Among all the grandiose events—while the Emperor and the Sultan were exhausting their forces in the Crusade, while the Lord's power grew, and the "Honey Mug" was turning into an impregnable financial bastion—an unexpected guest appeared at the tavern. 1He entered the doors haggard, in worn, once-eastern, now dirty clothes, with a strange glint in his eyes. It was Hasan, the very merchant on whom the Lord's first, unsuccessful trap had been tested. The one who, according to all reports from spies and the thieves' guild, should have been dead somewhere in the Sultanate's lands, struck by an arrow.
He had survived! By some incredible miracle that defied the logic of the Lord's pragmatic engineers and alchemists. Hasan, barely catching his breath, began to tell his story to anyone and everyone willing to listen in the noisy "Honey Mug." He recounted how he had miraculously escaped death at the hands of the Sultan, how he had hidden in the desolate mountains, saving himself from wild beasts and starvation. His adventures quickly became embellished with incredible details, exaggerations, and naive panic. He described how he had slid down sheer cliffs, how he had eaten roots, how he had avoided encounters with the Sultan's patrols, and how, finally, he had reached safe lands. His stories were full of absurd details: giant snakes, talking mountain spirits, invisible guides, and ghostly horsemen who, according to him, "did nothing but chase the Sultan's men, leaving him, Hasan, alone." He described "rockfalls that came to life at a single glance from an eastern priest" and "a fog that devoured the Sultan's warriors." The stern highlanders and the Lord's pragmatic money-changers, if they didn't laugh openly, shook their heads. However, Hasan's naive yet terrified and panicked manner of storytelling, as well as his miraculous escape, unwittingly fueled the existing myths about the Mountain Ridge and its formidable Lord.
After listening to Hasan's rambling but wildly detailed stories, the Lord saw no miracle of providence in his survival. He saw right through him: it was a unique combination of Hasan's innate cowardice and, admittedly, incredible luck. When the Sultanate's arrow had pierced his clothing (or, as the Lord now suspected, merely grazed him), Hasan, being a consummate panic-monger, immediately collapsed, pretending to be dead. His less cowardly but more naive companions, seized with terror, fled, leaving him behind, absolutely certain of his demise. Perhaps he lay in the bushes for several days, miraculously avoiding wild beasts and the Sultanate's patrols, feeding on roots and his own all-consuming fear.
But for all his cowardice and exaggeration, Hasan possessed a unique and extremely valuable talent: he was a perfect merchant and money-changer. His cunning, resourcefulness, and ability to find profit in any situation, even the most hopeless, were unparalleled. He could "bargain the soul from the devil"—and still make a handsome profit on it. He had a silver tongue, his instinct for profitable deals was phenomenal, and his ability to win the trust of anyone, from a simple peasant to an influential merchant, was truly legendary. In a world where the Lord's economic empire was growing, where gold coins dominated, and bonds were becoming the new standard, a man like Hasan could be a priceless asset. His return was not a problem, but an opportunity.
Bards, always looking for new subjects for their songs and ballads, would not miss such an opportunity. The story of Hasan, who miraculously survived in the Sultanate's den and escaped from the cursed mountains, would be retold by hundreds of voices. It would be embellished with new, even more fantastic details. His stories, full of absurd exaggerations, would serve as a perfect propaganda tool for the Lord. They would sow fear and superstition among the Sultanate's soldiers, confirming their worst fears. And for the Lord's people and the Imperials, it would be another proof of his power and justice.
