A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Matilda was awakened by the sound of a pencil stroking paper.

She opened her eyes and shifted, the movement causing the blanket to slide off, bringing a slight chill. She subconsciously looked for the source of the sound.

It was Eric. He was sitting beside her, moving his pen across a sheet of parchment, just like last night.

"You were up all night?" Matilda sat up, leaning against Eric’s side. She looked at him, then her gaze shifted to the parchment in his hands.

"No, I just suddenly remembered a promise I hadn’t fulfilled." Eric handed the parchment to Matilda.

The style was similar to Eric’s other portraits—natural and realistic—though for some reason, the lines around the edges were a bit frayed.

And... in the drawing, she was smiling as she held the candles.

"It’s not finished yet. It can be colored."

"No, it’s perfect like this."

"Of course, it’s up to you." Eric tossed his pen aside, wrapped an arm around her, and stroked her cheek.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, making her reddish-gold hair shimmer on the pillow.

Her leg rested unconsciously against his, and her hair brushed against his chest.

He breathed in the scent of his wife, then twined his fingers in her hair.

"Should I be paying you for this? My dear painter?" She tilted her chin up to look at Eric, making a rare joke.

"To receive the Marchioness’s appreciation is the greatest honor for a destitute and unknown painter such as myself. It is well known that you love the arts. Your trust is the greatest reward for an artist; we ask for nothing more.

Of course, if you were not stingy with your Coin, that would naturally be even better. In any case, it is as you see fit. Please, don’t mind me..."

Eric was imitating the tone of a stage actor, but he stopped mid-sentence.

She traced the curve of his Adam’s apple with the tip of her tongue. It lasted only a few seconds.

By the time Eric processed what had happened, she had already averted her gaze, as if she hadn’t done a thing.

Just as he was about to do something, a knock came at the door, and a maid’s voice drifted in.

"Marchioness, it is almost time for the banquet."

"I’ve arranged for Simone to call a Governance Council vote at the banquet regarding the war with Milan," Matilda explained suddenly. She tried to keep her voice calm and compose herself.

"Though I had hoped for a longer night, the sunlight suits my wife better." Eric didn’t respond directly, instead stroking Matilda’s cheek before letting her go and getting out of bed.

He picked up the Monk’s Robe that was hanging to one side.

"You don’t intend to attend as a Marquis?" Matilda stared at the Monk’s Robe in Eric’s hands.

"This will allow me to see things more clearly. A Norman Marquis is too aggressive a figure," Eric explained.

He then put on the Monk’s Robe, pulled up the hood, and looked at Matilda with a smile. "I am your confessor Priest now."

"As you wish. But don’t expect me to introduce you as such."

.....

The banquet was held in the Hall of Government in Pisa. By the time Eric and Matilda arrived, the place was already packed with people: members of the Governance Council, nobles, common citizens, curious travelers, and even the starving, hoping to scrounge a meal.

Matilda had her attendants set up temporary tents outside the Hall of Government in advance, preparing a portion of food. Priests from the Church carried censers, driving away mosquitoes and the accompanying stench and other strange smells as they maintained order.

Before entering the Hall of Government, Matilda made a point of circling the temporary tents outside, symbolically giving alms.

Only then did she enter the Hall of Government with Eric. The moment they stepped into the grand hall, a middle-aged man with long brown hair came forward, bowed humbly to Matilda in greeting, and then immediately turned and shouted, "People of Pisa! Make way for the peerless beauty of the Marchioness of Tuscany!"

He had clearly been waiting for a long time. At his shout, the guests subconsciously parted to make a path.

This was none other than Simone Scalas, Cesare Lanfranchi’s number one rival in Pisa.

Upon learning of Cesare’s death, he had almost immediately thrown his lot in with Tuscan; he was an extreme opportunist.

Matilda neither liked nor trusted him. She didn’t even expect to control him; she only wanted to use him to weaken Pisa’s Power.

"Marchioness, for this vote, I have done my utmost to prepare. I am certain that more than half of the council members will be on my side." Simone noticed the tall, young Cultivator standing behind the Marchioness.

"How many have you won over?" Matilda asked.

The Governance Council had sixty members in total. In the event of a tie, the Chief Justice would cast the deciding vote.

"About twenty council members are already on my side."

"Only twenty?"

"More have not declared their stance, but I am certain they will stand with you. As you commanded, the starving and unemployed of Pisa have also been invited to gather outside the Hall of Government. The voting on this matter will take place outside the hall.

War brings employment. A proper soldier requires years of training, but Pisa’s Power comes from the sea. I rely on the navy, and being an oarsman is not as strenuous as being a soldier. They only need to follow orders and exert themselves.

Anyone willing to put in the effort can become an oarsman. An oarsman’s daily wage is a full three silver pence—no one would refuse that job. Anyone who refuses to vote for your proposal will be torn to shreds by the hungry and the jobless.

No one would take such a risk." Simone smiled smugly.

"I hope the results do not disappoint me." Matilda fiddled with the ring on her finger.

"Yes." Simone bowed again and walked ahead to lead the way for Matilda.

With Matilda’s arrival, the guests in the hall began to murmur amongst themselves.

"Just like the rumors, or even more beautiful. A true beauty indeed."

