Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 550 - 327: Liberating the White Slaves (Part 2)

Chapter 550: Chapter 327: Liberating the White Slaves (Part 2)

"Still sleeping? This is special training."

Jeanne corrected, then asked, "Have you been so busy with this matter that you’re overwhelmed these days?"

"Yes, it was entrusted to me by the Lord before bedtime. I need to select a batch of trustworthy pilgrims from the liberated white slaves as the first group of immigrants to be sent to the Sinai Peninsula."

After the Crusaders occupied Damietta, within the city, a considerable number of slaves were liberated, especially the white slaves who mostly believed in Christianity. Many of these were pilgrims from the Frankish Region, and there were also Greek and Turkic slaves captured from villages along the coast of Asia Minor by pirates. In addition, there were Russian slaves sold by the Kuman in the thriving slave trade of the Black Sea.

This group of people originally belonged to the absolute poor, possessing nothing and of low status. Leaving them in Damietta, it is difficult to allocate land for them to cultivate. Moving them to Sinai faces minimal resistance.

Furthermore, they are far more trustworthy than the Coptic people who have been governed by the Saracens for hundreds of years.

"You’ve worked hard."

"To be honest, I originally thought this would be a very simple task."

Hans smiled bitterly.

But when it came to actual implementation, Hans discovered—not all slaves are willing to be liberated.

Generally speaking, in Europe, the status of peasants is higher than that of slaves. Legally, their personal freedom is bound to the land, and they often do not qualify to leave the land for pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Unless they are willing to pay a specific tax for it.

Many pilgrims who were captured by pirates and Turkic bandits and sold into slavery actually started as fugitive peasant slaves from Europe.

Though they were not slaves before, as peasants, they had to respond to the Lord’s call, compulsorily comply with the Lord’s corvee, cultivate the land assigned by the Lord, and pay high and diverse taxes.

If under a cruel Lord, they could even be whipped or executed for minor mistakes—though this behavior violates Church law, it often goes unchallenged by outsiders.

This group, upon being sold into slavery, surprisingly found life a little better than before.

For instance, the Mamluks, though slaves, become confidant vassals of their masters and hold a far superior status to ordinary free citizens.

Thus, even among the Christian slaves in Damietta, there are those who are deeply grateful to their masters.

It’s not due to ingrained servility, but simply the way of the times—whether in Europe or Egypt, the land-to-people conflict is severe, and the surplus labor force leads to generally low treatment for peasants—aptly summarized by "If you don’t do it, many others will."

The Statue of the Throne Angel can increase the loyalty of the people, but it’s not something that happens overnight.

Moreover, the slaves in front of us, as miners, are undoubtedly at the bottom tier among slaves, with loyalty assured.

Additionally, their physical condition is relatively good, not yet exhausted by the endlessly dark life underground, unlike the previous group of miners Hans liberated, left with only one-third of their life, panting and coughing after just a few steps.

"The capable are burdened with more,"

Jeanne patted Hans on the shoulder, showing an encouraging expression, "I think you should take time to learn the language of the Saracens or the Coptics, it will definitely come in handy sometime, the Lord has always had high expectations for you."

Hans replied helplessly, "I’d rather be like Venezia, soaking in the training camp every day."

Jeanne waved her hand elegantly, "It’s not up to you."

She walked a few steps then stopped, turned around and said, "Got caught up chatting with you and almost forgot business, do you and Venezia still spar regularly these days?"

"Not regularly, just occasionally."

"Then have a proper match tonight."

Hans looked surprised, "Why?"

"The Tree of Life has progressed, Jeanne brought back a batch of new Life Tree Leaves, Urding has concocted a new ’Lazarus Potion’ based on these and wants to test its effects on you."

Hans: "?"

Jeanne looked at Hans’s incredulous expression, seemingly feeling a twinge of conscience, laughed dryly, "This is a rare opportunity, and incidentally since you’ve always felt restrained during your sparring, this is also a chance. I’m quite optimistic about you."

With that, she briskly walked away.

"I’m off to notify Venezia, remember, you must come tonight!"

Hans watched Jeanne’s departing figure, angry yet unable to express it.

Pity, he originally hoped to rely on the big leg, the Flower of the Wolf Race Chelina, but she directly defected, and he, a Five-Star little wolf under Losa’s command, had no standing at all.

...

Meanwhile.

In the book’s world.

Time passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, a month’s time was near its end.

The Demon Hunters stood on the other side of the drawbridge, watching the figures of the two gradually distant in the deep snow, feeling somewhat poignant.

Escal marveled, "Miss Chelina is absurdly strong, we’ve all observed Losa’s progress during this time, yet the last battle ended so miserably."

Lambert laughed with his arms crossed, "Miserable as it was, I must say, Nina was still holding back."

Geralt nodded, "Indeed, with her speed, the three of us combined might not be able to withstand a single move from her. If she truly tried hard, Losa might struggle to survive a few rounds. Whether it’s power, speed, or defense, reaching the extreme in any aspect is fearsome."

"Haha, I suddenly recall the scene when Geralt requested to spar with Miss Chelina. At that time, you were still evenly matched, now thinking back, it’s quite ironic,"

Lambert teased with a mischievous smile.

Geralt couldn’t help but laugh, "Chelina is quite a polite little girl, unwilling to bully an old man like me."

Vesemir added from the side, "Much better than Ciri."

Lambert’s tone was as sharp as ever, "We all must admit this, Ciri in Ker Morhan has been thoroughly transformed by us into a wild child; nobody may recall she was once the Little Lioness of Sintra, a princess of a Kingdom?"

A group of Demon Hunters gradually walked back into the castle.

"This lousy weather, you haven’t blocked the hole in the hall, when the wind blows outside, it’s as if a hundred Quickyma were squealing beside your ear inside."

"Old Father Vesemir, asking a Demon Hunter to do masonry work is like asking a goat to play a horn with its rear. You can’t blame our craftsmanship, at least the hole isn’t as drafty anymore."

"Old man, I must add, a Quickyma, similar to an ant-like demon, wouldn’t make that kind of sharp noise you mentioned."

"It’s a metaphor, understand the metaphor!"

Geralt sat back in the chair, looking at the empty wine glass on the table opposite, couldn’t help but laugh, "Truth be told, without Losa and Nina, this place feels a bit emptier again. Perhaps next year..."

"No, don’t even think!"

"I don’t wish to see that woman Yennefer."

Lambert coldly snickered, "Old Father Vesemir is the same. I can guarantee if she came, she’d certainly use that lofty tone, bossing us around as if this place was her domain."