kingdom of nations

Chapter 182 Annihilation of the Murray (Part 2)

"Is that David of Tripoli?"

Although he knew that the nobleman who had come specifically to flatter him was just asking a question he already knew the answer to, Raymond still couldn't help but show a proud expression. While trying his best to hide his pride, he answered with feigned composure, "Yes, that knight is David of Tripoli, my only son."

"What a brave and fearless young man he is! I have never seen a more handsome, dashing, tall and strong knight. We should find a painter to paint this scene and then give it to the women to weave into a tapestry and hang it where everyone can see it."

Raymond could hardly hide his smile, but he still said seriously, "This is not good for a young man; it will breed arrogance in him. Besides, this is only his first battle. There will be many more intense and sacred battles waiting for him in the future. There is absolutely no need for such extravagance."

Since he had come to curry favor with Raymond, the nobleman naturally wouldn't take such feigned humility to heart. He didn't continue speaking, but instead smiled and looked at the battlefield, already planning how large a tapestry to commission as a gift for the Count of Tripoli.

It must be said that Raymond's sudden change of course had an unimaginable and remarkable effect.

Even though he hadn't expected to find someone among this group of people who were essentially kept by Murray who not only hated him but could also deliver a truly fatal blow, he didn't leave the stonemason in town. Instead, he brought him into the army and had two squires watch over him, partly to ensure his safety and partly to verify his words.

If he dares to lie, the count will let him know that there are many things more terrible than hell.

Fortunately, he wasn't lying. When they assembled the engineering equipment and used the bronze ram-headed battering ram to strike the spot where a body might be hidden, they did indeed hear a different kind of humming sound. A human body is not solid stone or mud. Although there were supervising officials inspecting the site, it was impossible to see the body hidden under layers of mud with the naked eye.

Human internal organs and flesh rot very quickly. Even though bones are stronger, they can't last long. They also inquired and found that the people there had indeed complained about how smelly the place was. They searched everywhere but couldn't find the source. In the end, they could only hastily conclude that someone had defecated or urinated there multiple times. Once the stench dissipated, no one would remember that there had been anything unusual about the place.

But for the stonemason, and even for the Crusaders, they were lucky.

The stonemason was fortunate that the Crusaders arrived and took control of the town that had enslaved him before the hole created by the corpse caused the ground in the city wall to collapse and the wall to deform. The Crusaders were also fortunate that the defenders had not yet discovered the vulnerability, nor had anyone repaired or reinforced it.

With a final, muffled boom, the soldiers pushing the battering ram were thrown forward involuntarily. As soon as they hit the ground, they let out a joyful shout. The battering ram had pierced the city wall, and as the base was destroyed, the upper part of the wall tumbled down like an avalanche.

They were subjected to a torrent of boiling scalding excrement, stones, and scalding oil, and the men fell tragically along with the city wall. Some fell silent instantly, while others groaned. The city's defenders, seeing this, rushed over to try and plug the breach, but just as a flood had breached a dam, the Crusaders, who had been waiting for this moment, charged forward—the ramp formed by the fallen bricks and stones became their ladder.

At the forefront was David, clad in silver-plated chainmail, wearing a helmet with a nose adorned with a cross, and over the chainmail a loose cloak bearing a hollow cross (the coat of arms of Tripoli). He brandished a warhammer, just as he had envisioned the saint Clovis of the Franks.

He was no match for anyone, not even a Turkic nobleman wearing a fur hat.

But then something heartbreaking happened: amidst the billowing dust, a despicable fellow fired a crossbow bolt. David dodged it, but his horse did not.

Though not as magnificent as Baldwin's Pollux or Cesar's Castor, this still handsome and strong steed let out a mournful cry, its wide eyes wide open, and collapsed tragically, pinning half of David's body beneath it. At this moment, his squires rushed to his master's aid, but before they could reach David, a troop of ferocious Turks emerged from the billowing smoke and dust.

