[{"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-57":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},2333025,4562,"Chapter 57: Guests from the Eagle","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-57",57,"\u003Cp>When the king—no, the enemy commander—was unhorsed, Raymond’s knights erupted in cheers; their squires and armed retainers immediately rushed forward, desperate to drag Amalric I from beneath the chaotic hooves, bind him up—yet how could Amalric I’s own knights endure such disgrace? They instantly charged forward too, their squires and armed retainers swinging axes and war hammers against enemies of equal rank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This plunged the king himself into grave danger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One could say: if Raymond’s knightly squires dragged the king away as a captive, he would be safe within the secure zone; conversely, if the king’s own knights dragged him away, he could return to his own secure zone, remount, and fight again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To go further, if none of the combatants had received divine blessing, the king’s peril would not have been so great.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Cesar first saw the tournament encampment, he had been puzzled—temporary structures like the platform erected for Princess Maria’s arrival were all built of wood, yet the arena itself had been constructed like a fortress wall: wide, thick, rising over thirty feet—only now did he understand: knights blessed by the saints were nearly like swarms of iron-cast monsters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they collided, it was like cliffs shattering; when they struck, it was like clashing thunder; when they slammed into stone walls, deep marks remained, yet they rose instantly to fight again; some knights, enveloped in holy light, spurred their horses straight into enemy lines, ignoring spear thrusts and emerging unscathed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet this also revealed that even among blessed knights, the grace bestowed varied: some weak, some strong, some brief, some lasting, some inclined to offense, others to defense—here, the commander’s understanding of his knights and judgment of the battlefield determined who charged, who held the line, who broke through…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this regard, Amalric I was slightly inferior to Raymond; Raymond’s retinue was almost entirely Frankish, yet because the king had invited William Marshal, several English knights had joined his side—they were loyal to the king, but could never match the seamless coordination of his original Frankish knights.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tournament’s judge, Bohemond, noticed: the king’s horse had fallen, and at least a dozen knights swarmed around him, while Raymond, entangled by several Knights of the Holy Sepulchre under Amalric I, had not yet noticed the situation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bohemond leapt from his seat and ordered the horn players to sound the signal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The horn sounded, but the knights locked in combat could not immediately obey—they were too close, each man fighting desperately against multiple foes, dust choking the air, men and horses screaming, squires and armed retainers now joining the fray, suffering even greater losses than the knights.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, many of them came from humble origins and could not afford the cost of the “Selection Ceremony”—yet to gain a noble status, even knowing commoners in such battles were merely grain crushed under the millstone, they had to charge!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their own blood, their comrades’ blood—none could quench their hunger for wealth and honor, especially that gleaming golden chainmail…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even capturing a king in a tournament was a step toward heaven! Especially in the poets’ tales—not only knights were admired and valued in tournaments; squires and retainers could be too!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if the earth split open and devils crawled forth, they would still be met with a hammer blow!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this chaos, Amalric I rose several times but failed each time; though holy light still shimmered on him, it was clearly fading.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No!” Baldwin cried urgently, “I must go down!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wait!” Cesar gripped his arm, “Look!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>William Marshal struck down the enemy before him, finished his final prayer, and felt Saint Bod’s radiance envelop him as it always had; then he let out a thunderous roar and charged toward the arena’s center—he made no distinction between friend or foe; anyone blocking his path became his enemy, and before him, none stood a single blow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Weapons shattered, knights toppled, horses fell—as if in an instant, he plunged into the vortex surrounding Amalric I, seized the king from the ground, hauled him onto his back, then surged out of the battle circle just as before, like a rampaging tiger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Stop him!” someone shouted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On his way back to his own secure zone, William encountered more than one valiant knight—but none could halt him; his squires followed close behind, binding every fallen knight and dragging them back to their lord—these men were now William Marshal’s captives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I dismounted in the secure zone, disheveled—dust and blood had dulled his gilded chainmail, yet he was unharmed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The king glanced quickly and saw five or six knights dragged in by William’s squires; the distance from the battlefield center to the secure zone was barely a few hundred feet—he could not hide his admiration. Then his squires brought him a fresh horse and a new broadsword. He looked at William and saw his radiance nearly equal to his own; his joy deepened. “Can you still fight?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Three days and nights more, no problem!” William shouted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then come with me!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Together they charged back into the fray. Amalric I’s knights were retreating; seeing the gleaming gilded chainmail, they immediately rallied around him, regrouped, and clashed once more with Raymond’s knights. Yet perhaps due to his earlier oversight, Raymond, burdened by guilt, no longer pressed aggressively; his demoralized force could not withstand the tide of a newly emboldened army. When the king cleaved Raymond from his saddle with a single sword stroke, the outcome was decided.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bohemond exhaled deeply. Tournament hosts dreaded such moments, especially when the king or lord was himself a fierce knight—you could never know when to halt the contest… spectators mocked timid hosts, monarchs grew displeased, and knights felt humiliated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The problem was: blessed knights were weapons capable of turning battles, yet you could not persuade them to use non-lethal arms. In every battle, especially melee combats involving forty to a hundred men, if the fight stalled or old grudges flared, both sides might truly go blood-mad, turning a tournament into real war…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar had kept his hand on Baldwin’s shoulder for a long while before feeling it relax. “William Marshal,” Baldwin murmured, “he is an invincible giant.