Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 184 Subduing the Rebel Army

Chapter 185 Subduing the Rebel Army

The situation is critical.

Without hesitation, Peter raised his sword and shouted, "Charge! For Brunswick!"

The sound of their voices pierced the tense air, and fourteen riders charged out of the woods like sharp swords.

The white breath exhaled by the warhorse condensed into mist in the cold air, and each time the horse's hooves landed, they splashed up murky water.

Attila's black warhorse, which he had seized from the Von Polgao stables, neighed excitedly as it carried Peter straight into the heart of the battle.

"Who is it?"

A guard cried out in terror, but before he could raise his shield, Eric pierced his leather armor from the side with a sword.

Fresh blood splattered onto the newly sprouting green shrubs like ripe wild berry juice.

Black Bartosh's warhorse brushed past a guard, his sword drawing a clean arc in the air. The wound on the guard's throat first appeared as a thin line, then suddenly burst open, blood splattering onto the muddy ground like a sudden downpour.

Several rebels instinctively retreated, only to be blocked by their comrades behind them. They stared in horror at the scene before them, unsure whether the cavalrymen were friend or foe, and huddled even tighter.

"Do you know who I am? I'm Lord Misco's captain of the bodyguard!"

The captain of the guard managed to organize a defensive line, but his voice already betrayed his panic.

Peter steered Attila straight ahead. Just before the collision, he gently pulled on the reins, and the horse reared up, its front hooves slamming heavily into the captain's breastplate. A jarring clang of metal followed by the dull thud of breaking ribs. As the captain fell, his visor tore off, revealing a face contorted in agony.

Jerry the mouse drew his bow and arrow on horseback, the sound of the arrow piercing the air like tearing cloth.

"Whoosh—" An arrow struck the guard who was trying to escape right in the back. The man fell forward, his face buried in the mud, and he never got up again.

Jessica and Hynik charged on horseback, hacking and slashing at the fleeing guards. The battle was over in just a few minutes.

The few surviving guards knelt on the ground begging for mercy; their weapons were confiscated and piled up to the side like a heap of scrap metal.

Ott and the other peasant rebels stared blankly as the cavalry swept away their invincible noble guard, and nervously shrank their circle even smaller.

But when he saw Kubinka and Freista, he realized that these cavalrymen really had come to help him.

The battle ended quickly, leaving only a few prisoners. Peter walked up to the captain of the guard; the man's visor had fallen off, his sternum was sunken, and a face contorted in pain was revealed.

"Spare me—Sir, I was only following orders—I didn't want to hurt these farmers—"

The way he was panting heavily meant that even if Peter let him go, he wouldn't live long; it would be a good opportunity to establish his authority.

"Operated on orders? When you raised your sword against these suffering farmers, you had already chosen your side. And you should pay the price for your actions."

The sword fell, and the head rolled to the ground. Blood soaked the soil, and the stench filled the air.

The rebels stared blankly, and a young peasant murmured, "He—he really killed the captain of the guard—"

Ott stepped forward, his hands trembling as he gripped his weapon.

"Thank you, sir," he said, his voice filled with unbelievable gratitude, "you saved our lives."

As he spoke, his gaze kept glancing at the bloodstains on Peter's sword, as if to confirm that this was not a dream.

"I am Brunswick, leader of the Knights of the Silver Dawn. My comrade Kubinka said there was a group of brave rebels in the forest, so I came here to check it out."

Peter helped Otto up from his bow, saying, "But your lives seem to be going badly right now."

Ott looked to be in his early twenties, with hair like straw blown by the wind, deep-set eyes, but his back was always straight, like an oak tree growing tenaciously on barren land.

He first nodded to Kubinka and Fresta, then gave a bitter smile.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, we're in a terrible state right now." Ott's voice was low. "No food, no weapons, we've even run out of herbs."

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He pointed to his comrades around him. These insurgents wore patched clothes, some with rags wrapped around their wounds, others leaning on hastily whittled wooden sticks. Their eyes were sunken, their cheekbones protruding, marks left by long-term hunger.

"Two weeks ago, we could still hold on to anger," Ott continued, "but now—hunger has erased everything."

He recounted the rebels' predicament: noble lords frequently discovered their hideouts and reported them to the Hungarians, forcing them to constantly flee and dwindling in number. This time, seeing their weakness, the lord sent his castle guards to annihilate them, hoping to gain credit and reduce protection fees.

"What a messed-up world, what a messed-up aristocracy!"

Hynik, who had been standing silently beside Peter, couldn't help but step forward, his fists clenched. "Sir, can we really win over such a nobleman and make him our friend?"

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His voice was thick with suppressed rage, "They betrayed civilians and helped the enemy!"

