Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Pride goes before ruin, and arrogance before a fall.

Hans's heart was equally heavy. Not only had he failed to complete his mission, but he was also in dire straits. Rattay's future, his father's expectations, the sacrifice of his friend... was everything going to end here?

Father Goodwin calmly wiped the cross, praying softly, seemingly for the departed souls, and perhaps for the impending end.

Outside the castle, von Polgar looked at the sturdy fortress and frowned: "A direct assault would result in heavy losses."

A cold smile played on von Olitz's lips: "It's time for the 'Finger of God' to speak."

He waved his hand. The engineers immediately loaded the bronze cannon on the hillside, its dark muzzle aimed at the target.

People inside the tower saw this scene through the narrow arrow slits.

"They...they pushed that monster over here!" The gambler Zwick's voice trembled.

Catherine instinctively gripped Jessica's arm, her face pale.

Hans stared wide-eyed at the massive cannon aimed at them at such close range, making a hoarse sound but unable to utter a word.

Father Goodwin calmly put down the longsword he had been gripping tightly, clasped his hands together, looked serenely out the window, and began to pray.

"Pater noster, qui es in calis......et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut....et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris....et ne nos inducas in tentationem. (Father in heaven...forgive our sins...keep us away from evil...do not tempt us, lead us away from evil.)" He seemed to be facing the final judgment.

Jessica shielded Catherine behind him, retreating step by step to the innermost edge of the tower wall. His mind was blank, with only Peter's words about the "price" echoing in his ears.

The gunners began the final loading. They used the pusher to compact the black powder, then inserted a huge projectile.

The artillery commander made final aiming adjustments. A hint of almost fanatical anticipation finally appeared on his usually icy face.

"ignition!"

At his command, the gunner brought the lit fuse close to the fire door.

"Swoosh—Boom!!!"

A deafening roar, like a real thunderclap exploding right next to your ears! The muzzle spewed out several meters of scorching flames and thick smoke, and the enormous recoil caused the heavy cannon to lurch backward.

The shell hurtled out at a speed too fast for the naked eye to follow, tracing a deadly trajectory through the air before slamming precisely and violently into the stone wall at the top of the tower!

"Bang!!!!!"

Stone chips flew everywhere, and dust filled the air! The sturdy stone tower, with the gentle touch of this "Finger of God," was like a building block kicked and shattered by a naughty child, and a hideous, huge hole was instantly torn open!

Inside the tower, it was as if an earthquake had struck. Soldiers standing near the hole were instantly crushed into a bloody pulp, and fragments of stone and wood rained down on them like a storm. The immense impact left everyone unsteady on their feet, staggering and falling. Jessica felt an irresistible force throw him away, slamming him heavily against the wall behind him. His vision went black, and he lost consciousness. Hans was also struck on the head by flying debris; blood blurred his vision. The last thing he saw was Father Goodwin's calm, clasped-hands figure amidst the dust, before he was plunged into endless darkness…

Inside the tower, their fate remains unknown.

Nebakov Castle, fallen.

Count von Polgár rode his black warhorse, the arrogance of a victor on his aged face.

Von Olitzer finally smiled and said, "See, Count. How laughable are the struggles of these country bandits in the face of absolute power."

The old count laughed heartily, waving his hand dismissively as if shooing away flies: "Old friend, go and dig those fools out of the ruins! I want to see the despair on those bandits' faces with my own eyes!"

The soldiers began digging cautiously through the still-falling rubble.

"Sir!" a soldier suddenly exclaimed, "There's someone here in full armor!"

Several hands worked together to move a broken stone slab, revealing Hans unconscious beneath. His exquisite armor was covered in dust, but its superb craftsmanship was still evident. A soldier roughly removed his helmet and shook him awake.

As Hans's young yet resolute face came into view in the morning light, the old count's arrogance froze instantly, then twisted into incredulous horror. He jerked off his horse, almost falling, his voice piercing the air: "Hans Capon?! The young master of Rattay?! Impossible! How did you get here?! Who released you?! Speak!"

