Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

The square fell silent again, save for the creaking of the winch against the wood.

The "Thief Baron" who had been hovering above them was truly dead!

Afterwards, several of the most heinous members of the Gules gang were sentenced and hanged on the platform as well.

The villagers did not disperse immediately. They stood in the square, watching the stiff legs of Gules and the others, watching the row of prisoners of Polgar kneeling, watching the red griffin banner fluttering in the evening breeze. The fear of the past two years was expelled with each breath.

An old man was the first to walk toward the execution platform. This man, whose three ribs had been broken by Gurus, took a bottle of homemade liquor from his waist—which he had intended to share with his son at the harvest festival—and presented it to Peter with both hands.

"Sir," he said in a hoarse voice, "may God grant you a long life."

Peter took the bottle, uncorked it, and tilted his head back to take a sip. The fiery liquid burned down his throat, instantly invigorating his weary spirit.

"This isn't just my victory," he said, handing the bottle back. "It's a victory won by everyone who dared to stand here."

"But we are peasants," said Marta, the widow, holding her thin son. "We only have pitchforks and sickles. How can we fight against soldiers in armor?"

"Enough pitchforks to knock a knight off his horse," Conrad's voice came from the side. He was wiping the blood off his sword with a rag, his movements as steady as if he were preparing dinner. "The key is whether you're willing to pick it up."

Martha's son—about seven or eight years old—stared at Conrad's bloodstained sword: "Sir, your duel with that knight was really impressive."

Conrad stopped what he was doing, glanced at the boy, and said, "I don't know why, but those who wield swords always end up losing their lives."

The boy nodded, seemingly understanding.

Conrad, unusually, said a few more words: "Would you like to learn swordsmanship?"

"think!"

"Come find me again when you're old enough to lift a real sword."

This remark sparked a murmur among the crowd. Several teenagers exchanged excited glances—this was the first time they had heard of someone willing to teach farmers' children swordsmanship.

Peter watched this scene with a slight smile on his lips.

Hans and his group watched the drama unfold in the hotel courtyard for quite some time; the twists and turns were truly thrilling. Old Oates exclaimed, "Whoever holds the power of law and judgment is the true lord in the eyes of the people. Peter the Red Griffin is indeed a remarkable man."

"Tell me," Hans suddenly asked, "what would happen if we went to see that Lord Peter...?"

Everyone was stunned.

Henry was somewhat puzzled. Young Master Hans was a nobleman and had always looked down on commoners. But what he was experiencing today…

"What do you mean, young master?" Henry asked.

Hans did not answer directly. He looked at the jubilant residents.

"Radji and Hannah sent me with a message, hoping to unite with Polgao against Sigismund," he said slowly. "But now it seems Polgao is in dire straits. His steward is a madman, his son has been kidnapped, and his territory is controlled by a group of... disciplined bandits."

He turned to Henry: "What if, and I mean what if, these 'bandits' were more capable of controlling Trotsky than the Count? What if they could become a force against Sigismund?"

Henry said cautiously, "But they are bandits, young lords. Even if he actually controls Trostsky, the King and the Council of Nobles will not recognize his rule. And nobles like Lord Raddy and Lord Hannah will not ally with bandits."

"Nobles?" Hans laughed, a laugh filled with bitterness and the stench of excrement. "The one who just dumped excrement on our heads was the nobleman's steward. And the ones who lectured us on the law and protected the caravan were the bandits' soldiers."

"This world is truly upside down. I need to think about this carefully."

A gentle breeze blew by, dispelling the stench of blood on the square and the stench emanating from them, but it could not dispel the fog in their hearts.

--------------

"My lord, we found two fine swords while we were annihilating Gules."

Klaus presented two finely crafted swords with calfskin scabbards, much like a treasure.

Peter took it, drew one out, the blade was like autumn water reflecting the moon, with a cold light flowing, and there was a griffin inscription on it.

"A fine sword." He lightly flicked the blade, producing a hum like a dragon's roar. He then handed the other sword to the old monk Martin, saying, "I think this should be the Toledo steel sword that Latovan forged for the two of us."

Martin took it, drew it, and swung it a few times. The sword rang out with a clear and melodious sound, very similar to his broken sword.

"I never imagined that the sword I broke with my own hands would be reborn in another form. Thank you, Lord Peter." Old Martin bowed deeply.

