Medieval Gacha Lord
Chapter 98: Montreal

Chapter 98: Montreal

Chapter 98: Montreal

At dusk, the Mamluks indeed dispatched a party into the Knightly Order’s camp. They lifted heavy wooden chests from the backs of camels and carried them into Lothar’s tent. Opening them, he saw they were filled with gold and silver utensils, coins, and gemstones.

Many items were difficult to appraise; if sold to the system shop, they probably wouldn’t fetch eight thousand gold coins. But that was because the system shop was inherently a rip-off and didn’t consider "added artistic value" at all. If he slowly sold off those gemstones and gold and silver utensils, rather than just taking their precious metal value, exchanging them for eight thousand Solidus gold coins would be more than enough.

The Mamluks kept their promise, and Lothar naturally reciprocated, generously agreeing to their request for an audience with their master.

Furthermore, Lothar had someone spread the word about collecting spoils of war, letting those sergeants and knights bring all the inconvenient-to-carry loot to a designated tent to exchange for coin. Lothar, in turn, would sell these items to his system shop, exchange them for gold and silver coins bearing his portrait, and, after taking a ten percent "melting loss" commission, give the rest to them.

Lothar wasn’t actually after that small commission; it was purely because carrying all these odds and ends would greatly slow down the Knightly Order’s marching pace. Besides, increasing the circulation of these gold and silver coins bearing his portrait would also greatly enhance his prestige.

By the time all this was done, the sky had completely darkened. Hans walked into the tent, smiling. "Milord, did you know? The sergeants of the Knightly Order have privately given you a nickname."

Lothar said with interest, "What nickname? ’The Stingy’?"

The system shop was a real rip-off, and Lothar worried that the buyback price he offered might dissatisfy the sergeants and knights. But if they knew the prices offered by those accompanying army merchants, they certainly wouldn’t think so.

"Of course not! One is ’Lothar the Generous,’ and the other is ’Lothar the Brave’!"

Lothar said, pleasantly surprised, "Ha, this is truly unexpected!"

Nicknames for medieval lords weren’t always complimentary. For example, Charles the Bald, Louis the Stammerer, Amalric the Fat (former King of Jerusalem). More neutral ones included Edward Longshanks and Frederick Barbarossa.

For Lothar to earn the titles "the Brave" and "the Generous" was sufficient proof that his prestige within the Knightly Order had already reached a new height.

Fighting hard battles indeed incurred losses, but it also more easily solidified and increased the army’s morale—provided of course that one won.

***

Evening. Outside of Jerusalem.

Army tents, like white flowers, bloomed on the desolate desert. Most of the Crusaders had already departed in recent days. Tomorrow would be the last batch, namely Baldwin IV’s core army, the Knights of Jerusalem led by Baron Godfrey.

In the centermost Royal Tent, soft woolen carpets were laid, and exquisite patterned tapestries hung on the walls. On tables and chairs inlaid with patterns and Magic-Resistant Gold thread, delicate Eastern painted porcelain was displayed.

Baldwin IV leaned back in his chair, having uncharacteristically removed his mask. Superficially, his face had almost completely returned to normal, though the deformities on his body had still not improved much. Opposite him, Baron Godfrey held black chess pieces, playing against him.

"Baron Godfrey, I am thinking of stripping Hebron from Count Raynald and granting it to Lothar. His fief is simply too barren. For him to grow into a pillar of the kingdom, I don’t know how long it would take. Facts have already proven he is very talented. With just a remote castle, he has trained an elite force. If it were a rich city like Hebron, he would surely do even better."

"Indeed..." Baron Godfrey frowned. "But I’m afraid this won’t work. Unless Kerak Castle is breached, by what right can you strip Count Raynald of his territory when he has committed no obvious crime? Too many people will object."

Baldwin IV proposed a hypothetical: "What if Bethlehem were enfeoffed to Raynald, in exchange for Hebron?"

"That might work. But a better option would be to enfeoff Bethlehem to Lothar. Although this would mean his territories wouldn’t be contiguous, Jorgklusburg isn’t very important anyway; sending a knight to manage it as a deputy would suffice." Baron Godfrey paused, then added, "But the prerequisite is that Lothar must achieve sufficient merit. After all, Bethlehem has also been coveted by many nobles for a long time."

"Alas." Baldwin IV sighed deeply. Uldin’s treatment had injected vitality back into his ravaged life. Combined with the royal physician’s aromatherapy, he could feel his body gradually recovering its health.

He sometimes thought, if he could have received such treatment in his youth, instead of those quacks’ "enemas" and "bloodletting," perhaps the situation in Jerusalem today would be vastly different.

But now, Jerusalem’s situation had thoroughly degenerated into a rotten mess. His enemies were those Crusader generals, the stubbornly conservative nobles, the ambitious newcomers from the Continent who didn’t know their place, the independent military religious orders, and those church clergy full of insidious plots, vying for power—plus, there was that most formidable enemy, the brilliant strategist, the Eagle of Egypt, Saladin.

"Godfrey, let Balian come under my command. I will enfeoff him as a Knight Banneret. Perhaps he can learn a few things from me."

Godfrey was pleasantly surprised. "Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Baldwin IV’s eyes remained peaceful, but within them, a trace of suppressed impatience could be seen. Jerusalem, like him now, was a gravely ill patient. The only people he could consider his confidants were Baron Godfrey and Lothar. He was desperately hoping to increase the strength of the King’s Party.

***

By the next evening, Lothar had already led the Knightly Order to the outskirts of Montreal. Those Mamluk cavalrymen, after meeting with Prince Zahir, had left the territory of Jerusalem.

Montreal was not the Montreal of Canada, but a desert city located in the County of Oultrejordain, built during the First Crusade to maintain supply lines. Therefore, it possessed a strong Western European castle style, rather than Jerusalem’s unified blend of European, Arab, and Jewish styles.

In the city’s highest central point, a towering castle built of earth and brick stood majestically. Long years of exposure to wind and sun had also made the city’s walls appear dilapidated and mottled.

"An army!" On the tower, guards cried out in alarm. "Is it Saladin’s grand army? Could Kerak Castle have already fallen?"

"Impossible! Kerak is so magnificent; how could it be breached so easily?" They shouted in trepidation, a sense of impending doom in their voices.

"It’s not the Flame Flag! Look clearly, you fools! Those are the Crusader flag!"

The panic on the guards’ faces was quickly replaced by excitement. "Reinforcements have arrived! Excellent! It’s our own people! Notify His Lordship immediately! Prepare to welcome them!"

Lothar’s party was soon welcomed into the city. The castellan of this city was Count Raynald’s stepson, the son of Countess Stephanie and her former husband, also named Humphrey.

Just as Amalric was both the name of the late king and the name of the court chancellor, Queen Mother Agnes’s lover, the rate of repeated names in this era was simply too high. It was like shouting "Charles" in France, "Enrique" in Iberia, or "Hans" in Germany—countless people would answer.

Humphrey, leading his knights and squires, hurried out to welcome them, his face full of compliments. "Baron Lothar, I have heard your name! You dealt with those locusts of the desert, and now you come to our aid, setting aside past grievances, leading the Royal Knights first! Truly admirable!"

"I have no conflict with Count Raynald to begin with, so where does this setting aside past grievances come from?" Lothar’s smile was sincere. "My army encountered a Saracen cavalry force outside the city. After a fierce battle, we suffered heavy losses. If Sir Humphrey could agree to allocate us an area in Montreal as a campsite to rest and regroup, and provide sufficient supplies, it would be for the best."

Humphrey’s face changed slightly. "Heavy losses, you say..."