August 20, 1444, Gdansk, on the southern shore of the Baltic Sea.
During the war, the Teutonic Knights had suffered defeat after defeat, losing Marienburg and their other major towns. Left with no choice, the Grand Master sent envoys to Gdansk to sign a peace agreement with the Kingdom of Poland.
Hunyadi was not part of the Kingdom of Poland's inner circle. He had no interest in sitting in on the negotiations, and instead discussed business with Hanseatic merchants at the port, continuing to promote his Dobšiná matchlocks.
After reaching a supply agreement, Hunyadi wandered around the docks. The sea ahead was leaden gray, and waves slowly lapped against the wooden pilings beneath the piers. A cold wind blew into his face, carrying the smell of salted fish and wheat.
Suddenly, fine droplets of rain began drifting from the sky. Street vendors hurriedly packed up their stalls, leaving a few onions rolling across the ground with no one to pick them up. An attendant behind him opened an umbrella. Hunyadi sighed, his spirits abruptly sinking.
Hunyadi was now fifty-seven. As he grew older, he increasingly detested rainy weather. It felt as though his entire body had become steeped in a musty smell he could never shake off, reminding him that he was aging.
For a moment, his mind drifted back to the summer scenery of the Aegean Sea.
Twelve years earlier, Hunyadi had followed Sigismund in an offensive against the Ottomans and reached the shores of the Aegean Sea for the first time.
It had been summer then, too. Beneath the blazing sun, the distant sea had shone an almost unreal cobalt blue, while pebbles on the seabed were clearly visible in the shallows. The scents of thyme and sunbaked dust drifted through the air, and the intermittent cries of