Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 183 Bullying the weak and fearing the strong

Chapter 184 Bullying the weak and fearing the strong

Kubinka was a legendary figure. He was known as the best archer north of the Alps, with godlike archery skills, but in his middle age he became obsessed with the matchlock gun, a new type of weapon.

He was a heavy drinker, gambler, and frivolous man, and his mouth was full of dirty jokes, but he was incredibly reliable in crucial moments.

After the Drunkards' Legion was wiped out by the Hungarian army, Kubinka joined the uprising in Misk village to fight against the Hungarian grain requisition team until they were betrayed by the lord, the uprising failed, and everyone was separated.

When Kubinka saw that Peter wanted to establish more contact points, he remembered the remnants of the insurgent army hidden in the forest.

But to find those people, they need to meet someone first.

Led by Kubinka, the group continued deeper into the forest, the narrow path winding like a snake, flanked by tall oak and hazel bushes.

Suddenly, Peter raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop. Ahead lay a cabin in the woods, its roof covered with hay, and a faint scent of herbs wafted from its chimney. A middle-aged woman sat on a wooden stool in front of the cabin, grinding plant roots with a stone mortar and pestle.

She was wearing a faded linen dress with a leather rope tied around her waist, from which hung several small cloth bags.

Her fingers were rough from years of labor, but her movements were as precise as a watchmaker's, each grinding and polishing step rhythmic.

Kubinka's eyes lit up, and he strode forward. "Hi, Flaveta?" he called out, his voice filled with the joy of a long-awaited reunion.

"Kubinka? It's you! You old bastard, you're still alive?"

The female herbalist looked up. Her face was tanned slightly by the sun, and fine wrinkles were etched at the corners of her eyes, but her eyes were as bright as morning dew.

She put down the mortar and pestle, stood up, wiped her skirt with her hands, and gave Kubinka a hug.

Everyone laughed good-naturedly.

Are these people your cronies?

The middle-aged herbalist frowned when he saw the drunkard and Adel, but his attitude changed immediately when he saw Peter lift his helmet visor. "Wow, what a handsome man. If I were twenty years younger, I might have extended a midnight invitation to you."

"Don't talk nonsense, Flavesta. This is a noble man, and the leader of my current group."

Kubinka quickly stopped his herbalist friend from saying anything more outrageous.

"Oh? Wasn't your original boss called Drunkard or Skinny Demon or something? Why did you change your boss? That's good, following such a handsome and dashing man is better than that infamous skinny demon." Perhaps it was because he had been alone in the forest for too long, but after meeting an acquaintance, his desire to confide in her exploded, and he kept talking non-stop.

This displeased the drunkard behind him, who retorted, "Hey, ma'am, I'm not that bad, am I?"

Only then did Flavesta notice the skinny man with a bowl cut and a face full of pimples among the people on horseback, who was looking at her with displeasure. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't even recognize you. Perhaps you can forgive this poor, lonely herbalist for my unintentional offense."

"No, I don't want to." Hynik deliberately scared her, and even showed off his white teeth.

"Alright, Hynek, stop scaring this lady."

Peter stepped in to stop their teasing and said seriously, "We are now a knightly order seeking the path to salvation, and I am the leader, Brunswick."

They just looted a batch of warhorses and oat supplies from the horse farm of von Polga, a collaborator of the Hungarians. Three horses and six bags of oats were distributed to the village of Misk.

Kubinka told me that there's still a rebel army resisting in the forest, so I wanted to visit them and perhaps offer them some assistance.

"The Knight of Redemption? Brunswick? Funding the rebels?"

Frysta was somewhat bewildered. She could understand each word individually, but when put together, they were incomprehensible to her.

Are there still nobles in this world willing to distribute supplies to commoners? Are there still knights willing to help rebellious peasants?

"It's true, Flavester!"

Kubinka offered his guarantee, saying, "Chief Brunswick is a true knight, and his character is beyond question."

"Alright, with your guarantee, I'm willing to believe you. I'm just a little afraid it might be the Hungarians coming looking for someone. You know, the uprising failed, and many people died."

Flavesta sighed and brought out a pot of herbal tea from inside the house, its aroma a blend of mint and chamomile.

"It was a glorious and courageous uprising," she said, handing each person a wooden cup. "The villagers could no longer endure the exploitation by the Hungarians and the lord's taxes. Ott led us to take up pitchforks and sickles. But—"

Her voice choked with sobs, "The lord betrayed us, revealing our whereabouts to the Hungarian army. We were surrounded and hunted down like rabbits."

Peter listened quietly, recalling the mission in the game, the tragedy of peasant uprisings always repeating itself.

He stepped forward, bowed slightly, and said, "Madam, I, Brunswick, and my friends are willing to help the brave rebels!"

"Does fate favor the brave?" Flaster sighed. "Unfortunately, this time fate did not favor those brave young men."

"You know Latin? You are a learned lady!" Peter was very surprised.

Frysta covered his mouth and chuckled. "Haha, don't underestimate me now. I had quite a story when I was young. Otherwise, Kubinka wouldn't have been hanging around me all the time after joining the rebels."

"Cough cough cough," Kubin coughed lightly, telling the other party not to expose his shortcomings in front of so many brothers.

Flavesta withdrew his gaze and looked Peter up and down.

"Brunschweig? That legendary name?"

She chuckled softly, "But the way you hold your sword does resemble that of a noble knight."

Peter didn't deny it, but simply took the wooden cup. The tea was warm, and after drinking it, a refreshing minty taste filled his mouth. "We want to see the leader of the uprising, Otto. Do you know where he is?"

Frysta hesitated for a moment, glanced at Kubinka, and finally pointed to a hill to the east. "They're hiding there, but the situation is dire. No food, no medicine, and they're still being hunted. I can only manage to procure some supplies for them, not much. If you really want to go, I can lead the way."

Peter nodded. "That's wonderful. Kubinka, take your horse and lead the way with the lady."

"Alright, alright, after all, it's the leader's order." Kubinka even helped the lady onto her horse with great manners.

Guided by Frysta, Peter and his party rode swiftly through dense forests and streams, entering the hilly region. Faint shouts of battle could be heard in the distance.

When they arrived at a secluded valley, the sight before them made Peter's heart clench: the rebels were being besieged by a noble guard.

In the valley, more than twenty farmers, armed with rudimentary weapons—pitchforks, sticks, and even sharpened branches—formed a fragile circle.

The guards, dressed in uniform chainmail and carrying longswords and shields, pressed forward relentlessly.

The young rebel leader, Otto, stood at the front of the lines, a hideous scar across his face, his voice hoarse as a millstone: "You damned nobles! Instead of resisting the Hungarians, you've helped them besiege us!"

The captain of the guard was a tall man with arrogant eyes peeking out from under his helmet.

"The Hungarians only want money and will leave one day; but you lowly scum dare to seize the lord's land? You should die immediately!"

"We just want to defend our homeland!" Otto shouted angrily.

"That's the lord's land, what need do you have to defend it! Commoners should just pay their taxes obediently. Dealing with Hungarians is the business of nobles, what do you know!"

"We know to leave a bite of food for the elderly, and a bowl of porridge for the children. But you want to take even those away!"

"That was the price we had to pay for sending the Hungarians away..."

"The arrogant captain of the guard pressed on relentlessly, even bringing in archers, intending to deliver a devastating blow to these peasants who didn't even have armor."

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