After enjoying the food at the tavern, Rostislav let out a satisfied burp, then he got up and left.
Rostislav's satisfaction was twofold: physically, he felt comfortable after a full meal following so much exhaustion, and spiritually, he had finally found usable evidence.
Zhe'erji walked ahead, leading the way for Rostislav; he was more familiar with the city than the Moscow Prince, and had been leading him for the past few days.
Rostislav intended to return now and reorganize the information he had, so he could hand it over to others and make them take the existence of the pagan problem seriously.
However, there was still a problem: although the activities of the pagans had been discovered, finding them was very difficult.
While they had left traces in the collection of supplies, they had left no traces in the assembly of personnel, and armed pagans were everywhere, so Rostislav could not find any clues.
But at least there was evidence now, which was better than nothing. With this thought, Rostislav and Zhe'erji walked together towards the camp outside the city.
The Moscow Prince planned to strengthen the vigilance of his troops after returning, as the current situation suggested they might have to go to war.
Along the way, the Moscow Prince pondered the pagans' possible targets for attack; the palace and the cathedral were highly likely.
After all, one represented Hungarian royalty and the other the Hungarian church; attacking them would achieve the best effect and maximize the display of pagan existence.
However, setting fire to these two places was extremely difficult. As embodiments of royal and ecclesiastical authority, one was constantly guarded by a large number of escorts, while the other always had a large flow of people coming and going.
These two places were certainly important, but their defenses were also incredibly strict, and the cost of arson was simply too high.
Could it be that they intended to set fire to the entire city? Rostislav thought, but then shook his head. Although the pagans had purchased many incendiary materials, burning down an entire city was too exaggerated.
Were they just trying to set a few fires to make trouble for the Hungarian royalty and church? If so, it felt like a childish prank, too low-class.
Finally, Rostislav gave up thinking. He still had too little information to analyze what those people ultimately wanted to do.
And as Rostislav emerged from his thoughts, he suddenly realized something was wrong, because what met his eyes was a shadowy mass of debris.
Seeing this, Rostislav abruptly looked up, only to find himself in a dark alley at some unknown point, which set off alarm bells in the Moscow Prince's heart.
Just now, engrossed in thought, he had instinctively followed Zhe'erji, but he never expected Zhe'erji to lead him into such a dark alley.
This alley was very narrow, engulfed by shadows cast by the walls. This small alley was always filled with garbage and vagrants, and it was always the place where all sorts of illicit activities in the city occurred.
This was the place with the most deaths in every city, but also the place least cared about.
After all, conspiracies were always unfolding here, and the victims of these conspiracies ranged from the highest to the lowest strata.
"Zhe'erji, what are you doing?"
Rostislav placed his hand on his sword hilt, his steps instinctively adopting an attacking stance.
And what made Rostislav even more nervous happened the next moment: five people armed with short axes, daggers, and similar weapons suddenly emerged from beside Zhe'erji, and even worse, four more appeared behind him. These guys formed a pincer attack.
On the battlefield, Rostislav would have disdained these people, for they were ultimately cannon fodder to be trampled under hooves, but here it was different; these cannon fodder with crude weapons could very well take his life.
"Lord Rostislav, I did not wish this. A hero like you should not die like a rogue in a dark alley, but since you have discovered the problem, discovered our gunpowder, then you must die."
Zhe'erji's eyes were full of malice at this moment. He directly drew his weapon, and so did those around him, all looking ready to strike.
"Zhe'erji, doesn't Árpád blood flow in your veins? Why would you betray the Árpád Dynasty and cooperate with pagans? Is this worthy of your status?"
Rostislav voiced his doubts. He never expected an Árpád noble to cooperate with pagans; it was simply too...
Moreover, the era of paganism was bound to pass, and the era of Christianity was bound to arrive. Standing with those backward and ignorant pagans had no future.
"Árpád blood? You speak of Árpád blood? What do you, a legitimate child, understand about me?"
Rostislav's words provoked a reaction from Zhe'erji, and a very intense one at that. This Magyar knight now seemed to be unleashing all the resentment he had accumulated within him.
"I am merely a bastard, a person who cannot see the light of day. Yes, I live with the Árpád Dynasty, but in that house, I am more like a servant, a fool who is ordered around, not a noble with Árpád blood."
As Zhe'erji spoke these words, all his malevolence was unleashed. Extremely strong resentment emanated from him; this resentment had clearly been building up for a very, very long time.
