Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

The one who was finally put to trial was István, the "Viper".

He appeared calm, even somewhat arrogant, because he knew he hadn't yet had a chance to do anything wrong in Trostsky.

"Istvan," Peter began, "you may not have committed any crimes in Troski, but your blood debts in the Rattay region must be settled!"

Istvan sneered, "Lord Peter, the matter of Rataire is probably not for your judgment. Only Henry can hold me accountable here. I demand the exercise of the ancient right—divine judgment!" He pointed to a pale-faced young man beside him, also bound, "My adopted son, Eric, will fight in my place!"

This was a common right for nobles when facing accusations. Peter looked at Henry, for Henry was Istevan's primary victim in the crimes of Rataire.

"Henry, do you accept?"

A surge of rage ignited in Henry's eyes. He recalled Istevan's raid on Skarlitz, where they had stolen the sword his father had forged… He stepped forward and declared loudly, "I accept!"

A life-or-death duel unfolds under the watchful eyes of the world!

The people cheered; such a life-or-death duel hadn't happened in their remote region for many years. Even in big cities, these divinely ordained duels were incredibly attractive. In 1386, the King of France even made a fortune selling tickets outside the arena for the Last Duel. Now, with a free duel to watch, what more could one ask for?

Both donned their armor and chose their weapons. The duel began, witnessed by Father Goodwin.

Eric was indeed a skilled swordsman, his swordsmanship cunning and ruthless. But Henry, the swordsman Saint Scarlitz who grew up amidst the flames of war, had honed his combat skills to the extreme.

clang!clang!clang!

Swords clashed, sparks flying! The two figures moved and darted swiftly across the high platform.

Istvan, who was originally full of confidence, became a little nervous. He did not expect that Henry, the blacksmith's son, had improved his strength so quickly. He was easily captured at the Vlanik camp.

Eric had clashed with Henry before, and although he was captured outside Talmu Castle, he believed it was due to insufficient troops and did not take the young Henry seriously. That's why he and Istvan devised this plan.

However, Eric realized he was wrong. Henry's strength had improved far beyond his expectations. Coupled with being captured for many days, not eating or sleeping well, his body was weak. Although his swordsmanship was exquisite, his strength and speed could no longer keep up. Henry, on the other hand, became more and more courageous in battle. He made full use of the skills he had learned from countless life-and-death battles, sometimes attacking like a storm, and sometimes defending as steadily as a rock.

The two figures clashed repeatedly, the clanging of their weapons echoing incessantly. As their swords drew close and they locked in a fierce struggle, they could even hear each other's heavy breathing and smell the stench of each other's sweat.

Finally, around the thirtieth move, Henry seized an opening in Eric's strength, parried Eric's sword with a brilliant "Master Counter", and then followed up with a swift "Knee Strike"!

"Ouch!" Eric cried out in pain as his knee was struck hard, and he fell to his knees. Henry's sword tip was already pointed at his throat.

The outcome is decided!

According to the rules, Henry had the right to execute István and Eric on the spot.

Everyone stared at Henry. Istvan closed his eyes; he had miscalculated again. It seemed that ever since he met Red-haired Peter, his brilliant mind had become rusty, always making mistakes. Eric looked at his adoptive father with equal despair. The two huddled together, grasping each other's hands, awaiting Henry's final blow.

Henry raised his sword. His arm muscles were taut, ready to thrust forward...

However, he stopped. His gaze fell on Istvan and Eric. Even now, though they were father and son in name only, Istvan instinctively shielded Eric behind him. This subtle gesture, like a needle, pierced the softest spot in Henry's heart.

He thought of his father, Old Martin. The taciturn blacksmith who had sheltered him with his broad shoulders. He remembered his father's rough, calloused hands, and the scenes of his father teaching him blacksmithing and swordsmanship by the furnace... The deep-seated longing and resonance for his father's love surged forth at that moment.

The flames of hatred seemed less intense under the glow of his father's love. Especially since Peter had already returned the "Sword of Raddy," the weapon he cherished most and which represented his father's highest skill. His greatest inner conflict had been resolved. His greatest enemies were Sigismund and von Olitz, and now von Polgár had joined them.

For Istvan, what he saw was no longer a heinous "serpent," but a father who would also protect his child.

"May God forgive our sins, just as we forgive our enemies. Your mercy helps us escape the temptations of evil and prevents us from falling into hell."

Henry slammed his sword against the table, chanted a prayer, and exhaled a long breath, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Lord Peter," Henry turned to Peter, his voice a little hoarse, "I...I relinquish the right to execute them. They remain your property, and you may decide how to deal with them."

At that moment, the entire square fell silent. Forgiveness sometimes requires greater courage than revenge.

Peter gave Henry a deep look, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes. He respected this rare glimmer of humanity in a bloody world.

"Istvan, Eric," Peter pronounced, "given Henry's waiver of his right to execute, I sentence you both to continue laboring in the logging camp until you atone for your sins!"

The trial ended, and the atmosphere shifted once again. Peter's voice became low and solemn as he began the third item on the agenda—"Remembering the Deceased."

"The glory of victory belongs to the living. But the foundation of peace is built from the blood and flesh of the dead." He looked around at the crowd. "I hereby declare that the families of all thirty-seven militiamen who died in this battle will receive a pension of fifty groschen and a three-year tax exemption!"

If the previous rewards brought cheers, then this decree truly touched the deepest chords of everyone's hearts.

After a brief silence came thunderous, heartfelt cheers and cries!

"Kindness! This is true kindness!"

"Lord Peter has not forgotten those who have died!"

May God bless Mr. Peter forever!

Families who lost loved ones, initially immersed in grief, now feel an unprecedented sense of comfort and security. This care is more powerful in uniting people than any gift.

Then, the elderly monk Martin and Father Goodwin ascended the platform and led everyone in Mass. Thousands of people clasped their hands together, bowed their heads, and prayed for the souls of all the fallen soldiers by the flickering campfire under the cool moonlight. The somber prayers flowed like a warm river, soothing the pain of the living and bidding farewell to the departed souls.

When the solemn prayer ended, Peter finally showed the first relaxed smile of the evening, raising a wooden mug filled with ale:

"Now, I declare! The final item on the agenda—the revelry!—begins!"

"For victory! For new life! For Trotsky!"

"For Lord Peter!!!"

The overwhelming cheers announced that the banquet had reached its climax!

The music started again, even more lively and exuberant than before! People joined hands and danced the traditional circle dance around the huge bonfire. Young men took the opportunity to express their affections to the girls they liked. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of ale, the smoky scent of roasted meat, and the vibrant energy of youth.

The tavern owner was busy pouring drinks, the baker kept taking freshly baked bread out of the oven, and the people in charge of grilling the meat were shouting loudly...

Master Cat and Conrad arm wrestled on the wooden bench; Old Martin and Goodwin chatted about their opinions on Janhus; Jessica and her old buddies sang loudly, arms around each other's shoulders; Catherine held a large glass of wine and drank with someone...

Old Sammy and young Sammy whispered to each other in a corner, their faces showing relief; Jerry stood silently in the shadows, seemingly still processing the emptiness and relief of having avenged his family; John the Big Mouth had already started drinking with several villagers, spittle flying everywhere; Pavlena and Marika nestled beside Peter, watching the revelers, long-lost, relaxed smiles appearing on their faces...

The end of the old rule marked the beginning of a new era.

The red griffin's banner fluttered above the castle, bearing witness to all this. Tonight, Troski will be sleepless.