CHAPTER 1185: CHAPTER 746: THE MOORISH CIVIL WAR IN THE AUTUMN OF 1489 AD

"Ah!..."

October’s autumn harvest, yet the fields outside the Moors’ desolate village were full of tall wild grass, exuding a sense of bleak desolation. Blue tits boldly landed to rest on the eaves, only to be startled into flight by a sudden, chilling scream. It circled above the village, scanning, seeing only the Cross cavalry laughing around, and in the center, a Moorish captive collapsed on the ground, his voice hoarse.

"Haha! Che coglione! What a useless fool! Seeing this guy’s expression just now, I thought we might encounter a defiant heathen!..."

The young Cross cavalry laughed heartily, watching the Moorish noble writhe on the ground, face covered with blood, as if they were seeing an amusing monkey show. There was no pity in their eyes, for in their traditional understanding, tormenting and killing a heathen was not just devoid of crime but a pious virtue.

"Ha! Truly dull!..."

The older Cross knights appeared indifferent. They’ve seen many such scenes of torturing heathens. For them, at present, the most important thing was to feed their horses with sustaining beans.

At this moment, they were on the front lines of the battlefield, possibly encountering enemies at any time. Hence, feeding the horses quickly to maintain their stamina for galloping and charging was a knight’s primary duty! Letting the horses graze wastes too much time and isn’t sustaining, something only to be done in safety and relaxation.

Old Knight Lorenzo smiled, cutting off one ear and a pinky finger from the Moorish captive. Then, using a sharp armor-piercing awl, he strung the bloody organs together, casually swaying them before the captive’s eyes. When the almost fainted Moorish captive came to his senses, he saw parts of his own body appearing in his sight in a terrifying way. After a few breaths of silence, there was another startled, hoarse scream.

"Ah! No!..."

After the scream faded, Old Knight Lorenzo spoke for the first time, beginning the interrogation in fluent Moorish with the terrified and frightened Moorish captive. Despite the evident fear on his face, there was still resistance.

The old knight smiled, waving the sharp, bleeding dagger blade, and lowly promised something. Only then did the Moorish captive, half-believing, hesitantly begin to confess.

After a while, the old knight asked him similar questions repeatedly, receiving answers without contradictions. He thus confirmed that the captive was not lying.

Younger Knight Giovanni stood aside, watching with great interest, learning the old knight’s interrogation techniques. The captive’s speech was fast; his Moorish was just beginning, so he didn’t quite understand. After the interrogation, he asked in confusion.

"Lorenzo, you just promised that captive. That he’ll be allowed to leave after meeting King Fernando at the camp? Were you serious?"

"Haha! Giovanni, can a promise to a heathen be counted on?"

Old Knight Lorenzo’s lips curled up, answering with a smile.

"If he can really bring a substantial ransom out of Basa City, letting him go isn’t an issue. But should King Fernando decide otherwise, it’s not our concern. Everything depends on the will of the Almighty!"

"Uh..."

Young Knight Giovanni pursed his lips, momentarily speechless. After a pause, he slowly nodded. Indeed, promises to vile heathens weren’t the same as those to his Christian brothers, requiring no obligation to uphold. Thinking this, he put aside his thoughts and pursued the more pressing issue.

"Lorenzo, he mentioned some Uncle King, Nephew King, reinforcements, what surrender?"

"Well, explaining it is a bit troublesome. However, the message he brought back was as I expected."

Old Knight Lorenzo, confident and proud, smiled.

"Giovanni, didn’t you ask before, if the besieging army isn’t effective, how to conquer Baza fortress? Haha! This captive’s answer is my answer!"

"Ah! Conquer Baza fortress? What exactly did he say?"

"By the Almighty! He is the Moorish lord Mohamed Ben Hassan of Baza fortress, sent to Granada’s capital to request reinforcements from Granada’s King, Abu Abdallah. He brought back the King Abu’s reply!"

"What? Granada’s King is sending troops to support Baza fortress?"

Upon hearing this, Young Knight Giovanni looked surprised and a bit tense.

"We’re right between Granada’s capital and Baza fortress now. If hordes of Moors cavalry are coming, we must retreat immediately!"

"No, don’t worry! We don’t need to retreat."

Old Knight Lorenzo shook his head, smiling. He stroked his goatee, his expression leisurely, tinged with sentiment.

"Granada’s King Abu told Baza’s Lord Hassan: No troops will be dispatched from the capital to Baza fortress! If reinforcements are needed, ask for them from his sworn uncle az-Zaghal!..."

"If the uncle has no reinforcements either, then Baza fortress might as well surrender! Remember, surrender directly to the merciful and respectable, brave and steadfast Queen Isabella, not to the inscrutable and cunning King Fernando..."

Young Knight Giovanni was shocked upon hearing this response. Looking at the old knight in disbelief, he asked with a trembling voice.

"How could this be! Lorenzo, did you hear it wrong?! Baza fortress is the last and most formidable barrier northeast of Granada! How could the Granada King easily abandon this mountain stronghold? Even have its defenders surrender to Queen Isabella?..."

"Well, Giovanni, you see... This actually relates to the internal conflict within the Granada Kingdom! Such internal strife was orchestrated and fostered by the two Iberian kings! It is also due to Granada Kingdom’s internal turmoil that I boldly claim the Moors can’t hold on much longer..."

Old Knight Lorenzo glanced at the collapsed Moorish captive, pulling young Giovanni aside to a deserted corner. His expression turned solemn, lowering his voice as he detailed the critical turning point in this Holy War.

"Although Granada Kingdom is small, its terrain is rugged, it has a large population, and the country is wealthy. It has the support of many Moors kingdoms from the Southern Continent, making it originally quite a challenge to conquer..."

"However, six years ago, not even two years into this round of Holy War, Granada King Abu Abdallah, let’s call him the Nephew King, boldly led an army northward, attacking the Castilians... Then he was defeated, not perishing in battle but disgracefully captured by the Castilians."

At this point, Old Knight Lorenzo’s face bore a mocking smile. He looked deeply at the brave young knight, intentionally teaching.

"Giovanni, sometimes, ill-timed bravery is a sin that harms others and oneself! After Nephew King Abu was captured, the Granada royal family underwent numerous struggles, with the throne passing hands twice, finally ending with the uncle, az-Zaghal. And it was at this time that the seeds of Moorish internal strife and destruction were sown..."