[{"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-56":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},2333024,4562,"Chapter 56: The Guest of the Eagle","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-56",56,"\u003Cp>“I beseech all knights and squires who accept this challenge: do not think that I hold this tournament out of pride, hatred, vanity, or any evil intent. My sole desire is to gain your friendship and praise.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This edict, personally signed by Amalric I, was copied by monks and meticulously inscribed onto a wooden board three feet square, the first letter enlarged and surrounded by depictions of saints and ornamental patterns, erected at the entrance to the tournament grounds so all who entered or left could see it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These words also appeared in the holy lands and far beyond—most distant, as we all know, in England, where the undefeated knight William Ma Xieer, who had never lost a single duel or joust, came upon hearing King Yalasalu’s challenge and invitation posted on the notice board in London, and hastened here without delay.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In some small towns there may have been no notice boards, and some lords could not read; thus, “messengers” rode through forests, rivers, and swamps to deliver the news to castles and fortresses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tournament held by Amalric I for his wedding is said to last several months—a remarkable duration, yet not unheard of, for it takes one or two months merely for knights to arrive from all corners of the land, and for the next three or four months, more will continue to trickle in—if the tournament were limited to the usual six to eight weeks, many knights would still be en route when it ended.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The announcements and challenge letters also specified the tournament’s location and the rules knights must follow: no plundering of villagers along the way, no unauthorized combat (even against Saracens), no crimes, no destruction of forests, fields, or wells—things knights had done before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, participation in the tournament was not free; knights must pay fees according to their rank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I also named Raymond, Count of Tripoli, as the tournament’s host—a knight famed for his fairness and strictness; even William Ma Xieer, far beyond the Holy Land, admitted that every match Raymond presided over was impartial, and when rendering correct judgments, he often showed mercy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he noticed knights in tattered armor or with aged horses, he would urge them to withdraw; if they refused, he gave them money to replace their armor and mounts before returning to fight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether the knight used the money to buy new gear or simply left, Count Raymond did not care.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This tournament was not the gentle affair of centuries later; knights never used blunted swords or hollow lances—such “courteous weapons,” if discovered, would not earn gratitude but insult; opponents would feel dishonored and demand a duel to the death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This turned the tournament into a true battle: hundreds of knights participating, dozens dying—commonplace events. This was one reason the Church vehemently condemned tournaments: “They die for wealth and glory, not for God,” a bishop once sharply criticized.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But so what? Knights were lifelong professional soldiers, honing their skills daily; yet even in Yalasalu, war did not come every day. What better way to test their martial prowess than a tournament?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If a knight dared not enter the tournament, even a crippled serf could spit at him; if a king dared not enter—though logically, a monarch ought not risk himself in such bloody, perilous contests—yet as we have seen, no king ever failed to appear armored and lance in hand, even if unhorsed, pierced by lances and swords, they showed no fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If a king wearing the crown were truly a coward, the people would mock him, and his vassals and knights would abandon him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I will appear in the final three days of this month, competing not only in one-on-one jousts but also in the mêlée.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A tournament with a king present is like setting gems upon gold—radiating even greater splendor; crowds surged forward, the procession grew louder and more festive: drummers, flute players, the king entering amid the escort of his ministers, clad in gilded chainmail and helmet, draped in a white surcoat, the golden-threaded cross of Yalasalu gleaming brilliantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind him came thirty noble ladies, each breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in silk or velvet, smiling like flowers; they would sit high in the arena—watching, and only watching, the victor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet beyond those young knights who, upon seeing these reserved noblewomen, flushed with passion and could not contain themselves, seasoned knights paid closer attention to the tournament’s “Lady of Grace”—usually the lord’s or king’s wife or daughter; since Amalric I had no wife and the Byzantine princess had not yet entered Yalasalu, today’s Lady of Grace was surely his daughter Sibylla.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one could deny Princess Sibylla’s beauty, yet far more important things existed; they watched the thirty noblewomen escorting Byzantine Princess Maria and Sibylla up the dais, and saw that Maria, not Sibylla, took the central seat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As if the final chess piece had fallen, they sighed inwardly, yet it was not surprising: if the victor were the king, he must present the laurel wreath to “the fairest and noblest lady here…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Princess Maria did not receive the wreath, no one would care whom Amalric I gave it to—even if it were his own daughter Sibylla, rumors of her being unloved by her husband would circulate for years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And even without the Byzantine princess, Amalric I would not have given the wreath to Sibylla; recall how Charlemagne, refusing to let his daughters marry, sparked countless rumors—people claimed he had immoral relations with them; the monk who wrote his biography said he fathered illegitimate sons with two of them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, Charlemagne simply did not want to give away dowries—each princess required at least a city as dowry; he had five daughters, and as Cesar heard from knights, though Charlemagne’s daughters never married, their beds were far from lonely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah, we’ve strayed too far—point is, the vacant throne’s side seat was naturally taken by Princess Maria, the highest-ranking woman present; her face disappointed some frivolous knights, yet many more grew more eager: whether she was beautiful mattered little; what mattered was that she would become Queen of Yalasalu.