Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

That night, a young man came to the dungeon.

Then, a fierce conflict broke out with the dungeon guards, and they almost drew their swords.

After that, Yampolga was taken out of the damp, moldy dungeon and placed in a sturdy little wooden hut. His treatment was noticeably improved, and he was given black bread and vegetable soup.

This made the mercenaries, guards, Eric, and Istvan, who were still suffering from hunger and struggling in the dungeon, extremely envious.

But in the middle of the night, a violent outburst of profanity erupted from the cabin, the sound carrying far through the wooden walls:

"What? You're saying my life is only worth two thousand silver coins? I'm my father's only son, the rightful heir to the territory, and a high-ranking lord in Bohemia. How can I be so cheap? Go tell Ulrich that even if that fool Peter lets me go back for less than ten thousand silver coins, I won't leave!"

"Loyal and brave Thomas, you dared to come to my rescue at this time, and even drew your sword against the redhead. You have impressed me greatly. From now on, you will be my most trusted captain of the guard!"

"Take these hard, gritty loaves of bread away! I want meat! I want the treatment befitting my status as a nobleman!"

.........

The next day, Peter changed the young master of Borgo's lodgings again, to a sturdy stone storeroom with better soundproofing, so everyone could have some peace and quiet.

.........

Thomas left as planned to argue with Ulrich.

The camp, however, began another busy day, dealing with the prisoners.

The captured fifty-odd mercenaries, thirty-odd lords' guards, and five poor Moravian cavalrymen were all incorporated into the carpentry team for labor reform. Doug the Dog had extensive experience in dividing and weakening their morale, then tricking them into working themselves to the bone.

The four hundred captured militiamen were then divided into groups. Those who were destitute and willing to stay and farm could join the agricultural group. Peter promised to release those who did not wish to stay.

Tom, the head of the agricultural group, said with some regret, "These are more than four hundred strong laborers. If we could keep them all, we could cultivate more land and have a bumper harvest in the fall."

"We can't support that many people."

Romeo, the logistics team leader, shook his head, pointing out the key issue. This victory had indeed yielded a large amount of spoils; the captured grain was enough to feed them until the end of autumn. But if they added another four hundred men, it would only last for two months—the consumption would be too great.

Old Martin agreed, saying, "Don't be too greedy. This time, the camp has gained more than eighty prisoners, and we need some time to digest them before we can make sure there won't be any problems. Besides, aren't these conscripted militiamen the breadwinners of their respective families? Letting them go back will not only earn us a good reputation but also prevent damage to the fragile local economy."

"But what if they're conscripted again to attack us?"

John the Big Mouth raised a very real problem. These subjects were not free to choose their own path; if the lord were to conscript them again, there was almost no doubt they would continue fighting. It did seem a bit too sentimental.

“The human heart is a strange thing,” Peter said. “A determined peasant can crush a heavily armored warrior with a hoe and a flail; a peasant without a fighting spirit can only be harmlessly herded around like a sheep.”

Comparing their own performance to yesterday's battle, everyone agreed with Peter's assessment: their own militia fought bravely to protect their homeland, while Lord Borgo's militia crumbled at the first encounter.

"Public opinion is invisible and intangible, yet it truly exists. If we let them go back now, even if they are recalled, they won't fight us to the death. Instead, these people can go back and promote our policies, preparing for the future."

Peter had already considered the entire Trotsky territory to be his own, and these captured peasants would naturally become his subjects in the future. He released them early so they could continue working and avoid missing the farming season.

"Execute it," Peter ordered. "Prepare some freshly baked oat bread. Give each of them three when they leave. Brother Martin, you preside over this."

"Yes, sir."

After receiving their orders, the combat team began counting heads, the agricultural team began promoting the policy to recruit people, the logistics team mobilized women to bake bread, and the propaganda team erected a cross at the entrance to Devil's Canyon in preparation for the ceremony.

Soon, it was noon.

Of the more than 400 militia prisoners, 50 were left behind as bachelors, while the remaining 350 or so chose to go home. These men were driven by the combat squads through the canyon to the altar at the entrance.

"Will they really let us leave?"

"I don't know, maybe. Lord Red Griffin has always had a very good reputation."

"Could it be that they're worried about food shortages, which is why they're not letting us stay?"

"What if they just drive us into Shita Lake and drown us all?"

"Ah, I don't want to die! My lord, I want to stay. I'm willing to be a slave."

.........

More than 350 captured militiamen, each with their own thoughts and anxieties, were gathered before the massive cross at the altar. Old Martin, dressed in monk's robes, presided over a mass with the help of Carter the tomcat and Conrad the lone wolf.

The militiamen were finally relieved. After all, in the Middle Ages, peasants still believed in God blindly. Seeing that there were clergy members present, they wouldn't kill them, would they?

