Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Two hours passed.

The leaders of the "Vulture," "Wolf," and "Black Bear" mercenary groups scrambled to the young master of Polgo's horse, their helmets askew and faces smeared with blood and dust: "Young Master! Young Master! We can't attack anymore! The slope is too steep, and the defenders are too strong! Our brothers are suffering heavy casualties! We need reinforcements!"

They may earn high salaries, but they need to be alive to enjoy them.

"Useless! A bunch of useless trash!"

Young Master Borgo turned pale with rage, lashing his riding crop across the mercenary leader's face. "What use are you? You can't even beat a bunch of mountain bandits! Get out! Send the militia! They'll help you take the mountain! If you can't take it, I'll take your heads!"

The order was given. The supervisory team began to drive the remaining militiamen away, forcing them to put down their makeshift spears, pick up the shields of the fallen mercenaries, and climb up the steep slopes on both sides.

The militiamen were ashen-faced and their legs trembled. Looking at the corpses and bloodstains scattered across the hillside, and hearing the cries of the wounded, they were filled with utter terror. They were farmers and laborers forcibly conscripted, who only wanted to live and return home; they had no desire to fight.

"Master... this mountain... we can't climb it..."

"Please, let us go..."

The supervisor's whip lashed down mercilessly: "Shut up! Get up! Anyone who dares to retreat will be killed on the spot!"

The supervisors showed no mercy: if you don't climb, then we'll have to climb the mountain!

With tears in their eyes and filled with reluctance and despair, the militiamen, like a flock of lambs to the slaughter, began to clumsily and slowly climb up the mountain.

From the hilltop, Peter and his soldiers could see everything clearly.

"They are conscripted subjects..." An archer lowered his arrow.

A flicker of reluctance crossed Peter's eyes. "Pass down the order! Archers, prioritize targeting the mercenaries in chainmail! Let those in cloth armor come up, try to capture them alive! Don't kill them!"

"Understood!" The order was relayed swiftly.

Thus, a strange scene unfolded on the battlefield: as the militiamen trembled with fear as they climbed the hillside, the anticipated rain of arrows and falling rocks did not come. Although a few arrows still flew overhead, their targets were clearly the mercenaries mixed in with the militia, trying to take advantage of the chaos.

"what!"

A mercenary wearing chainmail was shot in the back and rolled down screaming.

The militiamen standing nearby watched in horror, only to find themselves unharmed.

"Quick...climb up! It seems like they're not shooting at us from up there?"

A militiaman, panting heavily, felt a sense of relief at surviving the ordeal.

When they finally scrambled to the edge of the hill, they were met not with swords and spears, but with the roar of the defenders: "Lay down your weapons! Surrender and you will not be killed!"

Seeing the gleaming weapons and burly, heavily armored warriors before them, the militiamen, already terrified, almost without hesitation threw down the broken shields or wooden sticks they had picked up, raised their hands, and shouted, "We surrender! We surrender!" They were then roughly but unharmedly tied up by the defending soldiers.

The mercenaries, however, were in dire straits. Having lost the militia's "cover," they were once again exposed to the defenders' precise fire. Arrows and falling rocks intensified, each attack accompanied by screams and casualties among the mercenaries.

Another hour passed, and there was still no progress.

Sir Semi and Sir Nebakov, the supervising officers, were also forced to lead their troops to join the assault on the mountain, but their attack was equally futile against the defenders who had the advantage of terrain and morale.

The battle lasted from dawn until noon.

The mercenary group suffered more than half its casualties, and its morale completely collapsed.

The supervisory team also suffered heavy losses. The militia suffered even greater losses—most of them "disappeared" in the canyon, and a small number were captured or killed by stray arrows and rolling rocks during the attack on the mountain. The hillside was littered with corpses, and the stench of blood mixed with the faint smell of smoke rising from the canyon was nauseating.

Lord Borgo, like an ant on a hot pan, was restless and anxious on his horse. Looking at the mountain peaks that he had been unable to conquer and the bottomless canyons, he was filled with frustration and anger.

"Damn it! Damn István!"

He couldn't help but mutter curses under his breath, "Where did that poisonous snake go? It was supposed to cause chaos on the mountain! Why isn't it making a sound? That liar! Useless!"

He attributed the slow progress to the mysterious infiltrator's failure to act according to plan.

At the top of the mountain, Peter looked up at the position of the sun, then glanced at the exhausted and demoralized enemy troops below, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"The prisoners should all be returned to camp; it's almost time." He said to the messenger beside him, "Light the fire! Retreat according to plan!"

