A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

"Then what’s that..."

The sound of the Lyre blended with the rain, but beyond those sounds, there was something else. It was... the thundering of hooves!

"Do you hear that? The sound of hooves." Baron Velen frowned.

"Perhaps it’s your Tenant Cavalry, Uncle. They’ve come looking for you."

"Impossible. They’re far more obedient than you."

Baron Velen immediately moved to leave the tent.

"Then what else could it be? That rabble behind us doesn’t have any horses. Prince Robert’s army is all the way in London, too far to reach us. Is he going to sprout wings and fly here?"

Baron Velen ignored Theo and strode out of the tent.

But before he could even lift the tent flap, he heard a cacophony of shouts from outside.

"To battle! Langville!"

"For Caen!"

"God is with me!"

"..."

The shouts were followed by the fierce clash of metal and agonized screams. Crimson blood splattered against the tent fabric.

Baron Velen threw open the tent flap.

Everything confirmed his suspicions. It was an enemy raid. A troop of cavalry had charged into their camp.

The situation outside was dire. The Knights, completely unaware that the enemy had reinforcements, were unprepared for battle. Forget formations—most hadn’t even finished donning their armor.

This wasn’t a battle on equal terms; it was a slaughter. The enemy was ruthless, cutting down unarmored Knights without hesitation, completely disregarding the codes of chivalry.

Fortunately, with some of their comrades acting as "human shields," a portion of the Knights managed to don their Chain Armor and began to mount a resistance. After all, they had five hundred Knights and four hundred Tenant Cavalry.

The attacking force numbered a hundred riders at most. Given enough time, Velen could still turn this defeat into a victory.

Baron Velen noticed the enemy’s banner: the Double Lion Flag of Normandy, unadorned. This was clearly Prince Robert’s army.

’Prince Robert had just taken London; it was impossible for him to have freed up his forces to attack the western part of the Kingdom so quickly. This reinforcement contingent can’t be very large. Perhaps this troop is all they have.’

’So there’s no need to...’

Just then, one of the Attendants ran up to Theo.

"It’s terrible, My Lord! The camp’s left and right flanks are also under attack!"

"How could there be more troops? Did Prince Robert’s main army arrive? ’Impossible... This must be a despicable trick by the townspeople.’

"The cunning townsfolk shoot their poisoned arrows, and the brave, fearless Knights are now trapped. A hero of the first charge will break their lines and capture their leader, while the despicable fiends, at the end of their rope, will face their final doom!"

Theo recited a few lines of the clumsy poem he had just composed on the spot.

He grabbed one of the Attendants by his side.

"I’m a genius. Write that down."

"You are a true talent, My Lord! Perfect meter, a brilliant narrative! I’ll write it down at once."

The Attendant didn’t miss the chance to flatter Theo. He then produced a small book and a quill from somewhere and began to write with a most serious expression.

The atmosphere between the two of them was jarringly out of place with the chaos.

Velen smacked Theo across the back of the head. He snatched the book and instinctively moved to tear it to shreds, but after a moment’s thought, he restrained himself and simply held it behind his back.

"They’re likely bluffing, splitting their small force to attack from different directions and mislead us. Theo, go to the Infantry unit. Have them send their Archers here."

"Those ignorant, cowardly peasants? They’ll just panic and scatter at the first sight of blood. Bringing them here will only cause more chaos. Fighting is a Knight’s duty." Theo’s eyes were fixed on the book clutched in Velen’s hand.

"Regardless of the enemy’s numbers, they can at least draw fire. Or would you rather our Knights draw their fire? Go, now!" Baron Velen gave Theo a hard shove.

"And you, Uncle?" Theo’s gaze fell on Baron Velen.

"I’ll hold them off here."

"What? A task like this should be..."

"You? You can’t even control your own troops. Don’t make a mess for me here. And don’t look at me like I’m about to make some grand sacrifice. I’ve fought more battles than you’ve eaten grains of salt. Now, piss off."

Baron Velen planted a kick on Theo’s rear, sending him on his way.

His personal Attendants quickly brought him his Lance. He was already wearing his Chain Armor, and he mounted his Warhorse.

His gaze locked onto the Knight holding the Double Lion Flag—Belem.

"Death to those who refuse to surrender! Death to those who refuse to surrender! Death to those who refuse to surrender!"

Belem bellowed, yelling with such fervor that he started to gag.

The effect, however, was excellent. Some of the Knights had already given up and were starting to surrender.

Suddenly, Belem felt a chill run down his spine. He instinctively ducked, and a searing pain spread across the back of his neck.

Belem drew a sharp breath, shaken by the close call. He yanked his reins, hastily putting distance between himself and his unseen attacker.

Then he saw his assailant.

"Well, well, if it isn’t old Velen. It’s been a while. Still kicking, are you?"

"Having a son like you is the sole blemish on Roger’s life. Belem, with your notorious reputation, it’s no exaggeration to call you an Apostle of Hell Satan. Lay down your arms and come with me to confess your sins before the King. Perhaps God, in his mercy, may yet lighten your transgressions."

"Let’s see if you’re still so defiant when you’re bound in my chains. A man who didn’t even spare the Monasteries in the north dares to speak to me of God and sin? We’ll see whose side God is on after our Lances have had their say." Belem raised his Lance, aiming it at Baron Velen.

...

Though reluctant, Theo still led a dozen or so Knights in a mad dash toward the Infantry camp.

The Infantry camp wasn’t far; on their Warhorses, they could reach it at a full gallop in four or five minutes.

’The reinforcements can’t be numerous. It must be a bluff by the townspeople. What true Knight would stoop to such low, vulgar tactics?’

Theo muttered to himself. He was actually a little worried about his uncle, who was no longer a young man.

At the same time, he felt a sting of shame. ’Covering the rear is a duty I should have taken on.’

’Ugh, Uncle always treats me like a child. I hate it.’

’This is my first battle. For it to start like this... even if we win, it will be a dishonorable victory.’

’I don’t even know how I’ll report my deeds and honors to my mother when I get back.’

’It seems my only option is to find a good Minstrel to... embellish the tale a bit.’

As his mind wandered through these chaotic thoughts, a sudden feeling of weightlessness washed over him. His horse let out a piercing shriek, and Theo was thrown to the ground.

Fortunately, he landed in a patch of soft mud. He wasn’t injured, but his head was ringing.

He staggered to his feet and saw that he was alone.

’Huh? My Knights? Where did they all go?’

Theo turned back around and saw someone standing before him. The figure wore no armor, only a Monk’s Robe, giving him the appearance of a hermit.

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