Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 220 Military Camp Power Shift

7 month 26 day.

Summer weather is unpredictable, with rain and scorching sun frequently alternating.

Today, the sun was incredibly intense and relentlessly scorching the earth, and even the dust flying around the campsite carried a scorching smell.

Inside the commander's meeting tent in the center of the camp, the atmosphere was even more oppressive and somber than the weather outside.

The key figures in the Hungarian military camp sat around a rough wooden table:

The veteran commander, Ducat, whose temples were already showing signs of gray;

Grozav, a young administrative officer with a calculating look in his eyes;

Old Katz, the artillery commander in Prague, with a furrowed brow;

The unruly Cuman commander, Hertan.

Finally, there was the Polish mercenary adjutant, Sir Jessek, who was restless, his face filled with worry and humiliation.

On the ground knelt two Polish soldiers, still shaken. They were prisoners Peter had released during yesterday's disastrous grain requisition operation, and they had returned with a message demanding ransom.

Commander Zawish led fifty elite cavalrymen and two hundred heavy infantrymen out to find food for the increasingly depleted supply lines, but the army was almost completely wiped out.

The news spread like wildfire through the camp and could not be contained.

With no food supplies being transported back, the hungry soldiers began to whisper amongst themselves, and panic and discontent were growing silently.

The message the two soldiers brought back was simple: the Knights of the Silver Dawn had detained all the prisoners and were demanding ransoms—100 groshins per infantryman and 200 groshins per cavalryman.

To be fair, this price is not outrageously high for nobles and knights.

Upon learning that his companion had survived, the kind-hearted Jezek immediately began to find ways to raise funds in preparation for fulfilling this "deal".

However, Commander Dukat soon learned of this, which led to the current inquiry meeting.

The Hungarian army camp has recently been harassed by the elusive "Knights of the Silver Dawn," suffering heavy losses, but they know very little about its background.

Because they are ruthless and never leave anyone alive.

Now that they finally have two firsthand witnesses, Dukat and Grozav are naturally not going to let this opportunity slip by.

"Tell me! What does their leader look like?" Grozav asked first, his voice as cold as ice.

"How many men do they have? How many cavalry? How many infantry?" Ducat pressed on, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.

"What tactics did they use? What was their formation?"

A barrage of questions lashed out at the two trembling soldiers like whips. Somewhat bewildered, they instinctively turned to their adjutant, Jezek, for help.

Ser Jezek was torn, but his knightly code prevented him from disregarding the life and death of his comrades.

Besides, the "Prince of Brunswick" only demanded a ransom, not that they keep it a secret. He took a deep breath and nodded to the soldiers: "Tell me what you saw, as it is."

With their approval, the two soldiers began to describe their leader, their voices still tinged with lingering fear: "Their leader—who calls himself Prince Brunswick—is very young, probably not even twenty years old, and extremely handsome."

"What a load of bull! Václav doesn't have a single son!"

The officer, Grozav, interrupted impatiently, "Say something we don't know."

"They—they all seem to be cavalry!"

There are at least—a hundred people!

No, probably more! Our cavalry, the bravest men of Poland, were routed in a single encounter!

In less than ten minutes—it was all over! More than thirty people were killed in battle, and the rest were captured.

But the Knights of the Silver Dawn—it seems like none of them are seriously injured!

They can use magic! Really!

As they charged, they threw a bag, which exploded in a cloud of yellow smoke that stung people's eyes, made their throats feel like they were on fire, and caused them to cough incessantly, making it impossible to hold their weapons!

"They are not human, they are monsters!"

Their strength is terrifying; wearing such heavy armor, their charge is like a landslide!

Just one charge, and our formation shattered—and then came the slaughter, a one-sided massacre—

The ground was covered in blood, forming a small stream.

Commander Zawaish—he bravely charged at the prince, but was knocked off his horse by a powerful blow.

Later, a knight wearing a strange dog-headed helmet challenged the captain to a duel, and the captain—he lost—"

As the two men recounted their story with a hint of fear in their eyes, the generals inside the tent frowned more and more deeply.

There wasn't much useful, objective intelligence, but a sense of fear permeated the tent like a thick fog.

