Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 174 Treasure Show Carnival

Chapter 175 Treasure Show Carnival

Support is not a flag fluttering on a high tower, but a helping hand extended to you in the mud, a torch raised for you in the darkness.

7 month 13 day.

In July, the sunlight in the Trossky Territory is like molten gold, shining down on the rolling hills and fields.

In every village of the territory, the faces of the people were filled with an unusual joy and anticipation.

After five days of anticipation and excitement, the nationwide treasure hunt finally came to an end. Four lucky individuals—the old blacksmith Milos, the out-of-town merchant Kado, the scribe Bass, and the tavern owner's daughter Kaman—successfully solved the ancient mystery of the whereabouts of the Brunswick armor, each finding different parts of the legendary suit of armor.

They were received by the old mayor Martin at Troski Castle, who immediately exchanged 100 Groschen for a reward.

Furthermore, on the "suggestion" of several respected elders, the four treasure hunters decided to present this priceless suit of armor to their lord, Lord Peter Griffin.

The news quickly spread throughout the territory, and many people came to see what the armor looked like.

The town government organized a grand ceremony for the occasion, with a huge crowd and a great commotion of gongs and drums, as the procession started from Trossky Castle and proceeded all the way to Griffin Valley. Villagers and merchants continued to join in along the way.

Around noon, the natural area surrounding Griffin Canyon, nestled amidst steep cliffs, was now packed with people.

From artisans to farmers, from merchants to bathers, people from every social class in Trostsky were present. The air was filled with the fragrance of summer grass and the intense heat of the gathering crowd.

A makeshift wooden platform had been erected there. Around the platform, Griffin Village militiamen maintained order at the scene.

Four treasure hunters, carrying armor pieces covered in dark blue velvet, slowly made their way through the automatically parting crowd.

The old blacksmith Milos walked at the front, his hands trembling slightly as he held the helmet.

The out-of-town merchant, Kado, followed closely behind, clutching his breastplate;

The young scribe, Bass, held the arm guards;

Finally, there was Carman, the tavern owner's daughter, who carried the leg armor with the lightness of a deer.

"He's here! Lord Peter is here!" someone in the crowd shouted.

Many citizens cheered and stood on tiptoe to look into Griffin Valley.

Three riders slowly emerged from the canyon. Peter rode a white horse, wearing a dark blue tunic with a small griffin emblem embroidered on his chest.

His red hair shone in the sunlight, and his face was resolute yet gentle.

Two bodyguards, Black Bartosh and Eric, dressed in plate armor, stood guard on either side of him.

Peter looked around at the crowd and waved to them, eliciting cheers from the crowd.

"Dear Lord Peter."

The old blacksmith Milos's voice was hoarse yet resonant: "By your grace, we were able to participate in this treasure hunt. Now that the treasure has been found, we all agree that only you—our brave and upright lord—are worthy of this legendary armor. Please accept our humble offering!"

Peter shook his head slightly, his voice carrying clearly throughout the valley: "My dear people, this gift is far too precious. You found it with your own wisdom, and you deserve this glory and reward."

Whispers arose from the crowd, and some nodded in praise of the lord's nobility.

A merchant from out of town, Kado, stepped forward, his sun-darkened face filled with sincerity: "Sir, without your governance, Troski would not have the peace and prosperity it enjoys today."

We are able to live peacefully in the fields and trade freely in the towns, all thanks to your protection. This armor, worn by you, will better protect us all!

Peter paused for a moment, then the light swept across the expectant faces below the stage, while the crowd on the outer perimeter still craned their necks to see what was happening inside.

"Your sincerity touched me."

Peter finally spoke, his voice loud enough for thousands to hear clearly, yet tinged with just the right amount of hesitation, "But this gift is still too heavy. What have I done to deserve such a precious gift?"

At this moment, the scribe Bath and the tavern owner's daughter, Kaman, stepped forward together.

