Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 150 Visitors in the Rain

June 24th, early morning, rain.

Summer brings an unusually high amount of rain, making yesterday's brief period of sunshine seem like an illusion.

In this world, rain can wash away bloodstains, but it cannot wash away the greed in people's hearts.

A group of five horsemen braved the rain to arrive outside Turnov Castle, carrying a decree from King Sigismund.

Count Karel Turnov was indeed as volatile as the rumors suggested. His tall, imposing frame was encased in gleaming aluminum plate armor, and the scar running from his left forehead to his chin looked particularly menacing in the firelight. Each time he turned, the armor creaked heavily, mirroring the restlessness in his heart.

"How did His Majesty find out so quickly?"

Although reluctant, they had no choice but to welcome the envoy into the castle.

Soon, in the council chamber of Count Turnov's castle, the fire in the fireplace crackled in the dampness of the rain, the flickering flames illuminating Istvan's cunning face. He elegantly raised his silver goblet, sipping the deep red wine inside, his gaze never leaving Count Turnov, who was pacing in the hall.

The count suddenly stopped, his deep-set eyes fixed on Istvan. "Sir Envoy, that old bastard von Polgao has only been in Prague for a few days, and our new king is already in such a hurry to back him up?"

Istvan set down his wine glass, a pleasant smile playing on his lips. He handed a perfectly sealed parchment to Count Turnov, using his prepared words: "Your Excellency, His Majesty Sigismund has spies throughout Bohemia. Moreover..." He deliberately lowered his voice, "Count von Polgao has many old friends in the court."

Count Turnov slammed his fist on the oak table, making the wine glasses rattle: "That old scoundrel!"

He still owes me 10,000 Groschens from buying Troski Castle, and now, to make matters worse, he's dragged the King into this!"

Despite saying this, Turnov knew he was powerless to resist the king, so he took the parchment, examined the emblem on the wax seal to confirm it was genuine, and opened the parchment. Inside, it was indeed filled with densely packed Latin text that he couldn't understand. But for the sake of noble honor, he pretended to be literate and read it for a while.

István chuckled inwardly. This time, under Peter's orders, he was disguised as a royal envoy from Prague, escorted by four men led by Eric. He delivered a forged edict stating that Prague had decided to send a large army to besiege Peter the Red. He, the special envoy, was sent to contact the surrounding lords to assist the king's army, which would arrive in three days, and to instruct them to prepare provisions.

Istvan knew everything about Sigismund; the seals, the tone of voice, and even the Latin handwriting were all perfectly forged. If this old illiterate man could spot the flaws, he would lose! Since leaving Peter, Istvan found that his intelligence had once again taken over, and the feeling of intellectual crushing over the fool had returned.

This made him watch Turnov's clownish performance with a kind of rapture.

Turnoff probably realized he'd been pretending to read the letter for a while, so he coughed twice and said, "To make a long story short, Sir Toth, I will not disobey the new king's orders. How do you require my cooperation?"

"This letter details His Majesty's requests to the surrounding lords: prepare provisions and supplies, and await the arrival of the two thousand Prague troops in three days. Simple, isn't it?"

Istvan said with a smile.

Simple? Of course not! How much of a burden would it take to feed and care for two thousand people? Why should I bear that responsibility? What about compensation? What about benefits?

This both shocked and enraged Count Karel Turnov, the lord of Turnov. He was shocked because his plan to divide Turnov hadn't even begun, and if the king were to intervene, he wouldn't even get a sip of soup, let alone any meat.

What angered him was that von Polgao still owed him 10,000 Groschen when he bought Troschi Castle, and now he was even less likely to get it back.

The problem was that he dared not disobey Sigismund's orders. If he did not comply, would those two thousand Prague soldiers turn their spears directly at him? He had heard that since the arrival of this Hungarian king, many lords had been stripped of their titles!

Feeling powerless and angry, Turnov paced irritably in the council chamber.

Istvan observed the count's facial expression—his furrowed brow, twitching lips, and eyes slightly reddened with anger. All of this indicated that the count was completely consumed by anger and anxiety, in a state most easily manipulated.

"My lord," Istvan's voice was as soft as silk, "I understand your predicament. As the king's envoy, I should have asked you to unconditionally support the royal army... but..." He deliberately dragged out the last syllable, and a glimmer of hope suddenly appeared in the count's eyes.

"But what?" Count Turnov asked urgently, his body leaning forward involuntarily.

István said slowly and deliberately, "I am a trusted confidant of His Majesty the King. I can make subtle adjustments to the wording regarding who wins battles and who shirks their duties."

After speaking, he picked up the silver glass, slowly took a sip of wine, and his elegant posture was very noble.

Count Turnov's Adam's apple bobbed; he clearly understood Istvan's implication. His rough hands nervously rubbed the hilt of his sword, his inner turmoil written all over his face, before relaxing as he leaned closer and asked, "Sir Toth, do you like this silver cup?"

"certainly."

"I have many other silver items in my castle, which I will deliver to your room tonight if you wish."

If you calculate the weight of a silver wine glass, it would be worth several dozen Grosshins of silver. If you get a few more, that would be a bribe of several hundred Grosshins.

