Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Crossroads, Dusk

When the letter was returned untouched, Hans could hardly believe his eyes.

"Just like that... you gave it back to us?" He took the parchment roll and checked the wax seal repeatedly. "Unopened? Not switched?"

Andrei waved his hand impatiently: "Our Lord Peter said that as long as you behave yourselves and obey the law, Trossky welcomes outsiders. Now, you can continue on your way."

"Law?" Hans scoffed. "You bunch of robbers talking about law?"

He regretted it as soon as he finished speaking.

Andrei's eyes instantly turned cold, and the surrounding soldiers gripped their weapons again. Henry quickly tried to smooth things over: "He meant... uh... he was praising you for valuing order so much! That's quite rare in Bohemia these days!"

Just then, a caravan slowly approached from the east. Five wagons, carrying cloth, salt, and ironware, were accompanied by more than ten guards who nervously watched the roadblock.

Andrei left two men to monitor Hans and his group, while he led his men to meet them.

What happened next made Henry's eyes widen.

"Welcome to Troski," Andrei said to the caravan leader in a businesslike tone. "I am Andrei of the Red Griffin Guard. You have two options: one is to purchase our 'Passage Insurance'—potions worth 5 Groshens each, no limit on the amount. With insurance, we provide protection along the way, and if the caravan is robbed, we will recover the goods. The roadside inn also provides free accommodation, but food and drinks are chargeable. We offer wound cleaning and bandaging services, but the potions are not included."

As the Crossroads Station gradually took shape, Peter adjusted the toll system. Taxes were now levied only on merchants with caravans; individual itinerant merchants were exempt. Furthermore, merchants were no longer required to purchase large quantities of potions; a symbolic purchase of at least one bottle was sufficient for passage. Like sampling products in a shopping mall, if the product's quality and effectiveness were good, repeat customers would be guaranteed.

The team leader was a lean, middle-aged man who had clearly traveled extensively and seen the world: "What's the second option?"

"A tax of one-tenth of the value of the goods shall be paid. No protection, lodging, or bandaging services shall be provided."

The tour leader and several merchants were whispering among themselves. Henry pricked up his ears to eavesdrop.

"...much lower than Bordeaux's tax; those vampires only take a third..."

"...And there really is protection? It can't be a lie, can it?"

"...The last time I passed by, I saw them actually fight off a group of bandits..."

Finally, the team leader pulled out his money bag: "We're buying insurance. Give me one bottle, no, two bottles of treatment medicine."

Andrei nodded, signaling his men to collect the money and hand him two bottles of marigold ointment. He then took out a wooden plaque, wrote the date and caravan number on it with charcoal, and handed it to the leader: "Hang this on the lead wagon. Show this to anyone you encounter. If you need medicine, go to the tent over there and find a doctor."

To Henry's further surprise, one of the caravan's drivers had indeed suffered an infected wound on his arm. Clara, the Red Griffin's physician—a beautiful young woman—carefully cleaned the driver's wound, applied herbs, and bandaged it, without charging him for the entire procedure.

"This..." Hans was stunned. "They really provide treatment?"

"No, to be precise, it's just bandaging to ensure the injury doesn't worsen. You'll need to buy medication to fully heal."

Henry said in a low voice, "The bandaging technique is very professional, and the medicine is good too; at least it's not mud and cow dung."

After the caravan passed, several more lone travelers arrived. The red griffin soldiers did not charge them and let them pass directly.

Some people even chose to live in a row of wooden houses along the roadside with red griffin flags hanging on them.

Henry thought to himself: These don't seem like bandits, more like… tax collectors. But why would bandits be so well-behaved? And they clearly control this area. Where are the people of Borgo? Could it be true, as the rumors say, that the Earl's son has been kidnapped, and the entire territory is paralyzed?

Hans glanced at the setting sun and decided not to travel at night.

"How about we stay here?" he said to Henry. "At least it's safe here—those red griffins may be rude, but they seem to really know how to protect those who have 'insured' them."

Henry and the others agreed.

Henry took out 10 Grossens, bought two bottles of potion, and gained the right to stay in the inn's cabin.

The log cabins lined up in a long row along the roadside. They looked rather simple, and the interiors were also very basic, narrow enough to fit only a wooden bed with thick hay, a tanned wolfskin blanket, and a clean linen quilt.

Even the simplest log cabin is better than a tent, especially since these cabins are all individual rooms, preventing everyone's smelly feet from mixing. The sturdy oak doors also provide a certain level of security for sleeping at night.

"I can't believe I actually slept in a cabin provided by bandits. I must be crazy."

Hans watched as Henry and the others unloaded their luggage from their horses and carried it into the cabin, then leisurely spread his hands and sighed.

After the goods were moved, Nicholas, the archer and groom, gathered the horses that had been unsaddled together and led them to graze nearby. He would feed them oats and concentrate when they returned later.

Old Oz, the guide and cook, began building a campfire stove to prepare a meal. Although the inn provided food, it cost money and wasn't necessarily as good as what they had brought.

The scouts, brothers Tánrard and Conrad, wandered around, striking up conversations with those staying at the inn, and even took out dice...

Henry cautioned, "Young Master Hans, we should be more vigilant in this unfamiliar place..."

"It's time to be more vigilant, so I'm going to gather some information." After saying this, Young Master Hans straightened his expensive yellow clothes, a graceful smile playing on his lips, and walked towards Clara at the herb hut. "Beautiful lady, please forgive my intrusion, but I am Hans Capon, heir to the city of Rattay. May I ask your name?"

Henry: "..........."

Speechless, Henry could only take on the responsibility of keeping watch, but nothing unexpected happened until everyone had finished dinner and gone to bed.

In the middle of the night, Henry was awakened by the urge to urinate. He pushed open the oak door of the cabin and saw that there were still archers on guard at the post station watchtower, and two people patrolling on the ground, one carrying a torch and the other a crossbow, walking along a fixed route, stopping for a moment to observe the darkness at each corner.

These are even more professional than Lord Radji's guards! Are these really bandits?

He crept closer and hid behind the bushes to observe.

The soldier carrying the torch complained under his breath, "Brother, who would come at this hour...?"

"Shut up!" the crossbow-wielding soldier snapped. "What did Lord Peter say? 'Discipline is the lifeblood of the army.' Do you think we're playing house? The men of Polga could retaliate at any moment, and the bandits around us might attack. Get yourselves together!"

The soldier carrying the torch shrank back, not daring to speak again.

After urinating, Henry retreated back to the cabin, his mind filled with mixed emotions. These bandits had actually provided them with protection.

The night passed peacefully.

The next morning, a squad of red griffin soldiers were changing shifts—not a lax handover, but a strict ceremony.

The fifteen laid-off workers lined up in two rows, and Andrei, who was leading the group, was giving them a speech. Another burly man who was taking over listened attentively. After the handover was completed, four archers went up to the tower, six spearmen guarded behind the barricades, three crossbowmen stood guard behind cover, and the remaining two patrolled.

After breakfast, Hans and his group of six, along with their dog, packed their belongings and continued their journey toward Trossky Castle.

"Did you see that?" Hans whispered as he rode his horse. "Those watchmen are more presentable than our own guards in Rattay."

Henry nodded: "And they have a complete procedure for changing shifts. Even Lord Radji's training of new recruits wasn't this meticulous."

"I'm becoming more and more interested in this red griffin," Young Master Hans said with a smile. "Henry, after we deliver the letter to von Polgów, how about we pay that red griffin a visit?"