While Hasan was basking in the rays of his short-lived fame, his true value was already clear to the Lord. He not only fueled the myths but also possessed a unique talent that the Lord would surely use. After listening to the bards' retellings about Hasan, the Lord understood the true nature of his phenomenon. He was not a hero in the traditional sense, and his successes would not be the result of valor or strategic genius. Hasan was a comic character who would succeed not because of his qualities, but against all logic. His success would be driven by pure, unadulterated luck and an innate, almost magical talent for trade and money-changing. Where others would see only risks and insurmountable obstacles, Hasan, for inexplicable reasons, would find loopholes and opportunities. His cowardice, paradoxically, would become his shield, keeping him from reckless dangers, while his phenomenal luck would push him toward hidden profits. He could "accidentally" find himself at a place where robbers had abandoned valuable loot, frightened by a patrol of the Legion of the Dead, and pick it up, considering it a find. He could "inadvertently" overhear a conversation between two drunken merchants in a tavern that would lead him to an incredibly profitable deal or to information about a large shipment of goods left unattended. His panicked fear of danger would force him to choose the "safest" and, as a rule, the least-used routes, where he would stumble upon hidden treasures or ownerless but valuable cargo.
The Lord saw in Hasan not just an amusing character, but a living good-luck charm that could benefit his fortress-bank. Hasan's "incredible" finds and his "accidental" profitable deals would bring ever-new streams of gold and opportunities for exchange to the Lord. The Lord would not send Hasan on dangerous missions or entrust him with strategic tasks. Instead, Hasan would act as a kind of free agent, constantly on the move, wandering between trade routes and cities, "accidentally" bringing profit to the Lord. The Lord's agents would only discreetly watch over him, ensuring that his "luck" bore fruit for the Lord's treasury. Thus, Hasan would become a living confirmation of the myths about the Lord's power and prosperity, for even such a cowardly and ridiculous character associated with his fortress managed to thrive against all odds.
One of those days arrives when the "Honey Mug" is buzzing like a disturbed hive. The Crusade was gaining momentum, and streams of gold, trophies, and people were flowing into the fortress-bank. A massive exchange of plunder was underway: knights and soldiers returning from raids lined up to trade their trophies for the Lord's reliable gold and bonds. The money-changers worked without rest, weighing, appraising, and recounting. It was on this chaotic but incredibly profitable day that Hasan found himself at the very center of events. He was not idle—his innate talent for trade and his luck drew him to the busiest tables. He bustled about, offering his services, intercepting clients, his eyes darting around, searching for any, even the most insignificant, advantage.
And then, in this turmoil, Hasan mistakenly barters for a particularly valuable artifact. Perhaps it was an ancient, exquisitely crafted amulet or a casket filled, as he thought, with ordinary glass trinkets. He mistakes real, flawless emeralds for common, worthless stones, or an ancient scroll written in a long-forgotten language for a piece of useless parchment. His attention was focused on trifles, on quick, albeit small, profits, and he overlooked its true value. Only later, when the commotion had died down, when, rubbing his hands after another "profitable" deal, he began to sort through his loot, did Hasan learn its enormous real worth. Perhaps one of the Lord's accountants or even Green, passing by, accidentally noticed the item and realized with horror that Hasan had just acquired a treasure worth a fortune for next to nothing. Hasan's face probably turned pale when he realized his "mistake"—a mistake that, by his standards, made him incredibly rich, but by the Lord's standards, only confirmed his phenomenal, almost absurd luck.
The Lord looked at Hasan, who was trembling with the realization of his own "mistake," and at the incredible artifact in his hands. And in that moment, the Lord saw the very essence of this man. This was Hasan—he could knowingly embark on an adventure, relying on his cunning, and fail completely, losing everything down to the last coin, because his cowardice would fail him at the critical moment. And then, when he was on the brink of despair, he would accidentally trade for untold treasures, mistaking them for ordinary trinkets. Hasan was a walking lottery. He was unpredictable. With him, one could either lose everything by betting on his "talent," or multiply one's wealth to incredible proportions simply by letting him act and allowing his phenomenal luck to guide him. He was an inexhaustible source of unpredictable profit that operated according to its own inexplicable laws. His actions, which seemed like madness to any sane merchant, always resulted in incredible outcomes that could not be explained otherwise than by pure luck. This makes Hasan not just a valuable asset, but also an ideal symbol of the Lord's luck and prosperity in a world ruled by chaos. If even someone like Hasan can achieve incredible success in the "Honey Mug," then how powerful must those who run this fortress-bank be?
