Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 459 - 241: The Plan Unfolds (Part 1)

A maiden with long blue-gray hair, wrapped in a white cloak, stood atop the walls of Gaza.

In the distance, one could see an orange grove already bearing green fruit.

And farther still, the endless expanse of the Gobi Desert.

Gaza is a good place, only fifty kilometers from the capital of the Losa Territory, Hebron, and very close to the coastline. Since the time of the Empire, it has been an important trade hub connecting the Fertile Crescent to the Egyptian grain storehouse.

In the past, during the years when the Saracens and the Crusaders coexisted peacefully, there were endless trade convoys entering the land controlled by the Crusaders through this gateway.

But as war ignited, the once constant flow of trade convoys also vanished.

Princess Sibilla is the nominal ruler here, but in reality, it is controlled by "Baron Robert of Toulouse." The baron is not a vassal of Princess Sibilla, merely a steward of the Gaza territory.

Clink.

The maiden deftly used her thumb to pop open a tin box, and with her nimble, slender fingers, she pinched a chocolate cookie and popped it into her mouth.

The sweetness made her eyes narrow slightly.

When did she start developing this addiction to sweets?

She couldn’t quite remember.

Perhaps it was when she first arrived in Saluzzo.

Because she often lost trials to Valentine, her meals were halved as punishment, and she was ostracized by a xenophobic pack of Saluzzo wolves. As a result, when she lay starving in bed, Valentine handed her a box of milk candies.

Or perhaps it was before she even arrived in Saluzzo, every time she visited her kin in the New Continent, she would be given a large handful of colorful candies, which in her mind equated to a warm hometown.

Thinking of these memories.

Chelina pursed her lips, the tenderness in her eyes like ripples stirred by a gentle breeze over a mirror-smooth mountain lake.

This is a rare splendid view.

The noble youth who had been observing for a long time was somewhat dumbstruck, and it took him a while to snap out of his daze—he was the eldest son of Baron Robert, though without a title, he could still be addressed as "sir."

"Miss Chelina!"

The young man’s face turned crimson as he summoned the courage to call out.

Chelina turned her head slightly and frowned, "What’s the matter?"

She certainly noticed the young fellow, just didn’t take him to heart.

The young man stammered, "Have you eaten... If not, we could have some saffron-roasted meat and two glasses of sweet, delicious mead—or do you have other thoughts?"

Chelina, somewhat disinterested, turned her head back, "I’m not hungry."

The disappointment on the youth’s face was evident.

He carefully chose his words and added, "Then how about tonight, my beautiful lady, if you would do me the honor, I assure you, I will prepare a unique banquet."

Chelina rested her elbow on the wall bricks, the wind gently tousling her silky blue-gray hair, and she nonchalantly said, "Do you like me?"

"Ah?"

The young man was caught off guard, "No no no, well, not quite, but..."

"Alright, no need to continue, I’m not interested in you."

Chelina’s face, exquisite yet indifferent, was like an emotionless stone statue. Even if ordinary people admired her appearance, they would feel a sense of unworthiness and dare not approach.

The young man was like this initially as well.

However, the scenery the maiden inadvertently revealed was too captivating.

The young man said a bit unwillingly, "Miss, I know this is abrupt, but I’m certain that from the first moment I saw you, I was deeply attracted to you. Please, give me a chance to show my sincerity."

Chelina’s eyes turned golden, black slits like pinpoints, transforming her from aloof as an ice mountain into a wild panther in an instant.

Her figure seemed to traverse time and space, appearing out of nowhere before the young man. Clang—the longsword unsheathed, the tip held to the young man’s throat. Maintaining this motion, she expressionlessly asked, "How about now?"

The young man was startled.

The chilling killing intent emanating from her made him feel as though he had fallen into an icy abyss.

Is she really going to kill me?

Just because I rashly expressed my desire to court her?

In an instant, the young man’s heart was filled with grievance, like a vast ocean overwhelming the original fear.

The two stood at a standoff for a moment.

Chelina eventually dispelled the activated wolf’s bloodline and retracted the drawn blade.

She stood again a few meters away from the young man as if the previous aura of killing intent had never appeared.

The young man heaved a sigh of relief, though still somewhat lingering in fear, said, "Miss Chelina, I already knew you were the Marquis’s witch consultant, there’s no need to frighten me like that, right?"

"I wasn’t trying to frighten you."

In a nonchalant tone, Chelina’s voice came as she frowned slightly, her beast ears under the brim of her hat trembling a bit as she gazed into the distance.

Following Chelina’s line of sight for a while, the young man vaguely saw that, indeed, a scout seemed to be hurrying their way.

