Time flies, and three years have passed.
"Whoa!" A young boy galloped across the Gobi on a chestnut horse.
The boy's body was covered in sweat, but he would occasionally let out a loud cheer, fully enjoying the thrill of the ride.
In sync with the horse's movements, the boy adjusted his posture, maintaining a high-speed gallop with the horse.
On the vast Gobi road, a battered wooden stake appeared. Spotting it, the boy took out a javelin from behind the saddle and raised it high.
"Clippity-clop." With the crisp sound of hooves, the boy gradually regulated his breathing, keeping his raised right hand as steady as possible.
In a flash, the boy stood high on the stirrups and, with the full force of his body, hurled the javelin as if on flat ground.
The powerful javelin, whistling heavily, pierced through the decaying body of the stake, sending splinters of wood flying.
"Whoop!" Seeing his successful hit, the boy cheered again. His playful spirit ignited, he circled the horse around and approached the stake once more.
This time, the boy leaned far to the right, holding the reins with his left hand and extending his right hand outward.
Estimating the distance in his mind, the boy lunged forward and, with the help of the horse's speed, effortlessly pulled the javelin out again.
The boy retracted the javelin, smiled happily, and spurred the horse towards the distant manor.
The guards at the manor gate saw the horse-riding boy from afar and quickly opened the gate.
The boy slowed down and dismounted at the manor entrance, removed his face mask, and revealed none other than Norn, now 12 years old.
With ample nutrition, Norn had grown to over 1.6 meters tall, with the outlines of muscles visible on his limbs. His gradually maturing face had developed a hint of firm lines, and his soft eyes concealed a touch of valor.
Sasan and Adile, who had been waiting there, handed over a dry towel to help Norn wipe the sweat.
At that moment, the chestnut horse, now catching its breath, nudged Norn's shoulder with its head, looking at him longingly.
Norn shook his head helplessly, skillfully took out a carrot from the saddlebag, and began to feed it.
"You're still such a glutton, Carrot," Norn patted Carrot's head. Carrot shook its head and continued munching.
After feeding Carrot, Norn had the stable boy take the horse back to the stable and walked towards the manor.
The manor, which had undergone another expansion, now boasted 20 windmills in rotation. The originally bustling workshop had become even more prosperous, with busy textile workers everywhere, their faces rosy and smiles of satisfaction on their lips.
Seeing Norn's arrival, the workers nodded in greeting. Norn smiled and nodded back, even engaging in a few words with some of the textile workers, not acting like a lord at all.
Realizing it was about time, Norn ended the casual chat and turned towards the training room.
The training room was lined with weapon racks on all sides, with longswords, shortswords, scimitars, and spears neatly arranged by length.
The weapons were covered in signs of use, testifying to their owner's hard work.
Patrick, who had been waiting there, bowed respectfully to Norn.
"Is the master practicing the longsword today?"
"Of course! Uncle Patrick."
Norn nodded, and a servant promptly handed over two blunt longswords wrapped in cloth.
Norn raised the longsword vertically, facing the still casual Patrick, and cautiously paced around.
Once he judged the distance to be right, Norn lunged forward and chopped down with the longsword.
In response to the incoming blade, Patrick simply sidestepped, and with a reverse swing of his right hand, he slashed upwards at Norn.
Norn, who had been prepared, dodged backward to avoid the upward slash, then flipped his wrist and swung his longsword left and right at Patrick.
Patrick's expression remained calm, but his hands were not slow. Each time, he blocked Norn's sword tip with the middle part of his own sword.
However, whenever Patrick tried to use the sword guard to control Norn's sword, the perceptive Norn would promptly withdraw his sword, not giving Patrick a chance.
After a series of attacks and defenses, Norn felt his breathing becoming somewhat rapid and stepped back to catch his breath.
Seizing the opportunity, Patrick closed in and thrust his longsword like a hawk diving for its prey.
Norn's pupils instantly dilated. His right foot, which had been retreating, quickly stepped to the right, barely dodging the thrust.
Not only that, but Norn seized the moment and swung his sword in an arc towards Patrick's left side.
But Patrick's face broke into a smile. The thrusting longsword was swiftly retracted, and once again, he blocked Norn's slash with the middle part of his sword.
At the same time, Patrick rotated his wrist, and the sword guard of his longsword accurately blocked Norn's sword.
With just a little force, Norn's longsword was bent, and a cold glint appeared right before Norn's eyes.
"I lost again!" Norn smiled brightly.