"Once, in my naivety, I believed that as long as I studied hard and trained diligently, I could become my father's true son. And before my father's legitimate son was born, I did seem to have some opportunities, and my father was willing to show me some warmth, but what was the result? I was ultimately destined to be unrelated to the Árpád surname and the throne. Ah? Do you know? To prevent me from gaining merit on the battlefield, my father even transferred me from the battlefield in previous wars to be some ambassador to the German Empire, bah!"
Listening to Zhe'erji's angry outburst, Rostislav had nothing to say. Everything Zhe'erji spoke of was something he had never experienced, neither in his previous life nor in this one. He had no right to speak on these matters.
Moreover, looking at him now, venting his emotions like this, he wouldn't listen to anything Rostislav said. What's more, Rostislav's identity was so sensitive to this person; speaking rashly would only ignite his anger.
And Zhe'erji's outburst was not over. He had finally found such an opportunity to speak these words to a legitimate son; how could he end it just like that?
"After my father died, I initially thought I had a chance, but what was the outcome? Everyone chose my father's two young legitimate sons instead of me. I am the one who can hold the situation together now, but they all ignored me! They chose two children and that widow. To make matters worse, my father's woman, that woman from your Rurik family, purely treated me as a servant from then on, as if I were their mother and son's dog!"
After saying all this, Zhe'erji gasped for breath as if relieved of a heavy burden. He had kept these words hidden in his heart for far too long.
For countless days and nights, he had thought about these words, yet he was afraid of letting anyone know. The pressure was unimaginable for ordinary people.
"So, you turned to those pagans, did you?"
Rostislav said coldly. After hearing Zhe'erji's story, the Moscow Prince understood that this was not a conflict that could be resolved with words.
This was a clash of interests, a conflict where it was either you die or I live; no one could yield.
"Yes, yes, I had to find a path for myself, and that path quickly appeared before my eyes. This city will soon become a stage, the stage for a grand drama. It's just a pity that you, a dying man, won't see the moment everything unfolds."
As Zhe'erji spoke, he raised his scimitar, and so did his cronies, ready to slaughter Rostislav the next moment.
"Oh? Then, can you tell me, this dying man, your plan?"
Rostislav felt an opportunity, a chance for the truth to appear before his eyes. Disregarding the threat of the blades, Rostislav asked what he cared about most.
"Sorry, no."
Just when Rostislav thought he was sure to succeed in his ploy, he heard an answer that somewhat choked him.
Zhe'erji directly refused his request, without a hint of hesitation.
"The plan hasn't started yet, and the actors on stage are still putting on their makeup before their appearance. I can't reveal anything. I apologize, Rostislav, I didn't want you to die in ignorance, to be a ghost who never understood any of this until his death, but circumstances forced my hand, there was no other way."
Rostislav was truly astonished this time. He never expected this person to play by his own rules. At this moment, shouldn't you be proudly displaying your schemes? Why aren't you saying a word?
But the truth was, Zhe'erji showed no pride. He remained calm, devoid of any arrogance.
"Alright, send Rostislav on his way. When it's done, remember to find a few homeless corpses. Our Rostislav unfortunately entered a dark alley and was attacked by homeless people. Although he killed many, he was still outnumbered and died tragically. And I, in order to protect him, was unfortunately injured, pierced through the left chest and passed out."
As Zhe'erji concocted Rostislav's "cause of death" and his own excuse, he ordered his subordinates to advance with their weapons. They formed a pincer attack, looking as if they were about to take Rostislav's life.
The Prince held his longsword, looking at the enemies in front and behind, feeling somewhat at a loss for how to deal with them. It was difficult for him to handle enemies attacking from both sides.
It seems I can only reveal my hand, the Moscow Prince thought.
"Zhe'erji, do you know why I always win?"
Rostislav's abrupt, out-of-the-blue question suddenly made everyone pause, and Zhe'erji frowned. What was this man talking about?
"What do you want to say, Rostislav? If you're trying to buy time this way, it's too foolish. This alley has been sealed off; no one can come to save you."
But Rostislav simply returned a smile. For some reason, that smile made Zhe'erji feel uneasy.
"Because I always have a backup plan?"
"Hmm? Could it be…?"
Zhe'erji immediately realized what Rostislav was implying. Just as he was about to continue questioning, Rostislav's loud shout suddenly interrupted him.
"Vasily! Move!"
As soon as the Moscow Prince finished speaking, the sound of bowstrings and arrows whistling through the air rang out simultaneously. Then, the four armed men standing behind Rostislav fell one after another, crossbow bolts sticking out of their backs.
And after those four fell, one could clearly see Rostislav's personal guard leader, Vasily Ivanovich Khrensky, standing there. The usually imposing Vasily was now clad in an inconspicuous gray cloak, holding a crossbow.