As they got closer, it was revealed that not only was there a Crusaders scout, but also dozens of lightly armored Saracen cavalry trailing behind the scout, occasionally drawing bows and shooting arrows from behind.

Yet the accuracy and strength of the riding bow were quite limited, and after several rounds of shooting, out of dozens of arrows, not a single one hit the scout.

"Heavenly Father above, it’s those damn Saracens, just as Marquis Losa predicted, they’re really here!"

"Quick, spread the word, the Saracen army has arrived, everyone must fulfill their duty to defend the city!"

Shouted the young nobleman loudly.

The soldiers guarding the city walls immediately took action, ringing the brass bell used for alerts on the wall.

After giving his orders, the young man wanted to ask Chelina what exactly was to be done, but upon turning around, he found Chelina already standing on the wall, ready to leap.

He quickly ran forward.

But saw Chelina, like a maple leaf against the wind, gracefully heading towards the incoming scout.

In the terrified gaze of the opponent.

Chelina passed over the scout, arriving behind him.

"I’ll cover your retreat."

Wild airflow stirred up swirling yellow sand.

The Saracen cavalry, looking at this ghostly figure, turned pale, halting their advance, not daring to get closer. They only stopped their mounts, drew bows, and aimed at Chelina and the Crusaders scout who had his back to them.

However, Chelina did not move.

Then saw that all the arrows shot at her were, as if caught up in a storm, rapidly swirling around Chelina.

Chelina’s figure flickered and vanished.

When she reappeared, she was behind the pursuers.

She straightened her robe, slightly creased from the vigorous movement. Behind her, nearly every Saracen soldier had a feathered arrow stuck in their neck, the arrow piercing deep, leaving no chance for rescue.

"This move is called Wind Sword Technique."

A slight smile appeared on her face.

As she turned back.

Chelina’s eyes met the young noble on the city wall whose jaw dropped in astonishment. She waved at him and then, without looking back, walked into the vast Gobi Desert - the Saracen scout had arrived, meaning the enemy was also close to the border.

The assassination plan must be carried out ahead of schedule.

...

Eira Port.

Looking at the imposing Shayue Tribe elders, Mueller remarked with some emotion: "These old bones truly have spirit. I recall they were settled here by Ulm himself, the Kurdish tribesmen, right?"

"Yes, a group of experienced old warriors."

Andreas donned the full Winged Cavalry equipment, including the heroic feather ornament on his back. This would certainly make him the target of enemies, but it was also a crucial way for his soldiers to identify his position in the chaos.

"Andreas, you’re just going to wear this?"

Mueller was somewhat surprised. Though he too wore the full plate armor of an Imperial Knight, he covered it with a cloak, making him not stand out at all in the crowd.

"Someone must be the target, it’s the honor of a Winged Cavalry, Lord Mueller."

Andreas replied with a smile.

But in his heart, he thought — "Vampires shouldn’t be so easy to kill, right?"

After receiving the Initial Embrace from Kurs, he could clearly sense his senses, movements, and physical qualities had improved significantly. When he cut a wound on his hand, it would heal perfectly in no more than fifteen minutes.

Moreover, knowing there would be a hard battle today, the night before, he personally executed a prisoner sentenced to death for robbery — though the process was gruesome, this was his first hearty meal after embracing new life.

"We Imperial Knights won’t lose to you!"

Feeling competitive, Mueller wanted to shed his disguise, but Andreas quickly stopped him. Old Mueller was already advanced in age, and even with the boost from being an Imperial Knight, his combat strength was only above-average Crusader Knight level.

Furthermore, this was a foot battle.

He was truly concerned that the head of Eira Port tax office, appointed personally by his lord, and the chief of the distant expedition fleet, might be killed by the enemy at the outset of the war.

This meant that he alone would have to figure out how to supply the entire Transjordan coalition’s provisions and baggage.

The enemy fleet drew closer.

A total of more than ten large oared sailing warships, massive entities indeed, were a match for Eira Port’s fledgling coast guard fleet. The sailors on the fleet had long hidden their ships in secluded harbor, joining the town guards on land to fight side by side.

"There’s something off about these people."

Andreas furrowed his brow.

He watched as the leading two oared ships crashed into the berth, hardly settled before they dropped the gangplanks, rushing ashore as if a terrifying evil beast lurked beneath the sea.

One oared ship had even its stern pierced by a crossbow cannon, with enormous holes and blood stains on the deck, indicating this vessel had narrowly survived a fierce battle.

Finally, the Saracen soldiers stepped onto land.

Though still somewhat shaken, the Saracen soldiers formed into orderly formations, raising shields like black umbrellas, assembling a wall of long spears akin to the heavy infantry of classical Greek times.