Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 204 Pre-Battle Conversation

Chapter 205 Pre-Battle Conversation

The coded calls coming from the distant woods were sharp and urgent, like an icicle piercing the brief tranquility of the village.

The lookout sent out an alarm; the Hungarian grain requisition team was approaching.

"The Hungarians are coming! Everyone, go back inside immediately and lock the doors and windows! No one is to come out unless I call them!"

Peter's voice instantly filled the entire room.

The villagers, who had just been discussing the truth, were instantly filled with fear.

Like startled birds, they rushed towards their stone and wooden houses in a flustered yet orderly manner, the heavy sounds of doors closing and being opened echoing one after another.

The once bustling village square was now filled with the desolate sound of the wind and an atmosphere of tension.

Peter turned to Chris and Brienne, and their eyes met in understanding.

"Let's go back into the woods," he ordered briefly, glancing at Müller beside him, whose body tensed up again at the mention of "Cumans."

"Sir, please come with me."

Müller nodded silently and followed with heavy steps.

As he followed Peter and the other two into the dense shadows of the forest, a look of surprise flashed in his cloudy eyes at the scene before him.

In the clearing in the woods, about thirty knights were already waiting in full battle array. Their sturdy armor, though covered in dust, gleamed with a cold, hard metallic luster in the dappled sunlight of the woods.

These knights were either wiping their swords, checking their bowstrings, or calming their restless warhorses. Their movements were skillful and their discipline was impeccable, clearly indicating that they were a battle-hardened elite force.

Muller suddenly realized, "That's right, how could a noble prince traveling incognito to investigate strange events only have two attendants? That's more in line with the pomp and caution a prince should have."

"Your Highness!"

Upon seeing Peter appear, the knights immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, demonstrating their excellent training. Peter raised his hand and made a "no need for formalities" gesture, his movements fluid and natural, clearly indicating that he was already accustomed to such scenes.

"How's the situation? How many people have arrived, and where are they?" Peter's voice was deep and clear, getting straight to the point.

Red Spider, who was in charge of reconnaissance, stepped forward and quickly reported: "Your Highness, the enemy is less than twenty minutes away."

The procession included twelve horse-drawn wagons. The force consisted of approximately two hundred infantrymen and fifty heavy cavalry, a considerable size.

They were carrying a black flag with gold trim, featuring a black eagle snatching a jewel, confirming they were troops under the control of the Polish Gabo family.

"No trace of Cuman cavalry?" Peter pressed, glancing at Muller out of the corner of his eye.

"No, Your Highness. Judging from the flags and formation, this Polish force does not appear to be of the same ilk as the Cumans."

"Damn it—what has Bohemia become now?"

Muller's hoarse voice trembled with disbelief as he clenched his fists, the rusted arm armor making a teeth-grinding scraping sound.

"The iron heel of the Cuman infidels has not yet been driven out, and even the Poles dare to so blatantly intrude into our land and plunder at will."

You're not going to tell me that even the Hungarians have come—”

He didn't finish his sentence, but the despair and anger in his voice were already palpable.

Everyone's eyes were involuntarily drawn to this "strange person" with a terrifying appearance and hoarse voice, filled with curiosity and scrutiny.

Peter spoke up at the opportune moment, introducing in a loud voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, this gentleman beside me is Sir Taras Muller from Wizental Castle in the West, who participated in the Holy War of Nicopolis."

To fulfill a sacred vow, he had spent the past six years guarding the so-called "Mouth of Hell" alone in the mines beneath the village.

He was a true guardian, a knight worthy of respect.

"The veterans of Nicopolis—"

"Six years of solitary perseverance —"

"In a place like that—"

A low gasp and gasp rose from the crowd.

Whether it was his experience of participating in that brutal battle and surviving, or his astonishing perseverance in the dark, gas-filled mine for six years, these are things that ordinary people could not achieve.

The knights' gazes towards Müller instantly shifted from curiosity to profound respect. In this era that revered martial prowess and integrity, such an act represented supreme honor.

Peter turned to Muller and continued to explain, "Sir Muller, as you can see, these warriors before you are members of my Silver Dawn Knights."

Our knightly order's belief is to protect the land and people of Bohemia, and our actions are to help the common people avoid plunder and assist the nobles in resisting extortion.

We declare to all aggressors that we will not pay taxes or grain tribute, and we will never allow a single grain of ours or a single grossen to fall into the hands of foreign enemies!

We have set up an ambush here today because we intercepted intelligence in advance and knew that an invading grain requisition team would come to plunder this village.

Meeting you here and learning your story is truly an unexpected and honorable experience.

"It really is a Hungarian? King Sigismund—"

Muller's voice was filled with the pain of betrayal, "In Nicopolis, I fought alongside him and witnessed his pathetic escape—"

Now, instead of conquering the Ottoman pagans of the East, he has turned his attention to invading Bohemia, a fellow Christian brother.

How shameless! Has he completely abandoned the glory of God and forgotten his duty as the "shield of Christ"?

With such perverse actions, if the Ottoman army were to advance westward again, who would resist them? The entire Christian world would face annihilation!

Muller became increasingly agitated as he spoke, his withered body trembling slightly with excitement, as if six years of pent-up repression were burning together with his current rage. He subconsciously reached for the sword at his waist, wishing he could rush out immediately and wash away this humiliation with the enemy's blood.

"Sigismund's actions have indeed deviated from justice and faith."

Peter spoke calmly, with a hint of worldly wisdom, "However, you don't need to worry too much about the Ottoman threat."

"Why?" Muller raised his bloodshot eyes and looked at Peter in confusion.

"Because their Sultan, the Lightning," Bayezid, had been defeated and captured last year by Timur, the Mongol conqueror from the east.

The Ottoman Empire was currently embroiled in internal strife over succession among its princes and was preoccupied with its own problems.

"What?!"

Muller's eyes widened suddenly, almost thinking he was hallucinating from his long imprisonment.

That powerful monarch who had destroyed tens of thousands of Crusader troops like a nightmare on the battlefield of Nicopolis, that infidel sultan who had caused him and countless comrades to suffer defeat and humiliation, was actually defeated and imprisoned by an enemy further east?

The news struck him like a thunderbolt.

"That Timur—is he really this powerful?"

"Not necessarily." Peter's lips curled into a meaningful smile. "Timur himself was defeated by a vast empire in the far east called the Ming Dynasty."

The troops under his command that invaded the Ottomans were merely remnants of his defeated forces who had fled there.

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"Further east—there's an even more powerful empire?!"

This time, not only was Muller shocked and his mouth dropped open, but even the well-informed members of the Knights around him couldn't help but look at each other and whisper among themselves.

The Ottoman Empire was already a formidable adversary that the entire Western Christian world viewed with great dread. And in the direction where the sun rises, there exists a nation that can defeat even the conquerors of the Ottomans.

What kind of "monster room" was it? The vastness and unknownness of the world made them feel incredibly small at that moment.

"Alright, enough of this small talk."

Peter clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention back to reality. "The enemy is on their way, and we must prepare immediately."

"Guards, prepare a docile and reliable warhorse for Sir Muller!"

He turned to Muller, his gaze sharply scrutinizing his weakened body. "Sir Muller, in your current condition, are you still capable of engaging in battle immediately?"

"My sword is my life!" Muller roared hoarsely, his voice filled with a desperate resolve.

But his body, swaying slightly from exertion, revealed the truth: six years of isolation, hunger, poison gas, and mental torture had already pushed his body to its limits.

"As long as this crippled body can still wield a sword, as long as I have a breath left, I can slay my enemy!"