Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

The young master of Borgo quickly turned his anger towards the steward Ulrich and the captain of the castle guard, Thomas.

The young master summoned two important figures from the castle and berated them severely.

"Useless! You two are utterly useless!"

"Young Master, please calm down. Why are you so concerned about a robber? In my opinion, Red-Haired Peter is nothing more than a rogue who won by luck. I've seen too many people like him. He rises suddenly and disappears just as suddenly. To the Borgo family, which has a three-hundred-year heritage, he's just a shooting star that streaks across the sky. There's no need to care about him at all."

"It is!" the steward Ulrich replied in a measured tone. His family had served the Borgo family for over four generations, and were filled with a deep sense of honor; they couldn't understand the young master's anxiety.

Young Master Jan von Borgo kicked over the oak table, causing the silver wine jug on it to tip over, spilling deep red wine like blood onto the wool carpet. The pretty maidservant serving nearby cowered in a corner, terrified.

"You're telling me how to do things? How dare you!"

Young Master Borgo gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his face flushed crimson. Unable to reveal his secret to the two men before him, he could only resort to his imposing tirade, his voice low yet chilling like the spit of a viper.

"Please calm your anger, young master. I swear on the honor of my family that I have never shown you the slightest disrespect."

Realizing his slip of the tongue, Ulrich lowered his head slightly in submission. He often spoke freely before Count Poldau, because the count was wise and experienced enough to selectively listen to his opinions and not mind any mistakes in his words. But clearly, this young lord did not have such tolerance.

"That red-haired bastard—I mean, that imposter knight—defeated my territory's guard, captured the executor, and stole the purse that was rightfully mine. He's probably having a good time in some peasant woman's bed right now... I will not allow such a villain to exist. I will conscript my people to carry out a full-scale annihilation of him and make him disappear completely. Only in this way can I restore the prestige of my Borgo family's rule in this region."

The young master of Borgo swore fiercely, then looked at Captain Thomas, whose face was tense, and asked, "Can you do it?"

Before Thomas could answer, Ulrich raised his gray eyes and said helplessly, "Young Master, please calm down. According to the kingdom's laws and the regulations established by your father—the esteemed Lord—before he left, you are not currently a lord. You have no right to forcibly conscript your subjects, much less to mobilize your fiefdom knights. Those knights swear allegiance to your father, and their armor bears the flying fish emblem of the Polgao family, but that emblem... does not currently belong to you."

Borgo's breathing suddenly quickened. He abruptly reached out and grabbed the maid who had been cowering in the corner, his rough fingers pinching her trembling chin. The girl dared not utter a sound, tears welling in her eyes.

"Do you see that?" The young master's voice was as sweet as honey, yet his gaze remained fixed on his two subordinates. "Even the lowest servants in this castle know to obey their master. And you—my father's two loyal dogs—are barking at me about laws and regulations?"

Thomas stepped forward, his chainmail making a heavy scraping sound. "Young master, Steward Ulrich is telling the truth. But," he changed his tone, his dark eyes like flint, "you can still mobilize the village guards and the castle's permanent garrison. I have fifty heavy infantrymen, fifteen cavalrymen, and eight skilled crossbowmen under my command."

The young master finally released the maid. The girl staggered back, dark red finger marks already visible on her neck.

"Ah ha," the young master scoffed, "So I should be grateful? Using a bunch of militia and watchdogs to deal with that red-haired Peter who can haunt the forest like a ghost? Thomas, your cavalry are blind in the mountains, and your heavy infantry will be panting like tuberculosis devils after walking three miles."

Thomas's face hardened further: "So we need a strategy. The guards in Takhov and Zheleyov villages are familiar with the mountain terrain and can serve as guides and scouts. We can block all the exits from the mountains to force him out, or—"

"Or should we have him dig a dozen more holes like a gopher, and while we're at it, cut off a few of our people's heads and hang them on the tree trunks?"

Borgo laughed in fury.

He suddenly waved his hand wearily. The raging fire seemed to have burned out, leaving only cold ashes. "Then go ahead with your pathetic plan. Thomas, take everyone you can. Ulrich, bring ten barrels of ale from the cellar for our warriors. And I will write to my father in Prague, asking for his authorization to mobilize my people and recruit knights, for I am his only son and the most legitimate heir."

He paused, his pale face slowly turning towards the gloomy sky outside the window, secretly vowing to kill that bastard this time.

"As you command, young master."

Ulrich and Thomas bowed and withdrew. Just before the heavy oak door closed, they suddenly heard the young master's voice: "Thomas, summon your sister Diana. I have some knowledge of floriculture to ask her."

Thomas's forehead veins throbbed, and he took several deep breaths to calm his murderous intent. His family had served the Borgo family for generations, and now, with both parents dead, he and his sister were left to depend on each other. As servants of the family, they could not disobey the young master's orders. But the humiliation in his heart made him unable to control himself.