And then, as if by fate's command, Hasan presents another surprise. Among a pile of papers he had "bartered" for a pittance, or among dusty scrolls he had received as "change" for some trifle, he "accidentally" finds something that will forever change the Lord's view of him—a treasure map. Not just some tattered diagram, but a detailed map pointing to immense riches hidden somewhere in the eastern lands. Perhaps it was the cache of an ancient sultan's lineage, or the lost vault of merchants who had fled the war, or even a stash of the Sultanate itself, forgotten in the chaos of the conflict. The map was covered with strange symbols and markings, but its authenticity was beyond doubt—the Lord's experts quickly confirmed its value. Hasan himself probably did not realize the full significance of his find. He might have considered it another "amusing trinket" or "parchment for kindling" until one of the Lord's attentive men noticed something more in it.
An unusual silence reigned in the Lord's study, broken only by the crackling of wood in the fireplace. On the table, illuminated by the dim light of an oil lamp, lay the mysterious map that Hasan had "accidentally" bartered for a pittance. The Lord, Green, and Father Tuck leaned over it, carefully examining the skillfully drawn lines, unfamiliar symbols, and enigmatic markings that pointed to untold treasures somewhere in the eastern lands.
Green, usually imperturbable, looked intrigued. "This... this isn't just an old map, my lord. It looks genuine." "The symbols, the handwriting—everything points to a noble eastern family, perhaps even the sultan's treasury, hidden from coming disasters or from enemies."
Father Tuck, running a finger along one of the lines, said thoughtfully, "And it leads deep into the east, into lands that must now be engulfed in the chaos of the Crusade." "Finding it... will not be easy."
The Lord nodded, a look of anticipation in his eyes. "Not easy, but possible. These treasures are not just gold and stones." "This is another lever, another opportunity to expand our influence, perhaps even to gain access to something that Sultan Azim was trying to hide." Hasan's map, this gift of pure luck, opened a new chapter in the Lord's game. Now that the Empire and the Sultanate were busy at war with each other, he had a unique opportunity to act in the shadows, gathering wealth and information that could decide the outcome of this great game.
The Lord nodded, confirming Green's guess. "Exactly. Perhaps it's an old sultan's treasury, hidden before the arrival of the Blood-Red Sultanate." "Before Azim usurped power, the old caliphs and sultans accumulated vast wealth." "They knew that sooner or later their rule would come to an end, and they prepared hiding places."
Father Tuck rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If that's the case, then it's not just gold." "It could be artifacts, scrolls, perhaps even knowledge that might have been lost with the coming of the new regime." "Something that Sultan Azim himself would want to obtain or destroy."
Green leaned closer to the map, his eyes narrowing. "Such places are usually well-guarded... or they have been so forgotten that no one is looking for them." "This is the perfect time for us." The Lord's fortress-bank was already overflowing with gold, but this find promised something more—not just new riches, but a potential advantage in his war against Azim, and possibly against the Emperor as well. If the cache contained not only jewels but also ancient secrets or artifacts, it could give the Lord unimaginable power.
The Lord makes a decision. This will not be a covert raid, but a large-scale expedition that, under the guise of reconnaissance, will set out for the untold treasures. "We are outfitting a large expedition," he announces. "The core will be our 'Death Squad'—our unique elite units." "They will be equipped with the best weapons and armor developed by our engineers." The expedition will include "Leib-Hussars" (maneuverable cavalry), the "Black Company" (line infantry in kilts with bayonets), grenadiers (throwers of incendiary projectiles), and modernized archers. The official story for the Empire and the outside world will be simple and logical: "reconnaissance of new lands captured during the Crusade." The Lord will claim that it is necessary to assess the strategic situation, scout for resources, and secure the imperial presence in the conquered territories. This would explain both the size of the detachment and its powerful armament, as the Crusade was still ongoing in the eastern lands, and danger lurked at every turn.
