In the Constant Manor.
Losa was staring at the flickering candlelight, muttering quietly, "What kind of hellish difficulty is this?"
Question: In 1453, Constantine XI of Byzantium, Song Huaizong in Lu Xiufu's arms during the Battle of Yashan, and Emperor Chongzhen standing under the crooked tree on Coal Mountain surrounded by the Shun army in the Capital City.
Which one has more hope for a coback?
Answer: There's no saving them, just wait to die.
This reflects Losa's current mood.
Constantinople is surrounded by the sea on three sides, with only the Theodosius Wall directly facing the enemy.
The Theodosius Wall is only 5.5 kiloters long, robust and triple-layered, arguably the most formidable castle of the entire Middle Ages.
This ans that only a small portion of the garrison is needed to defend Constantinople, a tropolis with a population exceeding a million at its peak.
But being surrounded by the sea on three sides also ans that once the Ottoman fleet breaks through the Golden Horn Bay, even without the Urban Cannon, Constantinople would eventually fall.
One knows one's own limitations well, he was far from being a military genius, typically eting the enemy with a shout of "Charge with ," arranging the formations and just battling it out.
The reason for continuous victories largely fell to Furinjira, who mastered the Group Night Vision Technique—of course, he could also cast it now, but it was still not long-lasting enough.
Creaaak.
The door was pushed open.
Jeanne wore a light, breathable linen shirt, with her golden long curls tied back with a headband, her graceful figure appearing full of vitality.
Having just bathed, there were still droplets of water not completely wiped off her body.
"Sir, Prajna went to bathe, I'll keep an eye on you for a while."
Keep an eye on...
Losa felt a slight urge to retort in his heart.
Yet he could only say aloud, "Hmm, okay."
Jeanne asked, "Sir, you seem a bit troubled, is there anything bothering you?"
"Jeanne, if you were Constantine XI in 1453, could you save Byzantium?"
Jeanne shook her head decisively, "Sir, why are you fixated on such a aningless matter? When the Ottomans attacked Constantinople, the entire city's garrison numbered only a few thousand, while the Ottoman army had 180,000. How could a young, rising force lose to a declining, aged one?"
"You think so too, I see."
Losa agreed deeply.
Jeanne pondered for a mont and replied, "Constantine XI was not a muddle-headed monarch. On the contrary, he should be the last fig leaf of the Palaiologos dynasty, and even if it were soone else, they wouldn't necessarily do better than him."
"Moreover, by 1453, the Ottoman army was already at the gates, and there was no longer ti for alliances or requesting foreign aid."
"Indeed."
Losa sighed lightly; given the highest reward, who would be content with settling for second best?
The Hundred Years' War, since historically Charles VII won, there's no reason he'd lose, right? With that perspective, securing a Five-Star template seed like a certainty.
He was now level ten, aning he could gain twenty additional Attribute Points, and future level-up gains would be even more substantial.
Wait!
He suddenly thought of sothing and asked, "In your world, did the Eastern Roman Empire also fall in 1453?"
Jeanne looked surprised, "Of course, as history records, on this day, a conqueror ca flying atop a dragon to the top of the Saint Sophia Cathedral. That was the Ottoman monarch, riding a three-headed Black Dragon, and atop each head, amidst the winding Dragon Horns, wore exquisite crowns. The Last Emperor drew a crossbow aid at the dragon, but even that couldn't penetrate its sturdy Scale Armor."
Losa displayed a knowing expression on his face.
If the simulation battle given by the system referred to the historical events in the "Yesterday's Giant Ship" world, then he might not necessarily fare better than Charles VII.
Jeanne continued pondering Losa's prior question, "If it were during peak tis, I could likely have shot down the conqueror's Black Dragon with the Holy Spear, but definitely not now."
"Alright, let's set aside my earlier question for now. Tell how you led your forces to defeat the English and the Burgundians."
"Hmm—where should I start?"
For a mont, Jeanne found herself with a headache.
"Sorry, sir, after all, it's a long-ago experience; sotis I can only recall certain snippets while studying historical docunts."
Losa frowned, "Does this have sothing to do with your experiences in Rouen City?"
"Perhaps."
Jeanne sighed lightly, "Being reborn through fire is no different than having died once."
"I apologize for bringing up such uncomfortable mories."
Jeanne shook her head, "It's okay, these are bygone matters buried in mountains of papers, and even within the Holy Church Knight Order, only a handful of people know this legend."
She said sowhat self-mockingly, "After all, no one would believe the sanctified Saintess Jeanne in the eyes of the French would be soone like ."
Losa agreed deeply with this.
But still said, "How they view you has no causal relationship with the life you wish to lead."
"Exactly, that's what I believe too."
Jeanne's face broke out into a radiant smile, as if the previous gloom and gravity had been feigned, "Being able to see beautiful girls every day and drink sweet wine is my lifelong pursuit."
"Such a pure and simple wish."
Losa was almost at a loss whether to laugh or cry.
No wonder even the Holy Church Knights could not believe Jeanne was the Saintess Jeanne. If he were in their place, he wouldn't believe it either.
"Ms. Prajna has finished bathing."
Jeanne suddenly seed surprised, "That was quick, I think Ms. Prajna must be very worried about your safety. Indeed, I'm great at killing but not so at protecting."
The door was pushed open.
Prajna was drying her wet black hair with a white towel; her gaze was cool but without denial.
"I'm leaving."
Jeanne raised her hand, "Sir, and Ms. Prajna, have a good dream."
Prajna nodded slightly to her, "Thank you."
Listening to Jeanne's departing footsteps, she hesitated for a mont before asking Losa, "Are you going to sleep?"
Losa shook his head, "Let's wait for Furin. If she cos back after her bath and finds we've already turned off the lights and didn't wait for her, she's going to be upset."
Prajna slightly furrowed her brow, "You're spoiling her too much."
Losa smiled awkwardly.
It wasn't until Furinjira, with light steps and a new white nightgown, entered the room that Losa finally extinguished the lamp with anticipation.
"Co on, Sir, I've been looking forward to today's story for quite so ti now."
She lay down on the bed opposite Losa, wrapped herself in a small blanket, and revealed a look of happiness.
Losa began to continue telling the story of the Song of Winter and Sumr.
In fact, he no longer needed daily sleep; his Spiritual Power far exceeded that of ordinary people, and as long as his body got enough rest, he could easily go days without sleeping.
After a long while.
Only then did Furinjira close her eyes and breathe evenly.
Losa and Prajna exchanged a glance, wished each other goodnight, and then in succession closed their eyes.
Yet Losa was not preparing to sleep.
But rather intended to experience a bout of simulation battle, with the Hundred Years' War scenario.
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