Under the sunlight, the metal lance tips reflected a captivating brilliance.

Different colored Swallowtail Banners, Square Banners, fluttering in the air.

Fleur-de-lis, standing lions, bears, red dragons, and various indescribable patterns, and different colored crosses...

On the ramparts of Kaler Castle, the soldiers of the defending garrison, who had become numb with despair, were first stunned and then erupted into deafening cheers.

"The reinforcements are here!"

"We are saved!"

Baron Hanfry of Tolun, riding a tall warhorse, came to stand alongside Losa. He was the Royal Palace Chief Steward, commanding a unit of over twenty Knights and more than fifty Armored Cavalry.

He shouted: "Baron Losa, the Saracens seem unaware of our arrival, it's a rare opportunity; should we launch a charge first?"

Losa felt a sense of helplessness, akin to hearing a teammate make an earnest yet foolish suggestion.

Along the way, Saracen scouts and falcons soaring in the sky were everywhere.

He really wanted to ask Baron Hanfry, who gave you the confidence to say "the Saracens seem unaware of our arrival"?

Losa barely managed to squeeze out a polite smile: "Lord Hanfry, the main army is yet to fully deploy, and without orders from Your Majesty, I cannot give the command to charge."

Amalric sneered loudly: "Baron Losa, aren't you supposedly the Champion Knight of Jerusalem? Is your courage only useful in the arena?"

Losa remained expressionless, he raised a hand, gesturing as if to remove his Chain Armor Gloves.

Amalric's face darkened, he snorted and retreated back to his own knightly group.

"These fools, their heads full of dung?"

Losa muttered under his breath.

Many Crusader nobles still held impressions of the Saracen army as it was before Saladin's military reform.

Little did they know the Guram Cavalry their ancestors faced were no match for today's Mamluk Cavalry.

Outside the seemingly undefended camp.

Certainly, numerous horse pits and iron thorns lay in ambush, with the camp further fortified by crossbowmen...

Losa was ninety percent sure, if he dared give the order to charge, this force of eight hundred Heavy Cavalry would absolutely be annihilated here.

Not even raising a ripple.

This battle could be declared ended before it even began.

Losa looked back.

Dust and smoke filled the sky, banners covered the heavens.

An endless mass, a dense swarm of Crusaders, was slowly forming ranks, approaching this side.

The heavy footsteps were like drumbeats.

At the very front were the Royal Knight Order Soldiers and Jerusalem Knight Order Soldiers, arrayed in neat phalanxes, clad in cloaks of red and white and dark blue.

Over twenty Varangian Guard each carried a large shield, wielding two-handed axes, standing at the forefront of their line.

Dressed in white cloaks, gripping hammers and heavy crosses, the Combat Cultivators followed closely behind.

These Clergy were not feeble; they wielded weapons for "physical evangelism," many having encountered robbers and bandits on the mission route, seasoned in combat.

Urding was among these Combat Cultivators, and he held a significant commander role, wearing Heavy Chain Armor and wielding a Bible wrapped in Iron Chains, fighting on foot.

Baldwin IV expressed his intent to elevate Urding to the position of Regional Archbishop, and even Jerusalem Patriarch.

This necessitated him to make substantial achievements.

Behind, patrolling mercenary light cavalry circled the troop, serving as the Crusaders' eyes and ears, always capturing any surrounding movements.

Light infantry bearing crossbows and catapults marched in loose, disorderly formations, weaving in the gaps between over a dozen large phalanxes in the center.

…

In the camp at the foot of the mountain.

Each tall tent concealed fully armed Armored Cavalry.

Zahir stood at the back of the camp, surrounded by light infantry hidden behind wooden walls, holding bows and arrows.

He gazed afar at Losa standing on the hillside, raising a lance adorned with a Square Banner, his expression somewhat complex.

"Zahir, do you want to wash away your disgrace?"

Adil rode a black horse and slowly came to his side.

"Are you here to humiliate me?"

