Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 156 The Bird That Sticks Out

Count Turnov slept well last night.

The steward dared not disturb the hot-tempered Earl, and only after breakfast did he present him with a letter from Rowan Town.

The messenger from Rowan Town said it was urgent intelligence, but the steward scoffed at it.

Can anything delivered in the dead of night be more important than the Earl's quality of sleep?

Sure enough, the burly man, in his prime, tall and imposing, who even wore plate armor while eating breakfast, frowned as soon as he received Baron Rowan's letter of appeal for help.

His eyes narrowed to slits, as if he was trying to make out something, but he still couldn't recognize many words.

"Damn it, this damned writing!" he muttered, waving the letter at the steward. "Tell me what it says!"

The steward then unfolded the letter and read it carefully, chuckling, "It records some of Baron Rowan's crazy conjectures, as well as his notification that he plans to ambush Red-Haired Peter today."

"That suspicious old raven! How dare he attack before me? Has he gone mad? Without the formidable military strength of my Count's domain, does he think he can defeat that red-haired Peter who defeated the combined forces of von Polgár and von Olitz?!"

Count Karel Turnov was filled with irritation. He had never liked dealing with trivial matters and only wanted to fight with his sword. But he disliked even more allies who acted arbitrarily in military operations.

"Baron Rowan said he suspected that Red-haired Peter's main force had gone to and attacked Itchin Castle, so he wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to attack..."

'

"He guessed? What a joke. Who does he think he is? The cunning Barbarossa? Or the wise King Charles?"

"We were just plotting, how could Red-Haired Peter know our plans? And why would he go all the way to attack Itchin Castle? Hahaha, that's the funniest joke I've heard all year!"

Count Turnov sneered repeatedly.

The butler remained cautious, saying, "My good Earl, what if Peter really did find out about our plans beforehand? What if one of us leaked the information? What if Peter is really that bold? In my humble opinion, why don't we cooperate with Baron Rowan and send troops to test the waters?"

"Well..."

'

Count Turnov hesitated for a moment, but then he remembered something and said to the steward, "Go and invite Mr. Toth, the King's special envoy. I want to hear his opinion."

"As you command, Your Excellency," the steward replied somewhat reluctantly. Although Mr. Toth had only been there a day, his exceptional eloquence and elegant manner had already won over the fierce Earl. This filled the steward with a mixture of jealousy and envy.

A moment later, István walked in and said in a deep, sweet voice, "Oh, my friend, thank you so much for your hospitality yesterday. It allowed me to experience the northern charm that is so different from the extravagant style of Prague."

"Haha, my friend. I'm so glad you like my decor."

People often envy what they cannot do. The rude, powerful, and stubborn Count Turnov, however, greatly admired the talented Istvan, who sang fluent, high-brow lyrics. "Mr. Toth," he said, "I happen to have something I need to ask you."

With that, Turnov handed over Baron Rowan's letter.

Toth took the parchment and read it carefully. The letter was simple and clear—Baron Rowan requested the Earl to send troops to attack the Trotsky territory from both sides. Toth looked up, a professional smile on his face.

"Your Excellency, the letter says that Baron Rowan has sent troops to attack Nebakov Castle and requests your immediate support. What are your thoughts?" Toth's voice was still sweet and cloying, making one feel as if they were in a honey pot.

"I want to send troops to test the waters."

Count Turnov relayed the steward's plan, saying, "If Red-haired Peter's main force is truly not in our territory, then we will immediately send troops! We cannot miss this opportunity. What do you think?"

Toth chuckled, tapping his fingers lightly on the table: "You're right. But His Majesty's army will arrive in two days. How am I supposed to report the current situation to him then? Will Baron Rowan be brave and resourceful enough to achieve the first victory?"

Or was it Count Turnov who selflessly aided his allies in the war?

"This... is the greatest credit..."

'

Istvan's words slithered into the count's heart like a venomous snake. His expression changed instantly, his lips pressed into a thin line. Jealousy spread like wildfire within him—he would never allow a mere baron to steal his glory.

Istvan pressed his advantage, lowering his voice: "Baron Rowan was deliberately using you. If the Red-Haired main force is indeed not in the territory, he can take advantage of the situation to seize a castle and gain the greatest credit. If the Red-Haired main force is still in the territory, with you engaged in battle with the Red-Haired, it will be easier for him to withdraw. In that case, will he come to your aid again? I think it's unlikely."

Not every nobleman is as brave, fearless, and selfless as the Earl.

"Yes, that old crow is the most cunning." The count's voice was urgent as he rubbed his hands together. "What should I do?"

István laughed and said, "It always takes time to recruit vassals and subjects. Take your time. By the time the king's army arrives in two days, you will have recruited troops and can serve as the vanguard, thus gaining the first merit. As for Baron Rowan? We'll see if he can hold out until two days later. You haven't broken the alliance; it's just that these allies acted on their own and you were not strong enough."

The count suddenly realized, and exclaimed in delight, "Excellent! That's exactly what I was thinking!"

The count wore a smug smile. István laughed heartily in return. The two raised their glasses of bright red wine and drank together.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, Lord Rowan still hadn't received news of Turnov's troop deployment.

But Peter's team trekked all the way back to Trossky.

Mayor Martin led the staff from various departments who worked inside the castle, along with the residents, out to greet them.

Victory always brings joy, and cheers erupted like a volcanic eruption. Residents crowded the roadsides, children jumped around, and women scattered flower petals—although the petals quickly withered in the rain, the joy was real and touching.