Peter helped the sword up, then looked at it and smiled, "Perhaps this is fate. From now on, this sword will be my go-to weapon. Since it's engraved with a griffin inscription, I'll call it the Griffin's Claw."

He then said to old Martin, "To celebrate the sword's rebirth, why not give it a new name?"

Both the tomcat Carter and the lone wolf Conrad looked at the teacher with curiosity and anticipation, wanting to see what names he would give them.

The old monk remained silent for a moment, then softly chanted:

"Not all heroes stand in the light."

Some people spend their entire lives walking in the shadows, just to set up a stone that can become a lamp to illuminate those who come after them.

"I am no longer suited to charge into battle, but I wish to train more swordsmen for Lord Peter and become a beacon for them. So let this sword be called Enlightenment."

Everyone agreed.

Peter laughed, "Let's go, that's all for today. We should head back to camp to celebrate our victory. A victory that isn't shared isn't a victory."

"But sir, will Feng Boergao keep his promise? After all, he is so cunning and despicable."

Klaus was retaliated against for serving in the village.

Peter glanced in the direction of the castle and said, "This is just the beginning. The old wolf is still in his den, waiting for reinforcements. The next seven days are crucial. We must let everyone in the Trossky territory know—times have changed."

...............

Peter led his troops away, and the troops inside the castle dared not make a move.

In his bedroom on the upper floor of the castle's main tower, Count Otto von Polgár smashed everything in the room that he could. Plates, vases, wood carvings—displays he had collected over the years—were reduced to rubble within minutes.

"You lowly wretch...you bastard...I'll skin him alive! I'll make a goblet out of his skull!"

Ulrich stood at the door, hesitant to go in. Thomas whispered, "Your Excellency, you need to calm down."

You dare talk to me about calming down? If you hadn't impulsively drawn your sword, things wouldn't have gotten so out of control!

But considering Thomas's sincerity and the need to employ him, the old count could not reprimand him.

"Calm down? How can we calm down?" Feng Boerga could only vent his anger elsewhere. "After today, who will respect the Boerga family? Those lowly people are cheering! They're cheering for that bastard!"

"But we still have reinforcements, don't we? Your vassals are arriving soon; they should have enough troops to deal with that red griffin, shouldn't they?"

Thomas continued to comfort him.

"You're right, loyal Thomas. I still have six knights leading thirty cavalrymen and three hundred heavily armored warriors. If they arrive within seven days, I will surely avenge them."

Inside the room, the Earl finally stopped, panting heavily. It had been years since he'd suffered such a defeat. That damned red-haired Peter had taken advantage of his weakened forces to deliver a crushing blow. How was this any different from a young, strong man launching a surprise attack while old Deng was weak? Absolutely no noble honor or bearing; truly befitting a bastard!

Thinking about it this way, the Earl's anger subsided a bit. Looking at Thomas with his thick eyebrows and big eyes beside him, he sighed that he still had loyal followers who remained by his side in times of crisis.

Just then, Ulrich knocked and entered, saying, "My lord, the Lepe family's messengers have arrived again. Should we continue to drive them away?"

Feng Boergao was about to angrily rebuke the other party for asking such a trivial matter repeatedly when he suddenly stopped waving his hand and changed his mind, saying, "Let them in."

"Ah, but sir, there are six of them. Won't it be dangerous for them to come in..." Ulrich didn't know why the Count had suddenly changed his mind, but he still dutifully reminded him of the potential risks.

von Polgar didn't answer, but instead turned to ask, "What do you think, Thomas?"

"We still have twenty warriors in the city. If we let them in and confiscate their armor and weapons, the risks are manageable," Thomas offered his professional advice.

"Then let's do it this way. I want to see the heir of Lataire at my table during dinner."

von Polgár gave the instructions, and Ulrich and Thomas bowed and left.

The reason why von Polgár suddenly changed his mind was because he suddenly remembered Peter's warning that he and his soldiers were not allowed to leave the city for seven days. What would happen to his only son? Who would go to ransom him?

Although he didn't want to admit it, the old count did feel a sense of fear towards Peter and uncertainty about the future.

Just then, the heir of Lathai arrived. Since the other party was of noble status, he was naturally on the same side as me. I could act as his messenger and redeem my son first.

He is too old to have more children and only has this one son. Today's defeat leaves him with no room for negotiation.

Damn Peter! Damn bastard!