Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 473 - 253: The Final Battle Begins

"Finally, it’s time for the decisive battle."

Renault felt his mouth dry.

He didn’t care much about the fall of the Holy Land; even though he had converted to the so-called "true faith," Renault did it just for better treatment after conversion.

"Brothers, later stay close to me, and no one is allowed to fall behind."

Wearing pitch-black chain armor, he instructed.

"Look quickly, boss!"

"The enemy’s evil beast!"

The Kurdish cavalry of the Shayue Tribe exclaimed one after another.

The ground was trembling.

Over a dozen giant beasts, more than five meters tall, more imposing than war elephants, with heavy footsteps, smashed the gate of the camp and arrived on the front lines. Their heads were fitted with rhino-like iron ramming horns, and several drivers rode on the dragon saddles on their backs.

Torle stood at the forefront on the back of a fierce dragon, holding a javelin in one hand and embracing a helmet with the other, his gaze supercilious.

"This guy is really arrogant."

Venezia’s face was full of disgust as he clenched his fist: "I hate people more arrogant than me the most. Knight Hans, I’ll wash away your shame for you."

"This is the battlefield, Venezia, not a street brawl among thugs. Before leaving, the Lord instructed us to join forces to quickly deal with this guy."

Hans was not following Losa; the Royal Knight Order he led had the responsibility of guarding the royal presence in this battle.

Venezia, who was not skilled in riding, was not included in the cavalry units led by Losa.

"Understood."

Venezia replied listlessly, "Always bringing up the Lord to pressure me, are you a child?"

Hans smiled without saying anything.

He was not a person with a strong personality; otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to get along with someone like Venezia.

"Your Majesty, the enemy seems intent on directly attacking our camp."

Raymond, wrapped tightly in plate armor, remained in front of the royal presence. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

In the Middle Ages, kings and great nobles had a tradition of personally leading troops into battle, with many dying in battle on horseback. In crucial moments, both Raymond and Baldwin IV would fight on the frontlines.

"In the end, it was Saladin who couldn’t hold back."

Baldwin IV’s face showed a confident smile; no one could predict the outcome of this war, but given the Crusaders’ current situation, using the advantage of the camp to withstand the enemy’s charge already provided them with an advantage.

Looking down from the sky.

The black-armored Saracen army advanced toward the Crusader camp like a slow-moving wave.

Saladin, clad in golden armor, was surrounded by a thousand elite Kasaji Guards, gazing towards the opposite hill where Crusader cavalry had previously secured advantageous terrain.

"Taqidin, I’m entrusting my Guard to you."

Taqidin replied solemnly, "My king, I promise you the Frankish cavalry will not appear in places they shouldn’t be."

"Good!"

The sound of a resonant horn echoed.

In the rear of the Saracen forces, four giant catapults originally used for sieges were stripped of their coverings. These siege weapons had limited accuracy, but against the stationary Crusader camp, they could still exert their power.

"Fire!"

The Saracen general shouted.

Polished projectiles instantly whistled as they were launched, accompanied by a shrill sound, and of the four massive stones, only one hit the Crusader camp, gouging out a mire of flesh and blood on the ground.

At this time, there was no real concept of ballistics; these war machines, each requiring a significant amount of time to reload and with very limited accuracy, could exert very limited effect.

But they still caused great demoralization for the Crusader forces.

"The glory of the Heavenly Father shines upon us, Saint Michael is with us, Amen!"

"The True Cross" (referring to a replica), under Archbishop Tyr, he prayed loudly: "All demonic heretics shall melt away like ice and snow on this Holy Land!"

...

The Saracens’ intentions were clear, with their much larger cavalry forces confronting the Crusader cavalry, then relying on fierce dragons for a direct assault on the camp, followed by infantry sweeping in from behind, reminiscent of future combined arms operations.

The Crusader’s crossbow arrows and regular arrows hitting these hulking beasts couldn’t penetrate their sturdy scale armor, merely bouncing off. Once these giants disrupted the Crusader formation, Saracen infantry would gain absolute dominance.

"What should we do now?"

Jeanne, alongside Losa, asked, "Should I lead a cavalry unit to flank the enemy’s rear?"

Losa shook his head, looking at the Saracen cavalry watching them intently, "The enemy is eyeing us. Soldier vs. soldier, commander vs. commander. These large creatures, Furin will handle them naturally."

"Prepare the Dragon Hunting Crossbow!"

In the Crusader camp, with a furious shout from Baron Godfrey, the crossbow cannons set up on the camp walls aimed at the approaching fierce dragons. These hulking beasts were swift, but once they charged, changing direction was extremely difficult.

The sharp heavy crossbows carried with the sound of whistling wind.

Arrowheads made of Demon-Blocking Gold pierced effortlessly into the bodies of the fierce dragons. No matter how sturdy these giant beasts were, three of them fell to the ground in an instant.

The remaining fierce dragons, instead, were spurred into a frenzy. They weren’t magical creatures like wizards filled with magic power, and the effect of Demon-Blocking Gold on them was smaller, allowing them to roar and charge into the camp even after being hit.

Bang—

The wooden fortress walls were destroyed frantically.

The soldiers on dragon saddles either bent their bows and strung arrows or threw javelins and fire pots.

Torle was especially arrogant; he even didn’t wear a helmet, with his face covered in scales, aiming his javelin at the heavily armored Laine in the first moment.

Laine suddenly felt his heart tighten, the terrifying pressure from the enemy leaving him momentarily devoid of any desire to resist.

Bang—

The throwing spear was out.

But it didn’t hit Laine.

"Knight Hans!"

He looked, somewhat surprised, at Hans, who was blocking his front, dressed in bright plate armor.

Hans didn’t reply, instead staring at the man on dragon saddle.

Torle curled his lips slightly, "We meet again."

Bang—

A gust of wind from the rear made Torle instinctively dodge to the side, but the iron javelin came swiftly, instantly hitting Torle’s shoulder, tearing off the armored segments.

Venezia coldly laughed, "Such a fool, I can handle him alone."

Hans frowned, "Don’t forget the Lord’s instructions."

As soon as he finished speaking, he rushed toward Torle.

Venezia snorted coldly, "Don’t steal my glory, you brat."

Torle, atop the dragon saddle, was already burning with anger, he pulled out the javelin lodged in his shoulder.