"Spare me… spare me! All my money is in the basement, you can take everything in there!"
Outside the burning manor, several rioters were dragging the captured lord like a dead dog to the ruined front yard, where the bodies of the guards and peasants who had fought to the death for their master were mixed together.
Facing the siege of a large group of rioters, the mansion's defenders held out for a full hour, but were still defeated by the endless stream of enemies, and what followed was a slaughter of the vanquished.
This lord was involved in trade with the Imperial Capital, so his front yard had many precious flowers from the Imperial Capital, but they were now trampled like weeds by peasants who had once considered it sacrilege to even step on this ground.
"I'm sorry, my lord, you must die. We lost so many brothers to break through your defenses. This is to save your soul, which has been bewitched by that poor wretch on the cross."
A perun worshipper, with his face and body smeared with white ash, raised a dagger with a silver hilt and disemboweled this once all-powerful commercial magnate, who let out a hoarse scream that abruptly ended the moment the dagger pierced his heart.
"The soul of the blasphemer has been sacrificed by me, and perun is very pleased."
The worshipper stood up fanatically, waving the blood-soaked dagger in his hand, as if to show his slaughter to the god perun in the sky.
The rioting peasants and citizens continuously bowed to this worshipper. In their eyes, this was an incredibly sacred moment, a moment to offer sacrifices to perun in heaven.
After the sacrifice, it was time to joyfully divide the spoils. Among them, the worshippers received the most, as they were the ones who had started this frenzy and controlled its development.
Kiev had now become a lawless land. The sudden riot instantly broke the Veche army's organizational power. The Veche Militia was shattered before it could even organize, forcing them to return home and guard their doors.
As for the personal guards and attendants of the powerful, most had followed the Grand Prince on campaign. The total number in Kiev city was no more than a hundred, making it impossible for them to go out and quell the unrest.
As for the Grand Prince's personal guards, only a few hundred remained. Guarding Vladimir Palace was their limit, and their commander dared not risk issues at Vladimir Palace by sending troops to suppress the rebellion. This most powerful military force in Kiev was thus unable to act.
Without law enforcement, crime naturally ran rampant. All sorts of ugly incidents continuously occurred under the sky of Kiev. Looters ran wild, while law-abiding citizens could only shut their doors tightly, hoping that the chaos would not reach them.
The nomadic riders of the Black Hat Army systematically plundered the wealthy citizens of Kiev. Many of them had visited Kiev in peacetime and knew who was poor and who was rich. They seized countless riches and treasures, and even cooperated with the rioters to attack those hard-to-crack mansions, feasting on the incredibly tender meat within.
Men were killed, women were raped, children were thrown into fires, Christians were dragged to death by warhorses in the streets. Things that would rarely even happen in the wilderness were now unfolding in Kiev, the civilized center of Rus' lands, the Mother of Cities.
"My lord, this is very bad. The powerful who know they cannot resist have either fled to Vladimir Palace or to Saint Sophia Cathedral. The rest are mansions filled with guards, and these mansions are very difficult to assault. Every attack costs us many lives. As for Saint Sophia Cathedral and Vladimir Palace, we are completely powerless against them. The useless peasants collapse after a few arrows, and it is said that the Veche Militia is gathering…"
Not far from a burning mansion, several perun worshippers were reporting the developing situation in Kiev to their leader, the Old Warlock. The warlock wore a black robe and showed no concern for the flames before him. Beside him were wolf-skin clad warriors carrying two-handed axes, many of whom were covered in blood.
These wolf-skin warriors played a huge role in conquering the mansions of the powerful. After taking the Old Warlock's secret potion, these warriors fell into an incredibly frenzied state. They were fearless in death; even being cut by swords or pierced by spears could not immediately take their lives, and these men could still counterattack fanatically. It was they who destroyed the confidence of the few defenders, leading to their utter defeat and leaving them with no choice but to await slaughter.
Although the Old Warlock looked old, his mind was not at all, remaining terrifyingly active, and his body was full of muscles, not at all like what an old man should look like.
Behind the warlock were strong men carrying perun idols. Their faces and bodies were also smeared with white ash, and their eyes gleamed with fanatical light. This fanaticism intensified when they looked at the Old Warlock. In their eyes, this warlock was omnipotent, there was nothing he could not do, he was the spokesman for the gods in heaven!
"Tell the nomads of the steppe to break up the militia. As compensation, they can take the people of Kiev as slaves."
"Yes."
The Old Warlock thus casually offered the people of Kiev as compensation in exchange for the help of those mercenary nomadic riders. However, in the eyes of perun's worshippers, the people of Kiev had largely turned to that false god of the cross, so making them suffer was only right.
"Tell everyone to head to the Christian temples. The blasphemous Rurik palaces and the mansions of the powerful can be set aside for now, but the Christian temples must be destroyed."
As he said this, the Old Warlock looked at the stepped dome of Saint Sophia Cathedral, a look of madness flashing in his eyes.
"We must break through there! Let us offer the heads of those monks as gifts to the gods! Let us present a grand gift to the gods! Long live!"
"Long live! Long live! Long live!"
The fanatical shouts of the worshippers were incessant, and the glory of Christian seemed to be intimidated and overshadowed by the might of the pagans at this moment.
However, while everyone was in a frenzy, the warlock quietly instructed his confidants to prepare an escape plan and all necessary provisions for their flight.
Although the Old Warlock was a fanatic, he knew well the wisdom of maintaining a retreat. Though his venture seemed to be flourishing and thriving, it was in fact precarious, like a hanging egg, capable of falling into an abyss at any moment.
The Old Warlock was able to assemble such a large pagan group precisely because he always thought about how to retreat even when things were going smoothly. It was this adherence to principle that made him an object of concern even for the Polotsk Duke, and it was for this reason that the Polotsk Duke invited him to Kiev to stage this grand drama. But he would never be a mere pawn for that Duke!
His goals had actually all been achieved by now. He hadn't left yet only to see if he could take it to the next level. If he could destroy that Christian church, it would shake all of Rus'!