A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

”Just a few days ago, one of them had the misfortune of striking my toe. Damn it all, I was just out in the courtyard, enjoying the sun.”

The Old Baron took off his shoe, wanting to show Eric his wound. He wasn’t wearing socks, and his toes were caked in grime. A peculiar odor then began to fill the hall. Eleanor lifted her veil to cover her nose, her delicate brows knitting together, but she didn’t turn away.

”Truly a tragic tale,” Eric said, pinching his nose.

”Sunbathing is good for an old man’s health—it’s a habit of mine. The spring sun in Mann is particularly fine, much better than Antioch’s. It’s gentle and warm. You can tell a good place from a bad one just by its sunlight.

The sunlight in Jerusalem, on the other hand, is not so good. If I knew Christ personally, I think I’d offer him a bit of advice.”

The Old Baron began to ramble on about irrelevant matters.

Eric handed the Sword to the Old Baron, attempting to cut short his rambling.

”This is Alan’s Sword, indeed.” The Old Baron stopped his chatter, his fingers tracing the length of the blade. He examined the inscription on the hilt, murmuring to himself, then raised his head to look at Eric. ”How did he die?”

”He gave his life for God. He was a true Knight.” Eric chose not to tell the Old Baron the truth.

’As for what Alan confessed to him... some things were better left buried in the dust.’

”Not a bad death,” the Old Baron sighed.

Zogo also dropped to one knee.

”Alright, so be it. To die for God is a good end. It is far better than being shamed by fate, far better than dying listlessly within a castle’s walls.”

The Old Baron suddenly straightened up, waving a hand as if to brush away the somber mood.

He looked at Eric.

”Child, might I know your name? Of course, if it’s inconvenient...”

”Eric.”

”No surname?”

”None.”

”I suspect that isn’t true.” The Old Baron chuckled and shook his head. ”Robert of Cotentin is your father, isn’t he? The name has likely grown unfamiliar to most. It seems everyone calls him ’Giscard’ now—the Cunning. Hahaha. To be honest, when I first met him, there was nothing about him that suggested such a title.”

”You knew him? A poor judge of character on your part, then. In my opinion, everyone should keep their distance from him,” Eric said with a sigh.

”Is that so? At least, when I knew him, he was a decent fellow. I was sixteen that year, and he was twenty-three. I had inherited my family’s estate early and was already a Baron, while he had nothing to his name but inexhaustible strength and the temper of an ox.

He’d fight in the ring for a few pence. Because of his size, others would take advantage, making him fight three men at once. That was the first time we met. The second time was in a prison. I needed an enforcer for a bet I’d made.

Men in prison make good enforcers, and they come cheap. He was considered top-tier. He’d been thrown in for trying to steal a nobleman’s hound. The sedative he used wasn’t strong enough, so the dog didn’t pass out. Its barking alerted the guards, and his accomplice abandoned him.

He managed to take down five men all by himself; it took ten to finally subdue him. He told me he could never get enough to eat, so sometimes he had to do things God wouldn’t approve of. He always felt sorry about it, he said...”

”And ’sorry’ is all it ever was,” Eric muttered.

”He served as my guard for a few years before leaving for Italy. I was planning on knighting him, actually. But then he heard that his half-brother had become a Count in Southern Italy, and before I had the chance to tell him my plans, he disappeared. He left without so much as a goodbye, leaving only a letter saying he was off to make his fortune.

But as for his cunning... that’s the only time I ever saw it. By the way, how much do you know about your mother?”

”My mother... Mother... To be honest, I hardly know anything about the man who is supposedly my father, let alone her.”

Eric shrugged.

’To him, his mother was just a remote concept.’

”Your father knew your mother long before that. She is a distant cousin of mine—we share a maternal grandmother. In the end, your father deceived your mother with a lie. He broke the vows he had sworn and tricked her into going with him to Italy.

I was the one who brought her back in the end. That was also the last time I saw your father, Robert. It was from that point on that people started calling him Giscard. He had become a stranger to me.”

”So, how is she now?”

”Who?” The Old Baron suddenly laughed.

”The... person called ’Mother’,” Eric said, crossing his arms.

”I would like to tell you, but I’m afraid I don’t know either. The Northern Countries are far away and even more chaotic. Although they now have a so-called King and converted to the true faith a century ago, the lands are still filled with Heretics. Heresy and the faith of Christ exist side by side.

Flanders has frequent dealings with Denmark. If you’re interested, you could go there to make inquiries. Her name...”

”No. There’s no need to bother her. She must have her own life now.”

”Fine. It just goes to show, if you’re going to marry, you should always choose someone from close to home. Isn’t that right, Eleanor?” Suddenly, the Old Baron turned his head to look at Eleanor, who was standing nearby.

”Hm?”

’Eleanor froze for a moment. How did the topic change so quickly?’