‘I thought Philippe would help Geoffrey to some extent…,’ I mused, considering the possibilities.

So he’s going to remain a third party, playing both sides against each other.

Philippe isn’t entirely on Geoffrey’s side either. He’s looking out for his own interests.

Everyone was trying to bite each other’s tails, a chaotic dance of ambition and betrayal.

A fight where no one wanted to lose, but everyone was willing to risk everything.

I sighed without realizing it, a wave of weariness washing over me.

I’d rather fight Muslim armies. It’d be more straightforward, more honest.

There are only black-hearted snakes here, their motives hidden beneath layers of deceit.

I turned my head and looked at Ruark, my expression hardening.

“They’re hoping we’ll fall for their provocation. So let’s pretend to a little. Give them a taste of what they want.”

I said, my voice low and deliberate.

“Have the vanguard charge. But don’t go in too deep. Just enough to whet their appetite.”

“Of course, esteemed one,” Ruark replied, understanding my plan.

Ruark gave the order and waved his arm, signaling the vanguard to advance.

I looked at the battlefield again, my senses heightened, my mind focused.

Horses collided, and the shields and lances of the unlucky ones broke with loud noises, sending splinters flying.

Those whose lances broke drew their swords and charged at their opponents, engaging in brutal close-quarters combat.

‘For them, the purpose of the tournament is to obtain armor and spoils. It’s a means to an end,’ I realized, observing their desperate struggle.

But our Knights Templar and Knights of the Holy Sepulchre fought only to win, to prove their faith and their skill.

There couldn’t be a bigger difference than that. Their motivations were pure, their dedication unwavering.

I shook my legs, signaling Bolt to move forward, preparing to enter the fray.

It was time to step onto the battlefield once again, to lead my forces to victory.

* * *

“They’re starting to come out!” The knights shouted, their voices filled with excitement.

Those who had been waiting charged forward, eager to engage the enemy.

So much so that horses collided and blocked the way, creating chaos and confusion.

“Calm down! They haven’t sent out their main force yet!” Geoffrey shouted, trying to regain control of the situation.

He raised his hand and called the knights back, preventing them from overextending themselves.

“Lord Humphrey! You and your men will remain here. No need to use the whole quiver to catch one bird. We must conserve our strength.”

“But hasn’t their formation already collapsed?” Humphrey shouted, taking off his helmet, his face flushed with anger.

“Now is the time to press the attack and make them run away! Why are you telling us to stay here! We’ll lose our chance!”

Other knights joined in, their voices rising in protest.

“If we conserve our forces like this, we might be pushed back by them! We need to seize the initiative!”

“Remember who pays your salaries,” Geoffrey growled, his voice laced with menace.

He shouted at the knights, asserting his authority.

“Their formation hasn’t completely collapsed yet. You’ll have a chance to fight. There will be plenty of opportunities for glory.”

“But we won’t get as many spoils. Are you saying that only I and my men should stay here while others get their due rewards? That’s not fair!”

Humphrey said, his armor and shield gleamed in the sunlight, a symbol of his wealth and status.

“I’ll make sure you get what you didn’t get later. I promise to compensate you for your sacrifice. Is that okay?”

“…Understood,” Humphrey conceded, albeit reluctantly.

Some knights returned with dissatisfied expressions, grumbling under their breath.

The rest shouted and charged towards the battlefield, their bloodlust ignited.

Thick dust and hooves covered everything around them, creating a swirling vortex of chaos and violence.

* * *

“Advance number 4. Number 3 needs to pull back a bit,” I instructed, my voice calm and measured amidst the chaos.

I looked at the battlefield, my senses heightened, my mind focused.

It was hard to see through the dust, but I could feel it all with my senses, the ebb and flow of the battle.

Eig moved busily, relaying my orders to messengers and signalmen, ensuring that my commands were executed swiftly and efficiently.

From the excited breaths of the knights to the frantically beating hearts of the horses, I could sense every detail.

It was just like a real battle, a test of skill, strategy, and courage.

“Geoffrey didn’t take the bait. He still has reserves left,” Eig said, holding up his telescope, his brow furrowed with concern.

“He’s as cunning as a fox. But it’s already too late. He’s already fallen into our trap,” I replied, a confident smile playing on my lips.

The victory or defeat had already been decided before the tournament began. Our preparation and unity would be the key.

The solidarity of the Knights Templar and Knights of the Holy Sepulchre. Their unwavering faith and dedication.

And my abilities. My strategic mind and martial prowess.

But the important thing wasn’t just winning. It was about achieving a decisive victory.

‘Anything short of a complete victory is useless. A mere win is not enough,’ I thought, my eyes hardening.

A half-hearted victory was the same as defeat. It would leave room for doubt and resentment.

I had to achieve an overwhelming and complete victory against Geoffrey, crushing his ambitions and solidifying my position.

God wins,

Evil loses. A clear and decisive outcome.

What could be a clearer structure than this? A triumph of good over evil.

To do that, I’d have to capture Geoffrey myself, to personally deliver the final blow.

“I need to lure him out with something more appetizing. Something he can’t resist,” I said, my voice filled with determination.

I put on my helmet, the metal cold against my skin, a familiar sensation.

The cool touch of metal was felt on my head, grounding me in the present moment.

Eig was startled and approached me, his eyes wide with concern.

“Esteemed one, you’re not thinking of going yourself, are you? They’ll all rush at you like crazy. It’s too dangerous!”

“They’ll probably all try to catch me. That’s exactly what I want. I want to draw them out, to expose their weaknesses.”

A squire handed me a lance and shield, the weight familiar and comforting.

A heavy weight, a symbol of my responsibility.

I’m used to this now. I’ve carried heavier burdens before.

“Then I’ll be able to find out where Geoffrey is. He won’t be able to hide for long.”

Then I could end it, swiftly and decisively.

As I raised my arm, twenty escort knights surrounded me, forming a protective barrier.

I gave Bolt a light signal, a subtle cue that only he could understand.

It was time to show the results of the special training I received from Marshall, to put his lessons to the test.