Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Led by the camp sentry, Hans, Henry, and Richard began their ascent into the mountains.

Upon entering Griffin Canyon, seeing the towering cliffs on both sides and the winding canyon road, they finally understood what a natural fortress was, and why even with five hundred troops, the young master of Borgo could not break through here.

Twenty minutes later, we passed through the canyon and came to a dense forest with a straight, ten-meter-wide road cut out of it, leading directly to the campsite in the forest.

After walking two kilometers along a dirt path through the forest, the view suddenly opened up before us. The camp, surrounded by wooden walls, covered a large area and had a moat outside and arrow towers inside, making it no less fortified than an ordinary castle.

Upon entering the camp, the sight before them startled Hans and Henry.

This was far from the filthy, violent bandit hideout they had imagined. Instead, it was a neatly arranged village of wooden houses. Some were already built, while others were still under construction, the rhythmic clanging of carpenters working the wood filling the air. In the open space, fifteen strong men, led by a leader, were conducting combat training, their shouts deafening, their movements perfectly synchronized, exuding a fierce and powerful aura. Further away, in the newly cultivated fields, lush green vegetable seedlings were growing vigorously, and several women were weeding among them. The squeals of piglets echoed from the pigpen, a scene brimming with life.

"My God..." Hans murmured to himself. The ruins and despair he had imagined were nowhere to be seen, replaced by a savage yet vibrant energy. This was no longer a bandit's den, but clearly a burgeoning pioneer village.

A childish yet resonant singing voice drifted over. They looked in the direction of the sound and saw an elderly man in monk's robes—Martin—leading a group of children of all ages, sitting under a large tree and chanting:

I am grateful to the earth for providing me with food.

I am grateful for the warmth of the fire.

I am grateful for the sword that protected me.

Grateful to the griffin guide…

The lyrics were simple and straightforward, yet they conveyed a subtle challenge to the existing order that Hans and Henry had never heard before. What surprised them even more was that after the song, the burly man who had defeated Black Bartosh in Troschi village began instructing the teenagers on wooden swords!

"They...are teaching farmers' children to use swords?" Henry felt a sense of disorientation washing over him. This was unthinkable in Lataire and Skarlitz, where swordsmanship was the privilege of nobles and soldiers. Even Henry, the son of a blacksmith, only dared to practice secretly with a wooden sword.

Next, they saw the prisoner-of-war camp. In an area enclosed by sharpened wooden stakes, some haggard-looking men, dressed in tattered but relatively clean clothes, were engaged in light physical labor, such as weaving baskets or tanning leather. Others were doing heavy physical work such as logging, swinging hammers, and carrying goods. The guards, armed with spears, were vigilant but did not beat or verbally abuse them indiscriminately.

But if someone tries to slack off or cheat, they will naturally be given a couple of lashes to teach them a lesson.

For example, Young Master Yangboer, who was cleaning up manure in the pigsty and cutting it out for compost, was whipped twice by the guards for not working hard enough, and cried out in pain.

"Stop! How dare you treat my young master like this!"

Richard, who had been secretive since entering the camp, suddenly became brave, yelling at the guards. He rushed to the pigpen, hurdled perfectly, and shielded the howling young master of Borgo behind him.

"You are...you are Richard the Clever Tongue?! Why are you only arriving now? Where is Thomas? I've suffered terribly!"

Young Master Borgo embraced the clever Richard and wept bitterly, as if he had suffered a great injustice and had found a family to confide in.

"Young Master, you have suffered," the witty Richard comforted. "It's not that Captain Thomas and I didn't want to come, but we were obstructed by Steward Ulrich. Captain Thomas was unable to leave the city, and I only volunteered to ransom you after Count Borgo arrived."

"What? It's that bastard Ulrich again! How dare he!" Young Master Polgar gritted his teeth in hatred. After Thomas came to negotiate, his treatment had improved significantly. He didn't have to work and even had a private room.

As soon as Thomas stopped coming, his treatment immediately dropped. He was not only sent back to the dungeon where many prisoners lived, but he also had to do this dirty and tiring work of shoveling excrement. He swore that he had never suffered like this in his life!

After his initial frustration subsided, the young lord of Borgo suddenly grasped a key phrase: "You mean my father is back? That's great! Why hasn't he sent troops to rescue me yet?!"

"Shh, young master, keep your voice down." The quick-witted Richard looked around exaggeratedly, then pulled the other person aside and whispered, "We're in enemy territory, we can't be too presumptuous."

"What are you afraid of? My father is back!" Young Master Borgo was like a child who had lost a fight and was crying, only to suddenly learn that his high-ranking father was standing right behind him.

"But the Earl also lost. He was chased all the way back to the castle by Red-Haired Peter and forced to swear an oath not to step outside the castle for seven days." Clever Richard clutched his chest, as if sharing the same sorrow, and said, "Haven't you heard?"

"Impossible!" Young Master Borgo was stunned, his eyes wide, and he kept muttering things like "Impossible, how is this possible."

That was his invincible father in his eyes, how could he possibly lose?!

"That's exactly right," Richard the Clever sighed. "Red Peter also captured the Earl's bodyguard, Black Bartosh, who should be imprisoned in this prisoner-of-war camp too, right? Didn't you see him?"

"I... I think I saw someone who looked like him, but I didn't dare to recognize him." Young Master Borgo seemed to have finally accepted reality, and sat down on the ground in despair, no longer caring about how dirty the pigsty was.

