A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Ruben looked at his hands, now stained with ink, with a regretful expression. ”Tarsus,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.

”Occupied by a group of newly arrived Normans,” Vardan said immediately. ”They are ravaging the lands of the Armenians, slaughtering our soldiers. It’s said the Normans in Cyprus...”

Vardan was about to continue when Ruben cut him off.

”I know all this,” Ruben said coldly. ”That Norman named Eric.”

”The meticulous Eric. His father was a Norman bandit who ravaged Southern Italy, the infamous Giscard,” Vardan said. ”Thanks to Father Pireg.”

Just a week ago, he had received a report that a band of Normans had suddenly appeared on the plains of Cilicia. They were expanding rapidly and unstoppably along the Cilician coast, ruthlessly attacking Ruben’s recruitment parties. They tortured the party members in a most gruesome manner, their dismembered bodies hung alongside those of the Turkic people on either side of the road, left for the crows to peck at.

So, he personally led a group of elite Personal Guards to determine the extent of Norman expansion on the coastal plains of Cilicia. But what he hadn’t expected was that his greatest obstacle wasn’t the Norman army, but the Armenians in the coastal villages. In fact, he didn’t encounter a single Norman along the way, to the point that he began to think the Norman invasion was just a rumor.

However, the change in the coastal Armenians shocked him. For some unknown reason, these Armenians had become extremely restless and cynical. They scoffed at his questions, and some villagers even used weapons from unknown sources to attack him.

It wasn’t until he finally bribed a villager with a sum of money that he learned the truth. The villager told him that the Normans’ target was not Cilicia; they were merely using it as a base. Their true goal lay further south in Palestine: Celestial Jerusalem, the tomb of the Lord.

The villager also told Vardan not to worry about the Normans. They weren’t interested in the barren land of Cilicia and had no intention of staying. Moreover, they had already withdrawn in large numbers three days before Vardan’s arrival.

Now, only a small garrison remained in nearby Tarsus, nothing to be feared. Vardan could attack Tarsus directly, capture the Normans within, and avenge the Armenian soldiers who died at their hands. For the inhuman torture they had suffered in life, the hero of the Armenians, the great General Vardan, would surely grant their souls peace on earth.

Vardan had long heard that the Normans had a fanatical tradition of pilgrimage. Coupled with the fact that he hadn’t seen any Normans on his journey, he believed the villager’s suggestion and headed for Tarsus City.

However, shortly after leaving the village and following the villager’s directions toward Tarsus City, he was ambushed by a massive volley of arrows, losing a great number of horses. This was immediately followed by a dense cavalry charge. He quickly ordered his infantry to form up and barely managed to withstand the first wave of their assault.

But they were already surrounded. The enemy archers’ arrows had an extremely long range and were quite accurate; their defeat was only a matter of time.

Soon, under the third charge of the Norman Knights, a corner of his infantry line was breached, and his formation was thrown into disarray. He had no choice but to retreat.

However, just as he was about to lead his personal guard knights in a retreat, a hulking Norman Knight charged toward him, effortlessly knocking the two personal guard knights closest to Vardan from their horses.

Before Vardan could react, the opponent was upon him. Vardan tried to swing his Shield to block the enemy’s Lance.

But the immense force transmitted through the Shield snapped his arm back, causing the Shield to slam heavily into his chest. Then, his head was struck hard. When he came to, he had been captured and was in Tarsus City.

He later learned that the Norman Knight who had captured him alive was the leader of this band of Normans: the Earl of Gloucester from England, the son of the detestable Giscard.

His captors tied him up in the city center to be humiliated by the citizens of Tarsus. They also tried to coerce and entice him, attempting to persuade him to surrender and serve them.

They even fabricated the lie that Ruben had abandoned him and refused to pay his ransom.

Even when they threatened him with the life of his loyal adjutant, Farhad, he still refused to surrender to them.

But then, on the seventh day, the torture suddenly ended.

That Norman Earl named Eric, acting completely out of character, highly praised his loyalty and bravery.

