[{"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-84":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},2333052,4562,"Chapter 84: Siege! (4)","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-84",84,"\u003Cp>In contrast to Heraclius’s frustration, Amalric I was utterly unconcerned, even pleased—he comforted Heraclius: “Think back to when we were their age.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I never looked like that!” Heraclius declared firmly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You just didn’t make it obvious,” Amalric I cut in without mercy. “Every time we called you, weren’t you rushing off with your hammer, mounting your horse to join us?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heraclius coughed twice. “That was only to protect those poor pilgrims… their actions were still too reckless.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When else would you do it?” Amalric I replied. “Baldwin and Cesar’s situation is worse than ours was then.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I was not the Queen’s eldest son; his older brother was Baldwin III, a wise and powerful monarch. No one expected him to die so young and childless—and at that time, as Count Étienne and all younger sons felt, all glory rested solely upon the heir.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether from his father’s favor, his mother’s affection, or the loyalty and attention of his subjects.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Raymond and Bohemond were Amalric I’s “bloodless brothers,” chosen together by the saints under God’s gaze—yet back then, no, rather, until Baldwin III’s death, they preferred serving beside the elder brother rather than staying by Amalric I’s side.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I did not resent them, or he would not have continued to rely on them. What else could he do? He had a title, a parcel of land—but everything else he had to win blade by blade, through daring and luck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could do nothing for Raymond or Bohemond: he could not send troops to drive Raymond’s illegitimate uncle from Tripoli (who had long been vying with Raymond for it), nor could he expel Bohemond’s stepfather and mother to reclaim Antioch for the grown Bohemond…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet recalling his own past, Amalric I could not help but feel a quiet, unbearable sorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You know Baldwin,” Amalric I said, “sometimes he becomes stubborn.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since Baldwin received God’s blessing and revealed the abundant favor bestowed upon him by the saints, more people had flocked to him—or returned to him. First came David, then Abigail—whom Bohemond had forcibly sent back to Antioch, but who had now returned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Other young men from neighboring lords and knightly orders came too—Amalric I had urged Baldwin not to hold grudges; a king should be magnanimous. But Baldwin replied he bore them no hatred, yet could no longer love them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Cesar once told me,” he said, “precious feelings are like a flawless jade plate: once shattered, even the finest goldsmith cannot mend its tiny cracks. My feelings for them are the same.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned and advised Amalric I: “Better to keep them at a distance than have them linger near me, forcing me to remember the past. Perhaps one day, we may yet coexist as king and subject.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amalric I found this helpless. He worried: if Baldwin had only Cesar beside him…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wished Baldwin had more people around him. He no longer cared much about Cesar’s origins—he simply could not say the word “slave.” How could a child like Cesar possibly be a slave?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one would believe it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, since joining the crusade, as more lords and nobles arrived to take part in the holy war, the number of young men kept growing. Among them were certainly rogues and scoundrels, but most were brave, pure-hearted lads.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They held no ill will toward Baldwin. Even in their homelands, lepers were seen as cursed by God or the devil—but Baldwin showed none of the terrifying, diseased appearance they had expected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyes remained bright, his skin still smooth, his mind clear—sharper and wiser than most. His left hand might be less agile, but who else had received so much grace from Saint George?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These youths loved nothing more than gathering around Baldwin, begging him to summon Saint George’s spear. Though they could not touch it, merely gazing upon it filled them with boundless blessing and strength, as if they could charge straight into the Saracen ranks without fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, Amalric I had feared Cesar might try to monopolize Baldwin’s friendship, sowing discord and slander—just as Wit had once done, driving others away from Baldwin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was utterly wrong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cesar was no true child; his soul had long been adult. He viewed Baldwin as he once viewed unfortunate young patients in the infirmary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now that Baldwin’s condition had stabilized, and he had gained extraordinary power through the “blessing” Cesar still barely understood, and now had many eager young followers, Cesar was delighted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet among them, many came for Cesar himself. Unlike the lords and nobles, who sighed upon hearing of his origins, they refused to believe he was the son of a farmer or craftsman. Impossible!