Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 158 Proactive Offense

6 month 26 day.

A new day begins, and after many days of rain, a bright and sunny day finally arrives.

Peter stood in the council chamber of Trostich Castle, where a map drawn on sheepskin was spread out on a huge oak table. Morning light streamed through the high windows, drawing hazy beams of light in the air, with dust motes dancing slowly within them.

"The Rosenberg family has become a new danger, and we must end the war with Count Turnov before they arrive."

Peter extended his finger, tracing the border of Count Turnov's territory on the map with a steady and resolute motion. "Therefore, I have decided to take the initiative, cross the border, and shatter his shield and break his spear before Count Turnov completes his mobilization of his people."

His voice echoed in the empty hall, carrying an unyielding determination.

His gaze swept over everyone present—Ace the Hound, Klaus, Carter the Tomcat, Conrad the Lone Wolf, Munch the Militia Captain, and his uncle, Sir George Seidletz.

Sir George stood ramrod straight, his robust frame like a stone wall, his broad jaw taut.

"Peter," Sir George began, his voice low, "please allow me to apologize to you and your soldiers. You are an excellent commander, and your men are a fine bunch of lads! I may have been blinded by arrogance, and I hope to correct my mistakes."

Peter's uncle, this middle-aged strong man who strictly adhered to the code of chivalry, no longer had the faint disdain he used to have. His eyes had become complex, showing both regret for the past and anticipation for the future.

"I, George Seidleitz, am willing to lead twenty Seidleitz cavalrymen to pave the way for your victory."

Peter paused for a moment, sensing the sincerity in George's words. He nodded, his voice gentle yet carrying the dignity befitting a lord: "Your courage and honesty are the best compensation. I accept your request, Sir George."

"Thank you for your magnanimity, Peter." George's voice carried a sense of relief. He had been ordered by his father to help Peter, and he couldn't remain a prisoner and then slink home in disgrace; that would be too shameful for him.

Therefore, this battle was a battle for him and the Mo Xia cavalry to vindicate themselves and restore their honor!

The war drums sounded, the orders were given, and the troops quickly assembled.

Apart from John the Big Mouth and Andrei the Redbeard, who were responsible for guarding the two castles of Trostsky and Nebakov, the remaining eighty heavily armored Lion Guard soldiers stood in solemn formation, their armor gleaming coldly in the morning light.

The militia units of Griffin Village, Semi Village, Shidir Village, Apolonia Village, Trossky Village, and Zheleyov Village, led by Company Commander Monchi, have also arrived one after another.

"For Lord Peter!" The voices of the crowd rose like a tide within the castle.

"For Trotsky!" the soldiers shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the fields.

Peter mounted his horse, his figure appearing tall and imposing in the morning light. He raised his hand, his voice clear and powerful, echoing throughout the field: "Let's go!"

Meanwhile, a swift horse galloped across the territory of Turnov, rapidly approaching the castle and entering without hindrance.

Immediately following was Eric, who had just received instructions from Peter, who left the city under the pretext of gathering intelligence on the Prague army's progress.

Now, they are using this as an excuse to return to the city.

The castle guards of Turnov all recognized this swordsman who had arrived with the "King's Messenger" and challenged everyone around the castle upon arrival, ultimately defeating twelve guards in succession.

Eric moved like a shadow through the castle corridors and found his adoptive father, István Toth. After making sure no one was around, he lowered his voice and spoke quickly and clearly, "Father, Lord Peter has decided on a swift victory. He praised us for successfully delaying Count Turnov's conscription efforts, buying him valuable time." His tone carried a hint of relief after completing the mission, and the delight of Lord Peter's praise. "Now that the mission is complete, we should withdraw as soon as possible."

István Toth, the noble-looking "King's Envoy," was leisurely polishing a silver cup. An enigmatic smile played on his lips, but his eyes gleamed with a chilling calculation.

"Evacuate?"

Istvan chuckled softly, a low laugh carrying a dangerous allure, like the flicking tongue of a viper. "Leaving now would merely add a trivial stroke to our record; how would that demonstrate our extraordinary fangs?"

"But Godfather, if we don't leave soon, the lie will be exposed. We said two days ago that the king's army would arrive in three days. But we know it was a lie, a complete fabrication. If the king's army doesn't come by tomorrow, we'll be in danger."

Istvan teased, "Didn't you go out of the city today to find out the location of the King's army? How can you say there's no sign of them?"

"Father, you know it's all fake, don't you?" Eric said helplessly, spreading his hands.

"Whether it's true or not, we'll talk about that tomorrow. At least you have to say today that the king's army is marching in a grand procession and is on its way."

"I see."

"If we leave now, we've only fulfilled Lord Peter's basic request, which isn't much of a feat. But if we can capture this easily defensible castle for Lord Peter—that would be a truly praiseworthy achievement." Istvan's eyes gleamed with shrewdness as he spoke.

"But it's too difficult." Eric's tone revealed both admiration for his adoptive father's scheme and helplessness in the face of reality. "My swordsmanship can protect you, and the four of us can help you escape. But to say we'll take the castle is too difficult."

Eric emphasized it again. This was his judgment from the professional perspective of a master swordsman. This Count Turnov Castle was even more magnificent and strategically important than Bitroski Castle. They couldn't take it by force!

Is it difficult?

Istvan suddenly smiled, a smile both elegant and deadly. "It's not difficult. How then can we demonstrate our worth?"

Eric, my son, only by doing what others deem "impossible" can we earn an unshakeable place in Lord Peter's team.

His voice was like a whisper, yet it carried an unwavering resolve: "I will let everyone know that Istvan Toth is not a mere jester who plays with words, but a venomous viper capable of delivering a fatal blow."

Previously, when he entered Trossky, his first attempt at a scheme was thwarted by Lord Peter, who imprisoned him, preventing him from fully utilizing his abilities. As a result, Lord Peter and his men still viewed him as a clown who had made a fool of himself by sending incorrect information to the young lord of Polgar, leading to defeat.

"Fate is like a river with turbulent undercurrents; it appears calm on the surface, but harbors whirlpools that can devour people. People like us must seize every opportunity to showcase ourselves!"

He was seething with anger and wanted to vent it. And this stubborn Count Turnov was the first person to challenge him to a test of his skills.

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