He was received with an almost bizarre enthusiasm, and a lavish banquet was held in his honor. The once-detestable enemy had, in a daze, transformed into a ’friend’ he wished he’d met sooner.

He had to admit that the Norman Earl was nearly omniscient, possessing a foresight rarely seen in the world.

He couldn’t help but exclaim with admiration, ’In all my life of fighting, I have seen many warriors, but few can be like you—conquering opponents not just with force, but also commanding respect with wisdom and foresight.’

After three days of feasting, his captors miraculously released him.

After his release, he rushed back to the Cilicia Mountains without stopping, trying to inform Ruben that he had returned alive and remained loyal to him.

But Ruben, acting out of character, refused to see him—until today.

”I know this as well,” Ruben said, his eyes narrowing as he stared coldly at Vardan. ”But what I really want to know is what you did in Eric’s—or rather, the Normans’—camp.”

”From what I’ve heard, Lord Vardan, you escaped from an encirclement of countless Normans almost single-handedly. And what of your dear Persian adjutant? I believe his name was Farhad.

How is it that I don’t see him this time? I would think the ever-brave and exceptionally loyal foreigner, Lord Adjutant Farhad, would have fought valiantly by your side and returned with you, sharing in the glory.”

”He died in Tarsus City. He died bravely, for the freedom of the Armenians.”

”Heh,” Monk Shahak let out a cold laugh.

”I’m afraid that’s not the case.” Ruben tapped the parchment in front of him with his quill, though he wrote nothing. ”I hope your next answer will be more to my liking.”

Ruben’s response stunned Vardan.

A surge of anger rose within him. ’This is a humiliation. Did I endure those seven days of Hell just to face this kind of humiliation from Ruben?’

”Spying on them, Your Majesty,” Vardan said, clenching his fists, then added with sudden cheerfulness, ”Just like you spied on Abul Qasim back then.”

Vardan was referring to a winter night six years ago when Ruben had foolishly disguised himself as a musician and gone to Adana, which was then occupied by Abul Qasim.

Ruben’s bold venture had failed. If Vardan hadn’t been there, Abul Qasim, that Turkic Bey, might have become the ruler of all Cilicia.

Ruben did not respond, nor did he look at Vardan.

”That’s not what we heard,” Monk Shahak began his attack.

”Then what did you hear, brother?” Vardan asked, looking at Monk Shahak.

Monk Shahak raised a long, slender finger. ”We heard that you arrived in Tarsus with the Normans.”

A second finger went up. ”That you were welcomed by the Norman Earl, Eric, and other Norman Nobility.”

Monk Shahak paused, glaring fiercely at Vardan, and raised a third finger. ”And that these Norman heretics called you the King of Cilicia.”

Then, Monk Shahak slowly lowered his three fingers, as if his accusations were irrefutable.

”I was a captive! What choice did I have? I entered Tarsus with the Identity of a prisoner. I would have preferred to enter that city of the Armenians as a victor, not in that humiliating state!

And it’s not my fault what title Count Eric bestowed upon me! I neither want it nor possess it!” Vardan roared.

”Is that so? A captive? On the day of your return, Lord Vardan, your radiant appearance looked nothing like a captive or a loser. On the contrary, you looked like a triumphant General. We just don’t know who you triumphed over.

Besides, we all know Lord Vardan has always been proud of his origins in the Arutunian family,” Taglan now sneered.

The Arutunian family, from which Vardan hailed, had declined with the fall of the Armenia Kingdom in 1045. However, when the Armenia Kingdom still existed, the Arutunian family was quite prominent, having married several princesses of the Armenian Royal Family.

Although any claim to rule over the Armenians based on such a tenuous matrilineal bloodline was extremely weak, and utterly incomparable to Ruben—a pure-blooded relative of the Armenian Royal Family, the younger brother of Gagik II, the last King of Armenia, and a venerable Prince of Armenia—it was not entirely impossible.

But it was not entirely impossible.