John Falstaff scratch a leg with the other and curse this island. He is in the service of a noble knight for a long time, but never saw such horrible piece of land.
There is no wander the people there are so twisted!
The weather was nothing but an agitated storm, reflecting our thoughts and consciences. Because we was bad, from the moment we put the foot on the land, start killing innocent people who beg us for their lives.
Even the ships hold enough food, we took the last piece of food we could find and burn what we could not take it.
The fun last long in the night, next to the fire light and accompanied by the screams of those dying. Women young enough and children was spared for the slave traders, the rest was put to death.
A priest jump in my face with a big cross, like he was fighting with Satan, but in the next moment his head roll on the ground with big eyes wondering how that was possible.
We, the squires was allowed to have some fun with the future slaves and plunder as much as we want, that certainly we did!
It wasn't much of a fight murdering the civilians, plunder and burn everything in our path. The screaming of a harridan with the entrails reversing from belly stop it after one of my fellow squires put an end to his misery.
We had fun with a headless trunk stubborn enough to make a few rotations before falling down, but the biggest fun was when we pissed of on the Order flags before throwing on fire!
A few examples was made, by cutting the tongues and get out the eyes of those we thought they are responsible for running this place.
Because their higher social position, they was allowed to live with a few modifications.
All the settlement was nothing but a big torch in the end, easily can be seen from the ships where we return for depart.
It was a hell of a job, if you ask me and our brave commanders deserve a medal for this!

Sea of Crete, Ljudislav is in his cabin writing the logs when suddenly his servant came in knelled and said

"Sire! we're aproaching the island of Crete and the English are burning down everything, including monasteries!"

Ljudislav: "Those pagans... And to think they call them selves Christians, dock the ships, prepare the men for battle!"

After two days of marching...

"Sire! we're aproaching the town of Chania"

Ljudislav: "I can see the smoke... Wait, are those..."

"It appears so my lord, the English are fleeing back to England"

Ljudislav: "Let us lose no more time, save what you can and lets depart, scribe! come to my tent I have a letter to send"

To his holiness, the Pope Johannes I

QUOTE:
Holy father, I write to you as a Christian and as a witness of monstrosity of the English deeds. The horror cannot be described, I believe no Christian people and its land has suffered so much under the hands of other "Christians".
I see Satanic deeds, twisted minds roamed these lands, the people that allegedly follow the paths of Christ. Your holiness, I beg of you to come and see for your self and help these people, maybe not in this life, but at least help them move on the other one, where heresy is no more...

Kralj Ljudislav Serbski

QUOTE:
Second time in Bamos..

John Falstaff scratch a leg with the other asking himself how many times the Wrath of God should strike those philistines that make them understand how unpleasant are in the eyes of God their pagan ways and habits?

What a horrid place, rocky like the stoned hearts of those pagans, full of foul evidences about their bad habits, using to drink like pigs, man with man against the nature. They deserve to die because it's the only way we could save their twisted souls.

John spit disgusted, even a soldier like him in the death company almost all the time saw a lot during his service!

Burn down everything, but not touch the monastery, even we all heard about the nasty things they use to do in the God's house! says the Sergeant.
It's not for us, good christian to destroy God's house, God will strike them like he did before for their evil deeds!

The locals are scared and hungry, Englishmen share with them their food while they ask if is possible English to take with them, far away from this evil place.
John shake his head in response, the great English army use every single spot in their not so large but fast ships.
Those vessels was not designed to transport people, but to fight on the sea, mostly with pirates in Mediterranean Sea.

No sign of officials, it seems they run away in front of triumphal English Army, not willing to face the Light of God they use to spread around like the common people come to share and joy.
Especially the children, so sad like they were in a long captivity, barely manage to enjoy or understand finally they are free from the devil.

It wasn't much of a resistance, since the philistine army is gone and people cherish the liberation of the island from devil's philistines forces.

