"Please advise."
Prajna nodded slightly, her expression remained indifferent, neither respectful nor rude.
Clang—
A black triangular shield, material unknown, was propped on the ground.
Prajna raised her head, her brown eyes revealing a hint of inquiry, as if asking what instructions he had next.
Losa diverted his gaze, feeling inexplicably guilty.
He had just carefully scrutinized Prajna's appearance; compared to the artwork, there was a certain refinement, but she still deserved the title of a paper wife, her skin flawless like congealed cream, without a single blemish.
Losa liked things like this; the pursuit of perfection is human instinct.
He never liked freckles, nor did he approve of the so-called freckle aesthetic promoted in the West.
"You need to change your attire; this look is still too eye-catching."
The black biker suit, though it sounds less revealing than a miniskirt and shorts,
was specifically modified by Losa into a form-fitting leather outfit to perfectly outline Prajna's perfect figure, still providing too much of a visual impact.
Coupled with Prajna's almost perfect appearance, it was sure to attract unnecessary trouble.
In contrast, her black long hair was not so conspicuous, though excessively smooth and glossy, similar hair color was not uncommon in both Europe and the Middle East.
"Alright."
Losa inquired, "Do you like this outfit? I mean, considering your fighting style, would you prefer to wear heavy armor?"
Prajna slightly frowned: "Sorry, but I've never had the habit of relying on armor for defense, just give me a set of ordinary clothing."
Losa paused for a moment.
He subconsciously glanced at Prajna's exposed white arms, looking soft and tender, unlike the formidable defense of a heavy guard.
It's hard to imagine her physical strength and endurance were six times that of an average person, and her power was almost four times that of an average adult male.
A picture flashed inexplicably in his mind.
Lin Daiyu uprooting a willow.
...
When Prajna appeared in front of the two attendants, Laine and Model, she was already dressed in a new white linen garment, with a veil and headscarf...
It's worth mentioning, as the Gatekeeper of Hell set in the story.
Her body temperature was always icy, if close enough to her, even in the height of summer, Losa could feel a comfortably cool sensation.
This generated an irresistible urge in him to hold Prajna, hiding in a room to sleep deeply.
But that was just a thought.
On one hand, the intimacy wasn't sufficient, Prajna might not agree, on the other hand, he felt such an action was despicable, morality prevented him from accepting himself doing such a thing.
In the Habsburg estate within the town, there weren't maids in white miniskirts and stockings, nor courteous housekeepers in tailcoats.
Losa's father, Count Werner, was a typical Germanic military noble, he preferred residing in the Eagle Castle built by his brother funded during his bishopric in Strasbourg, personally overseeing its rugged construction, rather than the more livable estate at the mountain's foot.
Throughout the town, there were peasants and freemen in rags, having finished their day's farm work, ready to return home and rest.
Most of the town's buildings were made of clay and wood, few built with stone bricks, with roofs covered by reeds and straw, could be considered wealthy farmers.
The Middle Ages were called the dark ages for a reason.
Most people of that era couldn't fill their stomachs.
An elderly man, with skin like dead wood, sat by the street, surrounded by children listening to his stories.
His body was covered with old wounds, mottled scars crisscrossing, the intact areas shriveled like they had shrunken.
His eyes were covered with a thick cataract, making one doubt if he could still see.
"He has sword wounds, arrow injuries, and some wounds that can't be seen..."
Losa frowned.
"Who is he?"
Model spoke up: "An old blind man, reportedly once pilgrimed to Jerusalem and killed a Mamluk Knight... but I think that might be his own bragging."
He was personally selected by Losa, once defeating a knight one-on-one in melee combat, a skilled Sword and Shield Soldier.
The town was managed by a stationed knight leading more than fifty soldiers of the Habsburg Family.
The soldiers rotated periodically.
Model and Laine naturally had lived in the town before.
"It's a pity he's blind, otherwise we might have a decent guide."
Losa sighed, withdrawing his gaze.
At the center of the town square, there was a simple reservoir, surrounded by farmer's wives with ceramic pots on their heads, ready to fetch water.
"Losa, how did you get here?"
The newcomer was the parish priest of the town, presiding over all prayers, weddings, and funerals within the town and nearby estates.
He wore a faded vestment robe, a white headscarf, and approached with a friendly smile, saying: "Long time no see, Losa. Well, you've donned the lion emblem, has your father finally granted you knighthood?"
Losa smiled and said: "That's right, Father Sojour, I've decided to embark on the Crusaders' journey to rescue the Holy Land of Jerusalem. I will set off early tomorrow morning."
Father Sojour suddenly showed a face full of delight: "Congratulations, Losa, it's a very wise decision, Heavenly Father will bless you for your pious actions. I have a good pack horse, perhaps you could take it along as my small contribution to your pilgrimage endeavors."
"Thank you for your generosity."
Losa bowed in courtesy.
Only after a while did he manage to send the priest off.
He lamented a bit: "Father Sojour sure is enthusiastic, a pack horse is worth a considerable amount of dinars."
Laine whispered aside: "Of course, Father Sojour is a good man, fetching water for widows by day and confessing to them by night."
"Oh, by the way, that widow's husband was once a knight named Joseph, later convinced by the priest, he sold off his land and all his possessions to purchase funds and equipment for the Eastern Expedition, leaving the widow behind and ran off."
Losa's smile stiffened.
He said in a deep voice: "Didn't return, did he?"
"Of course not."
Laine shook his head and said: "Last year, old John who went with him... just that old blind man we saw earlier, returned limping on a cane from the Holy Land."
"What happened to Joseph, the knight?" Losa asked casually, "Was he killed in battle?"
"Not quite... In fact, he never even reached Jerusalem, robbed by pirates halfway, sold as a slave."
Losa furrowed his brow: "Did no one pay his ransom?"
"No, the widow was quite happy mingling with the priest, where would she find money to ransom her husband... Also, I heard while Joseph was around, he wasn't good to her."
"Young master, not everyone is fortunate enough to reach Jerusalem, a pilgrimage is a long journey, filled with troubles and obstacles, only those blessed by the divine can reach the Celestial Kingdom."
Losa fell silent for a moment, agreeing: "You are right."
Fighting heretics in Jerusalem is dangerous, but the road to the Holy Land is equally full of difficulties and stumbling blocks.
Most poor pilgrims can't afford the "huge" ship fares to the Holy Land, relying solely on their feet, countless have fallen to plague, famine, and banditry.
PS: Medieval European currency is complex, Germania circulated the penny, but there should also be Old Dinar used, not strictly accurate here, don't fact-check.