Young Kaman's voice was as clear as a mountain stream: "My lord, please do not refuse! You have reduced our taxes, given us fair trials, and protected us from bandits and hostile lords. Let us use this small gift to express the gratitude of all the people of Troski to you!"

A thunderous shout erupted from the crowd: "Accept it! My lord, accept it!"

"Prince Brunswick left a prophecy that only the greatest knights would be worthy to wear it and bring glory to the kingdom."

"That person is you, and only you can lead us to a better future!"

"Please accept it, sir!"

The voices from the audience, initially scattered, gradually grew into a unified chorus, all urging Peter to accept.

Peter took a deep breath and nodded slowly. He bent down slightly and accepted each piece of armor with an equal attitude.

This elicited even more joyful cheers from the crowd.

"Since my people insist so, I humbly accept this generous gift."

Peter's voice, still loud but slightly trembling, announced, "To express my gratitude, I hereby declare that all taverns in all eighteen villages throughout Troski will offer half-price drinks today! Let us celebrate this memorable day together!"

The cheers were like an earthquake, echoing through the canyon.

People embraced each other, sang, and tossed their hats into the air. Sunlight streamed through a crevice in the rock face, illuminating Peter and his armor in a dazzling beam, as if God himself were blessing the moment.

In the crowd, an old woman wiped away tears from the corners of her eyes and said to the young woman beside her, "Do you see? This is the kind of lord we should follow! He is not only brave and good at fighting, but also knows how to care for the common people."

The effects of the revelry spread like ripples across the water, reaching every corner of Trossky.

In the market square of Troski's main town, the air was filled with the sounds of people hawking their wares and haggling in various languages.

The air was filled with the smells of spices, toast, leather, and people.

Caravans from all directions filled the square, their carriages lined up at the town entrance, creating a unique scene.

"A fine wine from Poland! Crystal clear like morning dew!"

"The finest wool from Flanders is softer than a lover's touch!"

"Spices from the East, bringing you the taste of heaven!"

A Polish merchant, holding up a bottle of amber liquor, shouted, "The last barrel! Drink it, and you'll taste the moonlight on the banks of the Vistula!"

The Flemish cloth merchant slumped beside the empty crates, muttering to himself, "By Saint Michael—three days, thirty bolts of fine wool—"

A cloth merchant from Nuremberg was frantically packing up his almost empty stall, his face beaming with unbelievable joy: "My God, all the goods I brought sold out in three days! The common people here actually have so much spare cash!"

A Polish merchant standing nearby laughed and said, "Don't you know? After each victory, Lord Peter would divide the spoils into three parts: one part for the soldiers, one part for repairing the city walls, and the last part for food to be distributed to the poorest people."

Now even farmers have jingling copper coins in their pockets. And he lowered market taxes, so now everyone wants to trade here.

At the edge of the square, a group of children were playing, their white bread loaves standing out starkly in the sunlight. Just a few months ago, these children were emaciated from hunger.

Inside the tavern, Carman moved among the wooden tables, the clinking of ceramic cups filling the air.

"Half price! Half price!"

She laughed and dodged the drunkard's embrace, glancing out the window—in the square, children were playing hopscotch with the "trophy candies" Peter had given them.

An old farmer on a newly reclaimed field grabbed a handful of black soil, letting it flow through his fingers: "Forty years—this is the first time I feel this land truly belongs to me."

The rhythmic sound of sawing wood came from the distant forest—the beams of the new sawmill were being erected.

The entire Troski territory was like a machine that had just been oiled; all its parts began to work in coordination, emitting vibrant sounds.

That night, Peter stood alone on the castle terrace.

The scattered lights of the territory beneath our feet resembled fallen stars, and the afterglow of the revelry still lingered in the evening breeze.

He toyed with a piece of arm armor from the Brunswick armor in his hand, his fingertips tracing a tiny inscription on it: "Glory is easily bestowed, but the human heart is hard to forge."

To preserve the happiness we have now, we must face more darkness.

His gaze drifted further south, where even more brutal challenges awaited him.