The entire force is cavalry, possessing astonishing combat power, wielding unknown "smoke" weapons, and led by a highly skilled warrior.

Can such an enemy really be defeated and captured head-on?

"That's enough!"

The officer, Grozav, sternly interrupted the increasingly ghost-tale-like description.

"Get to the point! Where did they agree to exchange the hostages and ransom?"

Upon hearing this question, the two soldiers immediately shut their mouths and looked at Jezek again.

The old gentleman straightened his back, and despite the immense pressure, he firmly refused: "I'm sorry, Officer."

Please allow me to refuse to answer. I understand your determination to annihilate this enemy force, but I must take responsibility for the lives of my captured comrades.

If they discover that I have betrayed them by sending an army instead of money, they will likely become enraged and kill all the hostages.

"ridiculous!"

The Cuman commander, Hertan, put down his wine pouch, spoke sarcastically, a contemptuous smile playing on his lips.

"A bunch of mercenaries banded together for money, what kind of camaraderie do you have to talk about? You Poles aren't even from the same lord!"

"Cumens! Take back your slander!"

Jessek jumped to his feet like a lion whose tail had been stepped on, his face flushed with rage. "The honor of the warriors of Great Poland cannot be tarnished!"

"Oh?" Hertan leaned back in his chair with a leisurely air. "What if I don't take it back?"

"You old bones, do you still want to challenge me to a knightly duel?"

"Snapped!"

A crisp sound rang out. Jezek was cornered, and his knightly pride left him with no other choice.

He forcefully threw his dusty leather gloves at Hertan.

"Hahaha! Alright! I accept your challenge!" Hertan laughed loudly, showing no fear.

If it were Zawish, who was in his prime, he might have thought twice, but facing the gray-haired Jezek, he was confident of victory.

Commander Dukat and his assistant Grozav stood by indifferently and did not intervene.

Perhaps, this conflict was deliberately condoned or even instigated by them.

Since that stubborn old man, Jezek, refuses to cooperate, let the fierce Cumans teach him a lesson and dampen his arrogance.

The duel took place in an open area on the edge of the camp, and the news spread quickly, attracting a large number of idle soldiers to watch.

The first match was a mounted duel. The two men, fully armed and mounted on their warhorses, stood facing each other at opposite ends of a designated track, each holding a lance.

The horn sounded, and the two warhorses began to accelerate, their hooves striking the dry ground and raising clouds of dust.

Jezek, experienced and with steady control of his horse, was trying to find an opening when Heltan charged.

However, age catches up with him, and his reaction was ultimately a beat too slow. Hertan, like a wolf on the plains, crouched low, his lance as steady as a rock.

In the instant the two horses passed each other, Heltan's lance struck the edge of Jezek's shield with pinpoint accuracy. The immense impact caused the old knight to sway violently on his horse. Although he managed to avoid falling thanks to his superb horsemanship, he had already lost the round according to the rules.

His warhorse, a magnificent Polish steed, was proudly led away by Heltan's entourage.

The second match was a sword duel. The two switched to unsharpened two-handed longswords used for practice, but the weight and the feeling of striking remained realistic.

Jezek's swordsmanship was steady, his footwork meticulous, and every move exuded the style of a classic knight. Initially, he was able to hold his own against Heltan with his rich experience, and even managed several threatening parries and counterattacks.

But Hertan's strength and stamina were superior, and his attacks were like a storm, carrying the ruthlessness and cunning unique to the Cumans.

He kept hacking and slashing, wearing down Jezek's stamina. "Clang! Clang! Clang!" The heavy sounds of impact echoed incessantly.

Finally, after a continuous and intense struggle, Jezek's arm trembled slightly from exhaustion. He was caught off guard and Heltan seized the opening, striking heavily on the shoulder armor joint with his sword.

The old knight grunted, knelt on one knee, and almost dropped his sword.

"You lost, old man!"

Heltan pointed the tip of his sword at Jezek and declared triumphantly.

Jezek's lieutenant had to remove his well-preserved breastplate and present it to Heltan.

Having lost two battles in a row, and with his beloved warhorse and armor gone, Jezek was utterly humiliated. His gray hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, making him look utterly disheveled.

However, when he struggled to his feet and faced Grozav's same question again, he stubbornly raised his head and repeated in a hoarse voice, "The lives of my comrades are more important than momentary victory or defeat."

