Reincarnated Into The Middle Ages

When Saladin's royal banner fell and his golden helmet was impaled on a spear, there was no doubt left in this war. The massive Saracen infantry retreated like a receding tide, and the Mamluk cavalry, having suffered heavy casualties, could no longer hold on and scattered in all directions. The kingdom's forces, still with some fight left in them, pursued relentlessly, venting the fear brought on by the war through the most brutal means possible.

Norn sat slumped on the ground, staring at the battlefield now stained red with blood. Limbs lay scattered everywhere, and moans of pain rose and fell. Countless bodies of Saracens and Crusaders alike lay side by side in death. Soldiers with minor injuries but still able to move began searching for survivors—finishing off the Saracens and dragging their own back for treatment.

Vultures circled in the sky, painted red by the setting sun, waiting for the last of the two-legged creatures to leave before swooping down to feast on the rare bounty below.

"Norn! Where's Saladin?!" Count Raymond's voice reached Norn before the man himself did. Norn, aching all over, weakly turned his head and pointed to the body of a golden-armored general nearby.

"He just died like that?! How could he get off so easily?" Count Raymond exclaimed, almost indignantly. "That filthy infidel owed me so much, and he just dies like this?!"

He rushed over to the corpse, but his initial fury quickly turned to silence.

"Haha," Count Raymond let out a cruel chuckle. "Excellent. Saladin isn't dead. He still has a chance to savor the 'gifts' I've prepared for him."

"Who else could it be if not Saladin?" Norn, exhausted, didn't even bother to turn his head.

"Another of Saladin's nephews," Count Raymond rattled off a long list of names, but Norn only managed to remember one: "Emir."

"Do I have a beef with Saladin's nephew or something? Why am I always crossing paths with them?" Norn thought to himself. "Never mind, forget about Saladin. This battle was a huge victory. Saladin won't be able to mobilize on a large scale anytime soon. The kingdom can finally have some peace."

Norn, weary, looked at the battlefield that resembled a scene from hell. But could this truly be called a victory?

Inside Jerusalem, in the Hospitaller's monastery, which normally could house thousands of patients, was now packed to the brim with wounded soldiers. Dozens of monks in black and nuns in white were constantly busy tending to the injured. But many still went untreated, left to moan in agony after being hastily bandaged.

Seeing the lack of medical supplies and the so-called "healers" who were more of a hindrance than a help, Norn said to his men in the most serious tone he could muster, "Staying here is a death sentence. Take our men back to the manor. Go find the Saracen doctors in the city."

When Norn and his group returned to the manor, everyone who had stayed behind was waiting at the gate. But seeing Norn, covered in bandages and lying motionless on a stretcher, they were all terrified. Anna, tears streaming down her face, was the first to rush over.

"Norn, what happened to you? You can't leave me!" Anna sobbed, her tears soaking Norn's chest. "I was so scared while you were gone, so scared that you wouldn't come back!"

"Now that you're finally here, you're like this. How could you leave Anna alone like this?" Norn, who had been dozing off, was woken by the pain from his wounds. Looking at Anna crying on him, he weakly said, "An... na."

Hearing his voice, Anna forced a smile that was even uglier than crying. "Norn, you'll be okay, right?"

"I... I'm... fine. It's just that you're... pressing on my wounds."

Anna jumped up like a startled rabbit. Facing the laughing crowd, her face turned bright red with embarrassment.

Thankfully, since the followers of the Lord rarely sought out Saracen doctors, Norn easily managed to bring in some of the most famous bearded physicians from the city. It had to be said that Saracen medicine was far more advanced than European medicine at this time. The bearded physician quickly felt Norn's chest, confirmed that his ribs weren't displaced, and then applied a splint and some greenish ointment. Norn's pain was immediately relieved.

Watching the bearded physicians and their apprentices treat the soldiers' wounds one by one, and seeing all the female workers in the manor come over to help settle the injured, the soldiers' spirits finally lifted, and hope reappeared in their eyes.

"Kind and generous milord, allow us to express our gratitude," several mercenary leaders found Norn, who was lying on a stretcher, and showered him with every word of thanks they could think of.

As mercenaries, they were paid by Norn to risk their lives, and getting injured or killed in battle was just bad luck. Moreover, with the battle over, their contract with Norn was almost up. But Norn had still brought them back and had the Saracen doctors treat them.

Usually dirt poor, they could never afford medical care. When injured, they would just wrap it up themselves, or if it got too bad, they'd visit a quack. What happened next was up to the Lord. After all, death was all too common in this age.

It was a whole new experience to witness the mysterious Eastern medicine.

Seeing the mercenaries' heartfelt gratitude, Norn's mood improved a bit. But he was also aware that in this era without antibiotics, the wounded soldiers still had a hard time surviving if their wounds got infected.

"William, go buy all the ale in town," Norn weakly instructed.

"Are we having a victory party? Maybe we should get some wine too?" William licked his lips, seemingly well-meaning but actually just hungry for more drink.

"Just thinking about drinking. This is for saving lives!"

After sending William on his errand, Norn turned to DeMol and said, "Bring out what's in my second storage room."

Fortunately, before the campaign, Norn had set up a distillation device, fearing he might contract leprosy. When William came back, burping from drinking, Norn directed the manor's children to operate it.

They heated the ale in a large clay pot, placed a large iron pot filled with cold water on top, and inserted a special wooden tube from the clay pot. A transparent liquid with an intoxicating aroma slowly flowed out of the tube.

While Norn wasn't looking, William dipped his finger in and tasted it. A fiery sensation slid down his throat, followed by an intoxicating fragrance that burst in his mouth. William was utterly amazed.

"Good, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," William nodded absentmindedly.

"Never had it before, have you?"

William, still savoring the taste, was about to respond when he suddenly realized what he was doing and stiffly turned to face Norn, who was smirking.

"Caught you sneaking a sip again. No bonus for you this month!"

Ignoring William's complaints, Norn instructed the others, "Take this distilled liquid and use it to clean the wounded soldiers' injuries every day. Oh, and send some to the Templars and Hospitallers."

Norn paused for a moment, then added, "Tell them that the Adler family accidentally discovered this divine blessing, a holy water that can drive away all evil from wounds and spare the injured from the torment of illness."

With a wave of his hand, Norn sent everyone off to do their tasks.

"Phew," Norn sighed, knowing that bringing in alcohol might stir up a lot of trouble, but when it came to saving lives, he couldn't worry about that.