[{"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-54":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},2333022,4562,"Chapter 54: Celebration (Part 2)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-54",54,"\u003Cp>“You’re saying we’re going to be squires?” Cesar asked quietly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll become a squire-in-training, you’ll be a squire, but we both must serve our lord—my father, Amalric I,” Baldwin whispered, worried Cesar might be upset, given he had once openly admitted Cesar was his brother.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t unheard of for pages or even valets to skip the squire stage and become squires-in-training directly—sometimes for marriage purposes; after all, a knight marrying a noblewoman sounded far better than a squire marrying one. But a fourteen-year-old boy could marry—he couldn’t become a knight outright…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then there’s the matter of land tenure. We all know: the king grants fiefs to nobles, nobles grant fiefs to knights, and in this era, every grant came with land—even just a bridge or a mill—and knights must serve their lords, such as providing a set number of days per year for warfare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If a knight died suddenly and his overlord was preparing for war or wished to reclaim the fief, the eldest son—even if under fourteen—had to don armor, mount a horse, raise a banner, and take up the duties.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But to do that, first you need a horse, armor, and weapons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Étienne and the Templar Geoffroy were giving Cesar money, fearing he’d be envied by petty people and harassed in this place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I wasn’t so base as to forbid Baldwin from equipping his young companion with armor—but the problem was, if he did, people would think Cesar either too naive or too greedy, saying: “The prince has already given him enough; yet he still begs the prince for a chainmail hauberk…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though many squires remained so their entire lives simply because they couldn’t afford armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Amalric I still devised a plan to let Baldwin become a squire-in-training first. “Isn’t that better?” Cesar murmured. “When the king promised me, if you became a knight, I’d be your squire—he kept his word, and I’m deeply grateful.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin nodded. “You’ll be promoted soon too—once there’s war. There’s always war here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then they sat up straight. This might be the last time in years they’d sit at a table eating during such a grand feast. Once they became squires and squires-in-training, they’d have to begin their duties—serving their lord, Amalric I.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No more sitting, eating, watching poets and dwarves perform. Throughout the entire banquet, they’d have to stand behind Amalric I and the new lady, Maria, slicing meat, serving soup, pouring wine—and only after the feast ended could they join the other pages and squires, rushing to the kitchen to fill their empty stomachs with stale bread and stew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some pages and squires would scavenge their master’s leftover scraps—but Baldwin and Cesar wouldn’t do that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In fact, Cesar was even luckier than Baldwin—Baldwin had actually fed pigs, though it felt more like a game.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar, upon arriving, served only Baldwin, who was such a gentle, kind boy, treating him like a friend and brother. Others had neither the right nor the will to command him—Wit’s threats had come before, and they feared getting too close to Cesar might infect them with leprosy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now that he’d received the blessing, that possibility was nearly gone—meaning the real test for Cesar was just beginning. Cesar remembered: squires all slept together in one room, on a single bed stuffed with straw, wrapped in sheepskins or sheets, enduring lice, fleas, and bedbugs in turn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It hadn’t been so terrible before—but since Prince Baldwin fell ill, he’d moved to the left tower. Few dared to live with him, or Amalric I forbade it, so all former residents of the left tower were relocated to the right tower…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People like David and Abigail might get a small room—but Cesar certainly wouldn’t.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d have to put cleaning the room on his schedule, Cesar thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the start of the feast, Princess Maria had already changed out of her previous attire—not because it was stained with bear and human blood—but because she’d donned Frankish clothing. This gesture pleased everyone present, including Byzantines; after all, in Byzantine weddings, foreign brides always changed into Byzantine dress, as Manuel I had done when he married Mary of Antioch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When everyone had had their fill, Princess Maria returned to her chambers. Their wedding would be held in June; in the meantime, King Amalric I would host several tournaments, followed by feasts, and he himself would participate in one or two.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Use this time,” Heraclius also said, “to enjoy yourselves. After June, you’ll be busy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar wished he’d just stop talking. He even felt a bit resentful toward his companion—though Baldwin had delivered the news as good tidings, Cesar couldn’t appreciate the fierce, dazzling battles; his attention was entirely drawn to the squires darting about.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had to help knights don armor, helmets, spiked boots; lead horses, carry lances, swords, and axes; hang a mace at their waist; and when the knight reached out, they had to know instantly which weapon to hand him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a typical one-on-one joust, the answer was simple: first, the lance. If both riders fell, or one fell but the other wished to continue fighting, then they fought on foot with swords. If that still ended in a draw, or one stubbornly refused to yield, it became bare-handed combat…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in chaotic melees, it was no different from a real battlefield. Squires had to read their master’s intentions and estimate the opponent’s strength—whether to offer a mace, a battle-axe, or a flail.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When battle began, they had to stay close to their master. Many knights were unhorsed at first contact; squires had to seize the chance, clear the area by brute force, drag their dazed lord from the fray, lead away his horse, haul both man and steed to the edge of the field, remove his helmet, wipe his face, and assess his wounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the knight could still fight, the squire gave him wine and repeated the entire process.