Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 514 - 293: Scorched Earth and Empty Fields

Chapter 514: Chapter 293: Scorched Earth and Empty Fields

Arishe Lord’s Mansion.

"What? Absolutely not!"

Adram slammed the table.

He was the Sheikh of the largest Bedouin Tribe nearby, summoned today by the Lord Yasal, but never expected that the first words would be a demand for them to destroy all the water sources and oases, making him flush with anger.

"You’re mad, Yasal. If we destroy the water sources, how are we going to survive?"

The lord remained expressionless and said with indifference: "This is Lord Adil’s order, not seeking your opinion, nor mine. If we don’t comply, we will have to face the Frankish army ourselves."

"I don’t care whose order it is, this is asking for our lives!" 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Calm down, Adram. If you weren’t a friend with whom I’ve shared a bowl of water, you wouldn’t have the chance to sit here and vent your anger at me. My soldiers would burn you along with your tents in a fire."

Yasal’s tone also became angry.

"You can try!"

Adram roared furiously: "The eight hundred men in my tribe will make you pay the price!"

The two glared at each other for a long time, both like furious bulls, their faces almost touching.

In the end, Yasal was the first to relent, sitting back in his chair.

He said with helplessness, "Alright, old friend, if I really wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have invited you over."

"It’s not just your people’s settlement, the oases you frequently visit, or the hidden water sources known only to you. Even the beautiful city of Arishe would be burned to ashes."

Adram’s anger gradually faded, replaced by astonishment and confusion: "Are you willing?"

"Have you forgotten how we developed Arishe from a small town only for Pilgrim supplies to its present state? This isn’t the work of one or two people. It was the collective effort of all surrounding tribes, and you, the lord."

Yasal sighed deeply: "Otherwise, leave this city to the Frankish heretical army?"

"My old friend, I know you’re unwilling, and so am I. But think about it, is remaining as a small sheikh in the desert worth fighting for you and your tribe?"

He paused, speaking solemnly: "Bring your people under my command. They are brave, skilled in archery and horseback, and I will take you to more prosperous lands, granting you lush pastures."

"Ha, what you mentioned is supposedly promised to you by the Governor of Egypt, isn’t it?"

"Yes."

"Do you really believe him?"

Yasal spoke earnestly: "Many lives will be lost in this war. As long as I can prove my loyalty, the lands of the deceased will surely fall into my hands."

Adram fell into prolonged silence.

"There’s no time to ponder, brother. The enemy is about to reach Gaza City, and this isn’t some simple choice. We, by ourselves, cannot defend Arishe. It’s a flat plain without any natural defenses."

Yasal’s tone was urgent: "What we can do is abandon Arishe, and even Wadala, turning this desert into a complete wasteland to have a chance at stopping the Frankish forces at Feilai Mai."

Adram chuckled coldly: "What if we choose to cooperate with the Franks?"

Yasal casually nodded: "Of course you can, but if you really wanted to do that, you wouldn’t say it in front of me — be honest, my old friend, that Marquis Losa might be generous to ordinary heretics, but for leaders like us, he would surely uproot us! Otherwise, how would he fund his military and reward his men, who are as fierce as wolves?"

Adram’s face changed for a long time before he finally said, "I understand."

...

Jerusalem.

The news of Marquis Losa calling forth a fresh batch of Crusaders after the great victory over Saladin was spreading rapidly.

Being a city mainly populated by Pilgrim immigrants, there were a large number of young people. These individuals, who might have been craftsmen or idle wanderers, were now selling off their property to buy weapons, preparing to join Losa’s ranks and make a fortune in wealthy Egypt.

The city was in a state of turmoil.

Oddly, the heretic residents of the city were unusually compliant. As the King moved south with the Crusaders and the City Guard Army returned, the city quickly stabilized.

With most of the young men gone, the taverns became empty.

Reynard sat in the corner, drinking alone.

Then he noticed that the man sitting opposite him had been staring at him all along.

He glared several times, but the man didn’t pull back, and a flash of anger struck Reynard: "What are you looking at?"

Reynard, reeking of alcohol, placed one hand on his sword and approached the man.

But the man did not appear flustered; he spoke leisurely, "Looking at the once-famous King of the Dead Sea, the butcher who terrified heretics — and also looking at a failure."

The man wrapped in a black cloak smiled: "Reynard of Châtillon, your title as Count of Transjordan now resounds throughout Christendom. Every royal court has minstrels celebrating your deeds, yet what about you?"

"No one will remember that this title of glory was originally yours."

Reynard was not a fool; he knew the man couldn’t just be waiting here to insult him: "Enough! Scoundrel, you better speak your master’s name and purpose before I lose my temper."

"Reynard, you should show me some respect because I serve the most noble Caesar, King of the Gauls, the great King Philip."

The man smiled.

"Ha."

Reynard sneered: "Envoys, envoys everywhere. I just saw King of Hungary’s envoy being beaten, and now you pop up, claiming to be King Philip’s envoy."

"There’s a letter for proof."

The man produced a sealed letter and placed it on the table: "Please have a look."

Reynard, skeptical, observed the wax seal on the envelope. The emblem was indeed the golden fleur-de-lis of the Gaul Royal Family, with no extraneous decorations, exclusively belonging to His Majesty the King. (Other royal family members must add their personal marks to the golden fleur-de-lis for distinction)

He opened the envelope; the first words he saw were:

To my friend Reynard.

I have heard of the unjust treatment you have suffered. Your title was forcibly taken by the Anjou royal family and given to another. This is not the act of a worthy Monarch, nor do I believe your slaying of heretics is deserving of any censure.

...

Outside Jerusalem City.

The Crusaders were setting up camp. Many new Crusaders who came from the city gathered at the registration area, waiting for the quartermasters to record their names and assign their duties based on their skills and equipment.

Losa frowned deeply at the intelligence gathered by the "Shadow of Darkness".

"Scorched-earth policy, I didn’t expect Adil’s control over Egypt to be so strong."

In the desert, losing a precious water source isn’t something that can be easily revived.

"As a result, there’s even a group of Bedouins wanting to join us."

"Do you think they’re trustworthy?"

"Not necessarily. If I were Adil, I wouldn’t miss such a good opportunity to provide us with false information or to gather intelligence."

"But among them, most will certainly be reliable."

No matter what, one can’t starve out of fear of being choked. Leaving these nomadic Bedouins,