CHAPTER 64: GRAND MASTER LOTHAR

Chapter 64: Grand Master Lothar

Lothar, alone, slowly walked towards the center of the great hall. The breastplate of his custom-made plate armor was emblazoned with the Star of David emblem. (Back then the Star of David did not symbolize Judaism. In fact The symbol has a long history of use in various cultures and religions, especially in magical context.)

In his left arm, he cradled a helmet adorned with black feathers, and a black cape bearing an eagle insignia was fastened at his shoulders. On the hilt of the arming sword at his waist, a large red gemstone was inlaid.

His attire was entirely different from when he had spoken with such fervor in this great hall for the first time.

Now, at a glance, he resembled the noble crown prince of a kingdom, exuding an air of valor and aristocratic bearing.

Facing the challenging, angry, disdainful, or puzzled gazes of the numerous nobles, Lothar’s face showed no trace of fear. He even leisurely surveyed his surroundings, nodding in acknowledgment to the nobles in every direction.

The King of Jerusalem, in the Holy Land, had never ruled by absolute decree. But what had truly caused the king’s authority to plummet was Baldwin IV’s worsening leprosy, which had prevented him from making public appearances for a long time.

Before this, due to Eastern traditions and the divine right anointing his position, the King of Jerusalem held considerable sway in the Holy Land.

"Baron Lothar, how dare you barge into the sacred royal palace with a troop of armored warriors?"

"This is an affront to the many nobles present!"

"Is this how Count Werner taught you?"

Guy of Lusignan, his eyes bloodshot, shouted, "Guards! Why haven’t you expelled this insolent fellow yet?"

Guy considered his defeat by Balian a monstrous humiliation and naturally because Lothar was associated with Godfrey and Balian, he felt no goodwill towards Lothar.

The guards looked at each other, but no one moved a step. These guards, clad in red and white surcoats, were all sergeants belonging to the Royal Knights, and Count Raymond had only just announced the King’s appointment of the new Grand Master.

Lothar smiled. "My apologies, gentlemen. Whether you agree or not, from this day forward, I am the Grand Master of the Royal Knights of Jerusalem. The security of the royal palace will be my responsibility. Therefore, for me to lead my armored cavalry and sergeants on patrol here can hardly be considered insolent."

Baron Godfrey nodded. "Indeed. As the former Grand Master of the Royal Knights of Jerusalem, I affirm Baron Lothar’s actions. Everything is in accordance with propriety and law."

Guy’s face turned crimson with anger, and he shot a vicious glare at Lothar and Godfrey.

"Gentlemen, lend me your ears." Lothar did not return to his seat but walked straight to the table laden with fine wine and delicacies, picked up a wine cup, and drained the cool wine in one gulp.

Count Raynald, who had long been unable to suppress his fury, said angrily, "Enough, Lothar! What other tricks are you trying to play?"

Lothar glanced at Count Raynald and smiled. "Just a few words I wished to say, taking advantage of this banquet. His Majesty the King is not yet dead. I know many of you are eagerly awaiting that day, beginning to attack each other without reason, opposing for the sake of opposition, attempting to seize more power and wealth, completely disregarding the impending threat."

"People always like to think on the bright side. Some are thinking of relying on the Crusade called by the Pope to resist the infidels, even using this sharp blade to expand their own territories—after all, the crusaders will eventually leave. But have you ever considered that those crusaders might harbor the same thoughts as you?"

Lothar looked around but did not receive the anticipated rebuttal. In fact, after learning that the three European Kings had coincidentally postponed their Crusade, this idea had also crossed the minds of Jerusalem’s nobles.

When the Crusader states are all conquered and these old crusaders occupying their positions are all dead, wouldn’t it be a more bountiful harvest for them to come out and pick up the pieces?’

For nobles, their mouths are full of faith, but their hearts are full of interests; nothing could be more normal.

Lothar suddenly noticed Count Thierry standing not far away, looking rather embarrassed. He smiled and raised his wine cup. "Of course, noble individuals like Count Thierry are an exception. I believe he is a pure knight, coming to the Holy Land for the will of the Heavenly Father."

His tone shifted, and before Count Thierry could reply, he continued, "It is time to end all this. At least, until Saladin is defeated. We all know that even if the Three Kings cease hostilities immediately and march on Jerusalem together, it will take them a year or a year and half, if not more, to reach the Holy Land. A large army cannot move as quickly as a few dozen or a few hundred crusaders. Before then, on our own, are we truly Saladin’s match?"