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such melees would last all day, after which the king would declare the victors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the knight lost, the squire had to take over the horse’s duties—the loser forfeited his armor, horse, and weapons, and had to pay his ransom. The squire had to carry his bruised, possibly wounded master back to the tent. Sometimes, furious knights blamed their squires for their defeat and beat them into screams.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, such knights were few.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar also noticed something interesting: in melee combat, if a squire performed exceptionally well, he could be poached… Sometimes a knight would directly approach the squire he favored and try to persuade him; sometimes he’d negotiate with the squire’s lord. If the requester was of higher rank or offered money, the lord usually agreed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In their spare time—which, yes, they still had some—Cesar would sneak with Baldwin into the knights’ encampment. Since the tournament would last a full month, Amalric I had set aside a section within the Saracen quarter for them to eat, rest, and polish armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Saracens demanded a large sum.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did the king pay?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My father said,” Baldwin replied, “those who fight for God do not owe the Saracens money.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a hellish joke. The First Crusade began in 1097; since knights had to equip and supply themselves, beyond plundering their own subjects, they ruthlessly looted and slaughtered the local Saracens. Henry IV was horrified, believing this wasn’t what Christ’s warriors should do.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But they answered him: “We fight for God—how could we owe the Saracens?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They should’ve known,” Cesar couldn’t help remarking, “the Byzantine blood still seeps in the cracks, never washed clean by rain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Were these Saracens mad for money? The Crusader knights had despised them from the start; they’d slaughtered countless Saracens when retaking the Holy City, and still viewed them as dogs ready to betray Christ at any moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I hadn’t seized their property—only asked them to temporarily vacate the residential area—and hadn’t barred them from doing business with knights. Yet they still demanded rent from the king?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s how Saracens are,” Baldwin hesitated. “Be careful when dealing with them. If you’re short on coin, borrow from me. If you need to buy anything, speak to the castle steward. Those Saracens can strip the skin off the devil himself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A knight spotted them, then quickly turned away. Though Baldwin and Cesar had left the castle dressed simply—in white robes and black-gray wool sleeveless cloaks, with leather belts—they looked like ordinary boys. But once inside the camp, Baldwin drew his golden cross, and told Cesar to do the same.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The moment they saw the golden crosses, they knew these weren’t men to be ordered around. Yet many eyes still fixed on them—some recognized them, others didn’t, but all stared at Cesar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar was watching the squires.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Almost all the busy figures outside the tents were squires. Only a few impoverished knights helped each other or tended to themselves alone—they clearly hadn’t won any tournaments, or else they could’ve sold their loot to merchants for coin and hired someone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fighting was exhilarating—but the aftermath was maddeningly tedious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Knights didn’t wear armor directly. Under the helmet was a padded cap, shaped like a nightcap, with laces on both sides to tighten it. If the knight had long hair, he wore a hairnet too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the chainmail was a gambeson—a quilted padded tunic with a high collar, preventing chafing and absorbing some blunt-force trauma. Over that was the surcoat, bearing a coat of arms to declare identity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once wet—whether from sweat on the battlefield or a shipwreck—they had to be stripped off immediately, lest the devil’s wind bring fever, or the chainmail rust.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, some knights didn’t care for their armor—but if it was captured loot, most pieces, except those too damaged to repair, were cleaned and patched. Chainmail couldn’t be washed in water; squires used cleaning barrels.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the name suggests, a cleaning barrel was an oak tub mounted on a stand, like a roasting chicken, turned by a curved crank. It had a lid that could be opened to insert rusty chainmail and sand. Once sealed, the squire would vigorously spin the barrel—a labor of strength. Chainmail weighed about fifty pounds; sand, another ten. Baldwin watched the squire strain, face twisted, teeth clenched, and his own expression darkened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They won’t…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ve never done it,” Baldwin admitted—he’d never been a squire either. “Even if I’m promoted directly to squire-in-training, Father will still make me do this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar coughed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One squire was polishing chainmail; another was polishing a helmet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He spread his legs, sat on a small stool, fixed the helmet on a block of wood, first rubbed it with a rough stone, then with a bundle of coarse hemp rope, finally wiped it with a wool pad until it gleamed like a mirror. He examined his reflection—satisfied with his face or his craftsmanship, he spat on the helmet and wiped it with his sleeve…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar involuntarily glanced toward the closed tent, hoping his master wouldn’t happen to step out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not far away, another squire was hammering another helmet with a small mallet. The helmet had clearly been struck hard by a blunt weapon—no one knew if its original owner’s head had survived. This was because beside his feet lay several other helmets, differing in size and crest—his master must have been extraordinarily fierce.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After hammering for a while, the squire studied it, sighed, and gave up. No matter what he did, he couldn’t restore it to its former state. “Master!” he shouted through the tent’s gap. “Next time, watch your strength—even for the ransom!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A man stepped out of the tent. His youth startled Baldwin and Cesar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh?” He noticed them before the clumsy squire did. “Who are these two young lords?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1951,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ad0dee930c4b57d7b745a2bbd416083bc7b3c2c07f32b168280106ea80aa4949","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-55","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-53",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]