Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Pavlina breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the matter was resolved. She emerged from the woods, still shaken, and asked, "Lord Peter, are you alright?"

Peter shook his head, looked at the two robbers groaning on the ground, and ripped off their masks.

The two robbers hurriedly covered their faces: "Sir Knight, please spare us, we're just starving!"

Pavlena's pupils contracted slightly, her voice filled with disbelief as she said, "It's...it's you? Vashek? Mikhal?"

These two were childhood playmates from Troski village. Later, Jaksi falsely accused them, mother and daughter, of being witches, and the entire village ostracized them, causing their childhood friends to drift apart. Unexpectedly, they became robbers.

The two men clearly recognized Pavlyna, their faces drained of color, filled with shame and fear.

"Pavlena...Pavlena? Please...please don't hand us over to the sheriff."

"We were wrong! Pavlina, please forgive us for the sake of our village! We had no other choice!"

Pavlina looked at her former companion now begging for mercy like a rag doll, her heart filled with mixed emotions. She said, "No other way? Does having no other way mean you can rob and hurt innocent people?"

Vasek's voice trembled with tears and despair as he said, "What can we do? Lord Borgo's taxes are getting heavier every year. We have to pay for grain, livestock, and even raising an extra chicken! Our land... we already sold it to Lord Jaxsey last year to pay the taxes..."

Mihar chimed in angrily, "That bloodsucker Jaksi! He's been waiting for this day! He took our land at a pitifully low price and then made us work for him, barely enough to survive! My mother is sick, we've spent all our money on medicine, there's no food left at home, and my little sister is crying from hunger... We... we were truly desperate..."

Hearing their cries and pleas, Pavlyna's heart clenched. She remembered how she and her mother had also been forced to wander because of the Jaxsey, and the anger she felt at being taxed by lords and ruthlessly exploited by landowners. Looking at these two fellow villagers, driven to banditry by life, they were criminals, but also pitiful creatures in this cruel world.

She looked up at Peter, her eyes filled with pleading and reluctance. She didn't want to see Peter execute the two men because of her, or because of "justice."

Peter understood Pavlyna's gaze and remained silent for a moment. He looked down at the two robbers, his voice cold and stern: "Get lost. We'll pretend we never saw you this time. That poor vegetable farmer has never seen your faces either. Go home and behave yourself."

The two robbers, feeling as if they had been granted a pardon, scrambled to their feet, kowtowed in gratitude, and helped each other away.

"Wait a moment."

Upon hearing Peter's words, the two robbers' legs went weak with fear, and they turned around and bowed respectfully.

Peter pulled a silver coin from his pocket and flicked it over, saying, "One Grossen is enough for you to buy a bag of oats. Don't let me see you commit any more violence. If there's a next time, I won't report to the sheriff; I'll just chop your heads off."

"Thank you, thank you, sir. We will definitely not make the same mistake again."

The two men picked up the silver coins, thanked each other repeatedly, and then staggered away into the depths of the woods.

Pavlina watched the direction they had disappeared in, sighed softly, and said in a slightly choked voice, "Lord Peter... thank you. I... I just..." She didn't know how to express her complicated feelings.

Peter walked to her side and said in a gentler tone, "It's wrong to bully the weak, but what drove them to this point is something even more despicable." He looked in the direction of Trossky Castle, his eyes deep.

"Lord Borgo... Lord Jacci... how could they, sitting in their warm castles and manors, know that a single order from them, a single price-cutting measure, could shatter a family and turn honest men into bandits... those taxes, those land deeds, sucked away not only food and money, but also the hope of survival for their people..."

Pavlina murmured softly, as if speaking to Peter, yet also as if speaking to herself.

Medieval lords had absolute power over their subjects, so why would they care about their lives?

Peter gently patted her shoulder: "Let's go, Pavlina. We still need to go to Takhov village, for our camp, and also... perhaps in the future, to do something to change this situation."

"Yes, sir, for our camp!"

Pavlina looked up at Peter's resolute profile, her hesitation replaced by a new determination. She nodded firmly and continued walking, this time with her back straighter. The wind in the forest was still there, but it seemed to carry a different scent.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. Around noon, they finally arrived at the village of Takhov.

Takhov village is located west of Trossky Castle. It has more than 200 households, vast wheat fields, lush sheep pastures, and apple orchards. The village tavern is famous for its cider. But what Takhov village is most proud of is an iron mine discovered in the north of the village and the blacksmith shop built around it.

Unlike the blacksmiths who served the lords in the castle, Radovan, the blacksmith of Takhov, not only had the obligation to forge swords for the lords, but also accepted orders from ordinary citizens in his spare time for agricultural tools such as axes, hoes, sickles, and other tools.

This is also the safest way for Peter to get some lumberjack axes.

Upon entering the village, Pavlena felt as if she had returned to a familiar home, her face beaming with a bright smile as she greeted the passing villagers: "Good morning, Aunt Marta! The herbs you've dried are such a beautiful color!"

"Oh, it's little Pavlina! You've become even more beautiful, my child! How is your mother?"

"She's fine, thank you for your concern!"

