Temple Sword

Chapter 194 Muladen Subis
1323, Month of St. James (July)
Timisoara, Hungary
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As dusk fell, the priest and the choir returned home from vespers, and the calm summer night was slowly covering the city.

At this time a year ago, life was still buzzing, whether in the great halls of the castle or by the banks of the Timis, where the King loved to take his whole court and camp by the river when the weather got too muggy.

In the past, the music of horns, bagpipes, drums, vierres, flutes and other instruments still floats in the air, mixing with the warm breeze and dancing with fireflies like stars.

However, since the Anjou family left Timisoara, this corner of the kingdom has been completely silent.In addition to a few garrisons in the castle, there are only the local administrator and his family, and a few servants serving them.

There is an eerie emptiness in the empty corridors, rooms and halls compared to the past decade or so.The streets also became calmer, no longer crowded with travelers, mercenaries, merchants, pilgrims, Muslims, hooligans and swindlers coming from all directions.

They stopped flocking here, and rushed in the direction of Visegrad.Nobles with flashy retinues were once everywhere, but in what is now Timisoara they are as rare as white crows.

The market also became less active, with many merchants and artisans deciding to pack up and move to another town or village to try their luck.

On this warm night in the month of St. Jacob, the sounds of celebration and feasting sounded from nowhere.There are no drums or bagpipes, only the evening music of crickets and dragonflies to accompany the mysterious and lonely traveler.

The man walked out of the tavern door after sunset, his rough black cloak concealing his true identity, even in the tavern he did not take off the hood.

He asked the tavern-keeper to have his food and wine delivered to his room, and in view of his generosity the proprietor readily complied with this unusual request, and in these days when things were no longer going well, he treated every guest who happened to come by. All grateful.

The man arrived in Timisoara in the afternoon, riding alone through the countryside without anyone accompanying him.He did not reveal his name and was only planning to stay one night.

He hid all afternoon in his room in the tavern, and then, as night fell, set off on foot towards the dark quarters of the castle.

His footsteps are confident, as if it is not the first time he has come to this city.He moved expertly through the streets, always turning corners between houses or sneaking down dark alleys to hide from the eyes of night watchmen.He knew where he was going, and he reached his secret destination in no time.

Directly below the castle is a dark and damp cellar, which contains catacombs, secret passages, various interrogation rooms and dirty cells. Sometimes there are many people living in the cells, and sometimes there are few people. They are carefully hidden. isolated from the world.

Not many people know about this eerie and depressing place, and those who do know what lies beneath Timisoara try to avoid it.

But that's not the case with the man in the black cloak. He came here specifically to enter the dungeon.

This person also knows very well that there are two ways to enter the cellar.The first path is at the bottom of the castle's old tower, and the other entrance is outside the castle, a stone's throw from the fort on the southeast side.

There was a humble log cabin, guarded by a group of guards, from which it was possible to descend ancient stone steps into the ground.

As soon as the stranger in the baggy cloak appeared at the door of the hut, the guard dropped his bacon, sprang to his feet, ran to their spears leaning against the wall, and, with his mouth full of onion and crumbs of bacon, began The uninvited guest yelled and sprayed food residue all over the floor.

"Stop! Who are you and what do you want?"

At last the man drew down his hood and held up his huge heraldic ring, which gleamed in the light of the candles burning in the hut.

The guard immediately recognized the court knight, swallowed heavily, and was immediately embarrassed by his behavior just now.He pushed the half-chewed food down his throat with difficulty, and even his eye sockets were moist, but he didn't care about it, and knelt down on one knee in front of the white-haired nobleman.

Not long after, he sat down at the table to eat again, and beside the plate and cup lay a large purse, with which the man bought three things: the key to the cellar door, a burning torch, and of course his oath, which the guard swore , everyone in the castle will not know that the knight has been here.

The darkness was mingled with impenetrable terror, and Muradin Subis watched like a frightened mouse at the faint light that was approaching him.Someone was approaching, and the torchlight grew brighter and brighter until it nearly blinded him completely.

His eyes were sunken in black sockets, his gray skin deformed by festering boils and scratched wounds.His greasy hair and beard, even under his bushy eyebrows, had burned and itched for so long, he was even used to it by now.

He was bitten by fleas and covered in worms, like a stray dog ​​on the side of the road.At the time he was shaking the bars of his cage wildly every day, but by the end he seemed to be used to it, or he had broken down completely and stopped caring about what was eating away at his body.

