[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations":3,"chapter-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-136":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Nation of Ten Thousand Nations",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2333104,4562,"Chapter 136: On the Road to Aleppo (1)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-136",136,"\u003Cp>“I didn’t think you’d still do this,” Jofroi said with keen interest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar couldn’t help but wear a nostalgic expression. “When I first arrived at Saint Cross Castle, I used to make it for Baldwin.” In fact, during this period, except in places blessed by God—such as “the land flowing with milk and honey”—humanity’s helplessness before nature, fear of technology, and strict control by the Church and monarchy meant agricultural yields were consistently poor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside festivals, grand gatherings, or visits by honored guests, Crusader knights at home ate nothing but bread, cheese, and vegetable soup in endless rotation; meat mostly came from semi-wild pigs, sheep, and aging cattle, chickens, ducks, and game, while fish during fasting periods depended on whether their lands had rivers—if not, only salted fish was available.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even these “masters” prioritized merely keeping their bodies strong enough to endure grueling training and frequent campaigns, not the flavor, color, or texture of food—let alone commoners.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even in the castles of great nobles, cooks were valued not for their culinary skill, but for how quickly and efficiently they could process game, smoke, cure, and dry meat, and accurately identify and store grain and vegetables.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the wealthier lords and kings were still limited by the rarity of ingredients—from elegant swans to narwhals, from onions to saffron. When attending a feast, one judged its quality solely by whether it featured lavish sugar sculptures or saffron-infused broth dyed golden.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even a century or two later, the custom of passing food down the hierarchy persisted. Simply put, food was first served whole to the lord and guests (not cut into pieces); they sliced off what they needed and passed the remainder to lower-ranking guests. After these guests took their portions, the leftovers were given to servants and attendants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only after servants and attendants had meticulously gnawed every last shred of meat from the bones might the bones be tossed to the hounds that darted endlessly around the table—some servants, eating earnestly, would even snap the bones to suck out the marrow; those who didn’t were mocked as acting like lords.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar was fortunate: upon entering Saint Cross Castle, he became Baldwin’s personal attendant, and Baldwin never seemed inclined to give servants bread crumbs, soup dregs, or meat scraps—perhaps because he was already ill by then, accustomed to leaving behind nothing worthy of “gifts.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Cesar carried the pot, boiled a rich broth, and took two bowls, serving each of them an equal portion, Baldwin raised no objection—and thus, naturally, they developed a habit unique to themselves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he and Baldwin became squires and had to stand behind nobles at banquets, serving dishes and pouring wine, neither the King nor Queen Maria forced them to eat the leftovers—had Baldwin not been a prince, someone might have mocked them for being ungrateful, as the scraps from the King and Queen’s plates were surely the most tender and delicious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hmm, how to put it? Queen Maria, then Princess, at least ate neatly (not messy). But King Amalric I, as the Countess of Jaffa had complained, wiped his hand—likely just wiped his nose—with a tablecloth or his outer robe, then grabbed food from the dish, leaving behind remnants so revolting that Cesar recoiled three steps in shock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This period was likely when they stole food most frequently: God’s and the saints’ blessings were making them grow rapidly, and growth demanded energy that didn’t appear out of nowhere. Their stomachs always growled—dry bread was barely better than nothing; the pot on Baldwin’s hearth was never empty, always simmering salted meat stew or warming wine and fruit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At some point, the plump Abbot John began bringing not books or relics when visiting, but food. To be honest, the Gerard family’s secret recipes were truly effective. After devouring a large pot of lamb stew or a box of candied fruits, they always slept soundly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But for Baldwin, he preferred Cesar’s cooking—he never, like the castle chefs, piled on spices to flaunt the dish’s rarity; sometimes the soup served at banquets resembled a bowl of perfume-laced paint, its taste Kexiangerzhi .\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet back then, castle food was still scarce; even with Cesar scouring markets for ingredients, his methods were limited to just a few.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Can we drink it yet? It looks ready—should be ready. What did you put in? Saffron?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jofroi’s barrage of questions pulled Cesar from memory. He looked down at the large pot: the liquid bubbled with a gurgle, white bubbles large and small bursting and rising from the bottom, meat chunks and vegetables rising and falling like fish beneath the surface.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A sharp sniff—first the steam burned his nose, then came the aroma: not the pungent scent of spices, but a rich, sweet fragrance hidden in the vapor, as if it could only be smelled by breaking through it; each wisp long and clear (Jofroi could distinctly identify lamb, wild scallions, and cabbage), piercing deep into his lungs, making his mouth water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” Cesar said. “I only added some beetroot and fresh ginger.