novelODS Chapter 211 Ransom Plan
Chapter 211 Ransom Plan
Chapter 212 Ransom Plan
The counting of the spoils brought joy, but what to do with the more than one hundred dejected Polish prisoners became a pressing problem. The members of the Knights gathered around, discussing the matter in hushed tones.
"Your Highness, what should we do with these prisoners?" Jessica asked, his armor still stained with undried blood.
"Kill them?" Hynik interjected, his tone ruthless, honed by battle. "We're short-handed; guarding so many prisoners is too much of a strain!"
"That's too cruel—" Young Chris said, somewhat reluctantly. "They have already laid down their weapons, after all."
"Hmph, mercy has its time! Our knights need to move quickly, and taking a bunch of prisoners will only slow us down. What if they riot along the way?" Adlke, a fellow Pole, showed no sympathy whatsoever.
Though the murmurs were not loud, they reached clearly the ears of the Polish prisoners held together. Zawis, the "Black Knight" known for his bravery and a touch of arrogance, was now filled with anxiety and humiliation. Dying on the battlefield was common for mercenaries; dying on the battlefield was even considered an honorable end. But being discussed like livestock awaiting slaughter, about whether to be "disposed of," was a completely different feeling.
He recalled the rumors he had heard before about the Knights of the Silver Dawn repeatedly annihilating Hungarian grain requisition teams, leaving no survivors. He and his companions trembled, the shadow of death never so vividly looming over them.
The instinct to survive overwhelmed everything.
Zawis took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and said in as respectful a tone as possible, "Your Highness Prince Brunswick! I am Zawis Gabo. I have heard your legend; you are a powerful and benevolent leader! Please understand, we Poles are not the masters of this war; we are merely being employed! We are equally unwilling to lose our lives for the ambitions of the Hungarians and for this damned war! If possible, we are willing to pay a ransom! Use Grossz to redeem our lives and freedom!"
His words were urgent, even pleading.
Peter slowly turned around, his gaze falling on Zawish. His eyes were calm, yet possessed a penetrating power. A hint of mockery played on his lips: "So, you'll go back and lead even more people to hunt me down?"
Zawish's heart tightened, and he quickly protested, "No! Your Highness, I swear on my knightly honor! As soon as we are ransomed, we will leave this dangerous land of Bohemia and return to our Polish homeland! I swear, we will never again participate in this war that has nothing to do with us!"
He spoke extremely quickly, afraid that if he hesitated even for a second, the other person would lose patience. He also realized that this was a positive sign; as long as the other person was still willing to talk, there was still hope.
Peter listened quietly until Zawish finished speaking, then he spoke slowly and deliberately, but his words struck Zawish and all the prisoners like hammer blows: "Zawish, you need to understand three things."
He held up one finger: "First, you are a prisoner now, a loser. Losers have no right to talk about honor guarantees, and your guarantee is worthless to me."
The second finger extended: "Secondly, your Polish legion has absolutely no say in this war. Against the powerful Hungarians, you are nothing but expendable resources, hired henchmen. Without the Hungarian commander's orders, you think you can leave on your own? You'll likely be executed as deserters before you even leave the camp. Therefore, leaving Bohemia is nothing but wishful thinking on your part."
Finally, he held up a third finger, his chin slightly raised: "Third, and most importantly. I, Brunswick, am the only one here who can make decisions. Whether you are valuable, and how much you are worth, will be determined and priced by me, not by your suggestions or pleas."
These words were cold and realistic, completely shattering the facade of negotiation that Zawish had tried to create. Every word was like a knife, peeling away his professional knight's cloak to reveal his true nature as a mercenary, causing him to deeply doubt and resent his own abilities and the status of the Poles in the war, while also generating an uncontrollable fear of the young but powerful prince before him.
A wave of despair washed over Zawish and all the prisoners like an icy tide. They lowered their heads, unable to look at Peter any longer, as if awaiting their final judgment.
However, in the midst of this deathly silence, Peter's voice rang out again, carrying an air of absolute control: "But, Zawish, as you said before, I am a merciful man." He paused, his gaze sweeping over those who had instantly raised their heads...
A hopeful face. "Compared to the Hungarians and their brutal Cuman allies, the atrocities you Poles have committed on this land are relatively limited. Therefore, I am willing to give you a chance, a chance to buy your lives with money."
"I will release some of them to go back and raise the ransom. The standard is: 100 groshins for each infantryman and 200 groshins for each cavalryman," Peter announced the price.
According to market rates, this was roughly equivalent to their wages for serving the Hungarians for one hundred days, coinciding with the time they arrived in Bohemia. For mercenaries, this was definitely a "fair" price, even a "preferential" one. Clearly, Peter's intention was not to exploit them, but rather to punish them and recycle resources.
"I'm only giving you two days!"
Peter's tone turned cold. "When the time comes, if the ransom is not delivered, then those worthless trash will have no reason to continue existing. They can only be sent back to the earth to keep company with insects and ants."