Soon, three bonfires were lit on the mountaintop, thick smoke billowing into the sky, forming a conspicuous signal. At the same time, the defenders on the mountain began to deliberately create some chaotic noises—the clash of swords, muffled shouts of battle, and even a few deliberately screamed cries.

"Look! There's a fire on the mountain! And shouts of fighting!"

The young master of Borgo and his comrades at the foot of the mountain immediately noticed it.

"It's Istvan! It must be that venomous snake that succeeded!"

Lord Borgo's anger instantly turned to joy, and he nearly jumped off his horse in excitement. "My plan has succeeded! The garrison is fighting amongst themselves! God help us! Quick! Send the order! Mercenaries, climb the hills on both sides! The entire army, immediately cross the canyon! Charge through in the chaos!"

"Young Master! The situation is unclear, so we should be cautious..." Sir Semi tried to dissuade him.

"Be cautious my ass!"

The young lord of Borgo rudely interrupted him, "I told you this was a successful scheme! This is an opportunity not to be missed! Semi! Nebakov! I order you to immediately lead the supervisory team, drive everyone through the canyon at full speed! Anyone who delays will be court-martialed!"

Under the strong orders of the young master of Borgo and the whips of the overseer, the remaining mercenaries climbed the hillside. As expected, they encountered no attack, only finding some broken weapons and discarded shields on the hilltop.

The supervising soldiers drove the surviving militiamen, filled with doubt and fear, towards the canyon entrance once more. This time, it went unexpectedly smoothly. Although the smoke inside the canyon hadn't completely dissipated and was somewhat choking, they encountered no resistance. Everything before seemed like just a nightmare.

"Hahaha! Smooth sailing! I'm truly blessed by God!"

The young master of Borgo did not hesitate to take the credit for himself, having long forgotten about Istvan.

He rode confidently into the canyon, and surrounded by his guards, successfully emerged from the other side. The army rested briefly, took stock of their numbers, and found that only three hundred militia and forty mercenaries remained. Ser Semi and Sir Nebakov's forces combined numbered nearly forty men.

The most complete formation remains the thirty-man heavily armored guards who accompany the young master of Borgo.

They looked back at Devil's Canyon, a treacherous terrain riddled with traps. If it weren't for the young master's strategy, they didn't know how many more men they would have lost before they could get through.

"Young Master is wise! Your foresight is unparalleled!"

"Young Master's divine might! The enemy is thrown into chaos!"

"I knew following the young master was the right thing to do! Now all the treasure in the new camp is ours!"

The survivors, grateful for the "victory" brought about by the "wise decision" of the young master of Borgo, immediately put on a fawning face and did their best to flatter the young master.

Lord Borgo, riding on horseback, basked in the flattery of his men, feeling as if he were a reincarnation of a great general. Fueled by this praise, he became complacent and, ignoring the exhaustion of his troops, led his army, blinded by the illusion of victory, on a triumphant march, quickly arriving outside Peter's new camp.

"The enemy is fleeing in disarray; it's time to press our advantage! Their camp only has a few dozen militiamen; we're sure to win!"

"Following the young master!"

"We've got this in the bag!"

Between the new camp and the canyon, there was a well-maintained forest road, about ten meters wide. The group marched along the road and soon saw Peter's new camp in less than two kilometers.

The camp's outer wall was a thick, two-person-high wooden fortress, constructed from tightly packed, large logs with sharpened tops. A shallow moat, filled with sharpened stakes, ran along the outside. On the wall, Peter, Conrad, old monk Martin, Carter the tomcat, and the masked Oda stood ready. Inside the camp were over sixty trained militiamen, armed primarily with bows, crossbows, spears, and flails made from farm tools, united in their hatred of the enemy.

After Peter retreated as planned, he returned to the new camp. As the camp leader and the backbone of the people, he needed to stay with all the villagers to stabilize morale during this critical time for the camp.

Conrad, on the other hand, owes his status to his unique golden talent: Vanguard Honor (Those who stand at the front of the ranks are always the first to engage the enemy and should usually enjoy the highest honor. When you are in the ranks, your troops' morale +5, defense +5, and stamina +5.)

With the addition of sword masters Martin and Tomcat, Peter was confident he could hold the camp even when surrounded by hundreds of men.

