Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks

Outside the city, in the chaotic siege camp.

Tariq, who was handling the gathering of routed soldiers, organizing the army to extinguish fires, and rescuing supplies, was astonished to see the closed gates of Alandler City open once more.

Iron hooves, like drumbeats, pounded on his heart.

Those armored knights with iron faces, whose mounts were covered in a layer of scale armor or chain mail horse armor, silently raised their lances adorned with various square banners.

Under the lead of the female knight at the forefront, they once again charged out of Alandler City's gates with a momentum like an avalanche.

The winged cavalry followed behind the Imperial Knights, each holding a three-meter-long hollow lance, the feather ornaments on their backs whistling as they sliced through the air at high speed.

Unlike the Imperial Knights, they were not fully armored, serving as "light heavy cavalry," combining impact and mobility, much like the Magyar cuirassiers.

This also resulted in their defense not being as terrifying as the fully-plate-armored Imperial Knights in front.

Therefore, they followed behind these tin-can-like Imperial Knights, using them to shield themselves from the enemy's arrows.

Dust rolled thickly.

The panicked Saracens had no idea how many "cross-bearing demons" had surged out again from the city.

The Saracen camp, which had just regained a bit of order, once again seemed as if a heavy bomb had been dropped on it, and the farmer soldiers, holding water jugs to put out fires, scattered in all directions.

Tariq did not hesitate for a moment, leading over a hundred Mamluk Imperial Guard to his brother-in-law.

"Tariq, what are you standing there for? Hurry and stop those Frankish cavalry!"

Tariq shouted, "Zane, we're defeated! There's no chance of turning the tide; we must immediately evacuate the camp."

Zane, with his upright spine, seemed suddenly drained of strength.

He had only one-sixth of his large army as cavalry, and more than half of those were light cavalry conscripted from various tribes, with his elite forces consisting of only five hundred armored infantry and two hundred Mamluk Imperial Guards.

Additionally, he had borrowed five hundred armored infantry from his own brothers, and three hundred light infantry skilled in using bows, catapults, and javelins.

Choosing to retreat would mean he must abandon all the infantry under his command.

This made his heart, which was already aching to the point of bleeding, feel as if it would shatter like glass.

Tariq urged quickly, "Zane, retreat with the Mamluk Personal Guard, abandon Eira Port and join your brother. You'll still be a lord. But if you lose even the Mamluk Personal Guard, you won't be worth a single copper coin."

Zane was shocked, and with some difficulty, he opened his mouth.

"Alright, we'll do as you say!"

...

"Those Saracen cavalry are retreating!"

Jeanne laughed heartily, "It's not that simple!"

She removed her helmet, her golden hair fluttering in the wind, her slightly hoarse voice echoing in the ears of the knights, "Winged cavalry, stop them!"

Behind her, the city gates opened again.

The Varangian Guard, wearing chain armor helmets and spine helmets, covered in heavy chain mail and wearing white cloaks for sun protection, looked vastly different from their counterparts in the Eastern Empire.

At that moment, they marched with heavy steps, like a group of fierce tigers, wielding double-bladed axes as they charged toward the Saracen camp.

Behind them, a scattered queue of farmer soldiers, faces full of fervor.

From atop the city walls, they had witnessed everything clearly, and in their hearts, they held a profound disdain for the Saracen soldiers, who seemed like nothing more than a ragtag mob.

Now, their morale was high, eager to rush onto the battlefield for a round of plundering and killing.

In truth, they were also nothing more than a ragtag mob.

A short half-month of queue training couldn't transform them into an elite force.

But with the advantages of equipment and morale, and with the fierce warriors of the Varangian Guard at the forefront, facing an opponent whose morale had utterly collapsed and who had no semblance of organization left, the outcome of this battle was never in doubt.

Alandler City is now an empty city.

If another army were to emerge at this time, launching a surprise attack on the unguarded Alandler, or the pagan nobles within the city whom Losa hadn't yet dealt with were to rebel, perhaps the outcome of this battle would be different.

But there are no "ifs" in this world.

Inside the city, the pagan nobles who had previously escaped mishap, some just expressing intentions to rebel, were met with a chilling glare from the tenant farmers who had just received their land.

The binding of interests is always the surefire way to ensure the loyalty of subjects.

...

The Mamluk cavalry, clad in black scale armor, equipped with riding bows and long spears, were escorting Zane and Tariq, racing across the wilderness.

"Tariq, they're catching up with us!"

Behind.

The rolling dust grew closer.

Zane turned to look back, his face turning pale immediately, only to see those strange cavalry with feathered equipment on their backs already flanking from both sides unnoticed.

The distance between the two sides was rapidly closing.

At this point, the Imperial Knights lagged behind the winged cavalry, as their heavier equipment was more suited to charging the enemy rather than pursuing.

"I'll go stop them."

Tariq gave his brother-in-law a deep look, "Be good to my sister, Zane."

Zane felt a pang in his heart.

Solemnly, he said, "I swear by the holy flame, if I take any wife other than your sister, may I plunge into endless fire prison, to burn for eternity."

Tariq patted his shoulder, then silently took a team of his personal guards and went to meet the enemy.

His personal guards split into two teams on his command midway, flanking left and right to intercept the encroaching winged cavalry.

Dust billowed around.

Zane could only hear violent clashes, shouts, and screams fading away, unable to see anything clearly anymore.

Moments later.

From the dust, a pair of wings resembling blood-stained swan feathers emerged first.

The winged cavalry, like demons, bathed in blood, charged out again.

Zane's heart sank heavily.

Tariq's personal guards, who had been depleted defending Alandler and then rebuilt as elite, couldn't even hold the enemy for such a brief time?

...

Losa had no idea at what stage the battle had reached at Alandler, hundreds of miles away.

But he was well aware of Jeanne's command prowess.

It's hard to imagine that a country girl, without education or prior military command, possessed such skills.

Her legendary background indeed evokes a thought that unless divinely inspired, it's unfathomable that such a person could exist.

At the banquet, drinking with many nobles and knights, occasionally glancing at the Gwent card games, Losa never worried about Jeanne losing.

"Losa, let me drink with you."

Otto, with drunken eyes, raised his glass and approached.

Losa couldn't help but frown, "This is a social event; getting to know some of the visiting nobles would benefit you. Why are you getting drunk?"

Losa saw he was very drunk and couldn't help but be a little speechless.

"Many have compared me to you, and I'm sincerely happy for you—but people constantly comparing us can get tiring."

It's only human to feel conflicted emotions when comparing ourselves with someone close who is more successful.