The old count was in turmoil. Hans was a crucial hostage in his plan, a bargaining chip in his negotiations with Lord Hans of Rataire! He had originally thought Hans was still imprisoned in Trossky Castle! This unexpected turn of events disrupted all his calculations, and a chill ran down his spine.

Hans's eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes. In the instant his consciousness returned, the old count's face, twisted with shock and rage, came into view. The betrayal of the previous night, the sacrifice of his comrades, old Oz's dying cry... countless images exploded in his mind, and anger instantly engulfed him.

"Pooh!"

A mouthful of saliva, mixed with blood and dust, was precisely spat onto the old count's well-maintained face.

The air seemed to freeze. The old count stood frozen, the sticky, wet sensation on his face filling him with an unprecedented sense of humiliation. His facial muscles twitched violently, and a savage killing intent ignited in his eyes. "You ignorant little bastard! It seems I need to teach you a lesson you won't know your place! Guards, get him—"

"Waaaaah—waaaah—!"

Just as the old count was about to utter his punishment order, outside the castle, the deep and powerful sound of bull horns suddenly ripped through the morning tranquility, one after another, like the roar of an ancient beast, full of killing intent and power!

"What's that sound?!" General von Olitz's expression changed drastically, and he turned sharply to look towards the castle gate.

"kill--!!"

Immediately afterwards, deafening shouts of battle erupted like a flood bursting its banks, surging out from the western forest and instantly engulfing the entire Nebakov Valley!

On the west side of Nebakov Castle, in that dense mixed forest of oak and beech.

Peter stood like a silent stone statue, hidden in the shadows of the forest. Beside him, sixty heavily armored Griffin Guard warriors stood like cheetahs poised to pounce; further behind, sixty camp militiamen and two hundred and forty village militiamen stood in neat ranks, their long spears like a forest, their flails hanging to the ground, an air of grim determination permeating the woods.

They lay in wait like the most patient hunters. When the Prague puppet troops launched three waves of attacks, Peter remained unmoved; when the Raven Army struggled to hold out on the city walls, Peter remained unmoved; even when the bronze cannon roared and blasted the stone towers down, Peter still remained unmoved.

His composure even made the bravest warriors around him feel a little uneasy.

"My lord," Henry said anxiously, "the enemy's main force has entered the castle, and only the artillery and archers remain outside. They are very lax. Hans is still inside the castle, and I'm afraid..."

Peter's gaze, sharp as an eagle's, pierced through the gaps in the trees, landing precisely on the open ground outside the castle. There, the artillerymen of Prague were laughing and joking around the still-smoking cannon, while the crossbowmen sat in twos and threes on the ground, cleaning their bolts, some even yawning. They were immersed in the joy of breaching the castle, completely unaware that death had already raised its scythe.

"Just as the sun always shines on those who are best prepared," Peter murmured, quoting an old proverb, a cold smile playing on his lips, "it's time. Sound the horn!"

"Waaaaah—waaaah—!"

Carter the tomcat, holding the griffin banner in one hand, blew his bull horn with all his might in his other hand. Conrad the lone wolf raised a huge oak-clad iron shield, firmly protecting Peter's side.

"Griffin Guard, charge with me! For glory!" Peter's voice carried an inspiring force. He drew the simply decorated yet subtly sharp Griffin Claw from his waist, its tip pointing directly at the enemy lines!

"For Lord Peter!"

Henry, who was already impatient, took the lead and rushed out.

"For the griffins!"

John the Big Mouth let out a beastly roar and led sixty heavily armored warriors out of the forest like an iron torrent bursting its banks! Their footsteps were heavy and orderly, like war drums beating across the earth.

At the same time, Monchi calmly gave the orders: "Militia phalanx! Pistols level! Flails ready! Slow advance!"

Three hundred militiamen, divided into six square formations, with spears like a forest, marched with relatively slow but unwavering steps, like a moving steel forest, pressing towards the outer perimeter of the castle.