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I cautiously guided my horse southwest, leaving the safety of our camp behind.
I was worried I might not be able to ride properly, but thankfully, it was as natural as riding a bicycle. My body seemed to remember it instinctively, like breathing or walking—things you do without thinking. If I had to teach someone else, I wouldn’t even know where to start.
This gave me confidence. If I could ride without trouble, then swordsmanship or spear fighting should be no different. I had been anxious about the possibility of a fight, but now I felt reassured.
Holding a weapon felt as natural as if it were an extension of my body. It was a strange feeling, considering even the pen I used during my high school exams never felt this comfortable.
“Quartermaster, let’s head down a bit and circle around to Jerusalem.”
“Why take the long way?”
“Because the direct route west is likely heavily watched. They won’t expect us to escape south, into their territory.”
“That makes sense.”
Saladin’s forces weren’t forming an impenetrable blockade. Their goal was to cut off Jerusalem’s supplies, not to prevent escape. Given their mobility, they didn’t need to worry about us slipping away. This made it relatively easy for two people to sneak into enemy territory under the cover of night.
Especially now, with the moon hidden by clouds, it was nearly impossible to see anything clearly.
“We should be able to slip through without any trouble…”
“We should be able to slip through without any trouble,” the quartermaster echoed my thoughts aloud, sending a chill down my spine. I almost jinxed us myself.
And, as fate would have it, such jinxes always seem to come true.
I pointed to a shadowy figure ahead and grumbled, “See? You said something, and now look.”
“Are you blaming me for that?”
The quartermaster’s genuinely aggrieved response made me ponder the nature of jinxes. Do they cause events, or are they merely coincidental? Is the final boss destined to survive, or does the forbidden phrase bring them back to life?
As I mused over these pointless questions, the enemy silhouette became clearer.
“Luckily, they don’t seem too alert. There are about five of them. Let’s just break through.”
“We’re lightly armed. Are you sure?”
“It should be fine. Probably.”
In this darkness, they couldn’t aim their arrows accurately. Most of their cavalry were light, just like us.
“I should’ve worn full armor…”
“If you had, the horse wouldn’t have made it to Jerusalem. Let’s pick up the pace and follow me.”
We’d come far enough that once we dealt with these few, we wouldn’t have to worry about any pursuers.
In the dark, arrows were unlikely to hit, and being lightly armored meant we could outrun them.
As Alberic and I charged forward, the resting Islamic cavalry began to move. They shouted signals to other units, but it was too late.
I tightened my grip on my spear and thrust it forward as we closed the distance.
Seeing there were only two of us, and lightly armored at that, they drew their weapons without hesitation.
With a clang, our weapons clashed, and the outcome was decided in an instant.
The Islamic cavalry, hoping to leverage their numbers, were stunned as their spears shattered in a single blow.
I was just as shocked, but my body moved on its own.
As the enemy cavalry tried to retreat, I lunged, piercing his body.
The sound of flesh tearing and blood splattering was met with indifference as I swung my spear at another approaching enemy.
The speed at which I thrust and retrieved my spear was almost supernatural.
Another enemy, using his fallen comrade as a distraction, found his chest riddled with holes.
The tales of the Templar’s might were true, it seemed.
With another enemy’s head bursting like a drum, only two remained.
One was locked in a fierce battle with Alberic, leaving just one for me.
He trembled, disbelief etched on his face.
“How… how is this possible?”
Strangely, I understood his Arabic perfectly.
“Unbelievable, right? Don’t worry, I’m just as shocked. It’s like I’m a monster.”
“Sha… Shaytan… are you Shaytan?”
“Calling someone Satan is a bit harsh.”
I raised my spear again, gripping it tightly.
The last enemy swung his weapon wildly, but the difference in strength and speed was too great.
In less than five seconds, I pierced his throat and threw my spear into the back of the one fighting Alberic.
With a thud, the body fell from the horse.
Alberic, who had been fighting fiercely, looked at the five fallen bodies and shook his head.
“Your skills are as ghostly as ever.”
“Indeed. It’s surprising.”
”…Wait, wasn’t that you?”
“Probably.”
Alberic sheathed his weapon, looking at me like I was insane.
I felt the same. I had taken five lives in an instant, yet my heart remained steady.
‘The most shocking thing so far was finding out the quartermaster was gay… I must be something else.’
For a seasoned knight, the revelation of a comrade’s sexuality was more surprising than killing a few enemies.
It’s a mindset a modern person could never understand.
I had understood it intellectually, but now it was sinking in.
