A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Eric had anticipated Odo would try to obstruct him, so he had inflated the numbers in his request.

Fifty Knights and one hundred Crossbowmen, plus the fifty Knights led by Belem, the latrine-fixer—that number would be just about enough.

But Eric didn’t care how many Knights and soldiers he could command. Leading a massive army was meaningless if it couldn’t achieve victory, and Eric derived no pleasure from meaningless endeavors.

What he cared about now was something else.

During the day’s assault on London City, Conqueror William had never shown himself. Instead, it was Rufus who had been shouting at the front lines.

No matter how much Conqueror William favored that son, having grown increasingly arrogant since taking the throne of England, he would never conceal himself like this.

Logically, with his most despised son, Robert, leading a rebellion against him and besieging the central city of his Kingdom with a superior force, he should have at least come out to hurl a few insults. That would have been normal.

This situation could only mean that Conqueror William was either tied up with something or busy with another matter.

’What could he be busy with?’

The only logical guess Eric could come up with was that the man wasn’t in London City at all. He was outside the walls, perhaps watching their army from some hidden corner, trying to find the right opportunity to crush them.

Eric clearly remembered that about twenty years ago, when Conqueror William was merely the Duke of Normandy, his Supreme Lord, the Old French King Henry I, had allied with Blois, Anjou, and Aquitaine to try and destroy his rule in Normandy with overwhelming military superiority.

In that war, Conqueror William had used this exact method to easily crush the Old French King’s allied army and successfully defended Normandy.

Conqueror William was clearly a master of this tactic, and the army Eric and Robert had gathered was certainly no larger than the one the Old French King had raised.

If Conqueror William could easily defeat the Old French King’s army when he had just come of age twenty years ago, then it was even more likely he could defeat Robert’s army now.

Eric took the troops Robert had allocated him and went to the high slope where they had first observed London City.

The slope’s position was excellent. The terrain outside London City was flat, and this was one of the few places with a clear view of the city.

The sky was clear tonight, the moonlight unobstructed by clouds, allowing for a relatively clear view of the bonfires on the London city gate.

Eric planted the main standard on the high slope. The oncoming hill wind wasn’t fierce, but it was not gentle as it blew against the banner, and because of this, the two lions on its surface were fully displayed.

Eric had his men place a large amount of firewood around the main standard.

Before long, Belem arrived on the slope with his fifty Knights and saw the firewood packed densely around the standard.

"Are you planning some kind of ritual? Burn the standard as an offering to God? It’s nighttime, and we’re in a high place. The fire will expose our position." Belem dismounted and walked to Eric’s side.

"I want everyone to see our position."

"Huh? Why? Brother Eric, you should know that it’s common for the besieged party to launch a night raid on the besiegers. Rufus might be counting on a night attack to defeat us."

"You even know that?"

Eric looked at Belem, a little surprised.

"Of course! My old man is Roger de Montgomery. That old coot may not have a spine, but he knows a thing or two about war. Besides, I was knighted at fifteen! I was the tournament champion of Bayeux, and the champion of the Lance competition at that.

A Knight’s most important skill is with the Lance. Swordsmanship and all that is mostly just for entertainment. And that day, the day we dueled, I hadn’t eaten breakfast, so my reflexes were a bit slow..."

Belem grew more animated as he spoke, reaching out to pat Eric’s shoulder.

Just as his hand was about to touch Eric, Eric quickly caught him by the sleeve, holding his hand up.

"Why do you have a strange smell on you?" Eric wrinkled his nose.

"I didn’t dare use a Torch just now and accidentally fell into a cesspit. Those uncouth louts don’t even know to put the lid back on after they’re done."

Belem gave a couple of awkward laughs and waved his hand, trying to ease the embarrassment.

"Have you finished scouting the west?"

"More than that. I’ve finished scouting the north, west, and east."

"You finished scouting the east already? So fast?"

"There’s a huge patch of swamp to the east. There was no need to go in deep; the Warhorses couldn’t get through at all."

"A swamp?" Eric mulled over the word, quickly pulling the map of London City from his coat.

His gaze quickly shifted to the eastern side of London City on the map.

Indeed, there was a swamp northeast of London City, but according to the area marked on the map, it shouldn’t have been very large.

Eric put the map away, walked over to Leif, and stuffed a horn into his hands. Then, he took a whistle from his coat.

He blew a test note on the whistle.

"Leif, remember this sound. If, in a little while, I blow this whistle twice in a row, you are to light all of this firewood. Then, you blow this horn. Make sure it’s loud.

After that, if I blow the whistle three times in a row, you are to take your men and run back to the main camp immediately. Don’t worry about the standard; leave it here."

Leif nodded.

With that, Eric vaulted onto his horse and shouted to the Knights beside him, "Everyone, mount up!"

"Brother Eric, what are you going to do?" Belem asked, confused.

"Take me to the east, now. I want to see that swamp. Quickly!"

"What are you yelling so loud for?"

Belem seemed a little displeased, but he still mounted his horse, spurred his Warhorse to the front of the group, and led the way for Eric.

After about ten minutes, Belem stopped his horse.

Eric took out his map again. Based on the direction they had just traveled, there shouldn’t be a swamp here.

’The map I got from the system was drawn according to the real conditions of this era. It can’t possibly be wrong.’

He quickly dismounted and ran toward the patch of swamp.

"Eric! The swamp is right ahead!" Belem shouted.

It was now late at night, and the tall trees here blocked the moonlight, making it difficult to distinguish the swamp from solid ground with only the light of a Torch.

Belem only remembered its general location.

Sure enough, one of Eric’s feet found no purchase and sank in.

’Did the system really make a mistake?’

’Impossible...’

Eric stepped in with his other foot, and it sank as well.

Eric held up a hand, stopping the Knights who were coming to rescue him.

He twisted his body, trying to sink deeper.

His body did indeed sink lower. Soon it was up to his knees. However, just as the mire reached his thighs, he found he couldn’t sink any further, no matter how much he struggled.

He then waved to a nearby Knight, took the Torch from his hand, and used its light to illuminate the mud beneath him.

"There’s no peat moss, no sedge."

He plunged his hand into the mire, feeling for the solid ground behind him. The soil was perfectly flat.

’Damn it, this swamp is fake!’

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