A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

By the time Eric and his Warband returned to the city gate with the siege engines, the battle there had already come to an end.

Roger de Montgomery and the Knights William had left him were nowhere to be seen.

On the other side of the moat, men were busy fishing out the Genoese Crossbowmen and Flemish Spear Soldiers who had fallen in.

Although the Armor of these Mercenaries was far from comparable to that of a Knight, it wasn’t much lighter. Many of them couldn’t swim, so when they were suddenly pushed in, they could only flail about on instinct, trying to stay afloat. They wouldn’t last long.

Many of the Mercenaries pushed into the moat sank straight to the bottom. Only a few who were good swimmers managed to hold on until the fighting ended and were pulled out by their own soldiers, though their weapons and everything else had been washed away.

The one in charge of the recovery effort was Belem. He spotted Eric and rode his horse over.

"Eric, my brother! I couldn’t find you anywhere just now. Thank God you’re all right. It’s a blessing from Christ! Yes, of course, He has no reason not to bless His servants.

Thinking back on that battle, it was nerve-wracking! I thought we were done for. Though dying a glorious death would have earned us a fine reputation, it’s far better to live and witness a legend in the making.

It’s wonderful. We all survived. We’ve won honor for Robert, and for ourselves. The generous Robert will give us the rewards we deserve. The great names of the Montgomery Family and the Outville Family will once again spread throughout Normandy—oh, right, and this time we can add England to the list!"

Belem dismounted and patted Eric’s shoulder. He was visibly excited, chattering on with great enthusiasm.

Soon, however, his gaze was drawn to the magnificent Warhorse behind Eric.

"By Christ, what am I seeing? That’s the King’s Warhorse."

Belem slowly walked toward the Warhorse, then dropped to his knees with a THUD and threw his arms around the horse’s leg.

"Eric, my brother, you... you didn’t..." Belem pointed excitedly at Eric, then at the Warhorse, his words failing him.

"Keep it down, keep it down. Ah, it’s just average, nothing special," Eric said, quickly waving his hands.

"You... you didn’t defect to the enemy, did you? Well now, Eric Outville, I never thought you’d be the type..." Belem shot to his feet, pointing at Eric with a tragically pained expression.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s right... Huh????"

Eric was so exasperated he nearly choked, and he punched Belem right on the head.

"If I had defected, would I be standing here letting you spout all this nonsense?"

"This is too legendary. Your great-uncle, Iron Arm William, ’only’ captured the Emir of Syracuse on the battlefield. You were facing the King of England, the Conqueror, William—the greatest lord Normandy has ever known.

Of course, we firmly believe Robert will be even greater."

Belem paid no mind to the large bump on his head.

"If circumstances permitted, I’d hire a Minstrel right now. The Minstrels from Aquitaine are the best. Maybe when we get back..."

"We can talk about that later. What’s the situation now? How many men did we lose?" Eric’s mood had been completely derailed by Belem, and he didn’t want to continue the previous topic.

"The situation is absolutely brilliant, of course! You know, I shot my old man in the thigh with a crossbow arrow. The old bastard ran off with his tail between his legs, hopping mad," Belem said, puffing out his chest with pride.

Eric: "..."

"What’s wrong, Eric my brother? You don’t seem very happy. Come on, you defeated the great Conqueror William..."

"It’s nothing. Belem, go on and... play."

Eric clapped Belem on the shoulder, then flicked the reins, urging his Warhorse into London City.

"Oh, alright then. If you’re looking for Robert, you can find him at the Tower of London!" Belem shouted, not quite understanding Eric’s mood.

The city was a scene of utter devastation. The houses nearest the gate were either burnt to the ground or were still burning. The stench of blood and scorched flesh hung in the air, mixed with other, even more sickening smells.

Bodies were piled haphazardly by the roadside. Some belonged to the Genoese Crossbowmen and Flemish Spear Soldiers they had hired, but many more were citizens and defenders of London City.

Soon, Eric reached the Tower of London—or more precisely, the outer edge of its moat.

Robert’s army had completely surrounded the Tower of London and had already erected simple earthworks. The side facing the Thames River was blockaded by ships from Flanders.

The wooden bridge over the moat had been completely destroyed. The Tower of London was now entirely cut off from the outside world.

William had been repelled and London City had fallen. With a temporary advantage in numbers, whether they assaulted the Tower of London or not was no longer important.

Eric saw Robert, and of course, the detestable Odo, who had also had quite a night.

"What’s the situation?"

"Eric? Thank goodness you’re alright. I must apologize. Things happened suddenly. After you left, our mole in Ansebel sent word. The battlefield is ever-changing, and we had to seize the opportunity.

Fortunately, although we took some minor losses, things went relatively smoothly."

Robert patted Eric’s shoulder, his eyes also falling on the arrow wound on his arm.

"A Lord has no need to apologize to his vassal. It is only natural for a vassal to sacrifice for his Lord. Robert, my nephew, you are about to become the King of England." Odo’s brow furrowed with displeasure.

"As long as we are not in court, it’s fine. I also hope my uncle will continue to call me by my name, rather than by titles. After all, titles can be temporary, but blood is eternal. We are family, are we not?" Robert said with a light laugh.

"That does me great honor, my nephew." For the first time in a long while, Odo smiled.

’This was the first time Eric had ever seen that detestable old face smile. It was truly an ugly sight.’

Robert shot a look at Arno, who was standing nearby.

Arno immediately understood, walking over and taking Odo by the arm to lead him aside.

"Father, I just remembered..."

Once he saw Odo being successfully led away, Robert turned to Eric and hurriedly asked, "What’s the situation outside the city? That old man..."

Before he could finish, Eric held up a hand, gesturing for silence.

Then, he reached into his tunic and slowly pulled out a golden Crown. It was perhaps quite old, as its color had dimmed somewhat.

Robert recognized it at a glance. It was his father’s Crown.

"That’s my father’s... You... you..."

"Do you wish I had?"

Eric didn’t answer directly, watching Robert with keen interest.

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