Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

It was getting late, and it would take about two hours to return to his Demon Canyon camp. To continue his swordsmanship training, Peter decided to rent a bed at the camp and would stay there for the next few days.

To thank the tomcat master for his instruction, Peter also bought a few grouse and a barrel of beer from the camp grocery store, intending to treat the master to a barbecue that evening.

Instead, Master Cat led them directly to the large campfire in the center of the camp.

The pitch-black night sky enveloped the camp, but a huge campfire blazed in the center, its orange flames greedily licking the night sky and illuminating the people sitting around it. The air was filled with the aroma of roasting meat, the spiciness of cheap liquor, and the unique scent of sweat and dust.

"Guys, the nights of the Gypsies are never lonely. Come on, let's join in."

Master Cat warmly invited Peter and his two companions to a gathering.

Gypsies are known for their warm and outgoing nature, so they especially enjoy having bonfire dances at night.

People who have been busy all day gather around a roaring bonfire like family in the evening, singing, dancing, playing instruments, eating meat, and drinking wine.

This is the freedom they are pursuing.

The sounds of hand drums, lutes, and off-key whistles intertwine to create a wild and free melody that assaults the eardrums and ignites the dormant restlessness in the blood.

"Is this what freedom feels like?"

Peter gladly joined in, sitting on a log, leaning against a dilapidated wheel, and raising his wooden beer mug to the tomcat master.

Tom and Jerry also took off their leather armor, opened the collars of their coarse cloth shirts, and swayed their bodies to the rhythm of the music, their wooden beer mugs swaying gently in their hands.

"I prefer this unrestrained life to working for noble lords."

The tomcat clinked glasses with Peter, took large gulps, and some beer dripped from his whiskers. He gulped down a large glass of beer, let out a long sigh, and shouted "That was refreshing!"

"Perhaps, but anyway, I was happy today, and that's enough."

The firelight danced in Peter's deep eyes, reflecting a rare sense of relaxation and focus. He knew that absolute freedom was impossible in this dark Middle Ages; these Gypsy nomads struggled to survive between the nobility and the common man, with danger lurking at any moment. But so what? At least for now, everyone was content and happy.

"Young man, you have a good capacity for alcohol, but look at your appetite."

A scruffy old hunter nearby shared a whole roasted rabbit leg with Peter, which was sizzling with oil.

"Thank you. With my appetite, I can eat a whole pig in three bites."

Peter took it with a smile, took a big bite, and grease smeared his mouth. He casually wiped it with his sleeve and made a boast, which drew a burst of good-natured laughter.

This is the raw and genuine joy that belongs to the wilderness.

"Your name is Peter, right? That poor wandering knight who doesn't even have plate armor? Master Tomcat praised you as a rare swordsmanship genius. Cheers to genius!"

A young Gypsy man with flushed cheeks approached.

Peter, unperturbed, raised a large, full glass of beer and said, "Poverty is just a test from God. Cheers to the plate armor!"

"Cheers!"

Seeing how easygoing Peter was, the people around him all joined in.

"You're nothing like those so-called knights I've met before. You're unpretentious, you don't have any inexplicable sense of superiority, and you don't have any of those ridiculous rules. I like you!"

The Gypsy lad laughed as he gulped down the murky beer from the earthenware jar into Peter’s nearly empty wooden cup, the liquid even splashing onto Peter’s boots.

"I am a knight seeking redemption, unlike those corrupt and depraved individuals. I also like you all, my friends."

Peter raised his glass in a gesture of respect.

"Haha, well said! For...for what again? Who cares! For tonight! For the campfire!"

The slightly tipsy Master Cat also chimed in from the side.

"For freedom!"

Peter laughed loudly, raised his glass in response, his voice booming and drowning out the drumbeats, and tilted his head back to gulp down a large mouthful.

"Tonight! To the campfire! To freedom! Cheers!"

The surrounding crowd erupted in cheers, raising their glasses in a toast.

Just then, a fiery red figure, like a flame swaying in the wind, gracefully swirled into the center illuminated by the firelight. It was the chief's daughter, Marika, and the undisputed most beautiful woman in the camp.

The seventeen-year-old girl wore a green patterned dress, her long, jet-black hair braided into two thick braids that hung down her chest, the ends of which were adorned with a few gleaming copper coins. Her dance steps were full of primal allure; her waist swayed, her bare feet slapping the ground beneath her feet, and with each spin, her skirt billowed, revealing her muscular calves.

Her gaze, like a hook, pierced through the leaping figures, precisely locking onto Peter sitting on the outer edge. The music reached a climax, and Marika abruptly stopped, extending a slender yet strong finger, pointing directly at Peter.

"You!" Her voice was clear and crisp, tinged with pride and a hint of provocation. "The newcomer! Knight Griffin! Don't sit there like a block of wood! The fire's burning, the drums' beating, are your feet rooted to the spot? Come on! Dance with me!"

"Oh no, this outsider has actually won Marika's favor!"

In an instant, the noise in the camp seemed to subside. All eyes—kind, curious, and especially those of the young men—were focused on Peter.

Envy, jealousy, resentment... a complex mix of emotions filled the air.

Two gazes stood out, one particularly intense and the other sinister—from Guy and Tipo on the other side of the fire.

Guy, Marika's older brother, hurled the bone he was holding into the fire, sending sparks flying. His face was ashen as he stared intently at his sister's outstretched hand towards Peter, his teeth clenched, a low growl escaping his throat.

"Damn it... this despicable local has only been here one day and already wants to steal Marika's heart?"

Marika's second brother, Tipo, took a large gulp of wine, his eyes sweeping menacingly over Peter's robust physique and handsome face. He said sourly to Guy, "Look, our noble bird has flown into the woods and stolen Marika's heart. That kid... what makes him so special?"

In Gypsy culture, family honor and the protection of women are very important. Therefore, Guy and Tipo were wary of Peter.

"Oh, me?"

Peter pointed to his nose in surprise, somewhat bewildered. "As the female protagonist of the 'Love, Freedom, Glory' mission, shouldn't you be going to find your farmer Bohush? Why are you trying to seduce me?"

Oh, I see. At this point in time, there are still about two months before the official start of the game's storyline. Marika, who just moved here with the nomad caravan, probably hasn't had a chance to meet the farmer yet.

Should we refuse?

That won't do. Refusing an invitation from a beautiful lady and keeping her up all night would be a terrible thought for me.

"I am delighted by your invitation, beautiful Miss Marika. Although I am not very good at dancing, I believe that if you are the one to guide me, I will be able to learn your dance very quickly."

Peter bowed politely.