Peter smiled and waved to the crowd, his gaze warm. An elderly woman squeezed forward and handed him a piece of bread: "Sir, you've had a long journey!" Peter took it and thanked her earnestly—this simple gesture drew even more enthusiastic cheers from the surrounding crowd.

"Victory belongs to Peter! Glory to Griffin!" the people shouted, their voices converging into a torrent.

Twenty-four large wagons passed through the village and slowly drove into the castle. John the Big Mouth and other members of the Lion Guard opened the city gates to welcome the lord back to the city, and then ordered people to start unloading the goods.

The wooden crate was opened, revealing gleaming silver coins; the burlap sacks were untied, releasing the aroma of grain; weapons and armor were piled high, drawing gasps of amazement from the onlookers…

Sir George Seidletz peered out of his guest room window, his eyes wide, inwardly exclaiming, "He really succeeded! His talent for soldiers and warfare is truly remarkable!"

This greatly changed George's long-held view of peasants, and he began to re-evaluate the army of civilians under Peter's command.

Baron Persson and his family alighted nervously from their carriage, marveling at the grandeur of Trossky Castle. This also eased their minds somewhat; if Peter had taken such a massive castle from von Polgar, the fall of their own Itchen Castle didn't seem so unbearable.

"At least we survived—"

The family was settled in a luxurious bedroom. The room was carpeted with thick rugs, and the flickering fire in the fireplace dispelled the dampness of the rainy day. The Baroness gently stroked the silk bed curtains and spoke softly to her husband, which calmed the two children's anxious hearts.

"I hope the Red Griffin keeps its promise." Baron Paeson sighed helplessly. Now that he was here, he might as well stay put. He was going to eat and drink to his heart's content every day and eat back a little bit of the wealth that Peter had taken from his castle!

As dusk approached, beneath the walls of Nebakov.

Baron Rowan stood beneath the city walls, his face grim and his mind in turmoil as he surveyed the scene before him. He knew his raid had failed, yet he was unwilling to give up.

They couldn't break through the defenses, yet they were unwilling to retreat; this agonizing situation continued until dusk.

Baron Rowan was in a state of utter confusion.

Suddenly, on the forest path behind them, the sound of horses' hooves tore through the veil of dusk like scissors.

Baron Rowan abruptly raised his head, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Reinforcements! If only Turnov's reinforcements were here, they would have a chance.

However, his hopes were instantly dashed when he saw the banners of the reinforcements. It wasn't Turnov's Black Bear Banner, but a raised Griffin Banner.

It was Peter who led a troop of cavalry.

Upon returning to Trossky, Peter learned of the siege of Nebakov and immediately selected thirty mounted warriors. He then mounted ten of his own warhorses, along with twenty from the Seidleitz family, forming a thirty-horse assault team to rush to their aid. They arrived just before dusk.

They first dismounted and walked lightly through the woods. Once they reached the edge and saw the enemy camp, they all mounted their horses and charged out.

"charge!"

Peter led the charge, his griffin cloak fluttering in the wind. Black Bartosh followed closely behind, raising his griffin banner high. The riders surged forward like arrows, crushing the archers in the rear of Rowan Town's army. Swords flashed like silver snakes; the crunching of bones and the neighing of warhorses mingled, and the stench of blood mixed with urine filled the air.

"Break through!"

Peter thrust his longsword diagonally forward, his immense arm strength wielding it like a spear, piercing through the man before him. The recoil returned to his wrist, causing even the man with 30 points of strength to feel a slight numbness. The other cavalrymen crouched down, slashing at the faces and necks of their enemies, quickly breaking through the camp and charging straight at Baron Rowan.

"Look! The lord is leading his troops!"

"Long live the griffin!"

Redbeard Andrei and his men on the city wall cheered and poured out of the city gates, launching a pincer attack. Shouting slogans and full of morale, they charged towards Rowen Town's army, spears and flails in hand.

The soldiers of Rowan Town were already demoralized and powerless to resist the cavalry charging back and forth.

"My God—where did they come from—"

"Run! It's that red-haired Peter!"

"Run! We've lost! We've lost!"

The soldiers of Rowan Town were thrown into chaos, fleeing in all directions. They were pursued and killed, their screams and wails echoing across the battlefield.

"Retreat! Retreat!" Baron Rowan shouted.

He knew he had lost completely.

He turned his horse around, trying to escape. However, it was too late.

Peter, like a dragon, charged through the crowd on horseback. Reaching his horse, he slashed the weapon from the baron's hand with his sword, then reached out with a large, gauntlet-covered hand, grabbing him like an iron clamp. Baron Rowan, weighing over two hundred pounds including his armor, was dragged onto Peter's horse like a child and held firmly down.

"The lord has been captured!"

"I surrender, I surrender, I want to surrender!"

The defeat spread like a plague. The surviving Rowan soldiers knelt down and begged for mercy.

Two knights under Baron Rowan were also captured by Andrei and his men. A few of the faster-moving routs fled south, bringing their defeat and panic to Rowan town.

Baron Rowan was humiliated and thrown from his horse. He struggled to resist, but his strength was exhausted, and he was quickly bound by the soldiers.

He was forced to kneel on the ground by the militiamen. Gazing at the nearby Nebakov Castle, he was filled with remorse.

Hearing the cheers of the victors, he felt even more regretful, thinking, "If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have been the one to stick my neck out."

While Baron Rowan was regretting his actions, another "trailblazer" was also stirring.