Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

March 4, evening.

People who have been busy all day gather together for a meal.

The entire camp had nearly three hundred people, including soldiers, farmers, and prisoners. Because they were engaged in centralized labor, their meals were also centrally supplied, commonly known as "eating from the same pot."

Henry was also exhausted from shooting badly today.

The blacksmith shop at the Griffin Camp was unlike any he'd seen in Skarlitz and Rattay. Those traditional blacksmith shops employed a master blacksmith with one or two apprentices or helpers, handling almost every type of ironware. They needed to be able to forge weapons like swords, spears, and arrowheads; agricultural implements like plows, sickles, and horseshoes; and everyday items like nails, knives, and locks. Each blacksmith was a versatile craftsman. Because production was custom-made, it was typically small-batch, or even single-piece production. Standardization was extremely low; each product bore the blacksmith's personal mark and characteristics. The more skills a blacksmith possessed, the more often he was called a master.

Here, however, things are quite the opposite. Master blacksmith Seedorf is merely a coordinator. The blacksmith shop is divided into several areas: a smelting team remelts the rough iron from old weapons into iron bars; weapon teams, farm implement teams, and daily necessities teams each handle their own tasks; some specialize in operating the bellows, some in hammering the rough blanks, some in fine shaping, some in tempering and quenching, and some in polishing and installing handles... The master blacksmith only needs to control the standards.

Each person only needs to be responsible for their own part, and in the end, finished products with uniform styles appear quickly.

"It's amazing. Apart from Master Seedorf, everyone else in the blacksmith shop was a complete novice with little experience in the blacksmithing industry. But after dividing the work like this, we actually managed to turn pieces of iron ore into spears. Can you believe it?"

During the meal, Henry chattered on and on about what he had seen and heard in the blacksmith shop to Hans.

Hans wholeheartedly agreed, "It's really different here. They even eat together. That Griffin Baron Peter, eating from the same pot as everyone else, and laughing and joking with them—it's unbelievable."

Hans recalled how his deceased father was always dignified and arrogant in front of outsiders, while his guardian, Hans, always hid in the lord's hall, indulging in a drunken stupor. In their eyes, nobles were nobles, and commoners were commoners, with an insurmountable wall between them.

Henry looked at Peter, who was surrounded by people by the campfire, and said gratefully, "I think this is wonderful. Peter is a good man."

"Ha, because he gave your father's sword?" Hans chuckled sarcastically.

"That's not all," Henry said after a moment's serious thought, "it's also because he truly brought laughter to the people in the camp."

"Are you laughing?" Hans glanced around at the people eating. Regardless of age or gender, everyone's face was indeed filled with happy smiles. The wooden bowls they held contained nothing more than oatmeal porridge, and the bread in their hands was nothing more than coarse bread, but these people were all very content.

"And his descriptions of justice."

Henry continued, "To be honest, I was almost stumped by Istvan's argument. Although I felt something was off about what he said, I just didn't know how to express it. And I was also quite confused about the killings I'd done over the past few months. I hated the enemy who killed my parents, but weren't the people I'd killed along the way also someone else's father or son? Peter's words, however, made me realize something: strength is not the same as justice. Justice is a measure given to the human heart by God, courage is the hymn of humanity itself, and strength is the term for using power to protect. The sword in my hand should be wielded for this kind of justice!"

Henry touched the hilt of Raddy's sword at his waist, his heart filled with hope for the future.

Henry's good friend, young master Hans, couldn't quite empathize with him at the moment, but he still patted him on the shoulder in support. Then, his gaze was drawn to a red figure dancing in the center of the camp.

The passionate, fiery dance moves ignited a lively atmosphere, with many people joining in the dance to the sounds of hand drums and short flutes, forming a circle around the bonfire.

"That girl is really pretty, I'd like to get to know her."

Just as Hans was about to act, someone beside him reminded him, "That's Marika, the commander's daughter who voluntarily left the nomad camp because she admires Lord Peter. She's also the head of the horse-breeding team. If you're not afraid of angering Lord Peter, you can give it a try..."

"Uh, I suddenly think it's quite nice to admire it from afar like this." Young Master Hans chickened out.

Henry turned to look at the person who had reminded them, and it turned out to be a girl, Clara, the female doctor he had met at the intersection of the ten-mile road. "Thank you for reminding me, ma'am. I thank you on behalf of young master Hans."

"You're welcome."

Clara looked at Henry and said with interest, "I remember you too, that eloquent squire. Weren't you going to deliver a message to that earl? What are you doing back at our camp?"

"Wow, that's a long story." Henry shrugged, puffing out his chest to show off his charm.

"It's okay, there's plenty of time tonight, and I'm very patient." Clara rested her chin on her hand, but looked very interested.

"The matter is as follows, and so on..."

Henry, eager to impress, struck up a conversation with the beautiful woman, leaving Hans, the young master, feeling neglected.

"Hetui~"

Hans shifted slightly to the side, a hint of jealousy in his expression. He truly feared both his brother's hardship and his brother's romantic misfortune. This perfectly illustrated the duality of brotherhood.

As the lively dinner ended and the crowd gradually dispersed, Henry continued to recount his heroic exploits during the capture of Talmu Castle to Clara. Just then, Sidov, the blacksmith brought from Nebakov Castle, came to announce: "Clara, Lord Peter has summoned all officers of rank and above to a meeting in the conference room."

"Okay, thank you, Master Seedorf." Clara nodded her thanks, then said to Henry, "I'm sorry, it seems we can only talk this far."

"I'm sorry, but if I had time tomorrow, I might have been able to continue telling you my story," Henry said, still wanting more.

"There will be opportunities." Clara winked at Henry; she was the kind of girl who didn't know how to say no.

Hans, standing nearby, was even more jealous and almost said, "Teresa is waiting for you in Rattay," but he held back to avoid ruining their friendship.

At this point, it was Seedorf who said to Henry, "Henry, you'll be joining me at the meeting later."

"Oh, me?" Henry was somewhat surprised. "Wasn't it supposed to be a meeting for those of you at the rank of squad leader and above? I don't think I hold that position yet?"

Seedorf said helplessly, "Besides me, you are the only one in the entire blacksmith shop with complete blacksmithing knowledge. I have already recommended you to Lord Peter and you will temporarily serve as the foreman."

"Congratulations, Henry," Clara said with a beaming smile.

Henry also felt valued and became interested in the upcoming camp meeting.

"Then, what about me?"

Hans spread his hands and said, "You all left together, leaving me behind?"

Seedorf said, "I'm sorry, Sir Hans, you are our guest. You cannot participate, and it's best not to spy on camp affairs. Henry, on the other hand, is a laborer whom the master himself promised to join the blacksmith's shop, so he can participate, but you cannot."

Hans felt even more frustrated. He didn't want to be treated differently and wanted to shout, "I can work too, I can serve too!" But considering his noble status and the dignity of the Lepe and Pixstein families he represented, he had no choice but to walk back to his hut alone.