Robbing the Robbers

No one with even a little military sense would try to use militia to strike a target over a hundred kilometers away.

In fact, under normal circumstances, no one would ever approve such a brainless decision. But these were extraordinary times.

Landry Promis might not have been a good man, but there was nothing wrong with his abilities. It was no easy feat to lead such a loosely organized group to where it was today.

At least he was far better than the people before him, who knew only how to pressure Bem into sending troops by throwing their numbers around. That did not mean Landry Promis was particularly clever, though.

At night in Pest, streetlights were still uncommon, and that saved the trench-coated man's life. Magyar horsemen carrying torches and leading hounds searched the city for signs of their prey.

Little did they know that their cunning quarry had already slipped into the city's waterways, while at the other end of the city, Magyar nobles were still sorting through their spoils.

Four whole wagonloads of gold and silver coins and jewelry. No wonder they needed four tall draft horses to pull them. This wealth was nearly equal to a full year's tax revenue for Hungary, and more than ordinary nobles could ever hope to possess in a lifetime.

Some people in the room stared greedily at the gold before them, while others fixed their murderous gazes on their companions.

A burst of gunfire rang out, followed by the sound of blades biting into flesh and screams that were anything but human.

In the end, only one man came out. As soon as he shut the door, his body slid down it to the floor. His taut nerves and strenuous exertion left his throat parched, and he kept swallowing.

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