"The rumors? Which ones? The ’poisonous wife’? To be honest, I thought she’d be an old woman. The kind whose everything has been taken by time, leaving only an aged shell and a mind full of schemes."

"I’d wager those vicious rumors are the work of jealous people. Those mediocre, unscrupulous women always love to gossip when they have nothing better to do, just to prove they aren’t mediocre, that they’re somehow superior."

"The dead in Spoleto tell no tales, so you must be right."

"Why defend a woman you’ve only just laid eyes on? There’s nothing in it for you. In her eyes, your so-called noble status just makes you a slightly higher class of plebeian."

"I just see her infringing upon the inherent freedoms of us Pisans. It has nothing to do with whether she’s beautiful or not. Even if she were the most beautiful woman in the Catholic World, I’d still wish she’d stay far away from Pisa."

"Speaking of which, I heard she got married the other day. Where’s her husband?"

"A Norman, they say. I’m a little jealous of him. Being served by a proud Marchioness."

"Maybe she’s already poisoned him. HAHAHAHA."

"Shh, keep it down! You’re finished if she hears you. She’ll cut off your hands and head and nail them to the city walls."

"Relax, she doesn’t understand the Pisan dialect. She’s a thoroughbred Teuton, just like her Teutonic mother."

"..."

The banquet feast was exceptionally lavish. Even the leftover roast goose, venison, bread, and scraps of eel on the plates would be enough to feed Christ’s poor for several days.

The entertainment was equally extravagant: female rope dancers, acrobats juggling daggers, and a Nativity play that featured not only the requisite Shepherds and Magi but also a few sheep as props.

A French Minstrel from the warm south played a guitar and recited the very popular *Song of Roland*.

No one was interested in Roland’s heroic deeds anymore; the attention of most guests and nobles was drawn to another performance.

It was a troupe of Greek actors, brought back by a nobleman who had recently returned from Constantinople. It was said the troupe had even been summoned for an audience with the Emperor.

The play’s subject matter was rare, but the more learned people present were familiar with it. Its title was *Orpheus and Eurydice*, though it was a heavily modified version.

It told the love story of a musician named Orpheus and his wife. His beloved Eurydice died tragically after being bitten by a venomous snake.

Overcome with grief, Orpheus decided to travel to the Netherworld to beg Hades and Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld, to resurrect his wife.

Orpheus moved Hades with his stirring music and song. They agreed to let Eurydice return to the world of the living, but on one condition: Orpheus could not look back at his wife until they had both returned to the sunlit world.

Orpheus agreed to the condition and began to lead Eurydice back toward the surface.

As they neared the surface, Orpheus, overcome by anxiety and uncertainty, feared that Eurydice was not truly behind him and finally could not resist looking back. As a result, he saw Eurydice right behind him, but because he had broken the condition, she vanished in an instant, spirited back to the Netherworld.

Orpheus lost his chance to resurrect his wife and was once again plunged into deep sorrow.

Eric knew this play. This was how the original story was supposed to go, but to make it more palatable for the Christian faithful, this Greek troupe had heavily modified it, changing Hades’s role to God, and Persephone’s to the Virgin Mary.

However, the core of the story remained unchanged, so it still captured the attention of many. It was far more entertaining than the usual religious plays and morality plays.

Especially when Orpheus broke the pact and Eurydice vanished, almost everyone lamented the musician’s fate. Many noblewomen even began to cry.

When the actors bowed to the audience, the hall erupted in thunderous applause.

"What a foolish story. The Greeks love to wallow in this kind of baseless melodrama." Although Simone was also clapping, he sneered, "So-called drama should provide the audience with some education or useful experience, or perhaps convey good morals. What can this stupid story offer? An absolute waste of time."

"If it can resonate with the audience, whether in joy or sorrow, then it is a good play," said Eric, who stood behind Matilda.

"Is that so? A unique perspective, young Cultivator." Simone gave Eric a polite smile.

"Actually, it’s not without value. It at least reminds us that love can poison a person’s reason," Matilda said suddenly.

"An incisive conclusion! Upon reflection, it is indeed so. The Marchioness’s wisdom leaves me in awe." Simone smiled fawningly.

Just as Simone was about to offer Matilda more compliments, a clear, loud voice suddenly rang out.

"Members of the Governance Council! We are gathered today to deliberate an important agenda. But before that, let us pay our respects to our honored guest of the day: the Marchioness of Tuscany, the Supreme Lord of Pisa City, and the proposer of this motion!

And let us also toast to the long-standing freedom of Pisa City, and to the peace between Tuscan and Pisa!"

The speaker was the Chief Justice of Pisa City, Soderini. As Chief Justice, he was empowered to act on behalf of the Administrative Officer in his absence, which included presiding over the Governance Council meetings.

After he finished speaking, the nobles in the hall gave Matilda a round of enthusiastic applause while raising their glasses.

"To the great Marchioness!"

"To Tuscan and Pisa!"

"To eternal peace and prosperity!"

"To the freedom of Pisa!"

"..."

"Now, without further ado, let us proceed to the vote! On the question of whether to go to war with Milan!" Soderini suddenly and unexpectedly shouted.

This sudden turn of events left Simone momentarily stunned, and the wine glass in his hand slipped, falling to the floor and shattering to pieces.

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