Medieval Gacha Lord-Chapter 71: The Hashashin

Chapter 71: The Hashashin

The Treasurer, Richard, who had hurried over, happened to cross paths with Count Philip, who was leaving in a huff. "Milord, did you have a conflict with Count Philip?"

Lothar nodded. "He tried to assert his authority over me. Unfortunately for him, he got thoroughly rebuffed."

Treasurer Richard said seriously, "Milord, Lord Philip enjoys high prestige within the Knightly Order because he is a very generous commander. Many have benefited from his largesse."

The unspoken implication, naturally, was a hope that Lothar would handle this matter with caution.

"How do you think he will try to deal with me?"

Richard hesitated for a moment, then said, "It will be nothing more than inciting those knights and sergeants who have benefited from him to feign compliance while secretly disobeying your orders. Then, he’ll seize upon any oversight on your part to use as a means to attack you in the council, ideally rallying nobles close to him to pressure His Majesty into relieving you of your duties."

Lothar nodded slightly; he could have thought of these tactics himself. There was nothing particularly sophisticated about them. But unsophisticated didn’t mean ineffective.

"Richard, by telling me these things, aren’t you afraid that if Count Philip one day ascends to the position of Grand Master, he will cause trouble for you?"

Richard looked at Lothar, who had a knowing half-smile, his expression frank. "Milord, I very much liked what you said in the great hall. The situation in the Holy Land is as precarious as a pile of eggs. If we do not unite, we will all become corpses under the infidels’ blades."

Lothar nodded. "Let’s hope this Philip is smart enough not to cause me trouble."

The Knightly Order had only so much strength; if Count Philip were to split off a portion of it, that was something Lothar absolutely could not tolerate.

Dealing with Philip was actually simple: just throw down a gauntlet before him in full public view. Lothar was confident of victory. And the martial Franks only ever followed the strong. Even if Philip refused the challenge, his reputation would be ruined, and he would be unable to stir up any more trouble.

Guy had challenged Balian with such confidence initially, but the result was the complete opposite; Balian, aided by an unknown witch, had seemed like a god descended, and with a flurry of old-fashioned fisticuffs, had pummeled Guy of Lusignan into a daze.

"Come with me, Treasurer. I have more things to ask you." Lothar turned and walked back into the main hall.

***

After a busy afternoon, the affairs of the Knightly Order began to get on track. Various backlogged documents were sent to the great hall for Lothar to peruse and process.

There were actually quite a few trivial matters within the order, such as minor frictions between colleagues, or two knights coming to blows because one had encroached on a part of the other’s fief.

Or, for instance, an Eastern porcelain vase had gone missing from the royal palace some time ago; an investigation revealed a certain person had stolen it, and how to deal with it, and so on.

Such minor matters were countless. In the past, Baron Godfrey would probably have just waved his hand and delegated them to Count Philip. The consequence of such delegation of power was that it allowed Count Philip to form a faction within the Knightly Order capable of opposing Lothar, the Grand Master personally appointed by the King.

In the evening, Lothar put down his quill pen. He had finished reviewing the last document and had gained a deeper understanding of the Knightly Order’s internal network.

After Baron Godfrey and his confidants were transferred out of the Royal Knights, many positions had become vacant. But these positions couldn’t be directly granted to cavalrymen loyal to Lothar, because they lacked knightly titles; as commoners, they simply wouldn’t command respect.

And Lothar was unwilling to make an exception and promote these cavalrymen, who had not yet achieved great merit, to knighthood. Being selected as cavalry was already a form of grace. This meant Lothar could only choose to recruit talent from within the Knightly Order itself to fill the various key positions.

This was also a good thing; if handled properly, it could win over a great many hearts.

Lothar stood up, stretching his arms and legs. In the candlelight, Banu was engrossed in a book; judging by the cover, it was likely a theological tome. On the other side, Fringilla had already slumped over the table, fast asleep.

