The Most Evil Kind.

— Weapons, clothes, tent, money, — Andrey Vidov answered the question instantly, having long ago decided that he didn't see eye to eye with the new authority, — We leave along the river to the highway. Then along it to the city. We don't enter the city. We also follow the river upstream into the foothills and cross to the other side there. In those places stands Faltz Castle and a village. We can rob the castle. Then we head south. There are many bandits there now. We join some gang. We seize power in it. We can feed on others. We also rob a bit more. When we have enough money, we turn all the bandits into meat. Or turn them into vampires. And we head for Valeria!

— It seems you've already thought it all out, Andrey Leontievich, a sensible plan.

— I've wanted to leave for a while. I'm tired of these... — the man waved his hand irritably in an unspecified direction.

— Any suggestions on the plan? — Alexey Gennadyevich decided not to dwell on his hatred for the young upstarts and preferred a business-like conversation.

— How are we going to turn people into vampires? After our bites, they don't become vampires. They've checked.

For some reason, Olga Viktorovna remembered this point from the entire plan.

— They're idiots. It's been in movies already. They need our blood! For people to drink it!

— And how much money are we going to take?

— All of it! — Andrey laughed cheerfully.

The community treasury really wasn't guarded, and anyone could approach the chest unhindered. Oksana, who handled finances, simply didn't see the point in guarding it. What would vampires buy if they needed blood? But she always handed out the required sums to people if they explained what they wanted to spend them on.

The group of seven people bowed their heads and quietly began to discuss the details of the plan. By the time twilight set in, several shadows flitted on the bank slope and dissolved into the lingering darkness still reigning. It seemed they were carrying a heavy burden. But when you know what to do, they must do it. By nightfall, no one had noticed their absence.

— Gennadyevich is not here, — Oleg started right from the threshold, — Nor is his gang. They knocked on their doors as dusk fell, but no one responded. They didn't show up for work.

— Who exactly is missing?

— Gennadyevich; Olga Viktorovna; Krapivin; Vidov; Valka, Vidov's deputy; Mikhailov; and my former guard, the idiot.

— So, everyone who supported Alexey Gennadyevich recently?

— Yes.

The list of supporters of the former leader was indeed shrinking day by day. If in the autumn you could still find a couple dozen supporting him, by spring only the six most loyal remained. And three of them would probably also leave the opposition leader soon.

Oksana entered without knocking. Looking embarrassed, she glanced at the standing men.

— I... the chest is gone.

— What chest?

— With the money.

Alexander and Oleg exchanged glances, after which the chief of the guard quickly rushed out of the room.

Searches and inquiries yielded nothing. The group of seven renegades had vanished into thin air. Someone saw them heading towards the highway, but the scouts sent there and around found nothing. The chain of tracks in the still lying snow led to the river and ended there.

There were already too many other tracks on the highway — workers hired by the baron had begun cosmetic repairs to the caravan stops before the summer season. Further searches were simply dangerous; those who fled had certainly first sought to satiate themselves and return by force. Now it was impossible without losses. Once again, they were left to clean up the aftermath.

— I understand everything. But why did they steal the chest? It's extra weight. Wasn't the contents enough for them?

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