Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 608 - 380: Richard

The Red Robe Knight strode into the tavern with two guards, looked around, and soon spotted His Majesty the King, seated in the corner, enjoying his drink.

He approached, eyeing the overturned wine cups scattered around the table, and couldn't help but furrow his brows deeply: "Your Majesty, why have you come out alone again?"

Richard nonchalantly looked at his loyal Count's Guard Captain: "Have a taste of the Coptic's Karakal, it's the strongest wine I've tasted in years."

"Your Majesty!"

The Count's Guard Captain spoke with emphasis: "You shouldn't have left us behind and traveled alone."

Richard raised an eyebrow, a hint of impatience flickering across his brow: "Alright, Fuller, with my strength, what could go wrong? If you're by my side and we encounter a situation even I find dangerous, I'd have to divide my attention to look after you."

Fuller was momentarily speechless.

He had personally witnessed Richard, after pulling out the Sword in the Stone, slaying a giant sea serpent lurking in the ocean trench while leaving Londenwick by ship, as the sword cleaved the sea, creating a canyon, reminiscent of the myth of Moses.

This extraordinary power, beyond ordinary imagination, was indeed not something a mere assassin could threaten.

"But Your Majesty, this is the Holy Land, and your opponent, Marquis Losa, is also a monarch possessing extraordinary power. He has several witches serving under him, and even dragons have fallen to him more than once. Moreover, even if Marquis Losa doesn't act against you, those Saracens also wield formidable power, otherwise, they couldn't have tamed the demon dragon."

"Fuller, conspiracies and cunning cannot bury a monarch destined by fate."

Confidence was written all over Richard's face, and the slight setbacks on the military council were no longer visible on his face: "If I am someday drawn into an inescapable predicament, it will be because Heavenly Father abandoned me. I should resolutely face death, rather than cling to life desperately."

"Just like King Arthur, who pulled out the Sword in the Stone to become king and cast aside the King's Sword to face death."

"Your Majesty, King Arthur's story is just a legend."

Richard patted his sword with a chuckle: "You obstinate old dog, I've seen the Lady of the Lake and pulled out the legendary Sword in the Stone, and even received the King's Sword gifted by the Queen. Do you still think King Arthur's story is just a legend, Fuller?"

He paused slightly in his speech, his face slightly flushed: "I am the new King of Kings of Albion, the monarch destined by fate!"

In his words, there was little respect for the legendary King Arthur.

Although scholars in Albion have long tried to link the Norman royal lineage to King Arthur's bloodline, it's merely to justify the Normans' conquest of the Anglo-Saxons, a propaganda tool.

In essence, a "fabricated claim."

After all, King Arthur was actually Celtic, and though the royal bloodline transcends ethnic boundaries, the Celt's king is ultimately not regarded by this young, ambitious monarch like a lion.

Count Fuller frowned and said: "In any case, Your Majesty, next time you go out at least take a squad of guards. You saw the marquis' procession today, as the King of Albion, can you not even compare to an Eastern marquis?"

It seemed he didn't expect Fuller to continue speaking.

Richard impatiently walked past him: "You irritating old thing, if I'd known it would be like this, I should have sent you to Londenwick to be a Minister of Administration, instead of having you nagging by my side."

Count Fuller hesitated.

Because he saw outside the tavern, a squad of Winged Cavalry galloping past.

"Alright, you old thing, let's return to the camp. Tomorrow, if our 'Commander-in-Chief' doesn't issue orders, we'll choose a Saracen castle to take over as our foothold."

Fuller hesitated: "Are we to separate from Cardinal Sebastian?"

Richard stroked the sword at his waist, smiling: "A king needs not dwell under another's roof, much less with an idiot like Sebastian, who can't even secure a commendable foothold himself. Fuller, remember, after he completes the Teleportation Array, he's of no further use to us."

He paused slightly, sneering: "So don't consider him one of ours. Even if I needed allies, I wouldn't choose a sycophant who gets ahead by selling his backside."

...

Venturing deep into the countryside, Losa noticed many things he wouldn't normally pay attention to.

He saw people using a tool called a shaduf to elevate water from lower to higher ground, employing a vertical waterwheel driven by oxen and donkeys to draw clear water from deep wells.

The Coptic people, with their full lips and brown skin, balanced jugs on their heads, carrying the drawn water home;

The Copts' agricultural prowess far exceeded that of the Franks, especially in making efficient use of limited water resources.

At the village's edge, in the square, and at the far end, each had a shen kan, enshrining the Sun God Ra, also known as Ammon, the supreme god among Egypt's old deities.

At the village's central square, there was a Holy Fire Altar, next to it, a nondescript small building, bearing a cross with split corners, clearly a Coptic Church.

Losa went straight to the church, chatted with the Priest, and frowned as he looked at the village chief.

The village chief, a bit embarrassed, said: "Sir, our village plans to convert the Holy Fire Altar into a church, but we haven't had the chance yet..."

"Not had the chance yet?"

Losa found it somewhat amusing.

"Are you waiting until I drive the Saracens completely out of Egypt before you'll have the chance?"

The village chief's expression changed slightly, hastily explaining: "No, of course not, my lord, after you leave, we will immediately act to convert it into a Christian church, and all Copts will rejoice in returning to Christ's embrace."

Rejoice...

Probably not.

Losa shook his head: "The Saracens will not return, and as your new Lord, I won't forbid the faith of the Fire Worship, but in my territory, the church will always stand higher than the Holy Fire Altar."

The village chief quickly nodded: "Sir, we will heed your teachings."

Losa nodded, exchanged a cross gesture with the Priest in the church, and then turned to leave.

A feast was underway in the village, but having learned what he wanted to know during his walk, he had no intention of truly engaging.

Seeing the big picture from the small details.

The thoughts of the Copts were actually quite clear.

That is, to wait and see who emerges victorious from the battle between the two sides, then support the winner.

This is the simple survival way of the Copts, for if the Saracens return, the status quo remains, and with the Crusaders occupying this place, it currently doesn't seem any different.