A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

"Come down, little bird," the long-haired man called to the girl in the tree. "We won’t hurt you."

"No, you will." She was young, not stupid. She tried to pull her legs into her robe.

"Alright, we will. But not too badly, and not for long. Maybe just for a night and a morning. Then we’ll be on our way.

Or, better yet, we could take you with us. How about it? Six strong husbands and a way out of the city?" The long-haired man smiled as he spoke, then attempted to climb the large tree.

"No, thank you." The girl wanted to cry, but she told herself that staying calm might do her some good.

The long-haired man jumped onto a thick, low-hanging branch. From there, he was almost high enough to reach her feet, but she scrambled higher.

Climbing was much easier for the girl than for the long-haired man; she was far lighter than he was.

If this were a game, the girl would surely win. But unfortunately, this was no game.

"Don’t make this difficult," the long-haired man said, annoyed at his inability to climb higher.

"Don’t rape me," she said.

"It’s not rape if you agree." The long-haired man tried to sound gentle, but the content of his words made that impossible.

"It is rape, because the only thing I’m agreeing to is not being hurt!" the girl shouted.

"Then let’s go with that. You agree to avoid being hurt. Fine. Come down, or I’ll hurt you."

The long-haired man had dropped back to the ground and was now shouting up at the girl.

"You can’t be serious," she said, clinging to a last shred of hope.

"I am serious."

"You’re not a bad person. I don’t believe you’re a bad person," the girl yelled, refusing to give up, trying to appeal to his conscience.

"I’m afraid I am a bad person." The long-haired man shattered her illusion.

"But you don’t have to be!" The girl tried to climb a little higher, but she had reached the limit.

"I’m sorry. I already am. Damn it, in times like these, how do you think I’ve survived this long without being a bad person? Everyone’s a bad person. We have to be.

Oh, and now I see a lovely pile of rocks by the stream. How about I go get some and throw them at you until you come down?"

The long-haired man decisively gave up on climbing the tree. He ran to the stream, picked up a rock, and aimed it at the girl, marveling at his own genius.

However, the leaves wouldn’t let him get a clear throw, and he wasn’t sure if throwing rocks at her was going a bit too far.

He suddenly thought of his sister back home. If she were still alive, she’d be about this girl’s age.

But he had to get her to the barn quickly, or that guy Gover would lose his temper.

’He had no desire to be on the receiving end of Gover’s frustration.’

"Please don’t."

"Then come down."

"I know the other one is the bad guy. You can tell him you didn’t find me. You don’t have to commit this crime."

"Sorry, he has a bad temper."

"So does my father."

"He’s dead."

"No, he’s not."

"I’ve had enough of this. Come down, or I’ll knock you down with these rocks."

She started to cry.

The long-haired man thought she was about to pull another trick, but soon enough, she was clumsily finding a lower branch with her foot.

He helped her down and felt her trembling.

He felt sickened by his own actions, but he hardened his heart.

He decided to talk to her about it. He slung her over his shoulder and started walking toward the barn.

"I know this seems terrible, but it’s really not. If God wanted the world to be orderly and good, He shouldn’t have made things so complicated. We’re all just dead men walking—men and women, that’s it. Not good people and bad people.

So I guess He must want chaos and death, right? Well, He got it, so what can we say? We can’t change anything He decides. All we can do is try to have a little fun before death comes for us, isn’t that right?

Death comes for everyone in the end, and then we all return to His embrace. So just relax, and maybe it won’t be so bad." The long-haired man rambled on, but the girl wasn’t the least bit comforted.

"You’re just saying that to make yourself feel better," she said, her breath coming in short gasps out of fear for what was about to happen.

"You’re a smart girl. Too smart. This world isn’t a place for smart wom—"

The long-haired man didn’t finish his sentence. He seemed to hear something and turned around.

He then saw a group of cavalrymen charging toward him. They had clearly spotted him.

’Damn it, is the Baron here to hold us accountable?’

’But... but that makes no sense. You don’t need this many Knights just to catch a few deserters.’

’Did we break some divine law or something?’

A wave of fear washed over him. He turned to flee, but in the next instant, several sharp arrows landed in the ground right in front of him.

He froze on the spot.

Then, the cold flat of a Sword was pressed against his neck.

"Trying to run? Are you a thief?"

The long-haired man had his back to the speaker, so he couldn’t see his face.

But he recognized the accent. It was a Normandy accent. It was one of those Norman Dogs.

"Don’t kill me, my lord. I-I-I... I’m not a thief, I’m-I’m-I’m a local. Just came out... out to find some food. With... with-with my sister."

The long-haired man immediately started begging for his life.

"Your sister? This is how you treat your own sister?"

"Uh... people have their disagreements sometimes. But blood is thicker than water," the long-haired man stressed.

Eric looked at the girl.

"He is not!" The girl’s reaction seemed a bit slow, but she denied it outright. However, when she saw the long-haired man begging, she hesitated. "Uh... maybe he is. No, he... he’s my cousin.

Mr. Priest, he’s trying to seize my father’s property and sell me. Anyway... anyway, I don’t want to be here," the girl lied.

’A Priest? Not a Bishop or something, right?’

’A Priest should be easier to deal with.’

The long-haired man was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he suddenly recalled the girl’s words. ’Wait, ’sell me’?’

’Damn it, am I going to be burned at the stake for this?’

Then he felt the Sword leave his neck. Clearly, the man was preparing to strike.

’It’s all over.’

"Put her down."

"I... My lord, can you let me go?"

"Are you trying to bargain with me? Do you have any idea that human trafficking is a capital offense? According to common law, it’s punishable by burning at the stake. I’m offering you a quick death.

If you have any dignity left, put the girl down. Or do you really want your last moments on earth to be spent hiding behind a girl you nearly raped?

Or did you think your clumsy lies could deceive me?

This girl, a complete stranger to you, was kind enough to try and cover for you. You could at least try to act like a man and stop hiding behind a woman."

Eric said coldly.

The long-haired man had intended to play the pity card again, but in the end, he just sighed and set the girl down.

"My lord, you’re right. I’m not even as good as a girl. I am guilty. Please, kill me." The long-haired man covered his eyes.

Just as Eric was about to swing his Sword and finish him, the girl’s voice rang out.

"Um, Mr. Priest, could you... could you not kill him? Enough people have died here already."

The long-haired man instantly let out a breath of relief, tears streaming down his face.

He had met an Angel. It was probably the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his life.

’Even after what I just did to her... she must be an Angel sent by God to save me.’

"Or, you could just castrate him. Like a gelded donkey." The girl’s voice rang out again.

The long-haired man froze, his face a mask of utter horror.

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