Upon seeing David's attire, they knew he must be a nobleman, or even a member of the royal family. Capturing or killing him would greatly impact the morale of the Crusaders, or they could demand a hefty ransom.

They let out strange cries and leaped forward like a pack of wolves chasing a stag. Raymond, who had been watching closely, couldn't help but change his expression. He stood upright on his horse, as if he wanted to stand up to get a better view.

The knights following David were extremely anxious, but David was charging too fast. However, David did not need their help. He did something that stunned everyone present. He broke free from his horse and, not only that, he grabbed the saddle strap of his mount. While shedding tears for his loyal friend, he raised it high and threw it directly at the Turks, instantly knocking the three or four leaders off their horses.

Just as the literal meaning suggests, people and horses were thrown into chaos.

A strong Arabie horse weighs at least eight hundred pounds. But when David lifted him, it was as easy as lifting a small wooden pony, and he threw it at least several dozen feet. With the speed and weight, those people wouldn't have fared any worse than they have now, even if they had been run over by a boulder.

Those behind them were not spared either. David wielded his warhammer, descending from the sky with a thunderous roar. The warhammer emitted a sharp whistling sound, and wherever it struck, that place would violently dent. Skulls, chests, shoulders, and even shields—the small round shields that the Turks fixed to their arms could not withstand such heavy blows. With one strike, not only would the shield shatter into countless pieces, but even the arm inside would be blown away like a broken tree branch.

David killed a dozen of his fiercest enemies. When he roared and hurled his warhammer at a coward who was fleeing in panic, the man only staggered and did not fall to the ground dead immediately. Instead, he continued running towards an alley and then turned and disappeared. Only then did David realize that his warhammer was completely deformed and the handle was broken.

He refused the new warhammer offered to him by his entourage, drew his longsword, and shouted, “Come on!” “You filthy heretics! vile bandits! Demon’s dung! Wild dogs!” he cursed as he charged into the castle of Murray.

At first, some of the Turks wanted to challenge him, after all, some of them had received the prophet's revelation. But as more and more corpses piled up on the road he passed, what he saw gradually changed from an angry face to a despicable back.

They began to flee.

But since Raymond came to avenge his defeat, he wouldn't be stingy with his military strength. The men he brought were enough to completely surround Murray's castle, leaving no gaps. Unfortunately, they ultimately underestimated Murray's shamelessness. Although he made it seem like he was going to defend to the death, in fact, it was just a feint.

At the start of the battle, he had given up all hope for the war, so he took some close confidants and escaped through a secret passage he had set up.

Although the castle was successfully captured, the disappearance of Murray tainted this great victory.

However, the news that David brought later seemed to make up for this shortcoming.

David said he had defeated a Turk, perhaps because of David's previous exploits, or perhaps because his current appearance was too terrifying—his snow-white cloak was now stained red, his helmet and chainmail were piled with a thick layer of dark grime, and his hair was soaked with sweat and blood, dripping with a frightening liquid. He looked like a devil, not a human. Even though the Turk's attire indicated he was a nobleman, meaning he could pay a ransom, upon seeing David like this, he still incoherently raised his price in fear: "He knows the greatest secret of the Murray."

"What secret?"

“Iron ore, Mly has discovered an iron ore mine.”

No knight, lord, duke, or even king would be indifferent to iron mines, and as the general who conquered Murray and its territory, Raymond could very well demand that this land be his reward.

Judging from the fact that Mule was able to keep this secret for so long, this iron mine must be very well hidden. If he were to obtain it, he could form an alliance with the nearby Armenian nobles and secretly mine the iron ore to forge weapons.

It wouldn't matter even if Baldwin IV found out.

Although he had many grievances against the young king, he had to admit that he was more generous than his father.

Raymond even thought that if he pleaded, not in his own name but in David's, Baldwin might make more concessions out of consideration for their past relationship.

