Under the cover of night, Norn gathered the knights and the leaders of the mercenary bands to outline his offensive plan. Initially dazed by the promise of gold, the mercenary leaders had gradually sobered up and began to question Norn.
"My lord, it's only right that we risk our lives for the money you've paid us. But the odds are heavily against us, and I fear our men may not follow orders when the time comes," one of the captains expressed his concerns diplomatically, while most others remained silent.
Norn looked at the mercenaries, who were driven by money, and let out a cold laugh. He then calmly asked, "Do any of you have children?"
The assembled leaders were taken aback, unsure why Norn had brought up this topic.
"I recall that this gentleman here has three sons and two daughters in Jerusalem, the eldest of whom is a year older than I am, isn't that right?" Norn pointed to one of the leaders and received a confirming nod.
"Are you trying to threaten us, my lord?" one of the leaders shouted, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly became tense.
Norn smiled, a genuinely amused smile. "You all venture out to make a living, don't you? Isn't it to provide a better life for yourselves and your families? But have you ever wondered..."
"While your children wear coarse linen, my maids have to coax me into wearing silk undergarments; while your children play in the mud, a dozen plump maids are at my beck and call; while your children can only eat coarse, black bread, three wet nurses provide me with fresh milk every day."
Norn's gaze swept across the room. Some of the leaders were furious, others sorrowful, and still others openly envious.
"Have you ever thought about why? Why, when our children are the same age, I can live a life your children can't even dream of!"
"Have you ever wondered why?" Norn slammed his hand on the table. "Simply because I am a noble! Because I have good ancestors!"
"But what you don't know is that 200 years ago, my ancestor was just a commoner, and his children dressed in coarse linen and played in the mud, just like yours. But he used eight heads and two scars to earn the Adler family a baronial title. That's why I, Norn Adler, am in a position of privilege."
"And now, the opportunity to change your family's fate is right here."
Norn leaned forward with both hands on the table and, in a deep, persuasive voice, said, "The king is now trapped in Ascalon Fortress. If we can draw the enemy's attention tomorrow, allowing the king to escape smoothly, or even launch a surprise attack on the enemy, the king will surely reward us generously."
"Your men can earn enough money to buy dozens of acres of land and spend the rest of their lives as local tyrants. And you..." Norn paused for emphasis, then said slowly and clearly, "You could become knights, or even nobles."
Ignoring the stunned leaders, Norn waved his hand to dismiss everyone.
Once the leaders had left, Norn, who had been full of vigor moments ago, collapsed onto the couch. "Finally managed to convince them."
After a while, Norn raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but a warm, small hand with a towel beat him to it, gently touching his cheek.
"Is that you, Sasan? Are you alright?" Norn lay back on the couch, enjoying the attention.
"The mission went smoothly, but..." Sasan's cold voice continued, "What do you mean by 'plump maids'?"
"Sasan, let me explain..."
While the light of the morning star still twinkled and the sky was just beginning to lighten, Norn had already quietly assembled his troops outside Ascalon Fortress, facing the camp of Saladin's army from a distance.
Fully armed, Norn led his men in a half-kneeling position before their weapons, praying for victory to their respective deities.
After a long while, Norn made a show of crossing himself, stood up, and shouted, "Forward!"
It was unclear how the mercenary leaders had explained the situation to their men, but every mercenary had a gleam in their eyes like a wolf's, brandishing their assorted weapons and howling loudly.
The powerful sound of the war horn pierced the early morning silence as more than a dozen large and small phalanxes began to move slowly in order. From above, it barely formed a wedge-shaped formation with Norn's elite troops at the tip.
Norn advanced slowly in the center. Although he appeared calm on the outside, it was his first time participating in such a grand scene, and he was actually extremely nervous inside.
Norn was well aware that his surprise force was taking a gamble—betting that he could successfully pin down Saladin's army long enough for the knights in the castle to charge out.
To this end, Norn had left behind 50 of his weakest and oldest men. They rode draft horses, dragging branches to create a cloud of dust behind his main force, making it difficult for the enemy to gauge the true situation and hopefully misjudge his strength.
But he only had fewer than 1,700 men. If he couldn't hold out long enough for the castle's reinforcements to arrive, he would be in serious trouble.
Thinking this, Norn wiped the sweat from his palms when no one was looking. But seeing his elite guard around him, he felt a bit more confident.
Unlike the scattered mercenaries, Norn's guard, though fewer in number, appeared extremely formidable with their standardized helmets, armor, and tabards. Over the past three years, Norn had spared no expense in arming his guard. Each member had a heavy chainmail vest, a kettle helmet, a 2-meter-long spear, and a kite shield.
They marched in silence, their steps perfectly synchronized, and their forest of spears made the surrounding mercenaries look like amateurs.
Looking to his left and right, Norn saw the imposing figures of William and Patrick, the two knights, and their squires, and felt his chances of success increase.
Norn's advancing army was soon spotted by Saladin's camp. The "wailing" sound of the war horn rang out, and the camp erupted into a noisy commotion.
It took longer than Norn had imagined for the enemy to emerge from their camp.
Norn carefully observed the opposing force. Most of Saladin's infantry had only a spear and a round shield, with very few having any armor. Their morale and discipline seemed slightly inferior to his own mercenaries.
But there were so many of them!
Norn estimated the enemy's numbers from 1,000 to 3,000, and then gave up. The opposing ranks were already a sea of people as far as the eye could see, and more troops kept pouring out of the camp.
The initially high-spirited troops on Norn's side began to quiet down, and an intangible pressure gradually settled over his army. Some soldiers unconsciously slowed their steps, causing the formation to become disjointed.
At a distance of 400 meters from the enemy, Norn had no choice but to halt his troops and reorganize the ranks.
As the enemy's battle line slowly advanced towards them, the sound of their heavy footsteps pounded like hammers on the morale of Norn's men.
Norn gazed at the approaching tide of soldiers and swallowed hard. "This can't be the end, can it?"