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We haven’t grown yet,” Cesar would never deny another’s excellence, nor underestimate himself or Baldwin: “He is over twenty; we are nine.” And from what he had seen and felt, even as a leper, Baldwin’s strength was surely no lesser than any boy his age.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Night fell. This was the final contest. The crown rightfully belonged to King Amalric I. He changed horses and chainmail, lifted the wreath on his spear, and, amid cheers, presented it to the risen Byzantine princess. She took it, placed it on her head, then tied a silk ribbon to the spear’s tip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among the knights, none was more beloved than William Marshal. Though Anglo-French tensions had begun to surface, even the most narrow-minded knight bowed to his generosity and skill; moreover, the saint’s favor proved his deep piety. Before the banquet even began, noblewomen in the arena flung flowers and gold rings at him; William accepted them all, but politely refused further advances.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing him reject every noblewoman, Amalric I asked: “Will you return to England?” He added: “Four more tournaments remain. I will not compete again—you might yet win the crown.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Have you seen my banner, Your Majesty?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I have.” Half-red, half-green, with a lion emblazoned in the center.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This coat of arms was granted me by my lady, Eleanor of Aquitaine,” William said earnestly. “I have pledged to her: after one tournament, I shall return. When I reach London, I shall become King Henry’s martial instructor and chief retainer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I had indeed wished to recruit William Marshal into his crusading army—but he had also heard that when William was still an ordinary knight, he had escorted Queen Eleanor back to Aquitaine under the command of his lord, Count Salisbury; en route, they were ambushed by rebels. Salisbury died. William fought desperately to shield Eleanor’s escape, and was captured himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that time, William was a discarded second son. His lord dead, no one came to ransom him. Severely wounded, he lacked funds to even bandage his thigh wound—he tore strips from his own knightly cloak. He thought death inevitable—until Queen Eleanor, upon returning to court, inquired after him and immediately paid his ransom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With such a debt of grace, William Marshal would never betray Queen Eleanor; Amalric I could not compel him, so he gifted William a suit of silver-gilded chainmail and a chest of gold coins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To say he felt no regret was false. Amalric I had seen how effortlessly William felled three knights who charged him at once—along with their squires and armed retainers who rushed in after their lord fell. Had William joined his army, he would have shone brilliantly in the coming Holy War.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You should visit William Marshal often,” he told Baldwin. “He is a born warrior, blessed by Saint Bod with an extraordinary gift—very much like you.” The king added: “Though I have entrusted Raymond and Bohemond to train you, I must admit: even if they are trustworthy, in other respects… they are merely mediocre. If William could stay, I would have far less to worry about.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin naturally agreed—but after a moment’s thought, he asked: “May Cesar come too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“As you wish,” said Amalric I. Heraclius had told him Cesar manifested as a “shield,” later resembling “chainmail”—but that mattered little. Like Count Etienne, who perceived Saint Pelagius, his power could briefly take the form of a spear or split into multiple small shields to protect others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As long as Cesar’s divine grace leaned toward “protection” rather than “offense,” Amalric I’s heart could rest more easily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Baldwin left, Amalric I summoned a servant from Princess Sibylla’s retinue to inquire after his daughter—he had never paid her much attention, not because he loved her less, but because most fathers of his time did the same: ensure her food, shelter, safety, and find her a suitably matched husband.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But recently, after Count Etienne’s refusal of the marriage proposal, he suddenly realized his daughter was capable of stirring great upheaval. He had scolded and punished Sibylla—but he could not simply send her to a convent. He could only place cautious hope in her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He feared: William Marshal had performed so brilliantly, and he had shown him such favor—would someone mistakenly believe he intended to make an Englishman his son-in-law? And would Sibylla do something irrational? Fortunately, his servant reported that the Countess of Jaffa had closely monitored the princess’s movements; Sibylla had remained obedient, rarely leaving her chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By June, Amalric I thought, he could entrust Sibylla to Princess Maria’s care. Years later, when the storm had passed, he could still find her a suitable husband.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He carried this light mood until midnight. Returning to his chamber, the king saw a dagger placed precisely in the center of his bed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>——————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That night’s commotion stirred even Baldwin and Cesar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They heard Amalric I was furious, loudly cursing “treacherous Saracens”—yet the very next day, another group of Saracens, clad in long robes and veiled faces, entered the Holy Cross Castle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were an embassy from Alamut (Eagle’s Nest), not here to explain or apologize as before, but to accuse the king of breaking his promise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when Heraclius came to teach did Baldwin and Cesar learn: during the “Selection Ceremony,” someone within the Assassin order had accepted a bribe and secretly taken on the assassination contract against Amalric I. Amalric I had confronted the Assassins’ “Elder,” who dispatched this embassy to capture the traitors and execute them before the king’s eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This matter should have ended here—though the truth may have been more complex. Neither the king nor the “Elder” anticipated that this delegation, on its way back to “Eagle’s Nest,” was ambushed and slaughtered by the Knights Templar—all perished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I was planning his second expedition against Egypt, investing immense effort and even his marriage as a bargaining chip—he could not tolerate the slightest error. If Zengi’s Nur ad-Din was an aging grizzly, Fatimid Saladin a young bull tiger, then the Assassins were a desert viper. He would rather yield some advantage to soothe this viper than risk being bitten again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Knights Templar clearly thought otherwise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2047,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","2b1739f089c84031b3d741f4cccb92f7aa3bcfaabe18cf4801e43ec702681a8c","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-58","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-56",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]