His stubbornness infuriated Grozaf and Heltan, who launched a barrage of threats, inducements, and sharp insults, but the old knight remained steadfast, unmoved by the storms.

Commander Dukat watched this scene and nodded to himself.

Although he needed the intelligence, he couldn't help but admire Jezek's chivalrous spirit in keeping his promise.

Just as the atmosphere inside the tent reached a stalemate, a commotion broke out outside.

A guard announced loudly, "The King's envoy from Prague has arrived!"

The tent curtain was lifted, and a group of people filed in.

The leader was a distinguished Hungarian nobleman, around thirty-five years old, dressed in a magnificent silk coat, with a dignified and confident face. He was none other than Count Hermann Cele, a rising star in the court of King Sigismund.

Following behind him was Count von Polgar, who had not been seen for a long time. His face was gloomy, as if the previous defeat still made him feel lingering fear.

Herman Celer's rise to power was nothing short of legendary. He came from a branch of the Celer family (located in present-day Slovenia) and was originally just a lowly knight.

In 1396, during the disastrous Battle of Nicopolis, the Christian coalition was defeated, and King Sigismund fled to the riverbank, nearly drowning. It was Hermann who bravely pulled the king onto a small boat, saving his life.

From that moment on, his life trajectory was completely changed.

He accompanied the still-shaken Sigismund on a voyage around the waters of Constantinople, Greece, and Italy, enduring nearly a year of peril before finally landing in Croatia, western Hungary.

However, upon arriving in his homeland, he learned that Count Lacfi, the governor of Croatia, had already sponsored King Ladislaus of Naples as King of Hungary.

Faced with such a critical situation, Sigismund displayed astonishing political skill.

Instead of immediately seeking justice, he patiently convened the Croatian Parliament and sincerely invited Count Lacfi to attend, promising to pardon all his crimes.

When Lakfi believed the accusation and arrived with a small retinue, Herman Celes suddenly attacked, publicly accusing him of treason. He then led the royal guards, drew their swords, and slaughtered the unsuspecting Lakfi and his followers.

Thanks to his dual merits of rescuing the king and eliminating the traitor, Herman became the king's most trusted minister and received a large amount of fertile land and manor in Croatia from Count Lacfi, instantly transforming from a down-on-his-luck knight into a wealthy lord.

Fate seemed to be particularly kind to him. Soon after, Earl William, the head of the Celes family, passed away, and the Countess remarried, taking most of the family fortune with her, leaving behind only a young orphan girl named Anna and the empty title of Earl Celes.

Herman inherited the title of Earl and adopted Anna, raising her alongside his four-year-old daughter Barbara.

From then on, Hermann's career progressed smoothly, and he became a powerful and influential figure under Sigismund.

Last year, the Polish King married Anna, the 16-year-old adopted daughter of Herman, as his queen; this year, King Gigi also plans to marry Barbara, the 11-year-old daughter of Herman, as his queen.

Herman rose from a minor knight on a side branch of the family to become the father-in-law of two kings, reaching the pinnacle of his life at the young age of thirty-five.

During this invasion of Bohemia, King Gigi naturally brought his future father-in-law along to offer advice and strategies.

Two days ago, King Gygi of Prague received news that the Hungarian army camp had been attacked by rebels. He learned that not only had they suffered repeated setbacks, but they had also failed to eliminate the bandits and had even shamelessly asked him for military funds and logistical supplies!

If I really had it, would you all need to fight over it yourselves? You're all a bunch of idiots!

In a fit of rage, Sigismund believed that all of this was due to the incompetence of Commander Dukat and his assistant Grozav.

He immediately ordered Hermann Tseren to replace Dukat as commander to stabilize military power, and von Porghauer to replace Grozav to purge the internal forces. The sole objective was to eliminate the Silver Dawn, this major threat, as quickly as possible.

Herman Tseren's gaze swept over the various expressions on the faces of the people inside the tent, finally settling on the slightly dejected Dukat and the bewildered Grozav. He slightly raised his chin and announced proudly in an unquestionable tone, "By order of His Majesty the King, from this moment on, I am in charge of everything here. Do you have any objections?"

Heart