He remembered that, besides Black Bartosh, he also seemed to have seen the knights and guards of Nebakov Castle. Even they had been captured. Was Troski Territory really doomed?

"Hey, Sir Hans, Mr. Henry, come and lend a hand! Are you going to just let young Master Borgo stay in this stinking place any longer?"

With his hands on his hips, the quick-witted Richard began to take control of the situation, ordering Hans and Henry over to help carry the young master out, as if he were the one in charge of the negotiations.

Hans and Henry exchanged a glance, then looked at the sentry who had led them there. Seeing that he didn't intend to stop them, they endured the stench and went over to pull the young master of Borgo, who was sitting on the pig dung, up. The three of them dragged and pulled him out of the pigpen.

Just as the guard was about to say something, an old soldier pulled him back and shook his head slightly.

"I will lodge a strong protest with Baron Red Griffin. The young lord of Polgar is the heir to the earldom and should not be subjected to such insults and treatment!"

The quick-witted man's loud pronouncements made the young master of Borgo feel like he had found a reliance. On the contrary, he was quite dissatisfied with Hans and Henry, these two unfamiliar men who were covering their noses.

Peter appeared at the opportune moment, laughing loudly, "What a sharp envoy! Since Captain Thomas last time, you're another envoy who dares to yell at me. I admire such a tough guy. I must admit, my management was somewhat negligent, causing some misunderstandings. Please take Young Master Polgar to take a bath first, and then we can discuss this further."

The quick-witted Richard, who was also the handsome Charlie, the head of the intelligence team's public relations department who had disguised himself and entered the castle, snorted and led the grateful young master Polgar to the bathhouse for a bath.

Hans and Henry looked at each other, unsure of what to do, and could only stare blankly at the tall Peter.

Peter also curiously observed the two protagonists from the game; this was their first official meeting. Hans had a straight nose, handsome features, wore full plate armor, and sported a side-parted blond hairstyle, looking both dashing and roguish; Henry had thick eyebrows, large eyes, short brown hair, a long sword at his waist, and sleek plate armor. Apart from his slightly wide-set eyebrows, he was perfect in every other way.

"I'm Peter, Peter Griffin. It's a pleasure to meet you both."

Peter spoke first, offering a very polite greeting.

The two men realized what was happening, and Hans bowed slightly, saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Peter. I am Hans Capon, heir to the city of Rattay. This is my squire, Henry."

Henry also bowed slightly, a gesture of respect for those with power.

Peter laughed and said, "I remember now. The Crossroads Post Station reported the day before yesterday that a group of noble messengers had gone to deliver a letter to Count von Polgau. That must have been you. I suppose you've already met the old count successfully."

"Actually, it didn't go smoothly."

Hans and Henry made a comment. Then they recounted what had happened as a joke, concluding, "If you hadn't forced Count von Borghese out of town, we don't know how many more days we would have wasted in the tavern before completing our mission. So, you've helped us at least twice."

"Oh, now that the letter has been delivered, why not leave as soon as possible? You don't really think that cunning count would agree to an alliance with you, do you?"

Peter, now firmly established, was not afraid to change the course of events. His intervention prevented an attack when Henry and his companions spent the night at the pond; no one died, the letters were not lost, and von Borghese read them. However, such stubborn nobles would not easily change their stance unless they saw tangible benefits or were cornered.

Hans and Henry staying in Troschi would only be a waste of time.

Henry said, "Thank you for reminding us, but we still want to try again. This country has suffered enough. If we can reduce some of the internal strife and unite to drive out Sigismund as soon as possible, we're willing to waste a little more time."

Peter nodded, agreeing with their insistence. The necessary reminders had been given; now, facing an uncertain future, they could only hope for the best.

"Count von Polgao has asked us to discuss the ransom for young Polgao and Black Bartosh. The Count has agreed to the 15000 Groschen you previously negotiated with Captain Thomas, and 2000 Groschen for Black Bartosh. He only hopes to reach an agreement as soon as possible and redeem them in the presence of a priest."

Hans then explained the main purpose of his visit.

Peter shook his head and said, "No rush. We'll talk face to face after Young Master Borgo has finished his bath."

15000 Groshen was the previous price; if you still want to redeem someone for that price now, you're dreaming.

Seeing that Peter had no intention of negotiating with them, Hans and Henry had no choice but to shut up.

Peter chuckled, "As guests, I don't have much to offer you. If you're bored, why don't you take a stroll around the camp and wait for that stinky young master?"

Hans and Henry, recalling the disheveled scene they had just witnessed in the pigsty, both laughed.

Peter called over the tomcat master and asked him to show the two guests around. He then returned to the chieftain's cabin and, after settling the young master of Borgo into a bath, the quick-witted Richard sneaked over. Seeing that Hans and Henry had been sent away, he went inside and gave Peter a detailed report on the situation inside the castle.

Master Cat led Hans and Henry on a stroll around the camp to kill time.

Suddenly, Henry's gaze locked onto one of them—a tall, sinister-looking Hungarian, István! Even from a distance, even though the man was dressed in the coarse clothes of a prisoner, Henry would never mistake this face that haunted his nightmares! This was the man who had plotted to destroy Skarlitz, burned his home, and stolen his father's prized sword!

A surge of fiery rage, almost bursting from his chest, instantly overwhelmed Henry. He let out a beastly growl, completely forgetting his purpose, and charged like a raging bull towards the place where the prisoners were working!

"Istvan!!"

Henry's roar echoed through the crowd.