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s still precious,” Jofroi said sincerely, straining to widen his eyes to look cuter. Cesar helplessly watched him circle endlessly, refusing to leave—“Want to taste it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jofroi’s face lit up. The nearby cook immediately understood and fetched a wooden bowl as large as a horse’s head—nearly a small barrel. Cesar lifted the ladle and filled it to the brim with lamb and cabbage. The Templar snatched it and dashed out of the kitchen, vanishing in an instant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He always found a quiet, comfortable corner—gulping down this special extra meal before the main feast, claiming, in his words, he was merely tasting for the knights so Cesar wouldn’t misjudge their preferences. Of course, the knights scoffed—every knight, whether Templar, Hospitaller, or Holy Sepulchre, was united in bitter resentment at this moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This is damn miraculous,” Jofroi muttered between gulps of rich broth. “If I’d tasted this soup in my homeland, I might never have come to Arazah.” He spoke disrespectfully, yet he hadn’t expected Cesar to use this method to ease the tension and stiffness within the group.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin’s original intent was good, but he ignored his own status: King of Arazah, and the recent Battle of the Sea of Galilee—the only victory the Crusaders had won in recent years, nearly deemed a miracle. Who could have imagined Nur ad-Din’s tens of thousands crushed overnight by a few hundred knights? Even Nur ad-Din himself fell from his horse and died, becoming a stepping stone beneath this young king’s feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or perhaps he had blind faith in Cesar, believing he could handle everything—including these ninety knights and their squires, armed attendants, and servants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among these knights, some had once campaigned with Amalric I in Egypt, and a few had even received Cesar’s aid on the battlefield—they were unquestionably on Cesar’s side.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after the Crusader main force suffered a crushing defeat at Myle, to make up losses, the three major orders simultaneously transferred members from distant frontlines and recruited new men. Even if they’d heard of Cesar, they were bewildered by tales that sounded like absurd miracles fabricated by clerics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What? He was once a slave, rescued only when he ran to Amalric I’s horse? What? He became Baldwin’s servant in mere days and won the prince’s complete obedience? What? He actually attended the Selection Ceremony with the prince—and that ceremony, meant to be held in the Temple Church, ended with them found asleep before the Holy Sepulchre the next morning?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What? The prince received the Spear of Saint George—rare, but not unbelievable—but his attendant received favor equal to any earl’s or duke’s son? What? They became squires before fourteen, then were promoted to knight-errants, and at the battlefield, as the dying king performed the sword-bestowing ceremony, they became knights while others were still feeding pigs in castles?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What? The new king treats him as a brother, swore an oath of equality—no, no, he truly is the new king’s brother? He’s the only son of Joscelin III, imprisoned in Nur ad-Din’s castle? And birth certificates with palm prints, a fortune of two hundred thousand gold coins, and so on—they suspected at least some were lies concocted by the new king to elevate this servant beyond his rightful station.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They harbored suspicion and speculation, though not enough to confront him directly; instead, they observed and kept distance. Worse still, no one could fathom how Baldwin IV had suddenly thought to draw men from the three major orders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Templars and Hospitallers had always despised each other. The Templars mocked the Hospitallers as weak hypocrites; the Hospitallers retorted that the Templars had sunk into greedy, money-grubbing misers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Knights of the Holy Sepulchre? They had always stood apart from the other orders. Their first Grand Master was the Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre—Godfrey the First, an undisputed saint. Subsequent Grand Masters were always Kings of Jerusalem, their duty to guard the Holy Sepulchre and the True Cross; except when the king himself led a campaign, they rarely joined others’ wars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These young, fiery knights gathered together—it was only natural they’d spark conflict.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Common ways to foster camaraderie elsewhere wouldn’t work here: Templars, Hospitallers, and Holy Sepulchre were all armed monastic orders. Except for the Holy Sepulchre’s Grand Master—who, bound by “Godfrey’s Oath,” must inherit the role—knights renounced worldly desires and devoted themselves to God’s cause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They owned no private property, had no inheritance rights, were forbidden women—could not court noblewomen or visit courtesans. Fortunately, to maintain combat readiness, they could eat meat and drink sparingly, though drunkenness brought reprimand. Their free time was spent training or praying—but except for a few fanatics, neither activity brought joy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So you couldn’t win their loyalty like a king giving gifts, nor like a debauched noble inviting them to brothels, nor through duels, gambling, or dancing. Only hunting remained—but these knights had all seen battle and were chosen men; unless facing a rare case like Count Etienne, ordinary beasts posed no threat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That left only one of humanity’s most basic desires: eating and drinking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Cesar’s world, eating and drinking were indeed the most effective social tools. He could now afford the expense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had saved hundreds of gold coins; after being knighted, King Amalric I granted him a reward; after Baldwin’s ascension, he received three thousand gold coins without hesitation. Queen Mother Maria and the Countess of Jaffa each gave gifts, and various ministers offered presents to curry favor—he was, after all, the new king’s close advisor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus, Cesar’s personal wealth rapidly multiplied tenfold. He also held a fortune of two hundred thousand gold coins—though he merely managed it—yet to say he was penniless was impossible for years to come.