Raynald abruptly stood up, thumping his chest. "Under the protection of the True Cross, the warriors of the Heavenly Father will be invincible! Whoever dares to propose peace with Saladin is a traitor!"

Lothar looked astonished. "Who said anything about making peace with Saladin? People like myself and Count Thierry have come to the Holy Land precisely to defend Jerusalem! We must fight, but we must also be united!"

"Heh." Raynald sneered silently.

The Regent, Raymond, nodded. "Indeed, war is already unavoidable. As the weaker party, we must be united."

The nobles all showed expressions of approval. But just like the "political correctness" emphasized in later ages, "unity" was merely a fine-sounding phrase appropriate for any occasion. No one could truly achieve it.

Power was a beautiful poison, possessing a terrifying allure that captivated until death. To drink this poison, some were even willing to make deals with infidels.

At this moment, a servant in an Arab-style robe slowly emerged from the corridor connecting to the great hall. He called out in a low voice, "Baron Lothar, His Majesty summons you."

"Gentlemen, I shall take my leave first. I hope you will carefully consider what I have said." Lothar nodded and followed the servant into the corridor leading to the inner palace, leaving behind a crowd of nobles buzzing with discussion.

"This Lothar, where did he get such a troop of knights in Milanese plate armor?"

"Heh, nothing more than some flashy but impractical things bought at great expense."

"Exactly! It’s said the wealth of that desert bandit group could fill an entire castle. He must have used that money to hire these cavalrymen, right?"

"That money should have originally belonged to Raynald, shouldn’t it? Haha, truly amusing!"

Half-plate armor, in terms of defense, was indeed not stronger than exquisite chainmail, but half-plate was more flexible and lighter. It required higher craftsmanship to produce, yet was less laborious to make than chainmail.

Count Raynald sneered at his followers, "Heh, even a greenhorn whippersnapper dares to step on our heads now. Grand Master of the Royal Knights, heh, have any of you ever seen such a young Grand Master?"

Someone lowered their voice and muttered, "Why hasn’t that leper been summoned by God yet?"

A group of people pretended not to hear. Count Raynald shot him a fierce glare.

’Shut it you idiot. Can such words be spoken here?’

Baron Godfrey beckoned to Lothar’s subordinates. "Gentlemen, come and sit with my knights. And the two honored ladies, please, be seated here."

***

In the dim palace, incense still burned in the room. Lothar looked at Baldwin IV. His condition seemed to have worsened; one arm was completely immobile, and he could only use the other hand to laboriously point to the seat opposite him. "Sit."

"Your Majesty, your health..."

Baldwin IV shook his head slightly, picked up a chess piece, and made the first move. "We will be able to meet often in the coming period. This matter is not urgent for discussion. I heard about your recent performance. You did not disappoint me."

Lothar also picked up a chess piece and made his first move. "It is all thanks to Your Majesty’s high regard. I have achieved no merit, yet I have been granted the title of Baron and the position of Grand Master. My heart is filled with trepidation."

"Heh, I’ve already said, that matter was a fault in my planning. You did your best, so naturally, it was meritorious." Baldwin IV shook his head slightly.

His movements were always unhurried; though it was due to his leprosy, there was none of a sick person’s slowness, but rather an air of calm composure.

"Lothar, Saladin is a very formidable enemy. I once defeated him at Montgisard, but I have also suffered defeat at his hands. I know him well."

"Raynald will not be his match. Raymond of Tiberias is intelligent, but he lacks courage. His territories are concentrated in northern Jerusalem. If it meant merely ceding the southern territories, I believe he would be willing to make a treaty with Saladin."

Lothar nodded. "Saladin is indeed formidable. I truly did not expect him to resolve our tacit understanding with the Sasanian King in such a manner."

To bow one’s head and admit fault—it sounded simple, but for a king in a high position, how difficult it must be!

"It was I who overestimated the Sasanian King’s resolve and underestimated Saladin’s." Baldwin IV sighed lightly. "Lothar, grow strong quickly. I can help you as much as possible, but you must defend this Kingdom for me."

Lothar nodded. "I will do my utmost, but it will be difficult, Your Majesty."

"He who works miracles will always have miracles by his side, Lothar." Beneath his mask, Baldwin IV’s eyes seemed to gaze into the distance, lost in thought.