"We agree!"
Zawis practically shouted, afraid Peter would change his mind. He quickly calculated in his mind: their Polish mercenary group totaled over a thousand men, and this time he had brought fifty cavalry and two hundred infantry, almost all of whom had been wiped out. There were still over seven hundred men at the camp, led by the legion's second-in-command, Sir Jessek of Hololawi.
Zavish felt a mix of emotions when he thought of Jezek. He and that rigid, stubborn old man, who was always spouting chivalry, had never gotten along. Zavish valued flexibility and practical benefits, while Jezek clung to what he considered outdated honors and principles. The two had been vying for command of the legion, and Zavish had always wanted to find an opportunity to oust this troublesome old man and seize power for himself. But Jezek was extremely cautious and upright, never giving him any ammunition to cause trouble.
Despite his intense dislike for the man, Zavish had to admit that Jezek Hololawi was a man who truly valued camaraderie and chivalrous honor. Any other mercenary leader, driven by profit, would likely have abandoned their captured comrades in the face of such a large ransom and potential pressure from the Hungarians. But that old-fashioned Jezek—
He will do everything in his power to raise the ransom and save them.
Definitely!
"Sigh—" Zawish sighed inwardly, a bitter feeling rising in his heart. "I never thought that my life, Zawish's life, would ultimately depend on that old guy I've always considered an obstacle—fate is truly ironic."
However, his complex emotions did not last long, because Peter's next words directly broke his dilemma.
Peter agreed to release the other prisoners with a ransom, but pointed at him alone: "The others can go back, but you alone must stay, Sir Zawish, you are not on the ransom list."
"Why?!"
Zawish was struck dumb, and cried out, his face drained of color instantly, "Your Highness! Why me alone?"
I can offer a higher ransom! How about 1000 Grossens? 1500! 2000!
He eagerly raised his price, trying to persuade Peter with money.
Seeing that Peter did not waver, he almost pleaded, "2000 grossins to redeem me! I really can't ask for more. You know, my family just renovated our castle a few years ago, and we really don't have much money left!"
Zawish's face was so furrowed with worry that it could almost trap a mosquito.
Peter simply looked at him indifferently, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if watching an insignificant performance. No matter how Zawish argued, pleaded, or raised the price, Peter remained unmoved.
2000 Grossens? That's not even a fraction of what the young master of Borgo earns. Does Peter, a man with hundreds of thousands in assets, care about a mere two thousand Grossens?
Compared to the ransom, Zawish's existence clearly has greater value, or more accurately, greater risk. Peter has no intention of letting the tiger return to the mountain.
Finally, Peter selected five relatively docile and terrified infantrymen from the prisoners and untied them. "Go back and tell Sir Jessek of Hololavia," Peter said to the five trembling soldiers, "to bring sufficient ransom to exchange for his comrade. Remember, you have only two days. The ransom payment and prisoner exchange will take place at the ruins of Szymborg Castle, twenty miles south of the Hungarian camp."
The five soldiers, as if granted a pardon, nodded repeatedly, then turned and, with all their might, stumbled and ran toward the main camp of the Polish army, fearing that if they were a step too slow, the "merciful" prince who had changed his mind would renege on his promise.
Watching the five figures disappear over the horizon, Zavis, who had been forcibly left behind, frowned, a deep sense of confusion on his face. "The ruins of Szymborg Castle, twenty miles south of the Hungarian camp?"
He muttered to himself, as if confirming something, or perhaps pondering, "I know that place, near the mill in Bilany village—it's a vast castle ruin. Are you going to take us there?" He looked up at Peter.
Suddenly, a terrifying thought flashed through his mind like lightning, causing his eyes to widen instantly. He shouted in a mixture of shock and rage, "You did this on purpose! You suspected that good-natured Jesek would try to save us, but he might not be able to keep it from the Hungarians! You deliberately sent five men, instead of just one, back to report, and publicly revealed the location. You thought the Hungarians would eventually extract information from Jesek or those five men! You planned to use us and the ransom that was about to be received as bait to lure the Hungarians into sending troops!"
Peter looked at Zawish, who had finally come to his senses, and smiled approvingly. As expected of someone who would be remembered in history, he had an extraordinary keen sense of war.
Peter said approvingly, "Not only that, Zavish. Your thinking can be even bolder." He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, but with an even stronger sense of pressure, "Including myself, Brunswick, the Knights of the Silver Dawn, are also part of this bait, aren't we? If Sir Jezek is loyal enough, wise enough, or lucky enough to keep this secret, then I'm happy to keep my word, congratulate your men on regaining their freedom, and I'll also get a good reward. But—"
Peter's voice suddenly turned cold. "If he fails to keep the secret, or if the Hungarians get the news without him even having to say a word—then the ancient ruins of Zimborg will become a bloody grave that I have carefully prepared for those unruly, greedy, and reckless pursuers."