People in the Middle Ages, draw cards to get promoted

"This is God's will!"

The excitement on the faces of the Crusader cavalry has completely washed away the fatigue in their bodies.

They cheered desperately, venting their emotions hoarsely.

The Holy Lance is a sacred object on the same level as the True Cross and the Ark of the Covenant.

Now not only has the sun reappeared in the Holy Land, but it has also shown them a real miracle.

This is more inspiring than His Majesty the Pope holding a fragment of the True Cross and speaking to them before the battle-after all, the fragments of the True Cross hidden in the cart will not help them defeat the demons driven by the infidels. dragon.

Baron Fulk, who was trying to pull out the half broken throwing spear stuck on his shoulder armor, was full of shock and fear.

His lips were trembling.

"Holy Lance, that is the legendary Holy Lance!"

He almost squeezed out a depressive roar from his throat: "God, I have become the enemy of the guardian of the holy gun. I will fall into hell forever, and it will be difficult to get redemption."

Ivan, who was beside Baron Fulk, looked at this scene in a daze. As an orthodox believer who converted to paganism, his original beliefs were also severely damaged.

It turns out that there really is a God in this world
He looked back at the ashen-faced Mamluk cavalrymen, and suddenly raised his voice and shouted: "What are you afraid of, our dragon is not dead yet, which means that even the gods worshiped by pagans cannot match the brilliance of the holy fire! "

It seemed to be echoing what Ivan said.

hold head high--

The roar of the fire dragon above his head was like thunder exploding in winter.

Its pair of huge eyes stared at Lothar surrounded by the crowd, the spilled blood turned into clusters of flames, and the whole body seemed to be bathed in a sea of ​​flames.

Seeing its wings vibrating, it wanted to dive down and burn all those annoying bugs with the fiery dragon flames.

Schemael hurriedly calmed his partner's emotions: "Don't be impulsive, buddy, he just wants to irritate you and let you show your flaws."

"Be obedient, fly higher, and let me take a look at your wound first."

His hands glowed green, trying to heal the dragon's wounds.

But when the green light was about to sprinkle on the wound of the fire dragon, a golden holy light suddenly lit up, and instantly expelled the healing spell that Schemael was trying to cast, and this golden holy light was still as good as Like a gangrene attached to the bone, it continued to burn.

The pain intensified the anger in the fire dragon's eyes. The already manic fire dragon no longer ignored Master Schemael's advice and plunged headfirst, the temperature in his mouth began to rise sharply.

"That dragon is about to rush down!"

"It's not dead!"

It certainly won't die.

Even for Jeanna, it is impossible for this Karelian fire dragon to lose its combat effectiveness with a holy spear, let alone the holy spear thrown by Lothar.

If the vitality can be digitized, Lothar's shot would have destroyed at most a quarter of the Karelian Fire Dragon's blood volume.

The cavalrymen of the Crusaders became a little restless, but they didn't feel much fear this time. They looked at the man sitting on the back of the giant horse and holding the holy spear.

boom!
A red lightning shot out from the crusaders' camp.

Shemaier hastily waved his staff to try to block it, but this lightning was the attack of the blood magic circle built by Fringila relying on the blood of countless dead on the battlefield, so how could it be so easy to block it.

The red lightning broke through one magic barrier after another.

There are colorful ripples like fireworks.

Until, it hit the huge body of the giant dragon.

The red lightning that has weakened most of its power still made the Karelian fire dragon feel indescribable pain, like a terrifying shock on the soul, making it no longer care about revenge, and started to lift off again.

Lothar looked indifferent, looking at the fire dragon that was about to fly out of the battlefield: "It is true that it is not dead, but it does not pose any threat to us."

One knight blurted out, "But why not just kill it?"

Lothar smiled and shouted: "Yes, that's right. God is all-knowing and omnipotent, but why doesn't he want to destroy Satan? Is there anything in this world that even God can't do?"

"of course not."

His voice is full of penetrating power, like a pious priest preaching impassionedly.

"That's because he gives people the freedom to choose to embrace Satan or convert to the true faith."

"Now, Heavenly Father has given me the holy gun to resist evil, but it does not mean that we can sit still and enjoy the benefits, waiting for the evil to be driven out by the power of Heavenly Father, and Heavenly Father will not do that."

"Only those who save themselves can be saved!"

Lothar's expression was full of piety. At this moment, it seemed that even he believed in the miracle he made up.

