Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

“I understand your pain, Henry,” Peter finally spoke, his tone even somewhat gentle, but the words were as cold as iron. “But Istvan is now my prisoner. By law and custom, he, and everything on him, including your father’s sword, is my spoils, my property. You intend to kill my property on my own soil, so tell me, what do you intend to offer in exchange?”

"Money! I have money! It's all yours!" Henry shouted urgently, pulling out a bag of loose silver coins.

Peter shook his head, not even glancing at the bag of money: "I don't lack money, at least not this much."

"Then what do you want?!" Henry asked urgently.

Peter took a step closer and looked intently at Henry, as if examining a lost soul.

"I haven't decided yet," Peter said slowly, "but I can return the sword to you first." With a wave of his hand, one of his men quickly left and soon returned with a well-maintained longsword, which was none other than the sword of Raddy, the heirloom of Henry's father.

Peter handed the sword to the stunned Henry: "I'm helping you only so you remember this day, remember that you owe me a favor. And you'll repay me at some point in the future when I deem it appropriate. Will you do this deal?"

Henry took the recovered sword, his fingers turning white from the effort. The flames of revenge burned within him, but Peter's calmness and his seemingly generous yet profound terms were like a bucket of cold water, bringing him back to his senses. He glanced at the heavily guarded István, then at the unfathomable Peter, and at Hans beside him, whose face was grave.

Finally, he nodded heavily, clutching the sword tightly to his chest: "I...I'll do it. Although I know that ordinary deeds cannot repay such a debt of gratitude, I can work for you during the negotiations. I am an excellent blacksmith, and if your camp needs anything forged, you can entrust it to me with confidence."

Peter smiled faintly. "Very good. Take Henry to the blacksmith."

This sudden uproar subsided temporarily in a way that surprised everyone. Hans looked at Peter, his heart filled with a mixture of curiosity and doubt. This Peter was unlike any of the nobles he had ever met.

An hour after the incident at the prisoner-of-war camp was dealt with, young Master Borgo had also finished his bath, and the formal negotiations were about to begin.

The negotiations took place in a large building in the center of the camp. This building, which had only been built recently, served as the camp's power center. It was quite spacious, with several suites, and in the middle was a large, long conference table used for important meetings.

Peter sat at one end of a long wooden table. Behind him, two sword masters, Carter the tomcat and Conrad the lone wolf, stood fully armored, their hands on their sword hilts, exuding a menacing aura.

At the other end, the shaken young master Borgo sat timidly, not daring to look up. To his right, the quick-witted Richard offered careful comfort, while to his left, Hans Capon glanced around indifferently.

Seated in the middle of the long table was the old monk Martin, with an old Bible spread out in front of him, representing God watching over the negotiations.

Let's begin!

Peter spoke first, asking Young Master Borgo, "Yang, how much do you think you're worth?"

"I, I, didn't you say 15000 Groshens before? I have no objection at all." After being whipped in the prisoner-of-war camp, the arrogant young master's eyes became much clearer, and his words softened.

“No, that was before, and Steward Ulrich already rejected the offer, didn’t he?” Peter smiled. “Now, the price has changed.”

"That old bastard!" Yang Puerga cursed through gritted teeth. "I knew it!"

The quick-witted Richard quickly comforted him, "Don't worry, young master, don't worry. Although there are bad guys causing trouble, Captain Thomas and I are still working for you. As you know, Captain Thomas is extremely loyal to you and has repeatedly requested to bring troops to rescue you, even if it means a direct assault! Unfortunately..." He hesitated, then stopped.

"What's there to regret?!"

"Unfortunately, the Count strictly forbade it. The Count... seems to prefer to resolve the problem slowly. Captain Thomas was even reprimanded for this." Richard cleverly portrayed Thomas as a loyal subject, while Ulrich and the Count appeared indifferent and hesitant.

These words, like poison, quickly took hold in Jan Polgar's heart. His resentment towards Ulrich reached its peak, and he also felt dissatisfied with his father for failing to "do his best" to rescue him. On the contrary, he developed an unprecedented dependence and trust in Richard, the "righteous" and eloquent man who shared his "interests."

"Richard, my good friend, I can only rely on you now! You must help me!" Yang almost pleaded. He had never taken this "Richard the Wandering Knight" seriously before, but unexpectedly, he was the only one who came to his rescue in his time of need.

"Don't worry, Young Master Yang." Richard nodded solemnly, "I will do my best to negotiate and get you out of this predicament as soon as possible. It's just that the ransom... I'm afraid it won't be low." He subtly laid the groundwork for this.

"Any amount is fine! Just let me get out of this hellhole!" Yang didn't care about anything else anymore.

With his silver tongue and keen understanding of Young's psychology, Richard successfully played the role of a reliable intermediary, gaining Young's trust and planting a seed of distrust within the Borgo family.

Having received his "authorization," the quick-witted Charlie readily took on the role of "manager" of the negotiations, asking, "Baron Griffin, how much ransom do you desire?"

"5 Grosshins!"

Peter said slowly.

"5? That's almost ten years' worth of income for the Troskii territory!"

Richard feigned surprise, then said to young Master Polgar, "While this is within the reasonable range for noble ransoms, it's definitely an exorbitant price!"

Hans, standing next to him, was slightly surprised when he heard the amount. His Kutenberg half-breastplate only cost 500 Groschen, his Nuremberg half-breastplate 800, and his Milan half-breastplate was more expensive, but it only cost 1000.

With 5 Groshins, you could place an order for 100 sets of half-breastplate armor in Kutenberg and organize 100 heavily armored soldiers wearing half-breastplate armor! This would be a huge military force. When they besieged the Vlanik bandit camp, the three parties of Ratai, Talmuburg, and Radji only managed to muster a little over eighty heavily armored soldiers.

Hans couldn't help but marvel at Peter's enormous appetite, asking for so much right off the bat!

Young Master Borgo wasn't particularly interested in these figures; he only took in "ten years' income" and "within a reasonable range." If he had to trade ten years' income from a remote territory for his freedom, would he even need to consider it? Of course, his freedom was more important!

Young Master Borgo secretly nudged Richard, trying to persuade him to agree, confident that his father could definitely come up with the money. The silver-tongued Richard, however, waved his hand, signaling him not to act impulsively.

"Baron Griffin, your demands are excessive. Shouldn't we be given a reasonable explanation for such a significant increase?" Richard the Clever stood up, placed his hands on the table, and leaned forward to express his protest.

"If I had to give a reason, it would be that you haven't respected me enough."

Peter placed his hands on his chin. "I originally wanted to resolve this peacefully: you pay the ransom, and I'll return a complete heir to the land. We'd respect each other and resolve the dispute perfectly."

Peter's tone turned stern. "But who would have thought that first, Steward Ulrich threw my goodwill to the ground, and then the Count led his troops to attack me in the village of Trossky. You have simply trampled my goodwill underfoot!"

As Peter's stern words fell, both Cat Cat and Lone Wolf Conrad drew their swords in perfect unison, glaring angrily at each other. This startled the already guilty young master, Polgar, who shrank back behind the glib-tongued Richard.

Hans, who was watching the commotion from the sidelines, couldn't help but let out a sneer. This made the petty young master Borgo both ashamed and angry.