Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

December 12st, early morning.

The June morning light, like diluted honey, flowed slowly across the rolling hills and woodlands of Nebakov. Birds sang in the branches, dewdrops glistened on the blades of grass, and everything seemed peaceful and full of life—until that neat steel jungle appeared on the horizon.

Count von Borghau rode a black horse draped in a cloak embroidered with his family crest: a flying fish on a red background. He himself wore a deep purple velvet coat trimmed with silver fox fur, lined with fine plate armor. His eyes gleamed with an air of unwavering determination.

General von Olitz, standing beside him, resembled a cold, steel statue. He wore a full suit of Milanese plate armor, its gleaming finish reflecting a chilling light in the morning sun. His weathered face was expressionless, his grey-blue eyes, like frozen lakes, calmly surveying the not-so-grand Nebakov Castle ahead.

Behind him, five hundred Prague puppet troops, exhausted from their midnight march, still stood like a moving steel wall, their weapons like a forest, their menacing aura startling the birds in the woods.

"Establish the position here," von Olitz's voice was not loud, but it carried clearly to the front ranks. "The gun positions are on that high slope, with a wide field of vision that covers the castle gate and the main tower."

The soldiers immediately sprang into action. The supply oxen and horses, panting heavily, dragged a massive object covered in canvas to its designated position. When the canvas was lifted, a colossal cannon, gleaming with a dark bronze luster, was revealed. Its robust barrel was engraved with intricate patterns and inscriptions, its massive muzzle pointing directly at the heart of the castle. This was the "Finger of God," a terrifying weapon capable of altering the very nature of warfare. Engineers began digging and ramming earth, setting up barriers, and constructing artillery positions, their movements practiced and efficient. Simultaneously, the infantry began erecting wooden palisades and chevaux-de-frise around the perimeter, setting up tents, creating the appearance of a siege.

"It's finally here."

On the castle gate tower, Jan Jessica, Father Goodwin, and Hans Capon anxiously peered out. Since receiving the news last night, they had worked through the night to fortify the city's defenses, barely sleeping. Now that the enemy had finally arrived, seeing their well-organized formation and that terrifying cannon, their hearts pounded with apprehension.

"Quick! Wake everyone up! The enemy is here!" Jessica growled at the sentry behind him who was still dozing off. He was still wearing the repaired chainmail, with a badly worn half-breastplate over it, but unlike before, he had a red cloth strap tied around his arm to show his determination to die.

Hans was also fully armored and wore a full-coverage helmet to avoid being recognized by von Polgar and causing trouble for young Semioda.

Hans turned and rushed down the gate tower, his armor clanging as he ran. "Get up! Get up, all of you! The Prague soldiers are attacking!" he shouted as he ran, kicking the Raven Army soldiers who were still fast asleep, huddled in the corners and stables.

The scene before him filled him with both anger and despair. The air reeked of cheap ale and vomit. People lay scattered on the ground, some clutching empty barrels and muttering to themselves, others snoring loudly. Hans grabbed the collar of a man who looked like a minor leader and shook him violently: "If you don't want to die, pick up your weapons and climb the walls!"

The leader, his eyes still blurry with drunkenness, opened them and said, "What's all the noise about... We won yesterday... We can win again today..."

"That's right, they said the enemy was coming in the middle of the night yesterday, and told us not to take off our armor. Where is the enemy now?" someone complained.

"The enemy is right outside the castle! You bastards, get up and get to the walls!"

Hans trembled with rage. "Old Oz... Nicholas... are you going to waste the warnings you gave your lives for on this bunch of good-for-nothings?" he roared inwardly, his hands moving non-stop, practically dragging and pulling some people awake.

"Waaaaah—waaaah—"

A deep, penetrating bugle call rang out from the enemy ranks, like the call of death. This bugle call was far more effective than Hans's shouts; some sleeping soldiers were startled awake and looked up in bewilderment.

"The enemy has really arrived!"

Only then did the crow soldiers finally believe Hans's warning, scrambling to grab their weapons and rush to their defensive positions. Luckily, they hadn't removed their armor the night before, otherwise they would be fighting shirtless right now.

Outside the castle.

"Archers! Advance!" von Olitz calmly gave the order.

A group of about fifty Prague crossbowmen, under the cover of infantrymen wielding tall kite-shaped shields, began to approach the castle. Their steps were steady and their formation tight; this was the first probing move, intended to scout out the defenders' firing positions and their will to resist.

The enemy troops halted beyond the range of their arrows. A messenger, riding a dappled horse and carrying a flag representing negotiations, arrived at the castle gate.

"Listen up, castle garrison!" the messenger's voice boomed. "By order of His Excellency Count von Polgár and General von Olitz, you are ordered to immediately open the city gates, lay down your weapons, and surrender! The Count promises that if you hand over the bandit leader who calls himself 'Jeska' and his accomplices, the lives of the rest will be spared! If you resist, you will all be executed after the city falls!"

A commotion broke out on the castle walls. The Raven Army soldiers, who had just been awakened and were still hungover, saw the well-organized and well-equipped enemy army below, and compared it with their own chaotic and incompetent state. Fear spread like a plague.

"We...we can't win..."

"There are too many of them!"

"Surrender, and you might still survive..."

"It's all Jessica's and that kid Rattay's fault!"

The whispers gradually turned into open complaints and expressions of retreat. Some people had already begun to sneak away, looking for a way to escape.

Jessica glanced around at his fearful men and the few remaining old brothers who had followed him since Moravia—Michael, Catherine, Hert, and others. Their eyes were grave, but they stood firmly behind him.

"Shut up, all of you!" Jessica drew her longsword sharply, the blade pointing downwards. "Do you think the ruthless von Polgar would forgive the bandits who killed his guards and occupied his castle? No, in his eyes you are all lowly people, beasts, less than pigs and dogs. Once he wins, he will not hesitate to cut off your heads and stick them on stakes at the entrances of villages to warn and intimidate others!"

The numerous Raven Army soldiers exchanged bewildered glances. They were all bandits who had fled from other territories and had witnessed the brutality and ruthlessness of those lords. And this ruthless von Polgar would only go even further.

Catherine, a woman with a fiery figure and a resolute face, stood without hesitation beside Jessica. Donning heavy armor and gripping a crossbow tightly, she stood like a man before the battlements, her voice sharp and powerful: "Soldiers! Do not be fooled by the enemy's intimidation! Think about it, if you surrender, will you really live? Von Polgar betrayed even his own allies; his promises are weaker than a spider's web! God and justice are on our side. As long as we hold the castle, Baron Red Griffin will surely come to our aid. This is our only way out!"

Goodwin then added, "The Lord will save those who save themselves. Cowardly traitors will not be allowed into His Kingdom. Do you wish to die heroically and have your souls redeemed, or to surrender, be executed, and fall into hell?"

"We...we..."

The many crow soldiers realized that, whether for survival or for the purification of their souls after death, they had no choice but to fight to the bitter end.

At this moment, the thought of retreat was temporarily suppressed, and the instinct for survival and the desire for the future mixed into a tragic determination.

Jessica and Goodwin exchanged a glance; it seemed the morale of the troops had been temporarily stabilized.

Young Master Hans remained silent, gripping his longsword tightly and staring with hatred at the old count and von Olitz below.

...........