The expedition will include the Lord himself, to personally lead the search and ensure its security. He will be accompanied by Green, as a loyal strategist and organizer capable of handling any logistical challenges, and Father Tuck, whose presence will lend the mission an official church status and allow for the spreading of necessary rumors and legends. And, of course, Hasan. His phenomenal luck and inexplicable instinct for treasure will make him indispensable. He will go ahead, his panicked nature, strangely enough, serving as a kind of danger detector and possibly leading to even more unexpected finds.
Preparations begin immediately. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly, armorers checked equipment, and supply wagons were assembled. This would be not just a treasure hunt, but a demonstration of the Lord's power, his independence, and his ability to operate in the very heart of enemy lands.
Early in the morning, when the fog still clung to the mountain peaks, the expedition left the "Honey Mug." They moved along the Mountain Silk Road, the very one that had recently been cleared of blockages by the Lord's order. The road, transformed into a vital artery for the imperial troops, now served the Lord himself. The warriors moved in unison, their steps echoing in the gorges, heralding their arrival in the heart of the East, where not only treasures but also new, unknown dangers awaited them.
The expedition passed the last mountain passes, which had recently been impassable, and entered the lands of the Sultanate. The contrast was striking. It was immediately obvious how different these territories were from the harsh but orderly domains of the Lord. Instead of the bustling merchant towns that were rumored to have once flourished along the Silk Road, the expedition saw traces of recent battles and destruction. Some villages were burned to the ground, others abandoned, their houses standing with gaping window openings like dead eyes. The consequences of war were visible everywhere: destroyed fortifications, abandoned weapons, uncollected bodies that testified to the brutal clashes between imperial forces and the Sultanate's armies.
The mountains gradually gave way to more gentle hills and, finally, to vast, sun-scorched plains. The air became drier and hotter, carrying the smells of dust and smoldering fires. A sinister silence reigned in the once-lively places, broken only by the creaking of carts, the rustle of the wind, and the rare cries of birds. It was the silence of a ravaged land, where life either hid or had vanished altogether.
Despite the fact that the imperial army had already passed through here, the feeling of danger did not leave. An ambush could be hiding in every bush, behind every hill. Deserters, marauders, surviving units of the Sultanate, and possibly wild beasts attracted by the smell of blood operated here. For Green, accustomed to order and logistics, this was a challenge—how to move a large detachment through such territory. Father Tuck, observing the destruction, found in it confirmation of his sermons about "divine retribution." Hasan, with his heightened sense of danger, nervously looked around, clutching his heart from time to time, but his eyes nevertheless slid unceasingly over the ground in search of some "accidental" profit. The Lord, however, felt that this devastation and chaos played into his hands. In this confusion, it was easier to act covertly, and all the easier to find long-forgotten secrets and treasures.
The expedition delved deeper into the ravaged lands of the Sultanate. To ensure the safety of the main detachment and avoid sudden clashes, the Leib-Hussars—the Lord's maneuverable cavalry—rode ahead, scouting the area. Their task was not only to detect potential threats, such as wandering detachments of sultanate troops, deserters, or bandits, but also to find alternative routes in case the main road was blocked. While the cavalry scoured the horizon, the main part of the expedition—the sturdy infantry of the "Black Company" and other elements of the "Death Squad," as well as the supply wagons and equipment—moved along the Eastern Silk Road. Although the road had recently been cleared by the Sultan's forces, it still bore the imprint of war and desolation. The silent ruins of burned villages and the occasional uncollected bodies were reminders of the brutality of recent battles. The air was heavy with dust and the smell of burnt grass. Hasan, nervously glancing around, kept grabbing the hilt of his dagger, but his eyes nevertheless carefully examined every hole and every bush, as if expecting luck to throw him some valuable find again. Green held the map, comparing it with the terrain, while Father Tuck silently observed the surrounding landscape, committing to memory details that could serve as a basis for new sermons.