The man with the torch crouched in front of Muladen's cell, holding a bag of lavender to his mouth and nose with a look of disgust to breathe.

"Who are you?" Muladen asked, curled up in the rotten straw, "What do you want?"

"Don't you even know me?" the man asked rhetorically, removing the bag from under his nose for a moment, letting the torch light up his entire face.

"Felician!" The ex-Governor of Croatia took a deep breath and stood up while leaning on the railing of the cell. "I dreamed about you, Felician! In my dream, you finally completed the mission you have prepared for many years... ..."

"I thought of you too, Muladen. Especially when I heard that your subjects were tired of your tyranny, I knew that nothing good would happen to you..."

"My subjects?" Muladen pressed his face between the two iron bars, staring at the Earl of Sumpter frantically. "I can see their faces, everyone I've punished, executed, slandered, every daughter or wife I've humiliated...

Here they are, Felician!Here they hide, in this cursed darkness.Of course, they are all silent now because they are still afraid of you...

But when you leave, they start whispering again, only these iron bars can protect me from harm, but who knows how long I can last..."

The disgust on Felicien Zacher's face could not be scraped off even with ten fingernails. Seeing that the once rich and powerful governor was now inhuman, he felt an uncontrollable feeling of nausea, perhaps in Deeper still, there is a hint of fear.

In less than a year, Muladen has become like this, Charlie took him from Zagreb late last autumn, and now the once mighty seaside lord has become a man without reason and power. disabled.

"Your former glory and power have vanished without a trace," Felician told him pitifully, "your family's only concern is who will get the wealth you left behind, and your former people celebrate your fall , not even the king gave you a cell commensurate with your status, and his latrines are a hundred times better than this."

"He just wants to break me," growled Mulladen, scratching his beard angrily, "yes, he just wanted to break me, I know, because when he put me in the dungeon, I saw it in his eyes." flames.

He must want to punish me, but he will soften his heart, and he will take me out of here and into his castle and palace himself, and he will give me a place to live in one of the floors of the old tower.

'Come on, Governor Muladen,' he'd say, 'you can't live in that darkness any longer, where your enemies whisper and stare at you, I know you've suffered enough, now , your prayers have been answered..."

"The king is not here, Muradin," Felician said. "Timisoara was emptied a few months ago, and the royal court is now in Visegrad."

"Visegrad?" There was a spark of hope in the prisoner's eyes, "then I can finally get out of here! If I'm lucky, they'll lock me up in Solomon's Tower, where the sun is shining and I can see the stars , the moon, and falcons in the castle, hear the life outside, and eat meals worthy of a noble prisoner!"

"You can't go to Solomon's Tower," Felician interrupted Muradin mercilessly, "you can't go anywhere, don't you understand? The king doesn't care about you, he just wants to know when you will be here Rotting, dying. It's been a long time since anyone thought of you except me..."

In this way, the last remaining hope of Muladen Subis was also shattered. He let go of the bars of his cell and fell powerlessly on the straw.He was tearful, staring blankly into the darkness.

"So," he moaned in a dying voice, "are you here to rescue me? That's why the Round Table sent you here, isn't it?"

"Before you were stripped of your power, the Round Table no longer existed," Felician said in a weak voice, "However, I did come...to rescue you."

As he spoke, there was a soft rustling sound from the black cloak, and the white-haired knight took out something from the pouch hanging on his belt.Since he didn't want to touch Muladen, he didn't hand it over, but threw the thing into the man's lap.

The tormented nobleman picked it up, held it up to his eyes, and frowned at the small green bottle, only half a mouthful of translucent liquid was swaying inside.

"What is this, Felician?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Release your key, Muladen," replied the knight, "and in a short while your spirit will be gone. The shaman swore you would suffer no pain, but drink it and you'll fall asleep..."

Mu Laden quickly got up from the ground as if being pushed by someone, rushed to the iron railing quickly, and pressed his inhuman face between the iron pillars.

"Who do you think you are, you traitor son of a bitch?" It is the governor of Croatia and Dalmatia! You are not even worthy to kneel in front of my noble blood! I am a real Hungarian nobleman!"

"No, Muladen," the white-haired knight shook his head and whispered, "You are nothing..."

While the deprived governor was shaking the iron bars frantically and screaming angrily, Felicien Zacher disappeared into the darkness.

He never returned, and Muladen heard his enemies whispering in the dark again, and after another two long, painful years, he made the wisest decision of his life.

He knelt in the corner, prayed to himself, and then opened the small bottle from back then.

(End of this chapter)