svetikya Chapter 704: Heretics, Eliminate the Heretics!
Chapter 704: Heretics, Eliminate the Heretics!
King Stanisław II was betting everything on a desperate gamble.
In the worst-case scenario, he, along with General Bilak and other officers, would fall into Russian hands as prisoners. The thousands of muskets, tents, and uniforms meant for "disarmament" would also be seized by the enemy.
But Stanisław chose to take the risk.
Bilak had not shown outstanding leadership in previous battles, and the military council was already considering replacing him. If Bilak were indeed detained by Koreshenikov, another officer could immediately take over the defense of Minsk.
The Polish government could then spread the narrative that "Bilak was treacherously detained by the Russians during negotiations," inflaming the troops' resolve.
When the King presented this plan to Bilak, the latter accepted the dangerous task without hesitation.
As for the military supplies, the Lithuanian Corps had suffered over 7,000 casualties in earlier battles, and most of their weapons had already been recovered. Surrendering 10,000 muskets wouldn't significantly impact Polish combat capabilities—the Warsaw Arsenal could quickly replenish the deficit.
Tents and uniforms? In dire situations, they barely qualified as military necessities.
Two Days Later
King Stanisław II, accompanied by Piattoli and other officials, made a grand departure to Saint Petersburg to officially surrender.
At the send-off ceremony, Polish journalists, filled with righteous indignation, conducted fervent interviews. The scene grew so chaotic that it was eventually dispersed.
Interestingly, after the event, these reporters returned to the Free and Safe Committee, scattering their reports far and wide.
The following day, Russian intelligence operatives purchased newspapers from Polish-controlled Minsk. These papers extensively covered the story of "the King's journey to Saint Petersburg to surrender."
Soon after, members of the Free and Safe Committee recovered most of these newspapers. The few that circulated further were dismissed as mere "rumors."
Meanwhile, Koreshenikov personally led over a thousand soldiers to escort the Polish King on his journey to meet the Tsar.
Piattoli had "accidentally" leaked to him that General Morikov was also aware of Stanisław II's surrender. Fearing that Morikov might intercept the King and steal the glory, Koreshenikov insisted on personally accompanying the convoy.
The Russian advance halted, granting the Polish defenders in Minsk a rare opportunity to rest.
That Night, Near Vitebsk
As the surrender convoy stopped at an estate west of Vitebsk, King Stanisław II wandered through the gardens, feigning interest in the flowers. When no one was watching, he scooped up a handful of dirt and shoved it into his mouth.
The soil's foul, bitter taste surged through him, as repugnant as sewage. His face twisted in disgust, but he shut his eyes tightly and forced himself to swallow.
After dinner, as expected, the King fell ill with severe diarrhea and developed a fever.
The estate's physician diagnosed him with dysentery. Furious, the estate owner beat the kitchen staff within an inch of their lives.
The next morning, Koreshenikov, looking at the King, who was vomiting and barely conscious, reluctantly ordered a pause in their journey.
It took an entire week for Stanisław II to recover enough to resume travel.
Sitting in the jolting carriage, the frail King gazed weakly out the window but silently counted: 14 days have passed. Warsaw still needs 26 more.
Vienna, Schönbrunn Palace Square
On a raised platform, Cardinal Muzarelli stood in resplendent robes, wearing an intricately patterned mitre. His sonorous, solemn voice echoed across the square, addressing a crowd of thousands of devout followers.
Behind him stood eleven red-clad archbishops from Austria's major dioceses.
Aides held up documents bearing Muzarelli's credentials, complete with the Vatican's encrypted seals, to prove his authenticity to the gathered masses.
"...Therefore, the Holy See has never sought to interfere in the wars between Poland and other nations," Muzarelli declared, his voice ringing with authority.
"All claims of 'Crusades' or 'Holy Wars' did not originate from the Church and are not divine revelations… You must not spread such blasphemies further. Heed the teachings of the Church."
He then launched into a theological discourse, citing scripture to argue why the Polish-Russian war did not meet the criteria for a holy war.
Among the Crowd
Standing about 30 meters from the platform, Moritz Schmitz clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. His eyes were a storm of confusion, sorrow, and anger.
His brother was dead.
Though heartbroken and tearful for days, Moritz understood his brother's decision and even took pride in it. Responding to divine revelation and sacrificing oneself for a holy war was sacred and honorable. Herbert, he believed, was now basking in divine glory in heaven.
Yet the man on the platform—the one claiming to speak for God—was now adamantly declaring that God had never issued any such command for a crusade.
If that were true, what had Herbert died for? A lie? Or stupidity?
No.
Moritz yanked at his hair so violently that bloody spots appeared on his scalp. He could accept his brother's death but never that it was meaningless or devoid of sanctity.
Herbert was a true Crusader, fighting for God. No one could strip him of that honor.
His gaze locked onto the Cardinal, turning cold as ice.
This man was lying.
Yes, he had to be lying!
Moritz recalled the Emperor's orders forbidding any discussion of the Crusade within the army. Surely, this was a grand conspiracy between the Emperor and the Church, concocting a colossal lie to rob Herbert of his rightful glory.
The Church was infamous for its greed and corruption—what was a little dishonesty to them?
As clarity replaced confusion, Moritz's expression hardened. He shoved through the crowd and headed out of the square.
He had already committed sacrilege once, following imperial orders and betraying his brother. That sin had cost Herbert his life.
But now, injured and discharged from the army, he had a chance to make things right.
He resolved to expose the Church's lies and deliver divine justice to the greedy Pope.
Saint Petersburg, Winter Palace
Catherine the Great scowled at a map as a Russian officer pointed to Bryansk.
"Seventeen thousand men? Morikov is utterly useless! All this time, and he hasn't even taken Mozyr, and now 17,000 Polish troops have invaded Bryansk?!"
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