In the presence of the pious king Gregory I, looking like a saint in his white clothes, the most faithful pope we ever had, the priests put the big cross they took with them from England on a big hill, a kind of Golgotha of the place, in order to chase away the devil and his hounds from this island.

After that all the soldiers mixed with locals listen the Mass and moved back to the ships in silence.
There is nothing more to say about this place where the roots of the evil was removed.

Somewhere in Greece, on the stony coast falling in steep slopes to the sea. Evening time. Two soldiers share a flask, full at the beginning of their chat. Their weapons lie beside them, and the shields have been laid down on the ground. A single olive tree, grown in this scree by a strange fate swings its feeble branches in the wind. It's hot, even at this hour, and the men clear their sweat off their foreheads often. Several dozens steps away, a sluggish smoke still rises from few wooden structures once must have been barns or other additions. From time to time, the two turn their heads to that direction, from where sounds of tools and intense human activity reach them.

So ye say the Petch did all this in Akarnania as well, mate?! the younger one asks, slightly incredulous. There must be such an awful bloody thing, buildings bear no guilt.

The older one nods, with a all-knowing smirk. The things I've seen, laddie, ye won't believe. They and their English servants are capable of much worse, believe my words. You should have seen in Marche, some years ago what they left behind. Or what they haven't, rather. It hurts my soul thinkin' what we are goin' to find there when we go. The soldier shudders and takes another sip.

But please, tell me, how is it possible that them take our citadel in Marche, and the one in Akarnania? Me thought were good as they were, strong and powerful.

The soldier wriggles his nose and scratches below his chain mail, below the belt holding. He cleared his voice before answering, obviously displeased. Tis easy say how strong. Aye, they are, but the barbarians in the steppes are strong too, laddie. Ye know, all them bastards do nothin' but fight all day and night. They pillaged whole Europe, blast them! And then they cut a sneaky deal with those Croatians bastards to come here. But worry not, I heard the chiefs are gonna pay them for this. and the soldier grinned at his companion, his teeth glowing strangely in dim light of the first stars glittering on the sky.

The young one pondered a bit at the words, and then muttered. And there's the English too...

What? the soldier snickered. English pets ye say? the man burst into a quick laughter. Aye, lad, they sure are. I wonder what them Petch have done if there was no one to polish their gear and hold the reins of their horses for they to mount. turning his face and placing a hand on the shoulder of his interlocutor, the soldier spoke voice: Hear me, lad! English dogs have won no battle in ages against a Templar force! Not by their hands, they haven't! Only peasants, trained or not! Oh, they are successful in that, indeed! I wonder how they would even have set foot on Greece, my man, if there was not by their barbarian chiefs!

As the young one stared at him speechless, the soldier continued: Survivors said the English are taking the piss pots of them barbarians. And I bloody believe them, mate! I heard the ones returning from France how they ran from the battlefields when they saw the Beauseant wielded by our masters frowning to 'em! Hahaha, aye, there are, as ye say, laddie!

The young one smiled at the bickering, but then a sudden thought brought a shadow upon his face. Now, that ye're tellin', mate, clears throat about our masters, ya know... I mean, what they are doing?

The soldier gulped from the flask, filled his throat with something mucous from his nose and dispatched it over the cliff so far away a champion at spear throwing would have been envious. Scratching again, he muttered: Damn bastards, we are shuffling our arses here while they are broaching Sicilian tasty holes...

A strong voice, from behind, made him swallow the last part, as the two jumped to their feet as one. Oi! Poustis! What are you doing here, sons of whores? Resting, are you, while everybody is working their arses out?

We... we are on watch, sir! the young one felt struck by a sudden revelatory thought in facing the wrath of the sergeant. To spot the invaders fleet, sir! nodded the other, looking fearfully towards the man staring at them.

Whaaat?! the sergeant bug eyed at them. Here?! Move, you dogs, before I kick your sorry arses so hard that you'd kiss Poseidon's pride on the bottom of the sea!