Temple Sword

Chapter 161 Straight to Doom
1322, St. Jacob's Month (July)
克罗地亚
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Laszlo woke up after someone splashed salt water on his face.

He was lying on a solid plank, and the whole world was shaking around him.At first he thought he was drunk, but soon he realized that he was actually on a boat, and he didn't know when or how he got here.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he managed to struggle to sit up.The mainsail's mast was beside him and he leaned his back against it, his head buzzing with pain.

He tried to take a deep breath of the thick, salty air, looking up at the half-obscured sky.

The sky was glowing blood-red.

"You've woken up." A familiar voice came from nearby.Laszlo turned his head and saw Dmitry squatting behind him, holding an empty wine glass in his hand, he must have just splashed sea water on his face.

"Where..." The hangover man wanted to speak, but there was only a dry whimper in his throat.He coughed a few times, and asked again, "Where are we... Where are we?"

"On the Doge's ship," Dmitri replied, "on the way to Bisko."

"Where's Omis?" Laszlo asked puzzled. "Have we lost?"

"We set off before the walls were breached."

It's unbelievable, Laszlo thought, as he scrambled to his feet, there was no more cowardly leader in the world than Muladen.

He stretched his haggard limbs, the sun rose rapidly in the sky, and with the approach of dawn, there was some vitality on the light sailboat.

Laszlo, still dizzy, wanted to grab an oar and help the sailors row.But the men pushed him aside and drove him below decks, where most of the men were anyway.

Laszlo reluctantly complied with their wishes, and after some searching he found the stairs leading to the cabin.

After walking down the stairs, he didn't see anyone in the dim space, only a few barrels, dozens of sacks, and various heavy-looking wooden boxes.

Just as he was about to turn and walk up the stairs back to the deck, he heard a knocking sound behind the sack, and then life came from the other side of the sack.

Someone is cursing something.

Driven by curiosity, Laszlo walked into a warehouse cautiously. The sound was getting closer and closer. After walking a few steps, he found a small room hidden behind the bag.

He stopped.

There were two voices inside, they seemed to be arguing about something, and Laszlo soon knew who they were.

"I can't believe you did this to me, Muradon!" Earl George yelled at his brother, angrily undoing his weapon belt, shoulder pads, and armguards, removing the armor Throw them on the ground one by one.

"Damn it, stop complaining!" the Croatian Governor cursed, "I need you."

"Your people need me too," insisted George Soubis, "what will they think of us now? We left them in Omis!

I am a monster!You've never been a decent person, Muladen, but you've dragged me into the water this time!I'm so ashamed of you..."

"I said stop arguing!" Mu Laden ordered. "Shut up, listen to me! Except for my own blood relatives, I can't entrust this task to anyone. The only person who can deliver this news is you."

George was still raging, but his brother's words also made him curious.

"What mission?" He asked in a low voice, "What's the news you're talking about?"

"When we reach Bisco, you will set off for Timisoara," announced the governor. "This war is now far beyond what we can fight alone and we have to ask for help. Now is the time to act and believe me, I'm not happy about it either, but we have to."

After Mu Laden finished speaking, both of them were silent for a while, and then George asked in a serious tone.

"Are you going to send me to meet him?" The anger was gone from his voice. "Should we ask him for help?"

"Yes," said his brother, "this is our last resort, and if Charles Anjou doesn't help us, we're all over."

Laszlo thought he had heard enough, his head was even more dizzy, and he dragged his trembling body up the stairs.

As in the great hall of the castle the night before, he was out of breath in the cramped cabin and would suffocate if he did not go out for fresh air.

The dreadful thought of Charlie's coming to the South resounded in his mind, and he dared not imagine what would await him if the King recognized him as a murderer on the run, as a traitor to his faith.

He hadn't been afraid of death for some time, but he was afraid of being in a dark, dank dungeon, or at the hands of court torturers or whatever.

Thoughts were chasing each other in his mind, he had nowhere to hide on the palm-sized bisco, and escape seemed an even more unlikely thought.He had given up trying to hide his emotions, Laszlo was terrified, he didn't know what to do.

Once on deck, he ran to the nearest rail and spat out the last drop of water he'd drank since waking up.

The sailboat skimmed the sea foam and soared on the water.Laszlo felt it was leading him straight to doom.

(End of this chapter)