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was already Baldwin’s intimate retainer; once Baldwin ascended, what title or land could he not claim?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some even imagined their own widowed sisters or aunts. If Baldwin refused to release Cesar, the women could still come to Arasal with their dowries—just as Baldwin I’s third wife, widow of the Lord of Sicily, had done; after marrying into Arasal, she had let Baldwin I use her dowry to build several castles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just by his face alone,” one knight told another, “my aunt would willingly journey a thousand miles.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Your aunt has no land, no inheritance,” said the knight with golden-red hair. “I doubt Baldwin would entrust Cesar’s marriage to such a woman.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you have a better candidate?” the first knight retorted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I do,” said the golden-red-haired knight. “She’s older, but very wealthy, with vast lands. Though she has one major flaw.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What flaw?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Her husband is still alive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The knight who started the conversation burst into laughter, assuming it was a joke. “Oh,” said the golden-red-haired knight, “they’re back.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Arthur, Blondel…” Baldwin entered the tent. Both knights bowed to him. Cesar stepped slightly aside to avoid misunderstanding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two young knights—one Arthur from Aquitaine, the other Blondel from Nevers—both came from noble families. Arthur’s father had once served Eleanor, Queen of Aquitaine; he had come to Arasal for the crusade thanks to a letter of introduction from Knight Marshall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arthur was seventeen, but claimed that due to certain unavoidable deeds, he had already received spurs and sword belt, becoming a knight, and had fought in several battles. “But if I may,” he said, eyes bright and voice loud, “I’d call this my first true war!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It will be a hard fight,” Baldwin said gently, “with little plunder.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I only wish to kill as many Saracens as possible!” Arthur cried. Blondel rolled his eyes. Nevers lay in eastern France, Aquitaine in the southwest—he’d never heard of an Arthur from Aquitaine. But when he asked about Aquitaine, Arthur answered fluently, and knew well the court and politics of Louis VII.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned to fetch water for Baldwin, only to find Cesar had already filled a silver cup with sweet, warm water. He handed it first to Baldwin, then to Arthur, then to Blondel, and finally took one for himself, sipping slowly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I like cold water,” Arthur said. “No ice, but not so hot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Too cold water will burst your organs,” Baldwin said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What kind of nonsense is that, Saracen?” Arthur grumbled, yet drank faster than anyone else—his cup seemed empty in an instant. He went to refill it himself. Such rude, crude behavior made Blondel sigh deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baldwin and Cesar didn’t mind. Arthur was perhaps the most comfortable of these young knights and squires in their company—open, courageous, and generous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the jousting tournaments Amalric I held to burn off knightly energy, Arthur had won every time. Yet he never claimed the horses or armor of losers, nor demanded ransoms—as if he had entered only to fight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And unlike other knights hesitating whether to approach Cesar, he was the first to link arms with him, to drink and dine beside him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He even exchanged surcoats with Cesar—though Cesar still had no coat of arms. Presumably Amalric I was waiting for Baldwin to grant him one. But Arthur’s surcoat bore a gleaming lily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I heard of you from Marshall,” Arthur said upon first meeting, staring intently at Baldwin and Cesar. “Especially you. They say you once walked alone into the Templar fortress of Tortosa, begging the cruel Walter not to let countless civilians die because of his feud with Amalric I.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But that sounds like something a monk would do,” he asked Cesar. “Why don’t you join the jousts?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I have no passion or talent for killing,” Cesar replied. “And I’m still a squire. If I fought as a retainer, my God-given blessing would be unfair to ordinary men.