CHAPTER 1182: CHAPTER 743: THE HOLY WAR OF GRANADA IN THE AUTUMN OF 1489 AD

October 1489, southern Iberian Peninsula, Emirate of Granada.

The long Granada War has reached its eighth year. The continuous flames of war still burn between the mountains and the coast in the southern Peninsula. From Malaga to Granada to Baza, the once extremely prosperous lands of Granada have almost been reduced to barren lands by the cruel slaughter and plunder.

By now, the farms, orchards, and canals that the Moors had built over 700 years and were proud of have all been destroyed by the flames of war. In the fertile mountainous valleys of the South, there are burnt villages and markets everywhere, plundered workshops and mines everywhere, deserted fields and pastures everywhere, and everywhere you can see knights and their chamberlains in cross-emblazoned garments, charging with fanatic zeal, chanting Holy War slogans.

"Praise the Almighty! After six or seven days of running in the wild, we finally caught a decent Moorish captive!"

The sound of horse hooves comes from the end of the valley. Soon, over a dozen cavalrymen in cross-emblazoned chain armor, with a pair of horses each, appear from behind the hillside, bringing light dust.

The leading knight is young, with a slightly long face, distinct facial features, and a look of excitement on his face. He is dressed in a polished compact half plate armor, which is lighter than the full plate armor, suitable for long-distance raids. In this era when plate armor is yet to be manufactured on a large scale, the price of this exquisite plate armor on the Iberian Peninsula equals a dozen chain mail or a property in Seville.

The warhorse beneath the knight is clad in protective horse cloth painted with the family’s insignia. Upon closer inspection, the emblem is a flying lion with wings, the Saint Mark lion. Undoubtedly, the knight’s family hails from the Republic of Venice.

"Bless the Almighty! This time, King Fernando of Aragon leads tens of thousands of Crusaders southward. The Moors are in a state of decline, forced to retreat into the castles... Giovanni, they won’t be able to hold out for much longer!"

Beside the young plate armor knight is another slightly older plate armor knight with graying hair. He is composed, talking with the young knight while observing the path ahead. His movements are efficient and straightforward, riding like he was born on horseback, clearly an experienced veteran. His warhorse also wears protective horse cloth, only without the family emblem.

"Lorenzo, why do you say the Moors won’t be able to hold out for long?"

The young knight Giovanni turns his head, curiously looking at the older knight Lorenzo. He blinks his eyes, smiling as he speaks.

"Seeing the battles so far, you’ve observed that the Moors are building fortresses everywhere in the mountains. These stone fortresses are exceptionally sturdy, benefiting from the advantageous terrain. If it were up to me, I would simply withdraw the troops. I feel they could guard these mountain fortresses until old age!"

"The mountain fortresses of the Moors are indeed solid in defense. If it were over two hundred years ago, when Governor Enrico led the Fourth Crusade, these fortresses would have to be sieged for several years. The impregnable city of Constantinople would have been unconquerable without Byzantine internal turmoil and Prince Alexios IV’s support."

The older knight Lorenzo remains unchanged in expression. He first nods affirmatively, recounting the old stories of the Fourth Crusade and the sack of Constantinople before offering his own perspective.

"However, times are different now! Forty years ago, Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman people, relying on unheard-of cannons. Two years ago, King Fernando, with dozens of large mortars, captured the seaside Malaga fortress. Facing terrifying artillery, the once strongholds are likely to fall..."

"Ha! Artillery...such heavy and slow things, useful only at sea and during sieges..."

At the mention, the young knight Giovanni curls his lip in disapproval. He has seen Venice’s warships equipped with artillery and the might of artillery during sieges. However, the knightly honor still engulfed his heart, making him instinctively dislike this powerful weapon that shows no distinction between knights and militia.

"Witness the Almighty! What does it matter if there is artillery? King Fernando and his forces set up the Crusader camp, besieging Baza fortress. They’ve been laid siege for nearly six months; supplies are running low, yet the fortress within remains firm!"

"Yes, Baza fortress is, after all, the most solid mountain fortress in the northeastern Granada. This city is built on a flat mountain, and the terrain is indeed treacherous. To siege, one must attack upwards along the rugged mountain paths. The cannons in the camp cannot pound the towering fortress... however, even without artillery, the Moors cannot hold this fortress for much longer."

"Oh? Lorenzo, are you sure?"

Hearing the old knight’s assertion, the young knight Giovanni raises an eyebrow. He turns to look into the old knight’s eyes and asks in a serious tone.

"Witness the Almighty! If Baza fortress is really about to fall, why do you suggest I lead the chamberlains out here, seeking some kind of merit?"

"May the Almighty protect us! After such a prolonged siege, the army’s supplies are insufficient. The Castilian troops in the camp are morale-low, frustrated and restless; you’ve witnessed that atmosphere. Crusaders have nothing to do, some gamble privately, others compete in combat, some boast grandiosely about how many heathens they’ve slain and how they were slain..."

Facing the young knight’s questioning, the older knight remains unchanged, smiling at the corners of his mouth.

"Giovanni, staying in the camp is not beneficial for you, better to come out on patrol. The Moors have completely scaled back, and the chances of encountering a mass of Moors Cavalry are already very small."

"Lorenzo, on one hand, you say Baza fortress is about to fall, and on the other, you say the troops in the camp are demoralized..."

The young knight Giovanni furrows his brow, finding it hard to understand.

"It’s really bewildering! If the besieging army is weak, how can they conquer Baza fortress?"

"Haha! Giovanni, besieging a fortress relies on the attacking side and equally on the defending side."

The older knight chuckles, indifferent to Giovanni’s offensive words. After all, from a certain perspective, young knight Giovanni is expected to inherit his father’s title and seat, potentially becoming his future Seigneur. He points to the Moors captive tied behind the knights, confidently speaking.

"Witness the Almighty! Ahead is a village with a well there. We’ve been galloping so long, so why not rest there for half a day. Water the horses and feed them beans, grab some food, and interrogate the captured Moorish nobility. Perhaps then, you might believe what I say!"

"Good! Then let’s hurry up!"

Upon hearing this, the young knight Giovanni nods. Clenching his legs to the horse’s sides, he rides towards the Moorish villages in the valley. Over a dozen knights and chamberlains follow closely, raising a cloud of dust in the desolate heart of Granada, riding far off in a moment.