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Providing extra meals for the knights was expected—but for him to personally cook for them was beyond expectation. Even more astonishing: he cooked deliciously—no, exquisitely. The same fish, ducks, chickens, pigs—he made them tender, melt-in-the-mouth, richly flavored, with no fishy, sour, or foul odors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not surprising: in this era, people had no way—except spices—to eliminate stench. Wild game aside, even domesticated pigs, chickens, and ducks weren’t castrated; even after smoking, curing, and drying, meat stored too long still carried faint decay.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar used only the freshest—after all, their party numbered over a thousand; they’d finish it all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet when they marched through, villagers fled in terror—this was their innate survival wisdom: no matter what banners these knight-lords flew, they could instantly turn into beasts of plunder, rape, and slaughter—until they reached a nearby castle, explained their purpose, and the lord negotiated purchases from the terrified villagers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, this consumed far more than merely feeding knights dry bread and water—but the heavy burden brought returns. Knights had enormous appetites; luckily, their palates weren’t yet utterly dead. Daily meals became their most anticipated event—though the envoys’ clerics hesitated, they soon fell silent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were clerics, yes, but clerics of the orders—still mounted for battle, dismounted to tally accounts, their days blending physical and mental labor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fasting was a fine form of penance—but if one could wake comfortably and enjoy a fine meal, who would refuse?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jofroi was the only knight who could openly claim the first or extra portion every day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hadn’t been killed yet—every conflict had faded before “Jofroi’s extra meal”—thanks entirely to Cesar’s favor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This old knight had favored Cesar since he was a mere page, doting on him. Even after Cesar endured nearly unbearable deeds at his hands, there was no doubt: Jofroi remained one of his benefactors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even today, he stood by Cesar. On departure day, his cry of “My Lord Count” was both jest and warning: though knights harbored doubts, one truth remained unshakable—Cesar was the sole heir to the County of Edessa; before his father Joscelin III returned to Arazah, he was the only one entitled to speak on Edessa’s affairs—and he was also the King of Arazah’s cousin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They could disbelieve—but they must respect. Otherwise, Cesar had the authority to punish them, even hang them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This allowed Cesar to pass the following days in peace. Now, “Never anger the cook”—this saying held true everywhere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He handed the next tasks to the Christian cook who had been watching his every move, studying him intently, then stepped out of the humble kitchen, inhaling deeply the brilliant morning light and cool air. The knights had already emerged from their tents or rooms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had rested overnight in this small village, belonging to the Saracens, but their party included envoys from Aleppo; after brief explanations, they secured some rooms. Other knights had to camp outside the village—but even had enough rooms, knights would hardly sleep peacefully under enemy eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, nothing happened last night; everyone was fine. They hurried to the open ground. There was no great hall like in castles for shared meals—but since it was food, formality didn’t matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They followed their habits: some shared a steaming lamb pot, others divided it into their own wooden bowls and ate alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jofroi had returned. He casually asked for another large bowl of broth, as if he’d eaten nothing at all, then devoured it again with gusto. After finishing, he tossed the bowl to his squire, who immediately ate the remaining vegetables, drained the last drops of broth, licked the bowl’s bottom and rim longingly, then walked to the well to wash it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s for lunch?” Jofroi wiped his mouth—he’d never bothered before, but if anyone greasy came near, Cesar vanished three miles away. “We’ll reach Bosra by noon.” A city near Damascus, small but prosperous. “We may be invited to a feast.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, formal banquets were held at night, but the local officials would certainly provide food at noon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jofroi grunted, reluctantly leaving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When we reach Bosra, we’ll buy spices and ingredients,” Cesar said helplessly. Jofroi didn’t turn, still facing away, but raised his hand in a gesture of divine blessing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Cesar said, the Bosran authorities, upon receiving word of the embassy, hurried to prepare. Learning they needed spices and food, they immediately sent carts of wheat, barley, beef, and lamb—even some pork.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Saracens didn’t eat pork—yet they provided fresh pork. Clearly, they had gone to great lengths.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Look what this is?” Cesar held out a small box to Jofroi. Jofroi opened it: inside lay a neat box of saffron—this precious spice should be offered to kings or viceroys. Jofroi lazily sniffed; the intense scent made him turn away and sneeze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He needs something from you—or us,” the old knight said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2580,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","77c02a44e75103618d0cb23cc7ced35d5c955be94dc791ef9558ef57e072c710","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-137","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-135",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]