Beside him were four gray-robed figures, similarly dressed and in a crouching position, holding their crossbows.
The crossbow bolts just now came from them. It was too easy for a single shot, capable of easily piercing even iron armor, to kill these small fry.
And lying at their feet were the subordinates Zhe'erji had arranged to guard the alley entrance. Their throats had been slit, and blood was flowing out, forming a stream. Their faces bore expressions of disbelief, clearly indicating the attack was swift.
"I am a cautious man, Zhe'erji. I never stay alone with anyone, no matter who they are. I always ensure I have guards by my side, so no matter what happens, I will have a plan."
Now it was Rostislav's turn to explain. The Moscow Prince had never fully trusted this Magyar knight in front of him. From the moment he enthusiastically approached, Rostislav had been wary, so during the investigations of the past few days, Rostislav had Vasily secretly bring his crossbowmen to follow and guard him.
The reason crossbowmen were chosen was because these people were either from the countryside or the marketplace, and they were masters at blending in as commoners, even if they changed countries.
And their appearance was not abrupt; after all, since the important figures were to hold a meeting, this city had recently seen too many foreigners.
Vasily and the others stepped over the corpses, walking in front of Rostislav and shielding their master behind them.
By this time, their cloaks had been pulled back, revealing the iron armor beneath, and in their hands, they held loaded crossbows.
Zhe'erji's face turned ugly as he watched all this. With his handful of subordinates, he absolutely could not defeat the armored warriors in front of him, and they were all wearing armor.
His subordinates' situation was no better. Four comrades had died tragically right in front of them, and facing them were cold-blooded warriors. How could they possibly win against these guys, who also had such powerful projectile weapons in their hands?
However, Zhe'erji was still somewhat relieved, relieved that he hadn't fallen for Rostislav's trick and revealed the plan.
As long as the plan hadn't been revealed, it was fine. The overt forces certainly couldn't be saved, but if they couldn't be saved, then so be it; they were never the core of the plan anyway.
And now, the most important thing was to save his life.
With that thought, Zhe'erji roared.
"Charge!"
His subordinates instinctively charged out. These were mindless lackeys who blindly obeyed orders; they habitually followed commands from above. At the same time, Zhe'erji fled headlong.
The crossbowmen immediately fired their bolts. Those foolish attackers were all struck, and then they fell to the ground wailing—the crossbowmen did not kill them, because they knew their master needed captives.
That temporary team from back then had now become a professional, practically standing, force in Rostislav's hands. In a sense, this team could even be considered the Moscow Prince's personal guard.
As for Zhe'erji, using the deaths of his subordinates, he fled with the subordinates guarding the other end of the alley. His escape speed was incredibly fast; he vanished in an instant.
And by the time the Rostislav's men had reloaded and were raising their crossbows to shoot, his figure had completely disappeared.
The Rostislav's men immediately gave chase, but once they got outside, they found that Zhe'erji had already blended into the crowd and was nowhere to be seen. And this group of Rostislav's men rushing out with crossbows startled the passersby.
Although it was an era where everyone carried weapons, it was still rare to see people walking around in armor, especially with crossbows.
However, most people watched for a while and then scattered, because there was fresh blood on those men's boots, clearly visible to the naked eye.
Upon seeing such a sight, how could anyone dare to linger? Running away immediately was the most important thing, lest they be caught in the crossfire.
Seeing this, the Rostislav's men had no choice but to retreat back into the alley. They didn't want to attract too much attention; it wasn't worth it.
The retreating group gathered the captives, while Rostislav found a box and, disregarding the dirt on it, sat down with a thud.
"My Lord, that really scared me just now. Those men rushed right in front of you. I almost moved ahead of time."
Vasily walked towards his master, his words full of complaints. That scene just now was truly terrifying. If they had acted any later, the Prince really would have been finished.
If Rostislav hadn't signaled him from the beginning to wait and see, those scoundrels would have been dealt with by him long ago, instead of him having to wait anxiously.
"I wanted to extract more information, but that Magyar didn't say a single word. That was truly surprising."
Rostislav, on the other hand, was lamenting something else. That fellow was really uncooperative; he wouldn't even let him die understanding what was happening.
"But I really didn't expect Zhe'erji to betray us… So, My Lord, what should we do now?"
As Vasily spoke, the few men who had been shot earlier were all tied up. They continuously wailed, as they were being bound by a group of burly men, and secondary injury to their wounds was inevitable.
"Take these men back to the camp, and then find some doctors. I need to know what these people know, and I also need to go find Edward. Zhe'erji's subordinates must be quickly brought under control."