Medieval Gacha Lord
Chapter 97: Lothar the Brave

Chapter 97: Lothar the Brave

Chapter 97: Lothar the Brave

Flies buzzed incessantly around his ears. Lothar used his face covering to shield his nose and mouth; the thick stench of blood and decaying corpses was nauseating.

The Royal Knights had suffered heavy losses, but the Saracens, who had been at a disadvantage, had suffered even more grievously, especially their light cavalry who wore only leather armor or no armor at all.

The ground was littered with Saracen corpses, stripped bare of their clothing and armor; even some of their personal undergarments had been plundered by the sergeants.

Participating in a Crusade was a sacred mission, but if even the most sacred mission wasn’t linked to the plunder of infidel wealth, it would no longer hold its original appeal. Severed limbs and dismembered bodies lay strewn about, with dense swarms of mosquitoes and flies crawling over them. As vultures flapped their wings and descended, these insects would scatter in a swarm, exploding into a black cloud that hovered in mid-air.

Hans remarked with emotion, "My former instructor used to say that flies are the dead’s revenge on the living. The living kill the dead, and the dead breed flies."

Lothar chuckled lightly. "Your instructor was Knight Friedrich, wasn’t he? This is the first time I’ve heard he was also a philosopher."

Hans looked somewhat surprised. "You actually knew?"

Lothar recalled, "Knight Friedrich is a very capable officer. Though his personal martial skill is limited, his ability to train new recruits and boost morale is by no means poor. I very much hope I can summon him to work alongside you."

This Knight Friedrich was a five-star retainer; although his combat power was average, he possessed three aura talents. For such a retainer, who could provide buffs to an entire army, personal combat strength was less critical, especially since he was also skilled at training new recruits.

Hans said with feeling, "Indeed. If Instructor Friedrich had been commanding the Royal Knights, this battle certainly wouldn’t have been so difficult for us."

Lothar turned and ordered, "Andreas, send men to burn all those Saracen corpses."

This former knight’s personal manservant, now a valiant Winged Hussar who had killed three enemies in the previous battle, asked with some confusion, "Milord, in the Zoroastrian faith, being cremated after death allows one to return to the divine realm. Are we really going to be so magnanimous towards them?"

Lothar shook his head. "This is hardly an act of benevolence. The other Crusader columns are behind us. I worry that leaving these corpses exposed in the wilderness will breed a plague." Lothar paused, then added, "As a Winged Hussar, you should also know what germs are. These are the sources of disease. I’ve had enough of those ’quack doctors.’ Injuries that could be cured by simply applying anti-inflammatory herbs, they insist on amputating an entire leg! Headaches clearly caused by blunt force trauma, yet they believe it’s infidel demons invading inside and want to drive crosses into their skulls! Is this killing people or saving them?"

Hans said with some indignation, "The battlefield first aid knowledge the Winged Hussars taught them was scoffed at by that lot! In my opinion, we should just kick all these quacks out of our ranks!"

"Then do it! When we reach the next stopping point, expel them all!" Lothar said coldly. "These people who rely on their status as doctors to disregard my orders should all be removed from the Royal Knights. Compared to them, I would rather invite some Saracen doctors into my army."

***

As they spoke, the group had already traversed the battlefield. On a small hillock ahead, the Saracen cavalrymen had gathered. Seeing Lothar’s party approach, the leading Mamluk shouted in French, "Halt, Franks! Is my master with you?"

Lothar nodded. "Correct."

"We will obey our master’s will and surrender to you. But I must remind you, what cannot be obtained on the battlefield cannot be obtained at the negotiating table either."

Lothar frowned. "Are you trying to defy your master’s will?" A Mamluk who defied his master would lose all political credibility. This was not yet the era where Mamluks had formed powerful military and political factions capable of even influencing court politics.

The Mamluk leader said loudly, "No, of course not! Our master’s will is our life! We will pay a ransom equivalent to our persons, but don’t expect us to obediently walk into your prisoner-of-war camp. Because we know very well, if we do that, our master’s safety will be even less guaranteed!"

"Alright." Lothar nodded in agreement. "Perhaps you don’t believe me, but from start to finish, I never intended to harm you. Since you are willing to offer ransom upfront, I am willing to accept."

Lothar cleared his throat and said loudly, "According to the ransom, we should at least receive gold and silver equivalent to the full value of your weapons, equipment, and warhorses. That is to say, for every light cavalryman, twenty Solidi. For every cataphract, I want one hundred Solidi—you have one hundred and fifty men left now, correct?" Lothar made an exorbitant demand. "Let’s round it up. I want ten thousand Solidus gold coins, or the equivalent in silver coins, jewels, and warhorses."

"No! This is extortion!" The Mamluk troop immediately erupted at this terrifying figure. "A noble’s ransom is often only a thousand Solidi! A strong Frankish slave is worth merely ten Denarii! How dare you demand such an outrageous price?"

The Mamluk leader said angrily, "Even if we took out all the money we have on us, we couldn’t possibly make up that amount!"

"Firstly, you are so valiant and skilled in battle; how can you be compared to ordinary slaves? The price of a noble is appropriate. But the problem is, the offer of Denarii is just enough to let you leave empty-handed. But it’s clear now you won’t be surrendering your weapons, equipment, baggage, and mounts, because you can’t possibly walk out of the borders of the Kingdom of Jerusalem on your own two legs."

The Mamluk leader was stunned. Someone muttered, "Chief, I think he has a point. In terms of valor, we are in no way inferior to those nobles."

The leader cursed him, then continued to shout, "No! Don’t try to fool us with such nonsense! We are just slaves, not nobles! We shouldn’t have to bear such a high ransom!"

Lothar did not yield an inch. "High? No! This is a reasonable offer. If I hadn’t reached an agreement with your master, I would have killed you all on the battlefield! By then, everything you possess would have become my spoils of war!"

The Mamluk leader said in frustration, "If we continue to fight, you will also suffer huge losses! This is not a favor you are doing us!"

Lothar said coldly, "You have already disobeyed Prince Zahir’s command. I generously agreed to your request, yet you push your luck, unwilling even to hand over a sum of money. You are sullying your master’s reputation, placing him in a position of breaking an oath sworn by the Holy Fire and the honor of King Saladin! Think about it, if Prince Zahir returns, how will he view you ’Mamluks’ who are not loyal enough?"

This statement completely shattered the Mamluks’ psychological defenses. They conversed in low voices for a while.

A moment later, the leader shouted, "We truly do not have that much wealth, nor can we possibly give up our armor, weapons, and mounts; that would be no different from entering your prisoner-of-war camp! If you wish to break your oath, we will have no way to counter it!" This time, his tone had softened considerably.

Lothar frowned, calculating that ten thousand Solidii was indeed a bit outrageous. He said, "Then eight thousand. This is the minimum. If it’s any lower, then you can go bear the sin of disobeying your master’s will and causing your master to suffer the ill repute of an oath-breaker!"

The Mamluks conferred again for a while. The leader then shouted, "Alright! We will gather this sum before sunset and deliver it to your camp! But I must warn you, you must protect our master’s safety! Otherwise, we will launch a death charge on your camp at all costs!"

"No problem!" Lothar agreed readily. War, though brutal, was indeed the fastest way to make money. Eight thousand Solidus gold coins—if relying on taxes, it was equivalent to over a hundred years of Jorgklusburg’s revenue. If he took this money back to Germany and found the right connections, buying a county-level fief wouldn’t be an issue.