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If she accepted their fealty, they would have a direct path to the heavens.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar and Baldwin also had an excellent position—thankfully, they were still prince and squire: “Are these knights blessed by the saints?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They must be,” Baldwin said, also excited: “My father and his knights were all blessed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The day they were allowed to leave the castle coincided with the tournament for knights “not blessed by the saints”; they saw no one radiating divine light. The matches were fierce, yet still within ordinary limits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Look, that’s William Ma Xieer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They remembered the knight’s peculiar build; even with his nasal helm, they recognized him at once. But even without recognition, the crowd’s wild shouts revealed his identity: “William of London!” they cried.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since entering the arena, William Ma Xieer had never lost.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>William removed his helm from his saddle and bowed to the crowd; as an Englishman, the cheers he received made the Frankish knights scowl, yet when the host formed teams, he received the most invitations—teams were normally grouped by region, with the highest-ranking knight as commander, but English knights were too few.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Count Raymond of Tripoli presided, arranging the contests from least to most: one-on-one joust with lance, ground sword combat, unarmed fighting, then small teams of three or four knights (who could choose whether to bring squires), finally the mêlée—a battle indistinguishable from a small war, where all participants entered fully armed, with squires and armed attendants, fighting until sunset.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I first defeated several opponents: the Grand Master of the Hospitallers, Bohemond, Prince of Antioch, and several other noble adversaries; generously, he returned their armor and horses without demanding ransom, earning praise and admiration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in his duel with William Ma Xieer, he lost to the young knight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was Cesar’s first time witnessing a knight blessed by a saint in direct combat—the announcer loudly proclaimed William’s saint’s name: Saint Patrick, a legendary figure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two knights knelt to pray, then mounted, exchanged salutes, and charged toward each other.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>William’s and Amalric I’s lances glowed with bright white light; they galloped toward each other—the arena fell silent, save for the heavy thud of hooves; the clash lasted only an instant; Baldwin and Cesar clearly saw Amalric I falter—perhaps his horse stepped on a pebble, perhaps a gust blew into his eyes… his lance tip tilted slightly, and William seized the opening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He thrust his lance with all his strength into the tiny gap; the force shattered the king’s round shield, which instantly broke apart; Amalric I roared, twisting his lance to strike William’s cheek, but William’s lance had already pierced the king’s ribs, pierced through the chainmail, and hurled him high into the air!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No, not only Amalric I—the king’s horse could not withstand the force either; it reared and fell backward, crushing the king beneath it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Knights and clerics of the Holy Sepulchre Order rose to their feet; Heraclius, who had been watching closely, immediately raised his hand; the king had already freed himself from under his horse; William dismounted; as Amalric I received a two-handed sword from his squire, William took a new weapon from his own.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time William was at a disadvantage—not due to inferior skill or lack of piety, but because his broadsword, unable to withstand the king’s blows, shattered without warning into two pieces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The king ordered two new greatswords brought, but William refused; from his expression and lip movements, it was clear he believed no enemy on the battlefield would hand him a weapon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet in the subsequent unarmed combat, William defeated Amalric I once more; as we said before, he possessed divinely blessed long arms, always striking first; though slightly unfair, one could hardly ask him to cut off a limb before fighting…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During this battle, countless arena fixtures were destroyed; Princess Maria turned pale—whether from the duel’s violence or because it reminded her of the mad she-bear, no one knew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I once thought you’d be blessed by Saint Patrick,” Baldwin murmured as William knelt before the king, begging forgiveness; indeed, Saint Patrick’s life bore many parallels to Cesar’s own: he originally did not believe in God, though his father was a priest (priests could marry then); at sixteen, he was captured by raiders and sold into slavery in Ireland (then still pagan); in the harshness of bondage, he gradually heard God’s voice and received blessing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He escaped with several fellow slaves, later returned to Ireland to preach; legend says the Irish pelted him with stones, yet he remained unharmed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Perhaps because you were never a slave,” Baldwin added.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, Amalric I had already risen William, accepted his apology, and invited him to join his team for the upcoming mêlée.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>William gladly accepted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the mêlée, Amalric I faced Count Raymond of Tripoli—only he was suited for it; Bohemond temporarily replaced Raymond, calmly taking his seat and loudly announcing each participant’s name, origin, and saint’s name, then designating safe zones where knights could rest, be treated, and prisoners be held.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The match was evenly matched; Raymond and Amalric I were both seasoned generals, intimately familiar with each other’s tactics; from them onward, every knight present was no ordinary man, and the damage they inflicted was extraordinary—clerics and monks ran frantically to heal or save them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even Baldwin grew tense, staring unblinkingly at the figure in gilded chainmail; suddenly, the man was surrounded by several knights and knocked from his horse!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1923,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","75229969899d058a2e473798ab3c1e15c881918069fb5c873e29e80d7ca17cb9","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-57","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-55",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]