As I watched the blood drip from my spear, the reality hit me hard.
I truly was a knight of the medieval era.
After many twists and turns, Alberic finally returned to Jerusalem and collapsed from his horse.
Killing five enemies was impressive, but the chase by the Islamic cavalry left him dizzy.
He explained to Archbishop Hercules d’Aubigny that they had been discovered by the enemy and couldn’t rejoin the main force.
Thanks to his reputation for piety, the archbishop believed him without question.
His conscience pricked a little, but he reasoned it was God’s will.
“Marshal, what will you do now? Shall we open the sealed letter in the archbishop’s presence?”
“No, it won’t matter here. To truly convey a message of repentance to Christianity, we need to reach the heart of Europe.”
”…That makes sense.”
Alberic still didn’t fully trust Marshal’s grand claims.
The world was full of false prophets, and they all started with convincing words.
Marshal could easily be one of those frauds.
But he knew secrets about Alberic that no one else did, so he decided to play along.
‘Perhaps this is God’s judgment for my sins. Why, Lord, do you test me so?’
Unaware of Alberic’s inner turmoil, Marshal seemed unfazed.
“Quartermaster, we’ll need horses, food, and water for the journey to Europe. We can resupply in towns along the way, but we should take what we can.”
“Well… yes, but…”
“And we’ll need funds for the journey. After all, God’s work requires money, doesn’t it?”
This guy seemed like a con artist, but maybe he was doing the right thing.
A real con artist wouldn’t be so blatant, which made it all the more confusing.
“If our army suffers a major defeat today, a messenger should arrive by dawn. Let’s wait until then.”
“That’s why we need to be fully prepared. We’ve managed to cover our tracks for now, but we’ve deserted. We have to leave the city before any surviving allies arrive.”
“Sigh… Lord, I don’t know if what I’m doing is right.”
Alberic, without further complaint, commandeered a wagon and loaded it with as much food as he could find.
No bandit with any sense would dare attack a wagon flying the banner of the Knights Templar, guarded by a heavily armed knight.
He packed everything tightly, anxiously waiting for nightfall.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, neither of them had family ties, so they could flee as soon as they received word.
However, if Marshal had deceived him, Alberic had no intention of letting it slide.
Marshal had promised to take full responsibility if he was wrong, but words are cheap.
Alberic had deliberately loaded all their gear onto the wagon, ready to detain Marshal the moment he was proven a false prophet.
No matter how skilled he was, without weapons, he was just a strong man.
With everything ready, Alberic waited nervously outside the city gates until he finally saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance.
“Is it… is it finally happening?”
For a moment, he hoped it might be a messenger bringing news of victory.
But when he saw the bloodied, ragged figure of the messenger, he didn’t need to ask to know the outcome of the battle.
Still, this alone wasn’t enough to confirm if Marshal’s predictions were true.
From the start, the odds had been against them.
What mattered were the details of the outcome: the scale of losses on both sides, who was captured, who escaped, and who was executed. These were not things one could guess at.
“You there! Report to me in detail what happened to our forces!”
“Who are you to order me—oh, you’re the noble knight from the order, aren’t you? What are you doing here…?”
“Ah, well, I went out on a reconnaissance mission at dawn and got caught up in the battle, unable to rejoin the main force. I barely managed to escape and return to Jerusalem, hoping to gather those still able to fight and rejoin the main force.”
“I see. As expected of a knight, your bravery is commendable. But there’s no need for that. Our forces… have fallen to that demon Saladin…”
The messenger bit his lip, overwhelmed with emotion, and bowed his head before continuing.
“We were completely annihilated.”
“Then… what about His Majesty? What happened to Lord Châtillon? And Lord of Ibelin or Commander Gerard?”
“Lord of Ibelin managed to fend off the fierce assault and escape. I was with him at the time, which is how I managed to get away. The others… have all been captured. Their fate is uncertain, but it’s likely grim.”
The messenger recounted the events of the battle as he remembered them.
Amazingly, everything matched exactly with what Marshal had predicted the day before.
Seeing Alberic’s face turn pale, the messenger assumed it was due to the historic defeat and sighed.
“I understand how you feel, my lord. But Lord of Ibelin insists that this isn’t over yet. Saladin will bring his army here himself. I must go and inform the Archbishop of this.”
The messenger, weary, trudged into the city.
Watching him go, Alberic’s legs gave out, and he sank to the ground.
“It was true… Could it really be?”
Meeting Marshal’s gaze from atop the wagon, Alberic involuntarily uttered the name of the Lord above.
“Oh… Lord…”