As time went on, not only did the villagers of Troski reflect on whether it was right to label Bojina and her daughter as witches back then, but villagers from nearby villages also spoke out for Bojina and her daughter. So now when Pavlena comes to various villages to sell her baskets, no one makes things difficult for her. On the contrary, they like this beautiful and sensible girl more and more.

As she walked along, she greeted Carmen, the tavern owner's daughter, praised the blacksmith's apprentice's newly forged sickle, and even called out the names of the stray dogs running around in the street. The villagers responded to her with genuine sincerity, as if she were the daughter or sister of everyone in the village.

However, when their gaze fell upon Peter, it instantly cooled, turning into scrutiny and distance. The men stopped what they were doing, silently sizing up this outsider, this stranger, assessing the potential threat posed by his armor and sword. The women, meanwhile, hurriedly called their playing children back to their sides.

Peter pursed his lips. In the Gypsy camp, even if you were penniless, you could get hugs and songs and dances as long as you were willing to share stories and wine. But in the villages under the lord's rule... rules, traditions, and boundaries, like invisible fences, separated the locals from the outsiders.

However, we can't blame them. In those turbulent times, vigilance was a survival instinct. Gypsies used nomadism to fight the world, villagers used walls to protect themselves—each had their own way of life.

He did not feel offended; instead, he observed and understood the unique social structure of this medieval village.

Pavlina noticed Peter's silence and the villagers' wariness, and quietly approached, whispering, "Lord Peter, please don't mind them. They're just not used to strangers, especially someone as formidable as you."

Peter simply smiled and didn't mind, gesturing for her to continue leading the way to visit the village blacksmith, Radowan.

The blacksmith shop is located in the northwest corner of the village. As soon as you get close, you can hear the clanging of hammers. There is a large courtyard facing the street surrounded by a wooden fence. Beyond the fence, you can see a forging furnace with flames rising.

The blacksmith's furnace roared and clanged. The blacksmith, Radovan, a muscular, gloved man in a leather jacket, used tongs to hold a piece of iron and hammered it across the anvil, while an apprentice wielded a sledgehammer. Another apprentice, working the bellows, had shifty eyes and slick movements; during a break, his gaze would drift to the beautiful and delicate Pavlena, unable to look away.

Peter, displeased by this, used his broad frame to shield Pavlena behind him. The bellows apprentice couldn't help but glare at him with anger and ferocity.

Upon seeing this, Peter recalled the main storyline of the game: the blacksmith Raldovan was to forge a batch of tools for the marriage of Sir Semir's family, but his two apprentices stole the wagon used to transport the goods and gave it to bandits in the Apollonia Mountains. In order to speed up the work, he had to hire Henry to help.

Why would they give up such a promising career as a blacksmith's apprentice and instead choose to become robbers with a cartload of ironware as a pledge of allegiance?

Peter knew the two apprentices were up to something, but he remained calm. He figured even if an outsider like himself spoke, the blacksmith might not believe him. He'd better mind his own business first.

After waiting for a while, until the iron billet was hammered down to a low temperature and then put back into the furnace to be heated, Peter and Pavlyna came forward to greet them.

"You want ten lumberjack axes?"

Radovan said in a gruff voice, "No time! See these chains and instruments of torture? The lord is pressing us hard! You'll have to wait until after the autumn harvest."

Pavlina said urgently, "Uncle Radowan, we really need a batch of logging axes. Could you please prioritize our order?"

"Pavlyna, I owe your mother a favor, and I can make an exception for you. But clearly, there are too many axes; they're not meant for you, strangers. I dare not disobey the lord's orders to sell axes to outsiders. After all, a lumberjack's axe can kill, can't it?"

Radovan stared at Peter, as if trying to see some mark on Peter's face.

Peter didn't want to explain further. Instead, he took twenty Groshins from his backpack and handed them to Radwan, saying, "I am Miss Pavlyna's bodyguard. This is the deposit for forging the axe. You didn't sell the axe to a stranger, did you?"

A standard logging axe costs about 4 groshins, so ten axes would cost 40 groshins. Peter paid half the price as a deposit, which showed his sincerity.

Ladován calmly pocketed the silver coins and said, "You're right... I only sold the axe to Pavleina." Then, a shrewd glint flashed in his eyes, "But I wasn't lying either. As you can see, I'm very busy right now, with many orders from the lord. However, if you could do me a small favor, I wouldn't mind bringing forward your orders."

"What kind of help?"

Ladován lowered his voice, his voice filled with longing, and said, "There's an old hermit in the woods to the north who has a real Toledo steel sword! I've been dreaming of studying that forging technique! If you can 'get' that sword for me to study for a few days, I'll not only give you half the price for ten axes, but I'll also forge them for you within three days!"

Why don't you go by yourself?

Peter remembered what the side quest was.

"You look like a formidable warrior, while I'm just a busy blacksmith. There are many bandits in that area, and the old hermit has a rather eccentric personality. As for why I know it's a Toledo steel sword, it's because I heard the hum of the blade when the old hermit slew bandits up close."

Radovan seemed to recall something terrible, and his face, already covered in coal dust, turned even blacker.

"Can."

Peter also wanted to meet the "true hermit," who was in a lot of trouble, but also had many benefits.