Adil shook his head and said, "No, Zahir, I intend to put a cavalry under your command."

Zahir was startled and said, "Would you be so kind?"

Adil smiled and said, "After all, you are my nephew, and the Mamluks under your command are not weak in combat strength; fight Baron Losa again. This time, I hope you don't commit the sin of arrogance again."

Zahir's face flushed red: "I will, this time, I must capture him alive and get back all the money he extorted from me!"

Adil slightly turned his head, a hint of a smile on his face, and said softly, "Zahir, with the advantages I've given you, you should at least thank me, shouldn't you?"

Zahir said with righteousness, "Hmph, Aleppo should belong to me, the army you gave me was raised with my taxes and my people."

Adil was not offended and said, "You do have some brains."

He was about to step down as the Governor of Syria and transfer to the Governor of Egypt, so Aleppo's army should indeed be returned to Zahir.

The messenger rode swiftly through the camp.

"By order of the king: The Franks have seen through our plans, everyone retreat, prepare to march out and fight the Franks!"

On the hillside, more and more Crusaders appeared.

They occupied the advantageous high ground without encountering any obstruction.

Due to having a good rest yesterday and carrying sufficient supplies, the Crusaders did not expend much physical strength during their march.

Losa turned his head and saw Baldwin IV mounting a warhorse, donning a golden crown and silver mask, holding a luxurious sword with a jewel-encrusted scabbard, accompanied by Belian and other personal knights, rushing toward the front line.

"Is His Majesty going to negotiate with the heretics?"

"What's there to talk about? Only a dead heretic is a good heretic."

"There's nothing wrong with negotiating; if Saladin can be persuaded to retreat, that would be ideal."

The knights whispered among themselves.

Losa focused intently on the Saracens' camp below the hillside.

A group of Mamluk cavalry clad in black scale armor and equipped with both horse and armor, escorted a man dressed humbly and wearing only a black turban, advancing towards Baldwin IV.

That should be Saladin.

He wore a brown coat called kazahan, which appeared to be just a splendid robe but actually had two layers of chain armor inside, providing astonishing defense.

This piece of cloth armor was said to have once saved Saladin's life when he encountered an Assassin.

The two kings stood face to face amidst the crowd's attention, at the foot of the hill.

They each departed from their guards and rode towards each other.

"Good day, King Baldwin."

Saladin regarded his opponent with a silver mask, who was twenty-four years his junior, and felt a sense of destiny between them.

"Good day, King Saladin."

Baldwin IV raised his hand and drew a cross in front of him.

He sat steadily on horseback and asked gently, "King Saladin, I wonder why you've broken our previous agreements and provocatively attacked our borders?"

Saladin replied gravely, "You should inquire with your confidant, that villain who should have been hanged by King Nuruddin twenty years ago."

"Count Reynard repeatedly attacked caravans; that was his wrongdoing, and I will punish him. However, your lords have also assaulted our pilgrim groups many times."

Baldwin IV paused briefly, then continued, "To start a war that causes tens of thousands of casualties for such reasons, King Saladin, is not a kingly path."

Saladin's smile turned somewhat bitter: "Indeed, but King Baldwin, you and I both have unspeakable difficulties. This battle is inevitable, even if it goes against the royal way."

Baldwin IV was silent for a moment. He knew Saladin was speaking the truth; unifying the Fire Worship forces under the banner of jihad equally meant he had to reclaim Jerusalem.

If he showed any sign of retreat, the justified cause that unified scattered Saracen forces would immediately turn into seeds of rebellion.

He nodded and said, "If that is the case, let the Heavenly Father decide to whom Jerusalem shall belong."

Saladin placed a hand over his chest: "May the sacred fire protect your soul."

Baldwin IV nodded and said, "May the Heavenly Father protect you, king of the heretics."

The two kings bid farewell to each other and, with their guards, swiftly returned to their camps.

Shortly after, news of preparation for battle spread through the army.

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