Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Peter took it all in, and he understood. For someone Jessica's age, who had weathered countless betrayals and tests of loyalty, the weight of his principles and commitments far outweighed any immediate gains. He didn't press the matter further, instead offering a smile of understanding and respect.

"I understand, Jessica. I respect your choice. But don't rush off. There will be a Requiem Mass and Holy Communion after the victory. Attend them before you leave."

Peter spoke sincerely, then took a heavy little cloth bag from the money pouch at his waist and handed it to Jessica, "Here are two hundred Groshins, a small token of my appreciation for you loyal warriors."

Jessica took the money bag, feeling its weight not only on her hands but also on her heart. It wasn't just a money bag; it was an order to leave, whether she wanted to or not. She bowed again, "Thank you for your kindness, sir."

"Then, from this day forward, this Nebakov Castle is officially returned to my Griffin banner."

Peter nodded, his gaze sweeping across the entire castle. His tone was calm but unquestionable, bringing this rescue and struggle to a definite close.

None of the others raised any objections; they decided to treat their previous ambition to occupy the castle and become fief knights as a pipe dream.

After the fighting had largely subsided, Henry led Father Goodwin to Peter.

“Sir Peter,” Henry said respectfully, “this is Father Goodwin, from the Uzczi diocese of Sachau Monastery, a… well, a learned priest.” He chose his words carefully, trying to avoid mentioning the priest’s “reputation” for his fondness for alcohol.

Father Goodwin had a kind face, but his face was covered in blood and dust from the fighting and being buried in the tower. However, his eyes were unusually clear and bright as he looked at Peter with curiosity.

Peter's heart skipped a beat. As a "time traveler," he naturally knew Goodwin—the famous "drunkard priest" in the world of Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2. Seemingly unreliable, he was actually kind-hearted, possessed unique wisdom, and was skilled in social interaction with a wide network of connections. He was a talent worth recruiting.

Peter's face immediately lit up with a warm and sincere smile. He took a step forward and shook Father Goodwin's hand—a gesture that made the priest, who was used to being slightly disliked, feel flattered.

"Father Goodwin, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Peter's voice was infectious: "I've often heard Henry mention you before, a wise, kind, eccentric yet good clergyman. It's an honor to meet you today."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Peter."

Goodwin paused for a moment, then laughed, his wrinkles smoothing out. "You flatter me. I'm nothing more than an old drunkard who's lost his parish. But you, sir," he changed the subject, his eyes gleaming with admiration, "your tactics are truly astonishing! Infiltration, patience, precise raids, coordinated spear attacks… simply perfect. That old fox, von Polgao, has truly fallen into your hands this time!"

His words were straightforward and honest, carrying the inquisitiveness of a veteran.

"Father, you flatter me."

Peter waved his hand modestly, leading Goodwin and Henry to a relatively quiet corridor. "It was merely seizing a moment of arrogance and complacency on the part of the enemy. But Father, how did you end up with Jessica and the others, and get involved in this castle siege?"

The atmosphere among the three was very harmonious. Goodwin was very pleased with Peter's unpretentious, sincere, and enthusiastic attitude, while Peter intentionally steered the conversation, showcasing his knowledge and understanding of the situation.

After a brief conversation, Henry's face showed worry again, and he couldn't help but interrupt, "Sir Peter, Father Goodwin, this is not the time for idle chatter! Young Master Hans has been taken away by that old scoundrel von Polgár! God is my witness, I swore that I would find a way to bring him back!" His voice was somewhat sharp with anxiety.

Goodwin's smile faded, and he nodded in agreement: "Yes, sir. Although young Master Hans Capone is impetuous, he is not a bad person. Now that he has fallen into von Polgauska's hands, he will likely suffer greatly. We hope to organize a manpower to pursue him as soon as possible..."

Peter raised his hand, making a "calm down" gesture. His expression was calm and confident, as if everything was under control.

"Henry, Father Goodwin, I understand your feelings. But please hear me out."

He slowed his speech, making sure every word was clearly heard, "There's no need to rush the pursuit. I assure you, as long as they retreat to Trossky Castle, I'm confident I can rescue Hans."

Seeing their skeptical expressions, he continued, "Even if they don't return to the castle, Count von Borgo, while cunning and treacherous, is an old-fashioned nobleman who places great importance on so-called 'noble etiquette.' To him, capturing a young nobleman like Hans is a valuable 'asset.' He would demand a huge ransom rather than angrily murder a nobleman of high status, which would be extremely disgraceful and alienate him from his social standing. He wouldn't do that."

He paused, observing their reactions. Seeing their tense expressions ease slightly, he continued, "As long as people are alive, there is hope. If we pursue them rashly now, they will have a cavalry advantage, and we'll easily find ourselves at a disadvantage in the open. Trust me, I will use our intelligence network to find an opportunity to rescue Hans. Perhaps, the opportunity will come sooner than we think."

Peter's words possessed a certain magic, carrying both calmness and foresight. Henry and Goodwin exchanged a glance, both seeing signs of being persuaded in each other's eyes. Indeed, blindly pursuing the matter was not a wise strategy, and Peter's grasp of the old Earl's psychology seemed quite reasonable.

"...You're right, sir."

Henry finally lowered his head, his voice regaining its calm, "We were too hasty."

Goodwin also patted his chest and let out a long sigh: "May God protect Hans. Sir Peter, it seems we really need to think this through." Peter successfully reassured the two men who were concerned about Hans's safety for the time being with his rational analysis and steady promise.

the other side.

The bright midday sun could not dispel the gloom in the hearts of Count von Polgár and von Olitz.

"I don't understand why we lost?"

Von Polgao and Von Olitz fled all the way to Trossky Castle, still unable to understand why they had been defeated. Their plan was sound, their midnight march decisive, leaving the bandits no time to prepare. The vibrant, thriving scene when they breached Nebakov Castle was still fresh in their minds, so how could they have been outmaneuvered by Red-haired Peter?

Their faces were cold and numb. Surrounded by more than thirty trusted cavalrymen, they galloped in like stray dogs. The dust kicked up by their hooves lingered in the fields for a long time.

On horseback, Hans the Young Master was bound horizontally, his mouth stuffed with rags, only able to make muffled sounds. His hair was covered with straw, and his magnificent armor had lost its luster, making him look utterly wretched.

Finally, we arrived outside Trossky Castle around noon.

The castle entrance was wide open, the drawbridge was steadily lowered, and the Polgar family's flying fish flag fluttered atop the walls; everything seemed normal. On the gate tower, the newly appointed captain of the guard, Semi Oda Jr., stood ramrod straight in full armor. Upon seeing the Earl and his entourage, he immediately bowed respectfully, his demeanor as deferential as ever.

"Oh God, it really is you! Count! Lord von Olitz! Have you returned victorious? Please hurry into the city!"

Oda's voice came through the mask from the city gate tower, sounding somewhat muffled, but the humility in his tone seemed impeccable.