Temple Sword

Chapter 154 The Southern War
1322, Month of St. John (June)
Trogir region, Croatia

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Laszlo sat firmly on his stolen horse and looked around blankly. His men were robbing the granary of a small farm.

It has been almost a month since they left Skradin and started the so-called war: constantly destroying villages and farms around Trogir, looting markets, slaughtering livestock, and destroying various buildings.

Such was the glorious campaign of Muradden Subis on the soil of his own province, the ravages of unarmed civilians by three hundred armed thugs.

Muladen soon realized that three hundred horsemen were not enough to take a rebellious city, and he had no siege engines or skilled military engineers.

The Governor of Croatia was not a war lord, and he never showed any military talent or talent.

He is used to obtaining money and power through improper means, usury, selling prostitutes, hijacking merchant ships, bribery, etc. He has nothing to do with the life of a heroic soldier.

Trogir was a small, walled island in the Adriatic Sea, and though only a few dozen yards from the northern mainland, it could not be besieged without naval support.

As a result, Muladen soon left the city and began pillaging the surrounding territories.

The people of Trogir may feel that the governor wants to use this method of destruction to force them to leave the city with their army and fight him on the frontal battlefield, so that Muraden can destroy the defenders and seize the city.

The city, aware of the deceit, had no intention of going out to meet the bandits, but chose to lock itself within its fortified walls, waiting for Muradon's three hundred knights to tire of wreaking havoc.

But in fact, the Croatian Governor did not come up with any tricks at all, he is not a strategist.He just thought that if he couldn't take Trogir, he'd wreak as much havoc in the area as he could to get it off.

One such lord was Muladen Subis, who was only legally above his subjects, but morally no different from a serf shoveling dung from a stable.

Since his father's death 13 years ago, he has been the governor of Croatia, and his power has not wavered until now that Sibenik and Trogir have finally had enough of his tyrannical rule and openly rebelled.

Until now, Muraden had considered his authority an impenetrable fortress, but all his subjects served him out of fear.

In A.D. 320, the fortress suddenly collapsed.

Laszlo himself had been serving Muladen with joy for the past few months, and suddenly, amidst the throat-piercing smoke rising from the burned villages and farms outside Trogir, he understood.

The Governor of Croatia is just a tiny bug, a puny, bluffing, hysterical kid.

If he doesn't get what he wants, he starts breaking down and needs a fatherly slap to wake him up.

Laszlo, who was lost in thought, was awakened by a loud cheer, and a hundred of Dmitry's riders returned, most of them carrying various trophies, glittering with gold and silver.

In the dust raised by the horses, a small herd of donkeys trotted behind, laden with all kinds of wealth.

"It's incredible!" exclaimed one of Laszlo's men in amazement, as he shared with his companions what he had taken from the granary sacks. "Where did you get it?"

"We found a treasure trove!" laughed one of Dmitry's men, and continued galloping without much explanation.

"We found a church," explained another at the back, "and a fat priest was preaching in it, telling stupid things to ragged peasant boys."

"We burned the whole place!" A blackened man with a huge brass cross hanging from his neck completely out of place with his humble clothes. "Of course, we've taken everything we could find before then."

Laszlo couldn't take it anymore, he kicked his spurs, left behind his men, and quickly returned to the temporary camp.

The messy group of tents was not far from the granary that had just been burned, and Muradin would move his entire army every few days, on the one hand so that the Trogirians would not know where he was camping, and on the other hand to get closer to the where they were about to plunder.

Laszlo jumped off his horse and rushed into the governor's gorgeous tent angrily, "Dmitry's people..."

He didn't say hello or salute anything, and was about to complain loudly, but immediately noticed that the thin Dmitry was standing next to Muradin, drawing a small red cross on the map on the table, marking the already Settlements looted, burned, massacred.

"Huh?" Dmitry looked up, sending a dark smile to the man he'd never really liked. "What happened to my people? Tell me and let me hear!"

Laszlo hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should tell everything in front of Demeter, but after seeing Muladen's questioning eyes, he cheered up again, lowered his voice and said: "Dmitri people raided the land of the church."

Muladen Subis raised his eyebrows to the middle of his forehead and looked at Laszlo suspiciously, as if he didn't understand what he meant.

"I just met Dmitry's riders, they completely ransacked a church." Laszlo explained with a sigh. "Then they set fire to a priest and a bunch of innocent children!"

"Are you envious of their trophies?" Dmitry snorted and looked at the man in front of him contemptuously. "If you can lead your team better, maybe you can be more successful than you are now..."

"Trophy?" Laszlo stared at him with wide eyes, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "That's not what I wanted to say at all."

"So what if the church is looted?" Muladen waved his hand, trying to reconcile his captains. "At least this will let the people in Trogir know that Muladen Subis is not easy to mess with!"

"I will never allow my people to send children to another world!" Laszlo said firmly, but Muladen just shrugged.

"We are in a war," said the Governor, "and wars always come with casualties..."

war?Laszlo thought, is this war?We've been killing and looting for a month, we haven't fought a single battle, not even a small standoff, we haven't faced decent soldiers, we're just killing unarmed peasants, it's not war at all...

He shook his head, and just said loudly, "Slaughtering unarmed people in disregard of the Church's protection brings a curse on us all, and we should at least keep that in mind."

"Okay," Muladen sighed and rolled his eyes, "Dmitry, tell your men not to set fire to the church anymore, because God will punish us, understand?"

The Governor's reproach sounded flippant, and it was clear that he was only making concessions to Laszlo in order to avoid further conflict, and Dmitri was well aware of this.

"I see, my lord, I'll tell them," the captain replied with a smile, "and we'll make sure God doesn't get...too angry with us."

Laszlo didn't want to be laughed at so blatantly. He was about to say something, but Muladen quickly waved him to shut up.

"I have more important issues now," he looked down at the map on the table, "I am waiting for reinforcements, and I have sent Ander to mobilize the nobles in Croatia.

I will not let these people's disrespect go unpunished, I will take Trogir first and then another traitor city, Sibenik!
But my own 300 men are not enough, I need more soldiers, ships and various siege machines.We still have supporters, what are two rebellious cities to us?
If the nobles of Croatia were on my side, we could burn the whole sea to the ground and nail the disobedient to the stake! "

As soon as the words fell, there was a commotion in the camp.

Unable to hear any unusual sounds, Muladen and his two captains ran out of the main tent to see what was going on.It turned out that the commotion was caused by a galloping rider.

A rider without a head.

The decapitated, mutilated, bloodied body was strapped to the saddle and tied around the horse's body and neck so it wouldn't fall before it reached its destination.

A bloodstained wicker case rested on his lap, and some who had overcome their initial shock immediately reached for the basket, convinced that if the murderers had brought word they would have hidden there.

So they took the basket from the dead man's lap and lifted the lid, leaving it in shock.

The basket fell to the ground with a bang, and a head rolled out. Captain Ander, who was going to ask for reinforcements, looked at Mu Laden with cold and pale eyes.

Next to the head is a small pouch in which someone wrote a letter in human blood.

When Muradden Subis finished reading the letter addressed to him, all the color flowed from his face.He couldn't utter a word for a long time, and the first sentence he hadn't heard for a long time was the order to break camp.

The troops of the Croatian Governor need to return to Skradin immediately.

(End of this chapter)