Kashin, this burgeoning mining city, is currently being plundered by the followers of Allah.
Although a large number of its residents left under Rostislav's command, just as some stayed to resist, many more were unwilling to leave this land.
They had come from afar; were they to leave simply because of a Prince's command?
Moreover, in the eyes of many among them, there was nothing to fear from the Bulgars; they would still need people to mine, so work would always be available. If they could secretly take home some high-quality silver, they would become rich.
However, the plundering and slaughter carried out by the Bulgars on this land mercilessly shattered these people's illusions.
Plundering and rape were rampant throughout the city. The various frustrations accumulated by the Bulgar army during their arduous journey needed an outlet. There were dead bodies everywhere, and some even set fires within the city.
This was their revelry; this was the victor's revelry.
Every night, the revelry would reach its climax, and now, it was night.
Spears were impaled with human heads, most of which belonged to the city's former defenders. Now, their heads served as symbols to intimidate the populace, impaled in clusters in every conspicuous place.
The already few survivors hoped the Bulgars would not wield their swords again, but their worries were now superfluous. Since the Bulgars hadn't killed them yet, it meant they had escaped a calamity; at least their lives were spared.
But their next fate was to be sold as slaves, sent to Bulgar, and then bought by merchants from unknown places. Their destiny thus drifted in the wind, unsure where it would land.
However, even in such chaos, Kashin still had places that maintained order: the mines and the White District.
The importance of the mines goes without saying; this area was naturally under strict control. As for the so-called White District, it was the name given by Kashin's residents to the wealthy residential area, famous because the houses here were all painted with a touch of white.
However, now, the houses in the White District had been occupied by Bulgar nobles and warriors. As for the houses' original owners, those rich merchants and nobles, those who had escaped were fortunate.
And those who had not escaped, but had attempted to welcome the Bulgar invaders in hopes of getting a share, had all been executed.
For the Bulgars, so many people were eyeing this silver mine; how could they leave room for these Rus people? It was better to kill them all at once to clear the space.
Akad and his subordinates occupied the largest mansion in the White District. It was a brick-and-tile mansion belonging to a merchant in the city. The Bulgars knew his background; he was Olaf's confidant, controlling a portion of the northeastern trade.
And now this merchant was hanged at the gate of his house—along with his family and servants.
His master, Olaf, had instructed him to reveal his identity to the Bulgars to save his life and wealth, and had even specifically communicated with the Bulgars about this. But now, the Bulgars clearly did not care about these matters.
Of course they knew Olaf, the only Rus chieftain willing to defect to them; how could they not know him? But after the city fell, everyone needed to get rich quickly. How could they let go of the city's wealthiest household?
As for how to explain it to Olaf, it was, of course, a friendly fire, a friendly fire. In such chaos, who knew who killed that merchant's entire family and plundered his home? Anyway, the person couldn't be found now, so let it be.
This grand house was a testament to the merchant's wealth and status. Not only was it vast in area, but it was also filled with various artworks, and the materials used for all the furniture were of extremely high quality.
Olaf had invested heavily in the development of Kashin. He had his personal merchant transfer all his wealth directly to Kashin and built this luxurious mansion, believing that after his defection to the Bulgars, he could preserve these assets. However, he did not expect the Bulgars to completely disregard everything.
The crude warriors of the Emir's guard, composed of barbarians, had no understanding of the preciousness of the various items within this mansion. They tore up Persian miniatures to use as kindling, smashed Imperial City glass ornaments for fun, and split rosewood furniture for fuel... These fellows, who only considered gold and silver as wealth, committed countless acts of wanton destruction.
Then they dragged out the merchant's treasured fine wines from his cellar. These wines came from all over the Christian World; collecting fine wines from various places was a habit of this merchant, but to these crude warriors, they were all the same.
They took these wines out of the cellar box by box, piling them next to a bonfire in the open space at the mansion's entrance. There was also a large amount of food, which they had also found in the mansion. Then they gathered around the bonfire and began to drink wildly.
These fellows had no idea how to enjoy these fine wines. Whether it was wine or beer, they drank like mad oxen. The shouts of barbarians filled this beautiful mansion, giving a sense of déjà vu to the Vandals' destruction of civilization after conquering Rome.
Akad had no intention of interfering with these barbaric behaviors of his guard. He formed this barbarian guard precisely because these fellows were foolish and barbaric enough, which allowed him to maintain their absolute loyalty through wealth and slaughter.
And at the main gate, four guards were leaning against the closed gate, chatting idly.
Although their master had promised them more wealth, the sounds of feasting from inside the room still made them itch with desire, so they could only pass the time like this.
And as these four guards stood with their weapons, idly passing the time, Arel rode up, heading directly towards the terribly decorated gate. He then dismounted and stood. The guards at the entrance merely glanced at him; they recognized this second-in-command of the army.
"Truly barbaric."
At the entrance of the mansion, Arel coldly glanced at the corpses of the unfortunate hanged men, then saw the revelry in the courtyard. Ignoring the hostile gazes of the guards at the gate, he spoke, and then walked inside.
The banquet had entered its second half. Warriors were everywhere, sprawled on the ground, unconscious from drink. Most of them were not wearing armor, and some didn't even have their swords.
The ground was littered with shattered wine bottles and various trampled foods. Some fellows were passed out in the messy food, snoring loudly, while others were still drinking incessantly, then shouting nonsense, clearly already delirious. The posture of barbarians was thus displayed before everyone.
"Hmph, what a night of revelry."
Looking at these scenes, Arel said with a sarcastic expression, his tone even containing a hint of schadenfreude.
"I wonder if our commander will still be able to be happy when he hears the news of what I'm leading next."
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