Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks

Reality is not a game; there's no such thing as version updates.

Once a bug-type card is released, it triggers a series of troubles, and more seriously, it can lead to a tarnished reputation, with imitations surpassing the original.

As a professional game developer, Losa knows these all too well.

In the blink of an eye, the final round arrived.

Seeing Prajna throw out a King Baldwin card that amplifies all the melee cards.

Losa countered with a Soul-Stealing Demon card, moving the opposing "King Baldwin" into his own melee area.

He smiled slightly and said, "This kind of play is truly audacious."

Prajna nodded and said, "Indeed, but the more audacious move is yet to come."

With that, he threw out a "Losa Card," destroying the "Baldwin IV Card."

Losa remained unfazed and threw out a Hellish Evil Spirit Card, resurrecting it, moving it back to the board from the graveyard—if devout believers saw their wild gameplay in private, they might vomit blood in anger.

It's simply a blasphemous act!

…

At the break of dawn.

The monastery bells rang.

One could faintly hear the clergy chanting morning prayers in a melodious tone.

The chilling cold brought by the night hadn't disappeared with the appearance of the sun.

The iron gate of the castle rumbled up, and an eagle banner fluttering in the wind was held in Hans's hand as he first walked out of the Lord's Hall.

Losa rode on his steed, a fierce dragon head embroidered with gold thread on the black cloak behind him, below which was a Latin adage—Bathed in Dragon Blood.

Two attendants followed him, carrying a helmet, lance, kite shield, and other equipment for him.

The winged cavalry was neatly lined up, their backs adorned with feathers, inspiring awe.

The Varangian Guard and the veteran soldiers were mixed together; the standard bearer in a bear skin cloak held high the golden eagle badge, and these two units, both belonging to Rome yet separated by countless years, merged into a marvelous unity.

The priests welcomed them from a distance.

A monk, with a bald head leaving only a circle of white curls, wearing a knee-length white robe, strode forward and grasped Losa's arm holding the reins.

This Mediterranean hairstyle, known as Saint Peter's style, differs from the Eastern Orthodox monks, who still use the Saint Paul's style of shaving the head completely.

The monk raised the cross in his hand high and chanted loudly, "Saint Michael be with you, Count Losa; your army shall bathe in the blood of heretics and return victorious."

"Priest Uther, thank you for your blessing."

Losa nodded slightly.

In Hebron, the church's power was weak, with the highest-ranked clergy merely being a seventh-tier priest, worlds apart from the Patriarch of Jerusalem.

Priest Uther smiled ingratiatingly: "Sir, I will pray day and night for you after you depart."

Losa also smiled, saying, "Thanks again, this journey, I shall repay your kindness with the blood of heretics."

He knew Priest Uther's true intentions, either wanting to build a church in the newly acquired land of Losa, among the convert villages, or wanting to share in the credit for converting the heretics.

Unluckily for him, Losa intended to give neither.

If he continued to be uncooperative, Losa would simply ask Archbishop William for help, driving him away and having Urding and his Saint Lazarus Redemption Order take over the churches in Hebron.

Only with insiders like these could Losa feel at ease using them.

The group hurried out of the city, and outside, they met with the recruited peasants led by the Imperial Knights.

The large troop marched in orderly formation on the dirt road.

The peasants who were summoned from far and wide followed nervously with the troop.

They were all armored, but with old Zha Armor and damaged, rusty Scale Armor, along with a few blackened chain armor, all were stocks from Hebron's armory.

The production capacity of the blacksmith workshop was all poured into the production of plate armor, and there was no surplus steel capacity to provide even the simplest chest armor for each of them.

In any case, Losa didn't expect them to make much impact in this battle.

Moreover, this was far better than the hastily summoned "Pilgrim Crusade" of Jerusalem at the time, which couldn't even provide an iron helmet per person.

These recruited peasants of Losa, totaling four hundred, were fully equipped with long spears, armor, helmets, and shields, equivalent to the equipment of the soldier class.

It was considered quite luxurious.

The Imperial Knights all rode tall horses covered in chain mail, correcting them when their formation became disordered.

Some of these peasants underwent military training for as little as a week and couldn't even keep in step with the formation.

The "step" here was not at the level of the military march but just simply keeping pace with their standard-bearer without falling behind or marching in a scattered formation like herding ducks.

In the ranks.

A young farmer, who appeared to be no older than sixteen, wore an overly large helmet and walked while holding onto it, speaking to the Imperial Knight leading them:

"Saint… oh no, Heavenly Father above, Mr. Fabio, do you think we can really return alive this time?"

Fabio, the Imperial Knight who once served as a standard-bearer in the army, was not angered. He merely smiled and asked, "Little Karami, are you afraid?"