In the Middle Ages, people drew cards to be promoted to nobility. - Chapter 709

c706 When victory comes

The current situation can basically be summarized in four words: the overall situation has been decided.

Adil led the most elite Kasag guards to charge, and at most they could stop the heavy cavalry company led by Jeanna, but that would not help the overall situation at all, unless they could defeat the elites such as the Iron Pagoda, the Armored Archers, and the Keshig Army like cutting melons and vegetables, and they themselves could not be injured and kill into the flank of the Crusaders.

But that was impossible.

In terms of individual combat effectiveness, every elite soldier of Lothar’s headquarters who had been transferred by the system and received various blessings had a much stronger strength than the Kasag guards. Even if Adil led them to drink a bottle of magic potion per person, at most the combat effectiveness would be equal.

But if this sign was discovered, Lothar would immediately let Fringilla give everyone a group blood waterfall, anyway, it would not be possible to let his own people suffer.

Lothar was not surprised by this result.

The individual combat power of the Crusaders was stronger than that of the Saracens. If it were not for the improper command, the Battle of Hattin in history would not necessarily end in the defeat of the Crusaders.

If the Crusaders were so weak, the Saracens would not have regarded Saladin, who had won and lost against the Crusaders, as the “savior” of the Holy Land.

In addition, the armored lances in the hands of Jeanna, Lothar, and Hans each had an aura to bless their soldiers, and coupled with the gap in morale between the two sides, the numerical advantage of the Saracens was nothing at all.

After engaging the enemy, Adil realized that his original idea of ​​defeating the main force of the Crusaders, or at least fighting to a loss, was simply absurd.

Perhaps we can’t blame the Copts for being cowardly, and the private armies of the local lords want to preserve their strength; perhaps those people also tried their best, but the gap in hard power could not be made up at all.

He saw the elite Kasag guards assigned to him by his brother, and their bodies were thrown like rag dolls when they collided with the armored cavalry. He saw the guns and swords in their hands, which could not penetrate the defense of those steel monsters at all, and the desperate expressions on their faces.

For a moment, he originally wanted to die generously, and his blood, which was the last bit of glory for the Saracens, the Ayyubid Dynasty, and the faith of the Holy Fire, seemed to flow into the white frost called by the wild hunters.

It was freezing cold.

He wanted to find the cold man wearing a golden mask, the figure of the new king who was destined to ascend the throne of Egypt, and wanted to see if he was smiling at his own presumption.

But his sight was blocked by the dense armor and the flags hanging high like a forest.

“Found a big man, kill him!”

With a cry of surprise, the flying arrow hit a Kasag guard who was blocking Adil. It was the porter who was as cheap as grass in the past, and now the chief Sipahi cavalryman Galio.

The young cavalryman’s face was full of excitement. Just by looking at the armor on his body, he knew that he was a Saracen general who was ten times more noble than the Lord Saman and Lord Mahri in the city. If he could capture or kill him, wouldn’t he immediately rise to prominence and be awarded a title?

But unfortunately, he was not the only one who was eyeing this big shot.

From the side, a huge figure rushed out and stabbed out the lance in his hand. It was a cavalryman who was like an iron tower and was called “Iron Pagoda”. He was wrapped in heavy iron armor and only a pair of eyes were exposed.

And Galio had more than one competitor. Next to him, a Qiexue cavalryman was drawing his bow and arrow, shooting a sharp arrow with the speed of the galloping horse.

“Hahaha, boy, this is my prey!”

As the archer’s exquisite archery skills, the arrow shot directly hit Adil’s chest.

Following closely were lances and armed swords.

When the dispersed Kasaj guards wanted to rescue Adil, they saw a dying man lying on a warhorse.

“Governor!”

“You can’t die, His Majesty still needs you!”

The call from his ear became fragmented in his dying consciousness.

In a trance, Adil saw his brother’s gentle and confident smile again, as if he would never be discouraged by failure, as if he could come up with a solution no matter how dangerous the situation was, and he only needed to execute it.

But since this Lothar came to the Holy Land, such smiles have become less and less common. Kaleburg was defeated, Galilee was defeated, Sinai Bridgehead fell, Damietta fell, and Semanud fell.

The bad news that followed one after another seemed as if the Holy Fire no longer favored His people.