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Squires get blessings too,” Arthur said. “And what do you mean ‘not talented’? I heard you and Baldwin killed over a hundred men together at Tortosa, and you withstood a grieving she-bear’s attack in broad daylight. I didn’t see you disguise yourself as a noblewoman to wipe out those Saracens, but I did see you ride beside Baldwin, felling any enemy who dared approach.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t mention the noblewoman business—that was desperation,” Cesar said. “Like the other things you heard: merely fulfilling the duty of a friend and subject.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Arthur looked up at Baldwin. “So you really did swear to be brothers, like in the legends?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s wrong with that?” Baldwin asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing,” Arthur said. “But as a future king, some might think you’re not cautious enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that was months ago. Now Arthur, like everyone else, no longer doubted Cesar’s right to stand beside Baldwin. In fact, he wondered—if Amalric I hadn’t bought Cesar from the Isaians, Cesar might have had an even better fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Come, Arthur,” Baldwin called. “Look at what we’ve reconnoitered today.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arthur and Blondel were both “chosen ones.” Arthur’s patron saint was Saint Paul, like Walter—Saint Paul was no gentle saint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arthur, like Walter, was warlike, even brutal. He was even taller than Baldwin and Cesar—six feet five inches—with broader shoulders and a heavier frame. If Baldwin and Cesar were slender (almost gaunt), Arthur was a hulking giant, and he might grow even stronger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blondel’s patron saint was Saint Martin, famed for enduring long suffering in prison. Blondel’s blessing, too, concerned protection and alleviation of pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was hard to say whether Baldwin chose them as his aides because of this—he knew some called him and Cesar “God’s spear and shield.” Though he felt Cesar’s power should be more than that, for now, at least while he could not fully protect him, the metaphor wasn’t bad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When choosing knights, after selecting Arthur, he had instinctively chosen another “shield”—even though he knew Cesar would never leave him to guard others… but…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who drew this?” Arthur’s question snapped Baldwin out of thought. “Cesar did,” he said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Connecting Laude Island and Cairo, there were two bridges—not counting the aerial drawbridge. One was wooden (apparently the king’s intelligence had been slightly off), built at the center of Laude Island, leading straight to Cairo’s Royal Gate. They were unlikely to choose this one. The other lay at the southernmost tip of Laude Island, a short distance from the gate, but close enough for cavalry to reach in a single charge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’ll attack the Royal Gate first, to keep the Saracens inside from rushing out to reinforce.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But if they spot us, they can still come via the drawbridges between the walls and fortresses,” Arthur said, tracing lines on the parchment. This map wasn’t as ornate as those he’d seen before, but it was exceptionally clear—plan, elevation, structure, all marked with precise measurements.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Where did you get these measurements?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Cesar swam underwater to measure them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arthur glanced involuntarily at the black-haired boy. Indeed, his hair was still damp. “You?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Knights learned to swim, but swimming wasn’t diving. Without diving, the Saracens guarding the bridges would spot the invaders immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what Arthur envied most was Cesar’s map-drawing skill. As a knight and future commander, no one knew better than him how vital an accurate map could be in battle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though he had never seen such a “map” before, it was as if the scene had been laid vividly before him. Merely looking at it, he could envision how to fight: how many men, which direction, what weapons—trebuchets, crossbows, Greek fire… Cesar even marked the material of the bridgehead arrow towers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“One more thing,” Cesar reminded. “Tomorrow, watch for ships tied with iron chains drifting downriver. They’ll attack those on the bridge.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You saw that too?” Arthur asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I can’t swim that far. But I saw arrowheads and burn marks on the bridge itself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arthur’s gaze drifted unconsciously to Baldwin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I have a very suitable marriage prospect… Your Highness. Beautiful, wealthy, with vast lands… the only flaw… will soon be gone…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2106,"2026-06-20T20:58:34.857Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","f7aad04df33a4a84a8a7e410204361ee060766066ba6e3b64a13f9d3feb6568d","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-85","the-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-chapter-83",168,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-nation-of-ten-thousand-nations-cover.jpg"]