"Halt!"

"Rest where you are!"

The Kurdish Cavalry, weary from travel, halted in the desert. There wasn't a single leaf to provide shade, making it a rather ill-suited place for rest.

Abdullah looked up with a grave expression and said, "That eagle has been circling above us for quite some time."

Overhead, an eagle was indeed circling back and forth.

It had been quite a while already.

Losa inquired, "Can you shoot it down?"

"No, this feathered creature is cunning and flies very high."

Abdullah raised his bow and arrow, which hung from the saddlebag, aimed for a moment, then shook his head: "It seems we're going to face a bloody battle soon."

"I hope it's just a coincidence."

"No, Losa, there are no coincidences on the battlefield. If there were, consider it part of the enemy's plan. Also, falconry is a tradition among Arabs."

"In this desert, only specially trained hawks would circle over a moving group of people like this."

"I understand."

Losa, taking the advice readily, immediately shouted orders: "Reorganize the troop, change mounts, and prepare to face the enemy."

Nominally, he was the commander of this Kurdish Cavalry, and he never hesitated to issue commands.

Even though he knew that if Abdullah gave a command, the cavalry would immediately abandon him as their nominal commander and follow Abdullah's orders instead.

Yet he still absorbed experience and lessons from this valuable practical opportunity, like a sponge wringing out water.

He hoped to quickly learn how to be a competent cavalry commander and how to fight in this desert.

Abdullah was fully aware of this and taught Losa without reservation.

Of course, if Losa were an arrogant, self-important Crusader nobleman, he certainly wouldn't have received such treatment.

If he ordered recklessly and made arbitrary decisions, it's very likely these nominal "subordinates" would kill him without hesitation in this desert.

Losa took out the premium feed from the saddlebag to replenish the stamina of his mount.

After continuous travel, his sturdy Arabian warhorse was lightly sweating, and even its mane was soaked, clearly unfit for another charge.

Even the spare horse, which hadn't been ridden, was far from being in optimal condition.

"How should this exhausted troop face the enemy?"

Losa frowned, looking at the swallowtail banner on the lance. With it, a desperate sprint might just shake off the enemy.

But the problem was, what to do if they encountered the enemy again later?

Here, they weren't far from the Syrian heartland of Ayyubid rule.

At that moment, Losa's expression suddenly changed slightly: "They're here after all."

In the distance, a cloud of dust was rising.

The heavy hoofbeats made the ground quiver slightly with sand and stones.

A system notification sounded:

Milestone activated: Lone Hero (Successfully penetrate through a cavalry unit of over a hundred people alone).

Losa inwardly cursed: What lone hero are you talking about? Do you really think I'm Lv Fengxian reborn?

Abdullah stood beside Losa and whispered in Gaulish: "As a leader, you should never reveal your emotions, whether joy, anger, sadness, or fear. Always have confidence."

Losa was startled into awareness, realizing his oversight.

Over a hundred cavalrymen, raising a storm of yellow sand, halted not far away.

Their iron armor gleamed, their blades and guns formed a forest of weapons.

Behind the cavalry, there was a large caravan, slowly approaching accompanied by melodious bells.

Clearly, these cavalrymen had arrived on camels and switched to warhorses nearby.

In the desert, camels are far superior in endurance to horses, have higher carrying capacity, and are better suited for long-distance travel.

This meant their mounts still had plenty of stamina.

Losa carefully observed their armor and equipment, noting their chaotic and disorderly nature, he breathed a slight sigh of relief.

They were not the elite Mamluks.

This cavalry unit was made up of a complex mix and mismatched gear.

Short spears, hammer spears, scimitars, straight swords, compound bows...

Kite shields, round shields.

Golden Zha Armor, black Scale Armor, earth-toned Cloth Armor.

They were certainly not a unified and elite force like the Mamluks, both in equipment and tactics.

But this did not mean they were easy to deal with.

Losa glanced back at the group, and sure enough, every face of the battle-hardened Kurdish Cavalry showed serious concern.

They clearly understood that their weary force would have difficulty confronting an enemy that was well-prepared and outnumbered them significantly.

It was evident Kokb's men had used a falcon to notify this group of enemies to intercept them.

Yet Losa was a bit puzzled.

Why in the frontier area between Sassan and Ayyubid, mostly full of opportunists, would someone risk offending Saladin to ambush this elite squad?

The expenditure and returns were not proportional at all!

"By the Sacred Fire, we are cavalry under King Saladin, who are you?"

Abdullah rode forward, his booming voice echoing across the Gobi Desert.

The leader of the enemy, a man clad in golden Zha Armor, spurred his mount and slowly approached.

He raised his whip and shouted angrily:

"It is indeed you dogs of Saladin. This is the land under the rule of the King of Kings' Empire. You have trespassed, attacked the Empire's governor, and your crime is unforgivable. If you hand over the riches you stole from Kokb, perhaps I might spare your lives."

Losa spurred his horse forward and shouted:

"Coward, do you dare to state your name? Not far ahead is Irbid, where Lord Safudin himself is stationed. If you dare attack us, Lord Safudin won't forgive you."

Losa had completely abandoned the idea of retreating because once the horses' stamina was exhausted, the entire cavalry unit would no longer be able to fight back.

Moreover, Irbid was at least a hundred miles away, and they weren't truly under Saladin's command.

But it was evident the enemy leader didn't know this, as his expression grew tense.

The "Lord Safudin" Losa mentioned was Saladin's nephew.

He was the governor of Syria, appointed by Saladin, and had recently advanced towards the former territory of the Edessa, subduing several Turkic princes.

In this region, he was quite renowned.

"With your poor Kurdish, you must be Frankish. Since when does a Mamluk take charge in Saladin's army?"

The enemy leader sneered in contempt.

"Frank" was actually an Arab term for people from Gaul, Albion, and the Germanic regions.

Losa hadn't expected that his painstakingly practiced Kurdish would be so easily spotted as inadequate.

As for being mistaken as a Mamluk, it was because Saladin's Mamluks at this time included a considerable number of Franks sold into slavery.

Particularly among poor Crusaders, whose only wealth was themselves.

Thus, after being captured by Turkic Cavalry roaming Asia Minor, they were often sold as slaves to Sassan, Ayyubid, and even some North African rulers and nobles.

Losa remained silent and exchanged a glance with Abdullah, signaling for him to stall for time and then retreated into the ranks.

The highest art of deception is to believe one's own lies.

At this moment, Losa almost thought of himself as a loyal subordinate of Safudin, with the sole goal of stalling until Safudin's army could arrive to rescue them.

"Are you really determined to become enemies with our master?"

Abdullah drew his Damascus scimitar: "We took only a quarter of an hour to seize Kokb's castle. How long do you think it would take to deal with us?"

The enemy leader frowned deeply.

He extended his hand.

A clear cry of an eagle resonated.

The falcon descended from the sky, its sharp talons clutching the leather armor on his arm.

Abdullah added fuel to the fire: "We could only carry so much treasure, the truly valuable things are still in Koqte's Wooden Castle."

"If you're a wise man, you know what choice to make now."

"Whether to attack us, a small but tough handful, or go for the truly juicy meat, it's all up to your choice."

The next moment, the Kurdish cavalry drew their swords and spears, shouting in unison in Kurdish.

Showing no signs of fatigue from days of travel.

A fierce spirit emanated from them, causing the enemy to regard them with awe.

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