"All cavalry, knights, and lords favored by the Father, now, please raise your spears, swords, and warhammers, and reorganize your array, so that the pagans can once again appreciate the true Christians. Faith and piety!"

As Lothar's voice fell, the cheers of the people sounded like a mountain roar and a tsunami again.

To be fair, Lothar doesn't want to be the image of a magic stick, but in this era, nothing is more useful than this set.

The Crusader cavalry began to regroup, and the flags of various colors were like flowing ocean currents.

Someone drove the mount and ran up to Lothar and asked, "Master Marquis, what about the dragon?"

Lothar said without hesitation: "My attendant will hold the holy gun and always deter it so that it dare not take a step closer."

Jeanna had already taken back the holy gun at this time, and she could vaguely feel the dissatisfaction conveyed by the holy gun, as if she disliked the energy that Lothar injected into it was too scorching and not authentic enough.

She patted the barrel of the holy gun with a strange expression, and put it away.

The cavalry next to them cast fiery eyes from time to time, as if they were envious of Jeanna getting the honor of keeping the Holy Lance for Lothar.

Baron Argonne rode his mount and trotted over to remind him: "My lord, no, the Holy Lance can make the one who owns it the greatest monarch, and it can also kill those who lose it."

"I didn't lose it—I entrusted it to those I trusted most."

Lothar joked with a smile: "Baron Argonne, I thank you for your loyal advice, but I believe that my ancestor Charlemagne would definitely not hold a long gun at all times when he went to the toilet or paid his respects."

The Habsburg family also had the blood of Charlemagne, which is clearly recorded in the blood lineage.

Baron Argonne also came to his senses, and smiled awkwardly: "Sorry, my lord, I was too nervous."

Lothar looked at Baron Argonne with a half-smile expression on his face. He was the only lord under his command who hadn't changed his job but was more loyal than the loyal system soldiers.

How much of it is sincere and how much is false, Lothar doesn't care, and it doesn't matter.

Lothar's face was full of kindness and respect: "No, I have to thank you for your loyalty."

"Baron Argonne, can you follow me and hold the flag for me?"

The dust on Baron Argonne's face mixed with sweat turned into mud marks. He took over the flying double-headed eagle flag from the hands of the wing cavalry behind Lothar, and said with some surprise: "Of course, it is duty-bound, my lord!"

Lothar nodded slightly, looked back at the Crusader cavalry who had rearranged their ranks, and leveled the spears in their hands.

The forest-like lances were hung with various flags, and they were leveled together with Lothar.

The next moment, the dense sound of horseshoes sounded like a war drum.

“Do God’s will!”

"For the sake of the holy spear!"

Hundreds of thousands of cavalry were inspired with infinite courage. They were no longer afraid of life and death, like the Alps piled up with snow, and under Lothar's roar, thousands of tons of snow poured down.

Zahir's face became more and more ugly. He and Tajidin who were not far away looked at each other, and they both saw retreat in the other's eyes.

The morale of both the enemy and the enemy has ebbed and flowed, and the level has been pulled.

The Saracen cavalry, who were already at a disadvantage, had little chance of winning.

"Fire the arrows, don't confront them head-on!"

Zahir spoke first.

"Send those Nubian cavalry forward and stop the enemy with javelins!"

Tajidin in the distance heaved a long sigh, Zahir's order did not exceed his expectations, it was a smart but not so smart approach.

It is wise to send the Nubian cavalry to the front to die, and there is a high probability that the Kasaji guards and the elite Mamluks under his command will be saved, but this also means that the last remaining courage of these "elites" will also be lost. Disappeared.

"Are we going to lose again?"

A sense of powerlessness emerged in Takidin's heart. In the previous confrontation, the losses of his own cavalry were far greater than those of the Crusaders. The two had almost a one-to-three battle loss.

Because the armor of the Crusaders' cavalry was strong, which greatly limited their cavalry and shooting tactics; in terms of frontal charge, the Mamluks, an all-around army, were inferior to the Crusaders' cavalry.

Coupled with the gap in morale between the enemy and ourselves, this makes one's own disadvantages infinitely magnified.

He gritted his teeth: "Warriors blessed by the holy fire, don't forget that it is our innate mission to recover the Holy Land. We have more numbers than the barbaric Franks, and our equipment is not inferior to them. King Saladin is here Watching us from behind, now is the time for us to show our bravery."

"The holy fire burns forever, the highest and the greatest!"

He roared and ordered someone to blow the horn of attack again.