After reciting a long passage of Latin scripture, old Martin taught the audience to sing "The Thanksgiving Hymn" three times, line by line. The audience recited it haltingly, but whether they remembered it or not, as long as they had an impression, that was enough.

Then the combat team members maintained order, lined up the captured militiamen, and Martin, Carter, and Conrad began their operation.

Martin handed out bread to them one by one.

Carter pointed to the red-haired youth on the hillside, riding a pure white steed, wearing a scarlet cloak, silver-plated plate armor, and a longsword at his waist.

Conrad reminded them to say "thank you".

The three men had a clear division of labor and made rapid progress. Only then did the captured militiamen realize that the red griffin was really letting them go. So, words of "Thank you, Lord Peter" and "Praise be to the red griffin" kept circling above the entrance to the canyon.

Demons dwell in Devil's Canyon, but deep within this canyon reside brave and benevolent griffins!

As these people left in joy, the name Devil's Canyon was unknowingly replaced by "Griffin Canyon".

Peter stood on his horse, perched on high ground, receiving the praise of the crowd. Only after all the militia prisoners had left did he turn to the masked Oda who was accompanying him and say, "Oda, do you have something to say to me?"

"Lord Peter, I beg your forgiveness. During the pursuit of the prisoners, I acted leniently and let my father and Captain Gnali go. I am sorry for betraying your trust. I am willing to accept any punishment you may give me."

The masked Oda dismounted and knelt on one knee to beg for forgiveness. If he had known that Lord Peter treated prisoners so kindly, he wouldn't have been so conflicted.

"Let's go, I'll take you somewhere first."

Peter and Oda rode north along Stone Tower Lake toward Lake Vidraco, then turned and climbed a high slope, arriving at the home of the forest ranger, hunter Vostak.

--------

The hunter Vostak was a well-known hunter in the area. He could shoot a stag in the eye from 150 paces away, kill a wild boar with a quick shot when facing it head-on, and break a wolf's neck with his bare hands.

But two years ago, he suddenly changed. He became addicted to alcohol, was in a daze all day, his hands began to tremble and he could no longer hit a rabbit ten paces away. He became timid and was often trapped in trees by wolves. His wife, Zlata, was very worried about him, while his son, Witke, was ashamed of him.

Vostak and his son Witke were also conscripted during this recruitment drive, but unfortunately, he was captured before he could even fire two arrows due to his shaky hands.

When news of the young lord's defeat and the capture of many militiamen arrived, Zlata was deeply worried. His family had some savings, but it was still too much to ransom the two of them at once.

Just as she was grieving over having to choose between her husband and son, the two returned together.

Zlata, by the fire, knocked over a clay pot. Congealed milk curds splattered onto her coarse linen skirt, but she seemed oblivious as she rushed towards her husband and son, her withered fingers repeatedly tracing the whip marks on Vitek's face: "Saint Mary...you really are alive..."

Zlata pressed the father and son down onto the bench, repeatedly wiping the scabs from their faces with the corner of her apron. When she discovered that her husband was missing half of his left ear, she finally burst into tears: "Everyone said you were captured, and I was already preparing your shrouds... Luckily, it was only half an ear that was missing, as long as you're alive... Thank God, thank the Virgin Mary."

"It is the red griffin's mercy,"

The old hunter's voice was hoarse. He glanced at the empty wine barrel in the corner—a testament to the nightmares he had been running from for the past decade—which now seemed like a mocking coffin.

Vitek suddenly said in a low voice, "They let more than three hundred people go, and gave each of them three oat breads."

The father and son were filled with mixed feelings, and even after returning home, they still couldn't believe that there could be such a kind person as Peter.

Zlata made the sign of the cross: "Thank you, Lord Peter..."

Before the words were finished, the sound of horses' hooves shattered the silence of the woods and echoed outside the courtyard.

When the Vostack family saw Peter and Oda arrive, they froze like a herd of deer. The old hunter instinctively shielded his wife and children behind him.

"Sir, are you withdrawing your mercy?"

"Vostak said, his voice trembling with tears. Compared to Peter, he was as weak as the hares he had once shot," he said.

Peter dismounted, his plate armor clanging loudly: "The hunter Vostak, is it? Remember those innocent girls Von Polgao made you kill?"

These words resounded powerfully in everyone's hearts.

The masked Oda stared at Peter in horror. He hadn't known why Peter had brought him here before, but now he suddenly had a bad feeling.

Young hunter Witke looked at his father in the tavern in disbelief—how could such a coward dare to kill someone? And an innocent woman at that?

Vostak's face turned ashen instantly. This man, who had once strangled a wolf with his bare hands, now trembled like a withered leaf in the wind.