He left a portion of his army to garrison at the castle of Murray and the nearby town, while he took the other half of his army—mostly his vassals and knights he deemed trustworthy—to go with David to the iron mine.

Although people always say that good fortune doesn't come hand in hand, but misfortune does, today was truly the best day ever for Raymond. Not only did they find an iron ore mine, but they also intercepted Mley there.

Murray's downfall and death were ultimately due to his greed. He built a workshop near the iron mine, where blacksmiths he had captured or bought worked day and night to forge the military equipment he needed.

The latest batch, which he hadn't had time to transport out, remained in the warehouse here. He planned to take them as capital for future survival and promotion, but he didn't expect that there was a Turk in the castle who knew this secret.

Raymond was decisive enough to abandon his other spoils and head straight for the iron mine.

The outcome of the battle is self-evident. Murray only had a couple hundred men with him, and these men were not necessarily very loyal to him. Raymond, on the other hand, had his most capable, loyal, and strongest knights.

In the end, Murray was dragged to Raymond's feet by the knights in a disheveled state, while the Count of Tripoli, riding high on his horse, grinned down at him.

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Raymond thought he could maintain this good mood until he returned to the king. But he didn't expect that his son would have an argument with him that very night because David wanted to release all the slaves working in the iron mine, and even give them some money and food so they could return to their hometowns.

Hearing his son say that, Raymond felt a wave of dizziness. He had previously thought that his son could never be as stupid as Abigail, but now he realized that he was much stupider than Abigail.

“But they are Christians, and Christians should not be slaves to other Christians.” Murray robbed them and then forced them to work in his iron mine—a bandit is not so kind as to let you go after taking all your money.

Humans themselves are commodities. If a ransom can be paid, a person captured by Murray might have a sliver of hope for survival. But if he cannot find someone willing to pay a ransom, he will become Murray's merchandise.

Murray would haggle with the slave traders to sell it for a price that satisfied him. But there were always some men—ugly, old, at least not young enough to be eunuchs or laborers.

Mly kept them around, not to feed and care for them, but because even if they were sold to slave traders, they would be cheap goods. Rather than selling them and then going through the trouble of buying new slaves from the slave traders, it was better to just turn them into slaves.

So these people were put in wooden shackles. The heavy wooden blocks prevented them from walking or running quickly, but still allowed them to chisel, dig and move ore.

Moreover, in the mine, they did not need to stand up to walk; they only needed to crawl, knock off the ore, put it into the basket behind them, and then drag the basket to the surface.

Some of them will die soon, and even those who survive cannot be considered lucky, but they are still an asset. If the slave laborers, tortured to the point of being like skeletons, are like this, then the precious blacksmiths are even more so.

Many illegitimate children of minor nobles, even if they cannot gain their fathers' recognition, will have their fathers arrange a path for them that is far superior to that of commoners—most of them will become blacksmiths.

Blacksmiths often have a sturdy physique and strong arms. They are good at striking, whether it is a block of iron or a person's head. Moreover, if a blacksmith is good at forging weapons, you can regard him as a prospective warrior - how can he forge swords that satisfy knights if he doesn't know how to use weapons?
On many occasions, when a great lord needed to expand his army, blacksmiths were always the first to be selected. And in the past, there were many instances of blacksmiths rising through the ranks to become high-ranking officials.

This shows how valuable a blacksmith was to people at that time; even in the most brutal wars, blacksmiths and their families could be preserved.

“There are seven blacksmiths here—even if there are a thousand craftsmen in Paris, there are only forty blacksmiths. Even if you don’t keep them, you can sell them for a lot of money. How could you have such an idea?” Raymond was puzzled. “Well, even if you pity them, you can always let them stay here and work for us.”

If they miss their families, we can bring their families over, or give them new families. As long as we treat them with tolerance, they will be happy. Honestly, what difference does it make where a blacksmith works?

“But Father, if Baldwin or Cesar were standing here… they would free every single slave here.”

(End of this chapter)