"Hans, Banu, the three of us will take a walk. We’ve been sitting here all afternoon; it’s time to move around."

Banu closed her book and rose.

Hans inquired, "Milord, where are we going? Do we need to wear armor?"

"Just within the royal palace, we won’t go far. We shouldn’t encounter any danger. I plan to see if those knightly lords are slacking off and pick a few to make an example of," Lothar instructed.

’The good old carrot and a stick tactic.’ He planned to pick a few people to make an example out of them lest these fellows think he was a pushover and dare to side with Count Philip to cause him trouble.

The group walked through the royal palace. Even in the royal palace, it wasn’t brightly lit at midnight; many areas were pitch black, with only a dim oil lamp burning in the corridors.

Lothar instructed Hans, "This corridor connects two great halls. If someone were to infiltrate, this is a necessary path. Logically, it should definitely be patrolled. Make a note of it; ask Richard later who is responsible for the defense of this area."

They continued deeper into the corridor. The sky outside was very dark. Lothar pulled his surcoat tighter around him, feeling it was particularly cold tonight.

Hans suddenly stopped, his voice urgent. "Milord, there’s a smell of blood!"

In the dark, rainy night, Hans’s pupils glinted with an eerie light. He crouched down, pointing to the corner of a stone pillar. By the candlelight, a drop of crimson could vaguely be seen. "There’s fresh blood here, looks like it was left not long ago."

Lothar frowned and said in a low voice, "Hans, how many do you think there are?"

Hans hesitated.

"Trust your instincts!"

"About ten. The danger level should not be high."

"Looks like we’re quite lucky," Lothar quipped.

This probably wasn’t due to his bad luck, encountering assassins on his very first day in office, but rather Count Philip trying to flex his muscles by reassigning some subordinates loyal to himself, thereby creating a loophole in the palace defenses.

’That fucking idiot!’ Lothar cursed inwardly. This now gave him a reason to kick Count Philip out of the Knightly Order, though he couldn’t execute a Count for such a major lapse.

"Let’s go. We can’t let these assassins succeed. Otherwise, my position as Grand Master, which I’ve held for less than a day, will be in jeopardy."

Outside the corridor, the sound of drizzling rain gradually began. The rain that had been brewing for so long had finally started to fall.

Hans walked at the very front. He possessed the werewolf’s outstanding sense of smell; even in human form, he could follow the scent of blood to track the enemy.

Soon, Lothar heard the faint sounds of fighting from ahead. A heavily wounded, dying knight lay on the ground, one of his legs severed, blood gushing out.

"Grand... Grand Master! Quickly, save Her Highness the Princess! They are... Hashashin!" The knight, upon seeing Lothar, seemed to grasp at a lifesaving straw.

Lothar’s expression changed slightly.

It was said that the first Old Man of the Mountain, Hassan, had spent a fortune to purchase a castle in Persia, naming it the "Alamut" (Eagle’s Nest), and within it, had created an earthly paradise filled with countless beautiful women, delicacies, and fine wine.

He adopted young children from all over the world, trained them as assassins, then sent them into this "paradise" to enjoy themselves, only to drug them one day and expel them.

The Hashashins, upon waking, were like drug addicts in withdrawal, single-mindedly wanting to "achieve redemption" to return to paradise. Therefore, they had no fear of death; on the contrary, death was their pursuit.

This was an extremely troublesome group of death warriors!

Lothar had no time to tend to the knight. He drew his arming sword and rushed inward, his leather boots, reinforced with mail chausses, splashing through the mud and water.

He had just dashed through a corridor when a sharp blade, whistling through the air, slashed down towards him. Lothar raised his arming sword and easily parried the blow, then, with immense force, hacked back at his opponent.

A bloody head rolled onto the ground. The assassin who had launched the surprise attack was decapitated by Lothar with a single stroke before his face could even be seen.

The sudden drop in temperature at night made even Lothar’s breath visible as white puffs.

Blood Magic: Bloodfall was already activated!

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