"And the answer?"

The young master's impatient voice rang out.

Yes~

Thomas finally gave in and responded in a low voice.

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Upon hearing the news, Baron Gules, the "Bandit Baron" who resided deep in the mountains of Apolonia, narrowed his eyes, stroked his thick beard, and pondered: "Those 'Ulcers' lunatics were actually killed? Even I found the Troski Guard troublesome, yet they were taken care of by some unknown kid? Interesting..."

He instructed his men, "Send someone to deliver a gift to Big Mouth John in the name of the Five Fingers Alliance, congratulating him on defeating a powerful enemy. Then, take the opportunity to find out about this Peter Griffin—his background, his strength, and his intentions. Also, the Troski Trading Company must be in chaos right now… Perhaps, our chance has come?" A greedy glint gleamed in his eyes.

Deep in the northern forest, however, the "bandit" Casper reacted quite differently. He grinned, revealing jagged, yellow teeth, and laughed wildly: "Hahaha! Good! Well done! That old bastard Thelushe has finally met his match!"

He gulped down a mouthful of cheap liquor, his eyes gleaming with malice: "What Big Mouth John can do, I can do too. Tell the men to get their weapons ready! We're going to check out Takhoff Village!" He seemed even more excited and reckless, believing this was the perfect opportunity for him to expand his territory and plunder for riches.

Other bandits and poachers scattered throughout the territory were overjoyed. It turned out that the officially organized guards were not invincible after all.

Suddenly, everyone seemed restless, and a chaotic frenzy ensued.

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In the coachman's inn, many people were bragging and joking.

The name of "Redemption Knight" Peter Griffin and his red griffin banner became the hottest topic in the tavern.

"Have you heard? That Knight Peter, I heard he's incredibly strong, he knocked Captain Klaus down with a single blow!"

"More than that! My cousin's neighbor's brother-in-law was hunting nearby at the time, and he said that old monk was truly formidable! His swordsmanship was as fast as lightning, and the guards were like wooden stakes in front of him!"

"He calls himself the 'Knight of Redemption'? Who is he trying to redeem? Is he trying to redeem us, the poor oppressed people?"

"Why not? Haven't you heard about his story of providing free medicine to the common people in Semi Village?"

The common people talked about Peter with curiosity, awe, and a glimmer of hope. His past deeds, whether true or false, were unearthed, and his image became increasingly lofty and mysterious through word of mouth.

Several German merchants who were drinking and chatting shook their heads and sighed, saying, "With the balance broken, the lord's authority is damaged, the bandits are emboldened, and the situation will only become more chaotic. We'll have to take a detour from now on."

"Not necessarily. Haven't you heard about that Bai guy? He made a fortune in Brandenburg with the potions he got from the Red Griffin, and he wants to continue doing this business."

"The Red Griffin...this emblem looks familiar...I feel like I've heard of it somewhere before?"

"The coat of arms of the Griffin family, the Duchy of Pomerania, which is located by the sea in the north, is that of a griffin."

"Yes, yes, yes! Could this be a branch of the ducal family? I never expected him to come here! My friend, you have quite the insight."

The German businessman looked at the middle-aged, burly man who had spoken to him and nodded in approval.

The middle-aged, robust man had brown hair, a common bohemian color, and blue eyes that seemed to carry a hint of aristocratic blood. His mustache was meticulously trimmed, and his face was weathered, suggesting a man with a story to tell. He wore a half-breastplate, a beige coat, and a two-handed sword at his waist, exuding an air of extraordinary martial prowess.

"It's nothing, I've just traveled to many places and met many people."

The middle-aged, burly man raised his beer glass in a gesture. Several businessmen also raised their glasses and drank heartily. Then he said, "I agree with your assessment. Once the Red Griffin disrupts the balance, things will become even more chaotic here."

"Right? I knew it. My judgment has always been very accurate."

A businessman raised his glass to the middle-aged man as if he had met a kindred spirit.

The middle-aged strong man responded gentlemanly, then put two fingers in his mouth and blew sharply. The whistling sound pierced the night sky, and a group of robbers carrying knives and crossbows rushed in from outside.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for interrupting your drinking, but now it's time to rob you. Please put all the money you have on you on the table."

The middle-aged, burly man drew his greatsword from his waist, brandished it, and pointed it at the crowd in front of him.

"You, you're a robber?"

The businessman could hardly believe that he had just been drinking with a robber.

"Robbery is a dirty business, but it's a highly efficient way to accumulate wealth. I'm not an executioner; I won't take your lives. Please cooperate with my actions."

The middle-aged man led his gang, who stormed in and looted the tavern, even ransacking the owner's bedroom. Efficient, precise, and disciplined.

Moments later, the robbers carrying several boxes quickly retreated and disappeared into the night.