"Master is already doing very well. There are not many people who can achieve this level at your age."
"Uncle Patrick, you don't have to comfort me. Besides, enemies won't go easy on me just because I'm young," Norn maintained his sunny smile, seemingly unaffected.
"At Master's current level, you could participate in some small city swordsmanship competitions."
"When did Patrick learn to flatter?" Although he said that, Norn swung his sword at Patrick again.
Patrick continued to smile without speaking, and they continued their sparring.
Outside the door, William shook his head as he watched the two inside, "How did Norn learn the wrong things from Patrick? He used to love following me around when he was little."
"Forget it, I'll go continue training those rascals."
Not far away, two phalanxes were slowly approaching each other. On both sides, the soldiers were equipped with helmets, spears, kite shields, and iron swords wrapped in cloth, with the veterans on both sides donning shiny chainmail.
William picked up a piece of white limestone and threw it at the phalanx.
"Shield wall!" The captain on the left side of the formation saw the incoming stone and gave the order.
The soldiers, who had been marching in step, quickly raised their shields, and the top of the phalanx was immediately covered with a barrier. The heavy limestone shattered into pieces upon impact with the shields.
William glanced indifferently and then shouted, "Defensive thrust!"
"Defensive thrust!" The captain repeated the order.
The first row of soldiers immediately crouched down, resting their shields and spears diagonally on the ground. The second row of soldiers then extended their spears horizontally while placing their shields on top of the first row's shields, protecting the upper bodies of the front row.
The distance between the front and back rows of the phalanx was compressed, forming a dense "hedgehog."
William nodded, "Continue the confrontation!"
Under the orders of their respective captains, the two phalanxes resumed their formations and continued to slowly approach each other.
The first two rows of soldiers on both sides, with their spears wrapped in cloth, cautiously approached each other, crouching low and staying as much under the protection of their shields as possible.
"Clack!" The spear thrust out, only leaving a white mark on the opponent's shield.
The soldier on the opposite side seized the opportunity to press down the opponent's spear, while a nearby soldier took the chance to thrust his spear forward, successfully leaving a white mark on the opponent's chest.
Seeing the white mark on his chest, the young soldier retreated in frustration, replaced by his comrade behind him.
The two phalanxes continued to close the distance, both sides thrusting vigorously, with the occasional unlucky soldier being struck and leaving the line.
William watched the continuously fighting troops and unconsciously revealed an approving look.
In the afternoon, in the study.
The originally shabby study had become rich, adorned with red curtains and light yellow drapes. Velvet blankets from the Frankish Kingdom covered the bed, and several corners housed sculptures by masters from Byzantium and Milan.
Listening to the childish reading outside, Norn reviewed the account books in his study. Thinking of the constantly expanding treasure chest over these three years, Norn felt genuinely happy from the bottom of his heart.
As his textile industry gradually expanded and monopolized the woolen yarn supply of the entire Holy City and even the Crusader Kingdom, the woolen cloth of the Holy City became popular throughout the kingdom, with merchants from Byzantium and the Persian Empire even coming to place orders.
Norn's business also flourished, with textile merchants from all over coming to order cheap woolen yarn every week. Norn accepted all comers, selling in large quantities at a price slightly higher than that of the local textile guild.
His deposit of 20,000 gold nomismata should be enough to support himself and Uncle Otto in a corrupt noble lifestyle, Norn thought to himself.
Two knocks on the door interrupted Norn's thoughts.
"Master, your maid Adile seeks an audience."
"Come in!"
Norn looked closely at Adile and finally asked, "Adile, where is your mentor Sasan?"
"Mentor is training the new lads," Adile responded calmly.
Seeing Adile, who was becoming more and more like Sasan, Norn felt a bit of a headache.
He had specifically asked Sasan why she took on Adile, who had a blood feud with the Hashashin, as an apprentice.
"Revenge, it can make her the best avenger!" Sasan had replied.
"Master, this is an invitation from the royal court," Adile interrupted Norn's reminiscence, "inviting you to attend the banquet tomorrow evening."
"Me? A banquet?" Norn questioned as he took the invitation and confirmed the content was correct.
"The highest-ranking person I know is the Grand Master of the Knights Templar. I don't know any local nobles! Why would the royal court invite me, a foreign minor noble, to a banquet?" Norn was full of doubts.
"But since they've formally sent an invitation, it probably isn't a bad thing."
Norn said to Adile, "Prepare appropriate court attire for me and inform Doga to get the carriage ready."
"As you wish, my lord."