He hoped to solve this problem for his brother, so he came to Egypt, took over all the mess, and tried his best to unify the many Saracen lords who were scattered under the rule of Takieddin.

But he could do nothing.

“Sorry, I disappoint you.”

The corners of Adil’s mouth curled up, as if he was smiling, but also as if he was crying.

Plop —

Blood, along with the gun in his hand, fell and crushed in the dust.

The young duke riding on the back of the eclipse witnessed Adil being swallowed by his cavalry, and saw those Saracen soldiers fleeing like a frightened herd of beasts.

He murmured to himself: “The war is won, but it’s not over yet.”

“Pass my order, the whole army retreats, stop chasing the enemy’s deserters, and make room for us to perform.”

It is difficult to separate the two armies that are strangled together.

But the Saracens had been completely defeated. Continuing to fight would only mean chasing and killing the fleeing enemy, which was obviously not the top priority, although stripping the enemy of armor, money, and capturing deserters were all gains.

But under Lothar’s prestige, most of the Crusaders followed the guidance of the drums and horns and slowly retreated.

Lothar returned to the center of the battlefield, and the Eclipse lightly passed over the scattered corpses and communicated face to face with the legendary spellcaster sitting on the hillside.

“Master Shemaier.”

“Duke Lothar.”

The two greeted each other. Even if they wanted to skin and tear each other apart, Shemaier had to admit that Duke Lothar was an object that he should still treat equally even after he was promoted to a legendary.

“Duke Lothar, this should be the first time we have a face-to-face, calm conversation, right?”

Shemaier sighed: “At the beginning, Ms. Anna also invited me to join the Levant Mage Association. If I agreed, maybe we would become friends, not enemies.”

Lothar sneered and raised his eyebrows: “At this point, what’s the point of saying this?”

“It’s meaningless. I just sigh. It’s fate.”

Shemaier smiled. A legendary spellcaster should use interests to weigh everything in the world and use reason to measure gains and losses.

Instead of getting excited and fighting with a powerful enemy whose details are still unclear even if he has ascended to the legendary throne.

His old partner, the dragon’s best friend, lost his life on the front battlefield because he agreed to Saladin’s employment – there is no reason to allow him to kill others but not his own people.

But everyone understands the reason.

But he still can’t get over this hurdle. This is his obsession, the only obsession left after transforming from a mortal to a legendary god.

Kill Lothar, and his obsession will disappear, and he will truly gain a foothold in the legendary field.

Philip, who was watching the show, was very happy. Their battle was over. Judging from the situation, the Saracens had already admitted defeat, and the whole of Egypt was only a step away from recovery.

“Is it now a personal grudge between our Grand Marshal and that legendary spellcaster?”

“I still don’t understand how they became enemies.”

Witch Alice was very puzzled.

Both parties serve their own masters. To put it bluntly, aren’t they just mercenaries? If the party gives more money, they may defect on the spot. How can they really become mortal enemies because of some “friction” when serving the employer?

Isn’t this a mental illness?

“Can only madmen become legends?”

“Are we really just watching and not intervening?”

Richard was still eager to try. His Sword in the Stone and the Sword of Victory were already thirsty for it. Moreover, on such a big stage, being able to stand out was a great political achievement even for a king.

He could imagine what kind of reputation he could win if he could kill a powerful enemy with one sword at a critical moment and save the famous Grand Duke Lothar.

At that time, even if John at home defected, no one would follow his stupid brother.

The little witch Martha sneered: “If you plan to get yourself into trouble, then just try it. Didn’t you see that Duke Lothar who shot the dragon with an arrow looked like he was facing a great enemy?”

Richard snorted: “I don’t think I’m much worse than him. Isn’t it just shooting down a giant dragon with one arrow? Didn’t I also split the trench with one sword and killed a hundred-meter sea beast?”

Martha endured for a long time and said helplessly: “You feel really good about yourself.”

Different professions are like different mountains. When a layman suddenly gained powerful strength and could even kill a sea beast that was a circle larger than the largest ship with one sword, how could he know the gap between such a sea beast and a land beast?

A hundred-meter dragon, put on the seabed, is not noticeable at all.

But the life level and combat power of the two are undoubtedly very different.

But Richard is not really a reckless man, he is just being stubborn.

“Hey, I just said that. Since you said so, let’s just watch the show.”