Advancing through the devastated lands of the Sultanate did not take long to present dangers. The Leib-Hussars, riding ahead, were experienced scouts, but even their vigilance could not completely eliminate the element of surprise in this chaotic region. The first skirmishes occurred on the third day of the march. Not with organized troops of the Sultan, but with marauders—deserters from both sides, bandits, and locals who had turned into predators on the ruins of their homes.
Reports from the Leib-Hussars came in quickly. The first encounter: a small detachment of scouts, passing by a ruined village, stumbled upon a group of marauders looting the last surviving houses. The marauders, though armed, did not expect to meet well-organized and equipped hussars. A short but fierce skirmish ended in a swift victory for the horsemen. Several marauders were killed, the rest fled, leaving behind meager loot—scraps of cloth, a little grain, and rusty weapons.
A few hours later, another group of hussars was ambushed near the ruins of a watchtower. These were probably more experienced deserters from the sultan's army who were trying to use guerrilla warfare tactics. Thanks to their maneuverability and superiority in armament, the hussars were able to avoid serious losses, putting the attackers to flight. The hussars reported that these groups of marauders were scattered and posed no serious threat to the main expedition. However, their presence indicated a complete lack of control by the Sultanate in these areas and the danger posed by these "scavengers of war." Hasan, upon hearing about the skirmishes, turned even paler, but his eyes lit up at the mention of the abandoned loot—however meager. Green noted the effectiveness of the reconnaissance and took note of the need for more thorough scouting of the area, while Father Tuck quietly muttered prayers for the souls of the fallen.
The first skirmishes with marauders only confirmed the need for vigilance. The Lord decided to continue moving, but with increased caution. "Strengthen the vanguard and rearguard," he ordered. "The Leib-Hussars are to operate in pairs, scouting the flanks more deeply." "Do not make direct contact unless necessary; our goal is not cleanup, but reconnaissance and security."
The expedition continued on its way. As they advanced deeper into the borderlands of the Sultanate, the landscape changed, becoming even more desolate. Signs of neglect were everywhere: ruined farms and wells, dry, cracked fields, abandoned shepherds' camps. It seemed that life had departed from these places, either hiding in the deepest gorges or carried away on the winds of war. Occasionally, figures would appear on the horizon, but upon noticing the approach of the impressive detachment, they would immediately disappear, dissolving among the hills. These were either the few surviving inhabitants or the same scattered groups of marauders who preferred to avoid an open confrontation with such a force. In some places, there were clear traces of the passage of large military contingents—deep ruts from wagons, trampled grass, remnants of large campfires. These were undoubtedly the paths of the imperial crusaders or the retreating forces of the Sultanate.
The days grew hotter, and a thick dust rose from the ground under the hooves of the horses and the boots of the infantry, settling on faces and uniforms. Water sources became increasingly rare, forcing Green to plan the route carefully and stop only at confirmed wells. Hasan, despite his constant fear, continued his random search. He might lag behind to examine some discarded jug or run ahead, attracted by the glint of something in the mud. His chaotic movements, strangely enough, sometimes led to small but useful finds—a forgotten tool, a pair of undamaged boots, or even a small handful of eastern coins, of no particular value to the Crusade but of interest to the Lord. Father Tuck used these finds for his sermons, speaking of the "sins of desolation" and the "emptiness of the souls of the infidels," which, he claimed, had brought these lands to such a state. The Lord, however, felt that each step brought him closer to his true goal—the ancient secrets and riches hidden in these ravaged lands.
As the expedition progressed further, the picture became clearer. All the signs—from the burned villages and traces of large armies to the scattered groups of marauders and the absence of organized resistance—pointed to one thing: the Emperor had managed to penetrate deep into the Sultanate's territory. His Crusade, provoked by the Lord's intrigues, had achieved significant success, punching a deep breach in Azim's defenses.
As the expedition delved deeper into the eastern lands, the Lord's luck and foresight were once again confirmed. The Leib-Hussars, leading the reconnaissance, reported the first serious obstacle on their path—a fortress located on a high ground, offering an excellent view of the surrounding lands. However, it was not an imperial or a sultanate fortress, but a den of marauders.
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