Being able to fall asleep with countless gold and silver coins held every day is estimated to be the ultimate goal of many people.

Mussman, the Ottoman tax officer, not only achieved the ultimate goal, but also further transcended on this basis and went directly to the peak of life.

At this moment, he was naked, buried in countless gold and silver coins, and only one head was exposed.

"Mr. Musman, I know that you like money very much, so I specially entertained you with such a grand etiquette, I hope you will like it."

Baron Karl, standing on the edge of a pit full of gold and silver coins, with a little drunkenness, teased the Musman in the pit.

On the fourth day after the Ottomans were killed, a convoy loaded with gold, silver, and livestock arrived at Baron Karl's estate.

Near the manor, an abandoned village, became the best place to hide the stolen goods.

In this, there is also the credit of the Bolgars, the once quiet and peaceful village, because of them, it is now an inaccessible ruin.

Soon, how to punish the damned Ottoman tax collector was on the agenda.

Then, at the suggestion of Baron Karl, there was this scene in front of us.

Being slowly crushed to death by money is definitely the best destination for the Ottoman tax collectors.

"Cousin Karl! Ignore that guy anymore, there's more important things to do later."

Arthur's shouts came from not far away, just as he said, and the more exciting parts were yet to come.

Baron Karl answered, but instead of leaving immediately, he stomped heavily on the coins in the pit.

The coins in the pit were very tight, and the power was transmitted quickly, and Mussman felt that every muscle in his body was going to be cut by the concussive coins.

He was in great pain, but in the end, he could only let out a moan, which was quieter than the voice of an ant.

Under the squeeze of the coin, his chest cavity was sharply compressed, and the result of forcibly shouting out was likely to be directly suffocated.

Looking at Musman, showing a painful look, Baron Karl smiled with satisfaction.

He craned his neck, took a long sip of wine, and staggered away like a drunkard.

More than twenty meters away, five people sat around a dilapidated stone table.

Among them, there is Arthur, there is Captain Wawrinka, and there is Captain Goffin.

The other two are Davar, who is a little immature, and Zartya, who is in his last years.

The two of them, who came here a day ago, were followed by two hundred and eighty loyal warriors.

Among these fighters, old people, teenagers, and women accounted for a considerable proportion.

But the military temperament that burst out of them made no one dare to underestimate them, including those warlike Swiss mercenaries.

There is no small credit for this achievement, and he is the main person responsible for the training of these soldiers.

As a famous slasher maniac in the Eagle Legion back then, he imprinted some of his crazy traits on these soldiers.

Baron Karl staggered to the table, trying to find a stone to sit on, but sat down on the floor.

Not because he was too drunk, but because someone kicked the stone under his ass in advance.

It was Zartya who did this, and after the crazy old man kicked the stone away, he deliberately looked at Baron Karl with a provocative look.

The alcohol made Carl sluggish, and he froze for two seconds before he stood up from the ground and drew his saber from his waist.

At the same time, Zartya also drew his sword, and the two of them were inexplicably killed in one place.

Arthur and Davar on the side got up at the same time, trying to stop the brawl.

However, before they could make a move, Zartya struck Karl the bridge of his nose with his right sword.

Carl fell to the ground, two sticky nosebleeds gurgling out of his nostrils.

"How valiant and wise your grandfather, the great Earl of Berion, was.

How calm and brave your father, the sunny and handsome Viscount Cana, was.

It seems to me that you are just a grumpy drunkard, and you have not learned even half of the merit from them. ”

Zartya, with a look of hatred that makes iron not steel, seems to go back to some story from decades ago.

Originally, if the Eagle Legion had not lost the final battle, he would have been honorably knighted under Karl's grandfather.

It's a pity that the battle was lost, and more than thirty years have passed, and the Berian family is only left with the title of baron.

Hearing Zartya mention of his grandfather and father, the furious Baron Karl gradually calmed down.

"Cousin, go clean up the bloodstains, wake up the bar, I'll call you before I leave tomorrow."

Arthur had heard his mother complain about the decline of his mother's family countless times, so he was quite touched at the moment.

To be honest, Arthur felt that the decline of the Berian family had nothing to do with Karl and half of the Deniers.

When Carl inherited the title, eighty percent of the land that once belonged to his family had been sold, and he could only become a baron in the end.

The lesson of the old man Zartya is really unkind, boasting about the two losers of the last two generations, but in the end he wants Karl to take the blame.

Karl got up from the ground, glanced at Zartya, and left without saying a word, not knowing what he was thinking.

The meeting of the five continued, focusing on when to act next, and how to properly relocate the vast wealth hidden in the abandoned village.

Although the Swiss mercenaries are trustworthy, they may not be reassuring after a long time.

Similarly, the soldiers gathered by Davar, who stood by a great fortune, were able to remain loyal to them was a question mark.

After much deliberation, it was finally decided that each side would leave a team of people to protect the safety of the property.

On the mercenary side, leave 30 people, and on the recruiter side, leave 80 people, and the two sides will contain each other, and no one will try to make a bad idea.

In addition, there are some children under the age of fourteen, who are also left here, and it is not yet time for them to go into battle to kill the enemy.

After some discussions on some details, it was finally decided that early tomorrow morning, they would set off for Targoviste.

The sun was rising, and Karl, who had changed into new clothes, seemed to be affected by Zaltya's words and appeared at the gathering point early.

Seventy-seven Swiss mercenaries and one hundred and eighty-six recruited warriors were assembled and ready to go.

Of course, collective action is impossible, secrecy has always been put first, and two or three hundred people travel in groups, openly telling others that they are going to do something.

In groups of eight or ten, distribute enough coils, and upon arrival in Targoviste, go to St. Mary's Church to assemble.

The mysterious 'six-six-six' code has once again become a joint symbol, and Arthur will be the first to rush back and tell Bishop Mitte about this mysterious symbol.

Arthur rode his rose-colored Arabian horse and left the village first.

Immediately afterwards, groups of soldiers, scattered and left, and did not carry weapons.

It is believed that when they arrive in the capital, Bishop Mitte and Patriarch Apaca will arrange these small things.

Davar and Zartya were the first to go, followed by the two mercenary captains, and finally Karl was left behind.

Before leaving, Karl went to the big pit full of coins, and stomped three times on the coins before leaving happily.

There are some things that will never be easily changed, such as human nature.

On December 15, 1447 in the Julian calendar, countless big figures in the principality appeared at the gate of Targoviste.

On this day, Arthur arrived in Targoviste, but it was clear that it was definitely not him who was waiting for such a high-level greeting team.