Istvan nodded in satisfaction and said, "If I specifically mention Count Turnov's active cooperation, even his initiative to send troops, in my report, I will recommend that His Majesty the generous King grant you the most prosperous farms after we capture Troski..."

"No, I don't want a farm!" the count suddenly interrupted him, then realized he had overreacted and quickly lowered his voice, "I mean... I prefer the northern forests. You know, I love hunting, and that's the best place to hunt."

Istvan sneered inwardly. Of course he knew what was hidden in the forest. Lord Peter had already established an iron mine, charcoal, and steel industrial park in the northern forest. This fool still wanted to monopolize it.

But this was part of István's plan: to make Count Turnov think he had succeeded, to let his own greed hold him back, and to wait three days for the non-existent Prague army, thus creating a time gap for Peter to defeat Ichin and Rowen ahead of time.

"Hunting? What a refined hobby."

István nodded approvingly. "I think that can certainly be arranged. However..." He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, "You know, cultivating relationships in Prague costs a lot of money..."

Count Turnov immediately understood and leaned closer, saying, "I'll add another five hundred Groshins!"

The two men smiled, each with their own thoughts. The count thought he had obtained a precious iron ore with a paltry bribe, while Istvan knew that the foolish wolf had fallen for his trap.

Meanwhile, inside Trossky Castle.

Peter has led the main force of the Griffin Guard from Griffin Village to this location to await orders.

He stood in the tower of Trossky Castle, gazing out the window at the territory shrouded in rain. Rain poured down from the leaden sky, staining the castle, fields, and distant forests in varying shades of gray-green.

Rain poured down, washing over the muddy roads of Trossky. His Lion Guard was conducting final equipment checks. Eighty heavily armored warriors stood ready, and twenty covered wagons filled the open space outside the fortress. Forty packhorses snorted.

"Have all the carriages been inspected?"

"All twenty covered four-wheeled carriages are ready, sir. The horses' anti-slip horseshoes have also been nailed on."

Peter nodded. Black Bartos, the swordsman who had once served von Polgao, now stood behind Peter. Ever since hearing that Istvan had left the prisoner-of-war camp, he too had wanted to atone for his crimes. The proud flowers of the Italian battlefield should not rot in the mud of the prisoner-of-war camp.

Peter accepted his allegiance, and another master swordsman joined his ranks. Peter made him his personal bodyguard and responsible for carrying the flag.

Just as the group was preparing to depart, a castle guard rushed over: "Sir, a troop of cavalry has arrived in the rain and is requesting an audience at the gate! They number about twenty and are carrying a four-sectioned griffin banner."

Peter's heart sank. The early warning system in his territory was far too inadequate; someone had actually breached the castle's perimeter without him receiving a warning. Fortunately, he had led his troops to assemble at the castle and close the gates today. What if the castle gates had been open at other times?

This unexpected turn of events was due to both the inconvenience of communication caused by the rain and the fact that the opposing force consisted entirely of cavalry, which moved too fast.

Regardless, this serves as a warning, and a dedicated early warning system for cavalry needs to be designed from now on.

Such an unexpected turn of events at a crucial moment in the plan required swift action. Peter went to the small tower at the city gate and looked down. He saw twenty-one men dressed in black, hooded cloaks riding on twenty-one warhorses.

Peter asked loudly, "May I ask who you are, and what business do you have at my Trostsky Castle?"

"Peter, it's me."

The man at the head of the group pulled down his hood, revealing the face of a rugged, middle-aged man.

Do you know me? Peter searched the original owner's memory bank, and a name suddenly popped up—George Seidleitz! The original owner's uncle, the only heir of the old Earl Seidleitz.

However, Seidleitz—this was the surname of his mother's family, and also the past he least wanted to face. In the original owner's memories, fragments about this family were shrouded in a dark hue, especially those concerning his uncle, George Seidleitz, whom he remembered only as someone indifferent and contemptuous.

"What are you doing here?"

Peter's words revealed no emotion.

"Peter..." George looked up at his nephew in the tower, his voice muffled by the rain, "I never thought we'd meet again like this. Can we go inside first? The rain is too heavy."

Peter wanted to refuse, not wanting to add any uncertainty to his upcoming plans. But after a moment's thought, he finally spoke: "It's raining heavily outside; Sir Seidleitz might as well go into town to take shelter."

"Open the city gates and let them in."

The invitation surprised the soldiers around him—they knew to some extent that Peter had a strained relationship with his mother’s family.

But Peter had to deal with this force as soon as possible. The best solution was either to eliminate them by force or to detain and imprison them, and then let them into the city so that they would lose their cavalry advantage.

He gave a wink to John, who was in charge of the city's defenses, and John understood and led his men to make the arrangements.

George Seidleitz and his twenty cavalrymen were allowed into the castle. As they passed through the familiar courtyard, George's gaze wandered involuntarily, his eyes revealing a complex mix of emotions.

"Seven years..." George sighed softly. "The castle is almost unchanged, only the flag has been changed."

Troschi Castle originally belonged to the Seidleitz family, but was forced to sell it to Count von Polgár seven years ago. Now, it has been recaptured by Peter by force and is flying the flag with a blue background and a red griffin.

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