Peter bent down and picked up a stone from the ground, weighing it lightly in his hand. "Hynicke, even a fallen leaf or a pile of cow dung can be useful if used properly."

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He tossed the stone into the air and caught it. "The reason those nobles chose to help the Hungarians was simply because the peasants hadn't won a decisive victory."

His gaze swept over every rebel soldier present, their faces etched with exhaustion and despair.

“It is in their nature to bully the weak and fear the strong,” Peter continued. “If we can show our strength, they will fall to us like grass in the wind.”

Hynik frowned: "Then what should we do?"

Peter swung his arm, and the stone arced through the air, striking the trunk of a distant oak tree with a dull thud.

"Go and win a resounding victory!"

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Peter's voice echoed through the forest like spring thunder, "Let everyone see that Brunswick is not a legend, but a reality."

Ott looked at Peter, a glimmer of hope rekindling in his eyes. "Sir, can you lead us? I've realized I'm not cut out to be a leader. If I continue to lead everyone, we'll only head towards destruction. If you hadn't arrived with your troops, we would all be dead here."

Peter surveyed the rebels' makeshift camp. A few makeshift tents made of branches and rags swayed in the breeze, and something unreadable was cooking in a broken iron pot.

In the distance, several thin young men hid and timidly peered in their direction.

He walked to the broken iron pot and stirred the thin porridge inside with a wooden spoon. A few wild vegetable leaves floated in the murky broth.

"If you are willing to follow me," Peter finally spoke, "then you must do as I command."

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"Of course, I believe that only a strong person like you can help us out of this predicament."

Peter nodded and said, "We can talk about other things later. Let's eat first."

He gestured to Kubinka to bring down a bag of oats and distribute them to everyone so they could start cooking porridge.

Jerry and Robert took their bows and arrows and ventured deep into the forest, where they shot down another wild boar. The group then cooked porridge and roasted meat.

These poor people didn't have a single intact bow and arrow, and the hunters had died in the encirclement a few days earlier. They were even struggling to hunt.

When they carefully received the oatmeal and roast meat, they held them tightly in their hands as if they were precious treasures.

After a hearty meal, Peter distributed the weapons, armor, and bows and arrows he had taken from the noble guards to the rebels to strengthen their fighting power.

After bestowing these favors, Peter asked, "Are you truly willing to come under my rule and acknowledge me as your Lord?"

"We are willing!"

The rebels wiped the grease from their mouths, knelt on one knee, and shouted that they were willing to fight for this powerful and generous man.

As expected, the system notification sounded, indicating that half of the more than twenty people had reached a favorability rating of 60 points, meeting the recruitment requirements.

It must be said that farmers are still simple and honest. Giving them a little benefit or saving their lives will instantly increase their goodwill towards you.

As for those whose other half hasn't met the standard yet, they can improve gradually. Some people are cautious, and some are suspicious, which is understandable.

Peter told the half of the people who hadn't met the standard to stand up, then drew his sword and tapped the heads and shoulders of those still kneeling. He took the opportunity to give them extra points.

"I am the redeeming knight blessed by God, and now I share my blessings with you. May God give you strength to protect your faith; may God give you courage to face all challenges; may God give you wisdom to distinguish between right and wrong, good and evil."

The three-part blessing sent warm currents coursing through their bodies, causing Ultraman and the others to tremble with pleasure. The strange warmth made them feel as if they were back in their mother's arms, and their previous injuries miraculously healed, restoring their depleted bodies to their peak condition.

"Oh God, this is a miracle!"

"This is the master's blessing; the master truly is Brunswick!"

The blessed rebels were immersed in the thrill of increased strength, faster reactions, and greater power, and their loyalty continued to rise.

"Ding, Ultraman's loyalty +10"

"Ding, Bill's sincerity +10"

"Ding! Ike's loyalty +10"

Peter nodded in satisfaction. "This is the glory and power you have earned through your loyalty! Use this power to protect your loved ones and to create a future that belongs to us all!"

"Brunschweig, Braunschweig!"

These farmers didn't know how to express their gratitude, so they could only shout Peter's name over and over again, their words filled with fervent loyalty.

"My God, I'm so envious of them!"

The ten farmers who were ordered to get up stared in shock at the scene before them, feeling a deep sense of regret that they had not received such a blessing.

Although Jessica and the others had seen such "blessing ceremonies" before, they still found them quite magical. Michael, Hurt, and the others were also full of anticipation.

The drunkards were completely dumbfounded. What was going on? Could it be that Jessica's talk about God's blessing was true?

Does Lord Peter really possess such miraculous abilities?

"Ding! Kubinka's favorability has reached 60. He has voluntarily joined your ranks. Would you like to open the character panel?"

"Activate".

The once united group of alcoholics began to show signs of loosening.

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