As for the forty combat team members under Big Mouth John and Redbeard Andrei, they did not remain at the camp. Instead, after returning the prisoners, they each led their men and quietly disappeared into the dense forests on both sides, as if they had vanished.

Looking at the "shabby" camp before him, the young lord of Borgo laughed contemptuously: "Hahaha! Peter! You ungrateful wretch! Did you think you could survive hiding in this chicken coop? How dare you defy the great Borgo family! Surrender now, and I might grant you a whole corpse! Otherwise, after the camp is breached, not a single one will be spared!"

His answer was a whistling crossbow bolt that grazed his helmet, nearly throwing him off his horse.

"Attack! Attack! Raze this bandit camp to the ground! The reward will be doubled!"

Enraged, the young master of Borgo issued an order.

Spurred by whips and bounties, the surviving mercenaries and overseers chopped wood into hammers and ladders. After more than an hour of preparation, they mustered their courage once more and charged towards the wooden wall with howls. The merchants accompanying the army hid behind, watching nervously and expectantly, calculating how much they could gain after the city fell.

Under the command of Peter and Conrad, the militia on the wall unleashed a hail of arrows at the charging enemy. Although their aim was poor, the dense fire still caused considerable casualties.

A charging mercenary was shot through the neck by a crossbow bolt and collapsed, clutching his bleeding wound. The overseer soldiers advanced with difficulty, shields raised.

Because the Polgár troops lacked siege equipment, the mercenaries could only climb using makeshift ladders and grappling hooks. They placed the ladders over the trenches or directly against the wooden walls and began their ascent.

The militia guarding the top of the wall thrust their spears downwards and slammed their flails down. The heavy flails, when they struck a helmet, could cause a concussion and knock out the victim, even if they didn't crack their skull; when they hit a shoulder, they could easily shatter bones. Screams of agony filled the air.

The gate was the primary target. Mercenaries used hastily felled tree trunks as battering rams, chanting as they rammed the heavy wooden gate under the cover of shields. Inside, the defenders held it firmly with thick wooden bars, while militia behind the gate thrust spears outwards through the gaps and firing ports. Each impact sent the gate trembling violently, splintering wood everywhere.

The battle was exceptionally fierce. The defenders, taking advantage of the terrain and the low walls, put up a tenacious resistance. Although the attackers outnumbered them, their morale was low, they lacked effective tactics, and casualties continued to mount. Young Master Borgo, watching from behind, was extremely anxious and kept urging them on.

Just as the battle had been going on for over an hour, the defenders were starting to show signs of fatigue, and cracks began to appear in the gate under the continuous impact of the battering rams, when suddenly something unexpected happened!

Suddenly, flames and thick smoke shot into the sky from the direction the Borgo army had come from, near the entrance to Devil's Canyon! That was the lakeside where they had previously encamped! The small number of soldiers left behind, along with the piles of supplies, provisions, and tents, were all there!

"Fire! There's a fire behind us!"

"Our camp! Our food!"

"Our escape route! Our escape route has been cut off!"

Panic swept through the attacking force like a plague. Looking back, they saw flames raging in the direction of the makeshift camp, turning half the sky red. Exhaustion, frustration from the prolonged siege, and despair at having their retreat cut off completely shattered the army's morale.

"What happened? Who started the fire?"

The young master of Borgo was deathly pale, and his voice trembled. He instantly thought of the vanished István. Could it be... could it be a trap? Alarm bells rang in his mind.

"Young Master! It's in the mountains! Someone saw an ambush there!"

A messenger, his face covered in soot, came running up to report.

"Are they... are they from the Red Griffin? They haven't returned to camp?"

The young lord of Borgo finally understood, and a chill ran from his feet to the top of his head. He was gripped by immense panic and hesitation: should he continue the siege? Or should he retreat immediately and secure his escape route? Looking at the still sturdy wooden walls before him and the terrified eyes of his soldiers, cowardice ultimately prevailed.

"Retreat...retreat! Put out the fire first! Protect the supplies!" he ordered, his voice trembling.

The order to retreat from the young lord of Borgo was like the last straw that broke the camel's back, causing the already chaotic army to collapse completely!

"The enemy is in disarray! Their retreat has been cut off! They're trying to escape!"

Peter, perched atop the wall, saw everything clearly, his eyes gleaming with a sharp light! This was a golden opportunity for a counterattack!

"Master Martin, hold the camp! The rest of you, follow me!"

Peter grabbed the red griffin banner leaning against the wall and waved it wildly! The vibrant griffin seemed to come alive in the firelight and smoke, roaring to the sky!

