A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

This might be offensive to the esteemed Marchioness, but as your elder and your aunt, I must remind you: she is older than you. You need her to bear you a child as soon as possible.

"A Marquisate without an heir will not be stable. Your authority in Tuscan is founded upon your marriage to her. If you have a child, you'll be able to rule Tuscan through them, even if some unforeseen situation arises." Judith glanced toward the hall door before turning to Eric, her expression serious.

"How has Uncle been lately?" Eric ignored Judith's point, changing the subject.

"The same as always—run ragged by matters in Sicily. Just thinking about it gives me a headache. If we appease the Normans, the Lombards revolt. If we appease all the nobility, the Greek citizens claim they're being treated unfairly. And if we somehow manage to appease the Normans, Lombards, and Greeks, then the Saracens will find something else to complain about.

Those Saracens are still stubbornly holding out in the western part of the island, the Greeks built too many fortifications and castles in Sicily, and Roger... he doesn't have enough Knights.

Your father is more interested in Constantinople than in Sicily. Roger even has to divert his own troops to support his brother's campaigns." Judith pressed a hand to her head, looking pained.

"Victory has gone to his head. His ambition grows by the day, and one day, it will consume him. Then he'll understand his own ignorance and arrogance," Eric said, openly mocking his father.

"Xiaoai, he's your father, after all."

"To him, his 'children' are nothing more than tools."

Just then, a voice came from outside the hall. "Is this the place? Oh, okay, thank you."

The door was then pushed open, and a rather disheveled young man walked in. Upon entering, he noticed there were people inside.

But he seemed to have a problem with his eyesight, and he squinted, trying to bring the room into focus.

"Otto?" Judith recognized the young man at once—Giscard's son-in-law, her own nephew-in-law, "Good Man" Otto.

"Aunt Judith? And..." Otto's gaze instinctively shifted to the young man beside her. "Eric!? Well, well! You bastard, you actually dare to show your face to me!"

With that, Otto made to draw the sword at his waist and charge at Eric.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What's going on, Otto!" Judith stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"This... Aunt, ask him! Ask him what wonderful things he's done!"

Otto was at a loss for words, his mind flashing back to being trapped in that room, forced to...

Judith snatched the longsword from Otto's hand. Afraid of hurting her, Otto didn't resist, letting her take it.

"What's going on, Xiaoai?" Judith clutched the longsword to her chest with both hands, preventing Otto from trying to snatch it back.

"It's about Helia." Eric then gave a brief, embellished account of the situation. "I'm sure you can understand, Aunt. Helia said she would rather enter a monastery than marry someone she doesn't love.

I was simply honoring her wishes. And as you always say, Aunt, we must treat our family well. As her brother, I couldn't possibly turn a blind eye to her plight."

"I sympathize with what happened to Helia, but this was an order from the Duke! A military assignment! I'm the one who will be held responsible when I return.

If there had been a choice, I wouldn't have wanted her to marry someone so far away either. But it wasn't our decision to make! This marriage to the Marquis of Milan was meant to be an alliance.

The Duke already angered the Lombard nobles by levying a marriage tax on them, following northern custom. If this wedding doesn't happen, it will be seen as blatant fraud—a humiliation for all Lombards.

I don't want to get into what the Duke has done to the Lombards in the past, but if this failed marriage becomes the spark for another rebellion, I refuse to take the blame.

There have been enough wars between the Lombards and the Normans. Haven't we shed enough blood already?

You have no idea how hard it is, being caught in the middle! The Normans call me a Lombard spy! The Lombards call me a traitor!

What the fuck did I do to deserve this?!

Aunt, tell me! Shouldn't I just cut him down?!"

"Well..." Judith looked conflicted.

'She supported marrying for love, and Helia is so young, but... Otto is in such a pitiful state...'

"Aunt! Family!"

"Aunt! Bloodshed!"

"Family!"

"Bloodshed!"

"Aunt!"

"Aunt!"

Judith's head swiveled from Eric to Otto and back again. The longsword she was clutching slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a piercing CLANG. She covered her ears and let out a shriek.

Her shriek silenced them both.

"Can you two just! Let me! Have a moment of peace!"

Judith shot a glare at each of them before running out of the hall.

The moment she was gone, the two men's eyes locked once more, and the tense, confrontational atmosphere surged back.

Of course, the "confrontational atmosphere" was entirely on Otto's side. Eric, in fact, was perfectly calm, watching him with a placid expression.

But this, perversely, only provoked Otto further.

"Eric! I considered you a friend, a brother, and you deceived me! You get to play the hero, while I get stuck with the bad name! Speaking of which just pisses me off! Auntie should have heard what this bastard really did!

You bastard! You used my banner! My banner! Disguised as the wedding escort, you... you backstabbing motherfucker, you attacked the town belonging to the Count of Mann, the heir to the Marquis of Milan!

I'm the one who gets blamed for everything, is that it? I think my 'Good Man' moniker ought to be yours now! You bastard, Eric!"

The more Otto thought, the angrier he became. He roared, remembering his miserable plight while trapped in that room, and snatched up a nearby chair, raising it to smash down on Eric.

Eric's completely unruffled expression only goaded him on.

'Bastard! Bastard! Eric, you asked for this! You brought this on yourself!'

Yet, just as the chair was about to crash into Eric's face, his voice cut through the air.

"Interested in becoming the Governor of Pisa?"

The leg of the chair, just inches from Eric's face, froze in mid-air.

"What?" Otto faltered.

"If the old man is going to punish you, then isn't the solution to simply not go back? How about you stay here in Tuscan? I'm sure you've guessed by now—I am the Marquis of Tuscan." Eric smiled.

"Are you trying to buy me? You've misjudged me. Do you think I'm as treacherous as you Normans? The Duke trusts me completely, and my loyalty to him is..."

"I wasn't talking about Pisa City. I was talking about the Republic."

"The education I received from a young age does not permit me to do something so contemptible." Otto gently set the chair down, straightened his collar, and clasped his hands behind his back. He gazed into the distance, his eyes growing ever more resolute.

"Regarding Pisa's recent conquest of Corsica..."

Otto shook his head and sighed. He wagged a finger in Eric's face, then turned halfway around and sighed again, as if lamenting Eric's degenerate behavior.

Otto lamented. He lamented how his once-wonderful friend had become such a worldly, contemptible villain. How dare he use such filthy ideas to tempt a man of noble character, a man who had always held himself to the code of Knightly Spirit?

About three seconds later, he turned back to Eric, his gaze still firm. Otto suddenly grabbed Eric's hands with both of his own.

"I admit, I might have been a bit loud just now. Please, pay it no mind."

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