"For our homeland! For victory! Charge with me!"

Peter's voice was like thunder. He was the first to push open the rickety gate of the stockade, raise his longsword, and charge out!

"Kill them!"

"Charge! Kill them!"

The militiamen in the camp, who had been feeling stifled for half a day, were instantly filled with high morale when they saw their commander leading the charge, saw the red griffin flag symbolizing victory, and witnessed the enemy's chaotic retreat! Like tigers released from their cages, they brandished flails, pitchforks, sickles, and axes, roaring as they charged out of the camp and chased after the fleeing enemy!

The army collapsed like a house of cards!

The lord's army was completely disorganized.

Some mercenaries abandoned their armor and fled in panic into the woods on either side of the road, desperate for survival. Many more fled in terror back the way they came, trying to rush back to the canyon and escape to the lakeside camp, despite the burning fire there. The overseers, Semi and Sir Nebakov, tried to regroup their troops, but were overwhelmed by the fleeing soldiers and were barely able to save themselves.

John the Big Mouth and Andrei the Redbeard led their heavily armored soldiers to attack from the rear. Seeing this, Sir Semi and Sir Nebakov knew they were powerless to turn the tide, so they took advantage of the chaos and fled into the mountains to escape for their lives. Their families had no money to pay the ransom!

Peter's objective was very clear! He, along with Conrad, the tomcat, and the masked Oda, were like a red-hot dagger, ignoring the scattered soldiers on both sides, and thrusting straight into the heart of the enemy army—the young master of Borgo and his panicked guards!

"Protect the young master!"

The captain of the guard cried out in despair. The young lord of Polgar's guard consisted of well-equipped knights and squires, but in the tide of defeat, their numerical advantage vanished, and their morale plummeted. Peter's heavily armored warriors crashed into the guard's ranks like an iron torrent.

Swords clashed, warhorses neighed! Peter was unstoppable, his longsword flashing as he cut down two guards who tried to stop him.

Conrad and Tomcat, the two sword masters, delivered deadly blows with every strike. The masked Oda and the camp warriors also unleashed astonishing fighting power, causing chaos and defeat for the guards.

The young lord of Borgo was terrified when he saw Peter charging towards him like a wolf. He turned his horse around and tried to flee, but his warhorse was blocked by the chaotic crowd.

Peter lunged forward, his longsword whistling through the air, and thrust it into the man's chest, knocking him off his horse.

Then, it precisely rested on the delicate neck of the young master of Borgo! The cold blade pressed against his skin.

"Don't move! Young Master Polgar," Peter's voice was icy, carrying an unquestionable authority, "or your head will be in another place."

Time seemed to freeze at that moment. The noisy battlefield seemed to fall silent. Everyone saw the heir of the Borgo family, the spirited young master of Borgo, being held like a chick by Peter with a sword pointed at his neck, his face ashen, his whole body trembling like a leaf.

"I...I surrender...I request noble treatment, I want my father to pay the ransom, he will pay a lot of ransom..." He managed to utter a few words with a sob in his voice.

With the surrender of the young lord of Borgo, the last resistance vanished.

The banner of the Red Griffin flies high over the smoke-filled battlefield! An epic, miraculous battle where the weak triumphed over the strong, ended in a resounding victory for Peter's side! This will perhaps be sung by bards, becoming a new legend in this land!

Covered in blood, the masked Oda, fresh from a bloody battle, stood before his enemy, the young master of Polga. His eyes blazed with fury as he drew his sword, only to reluctantly sheath it again. "Lord Peter said he wanted to capture him alive," he thought, "there must be a reason. I can't ruin his plans."

Peter saw how upset Auda looked and patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't kill him."

After saying that, he turned and left.

"ah."

The masked Oda could not reveal his identity in front of the young master of Borgo, so he dared not speak or ask questions.

Conrad chuckled and gave him a shove, saying, "Fool, it means, beat him to death as long as you don't kill him."

"Ha ha"

The masked Oda understood that he couldn't kill the young master of Borgo to avenge himself, but he could beat him up first to vent his anger!

"What are you doing? I'm a nobleman! I can pay the ransom, but you can't touch me, ah, ah, ah, my face!"

Then came the pitiful wails of the young master of Polgao.

"Bang bang bang"

"Ding! Auda's loyalty +1"

"Ding! Auda's loyalty +1"

"Ding! Auda's loyalty +1"

........