Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 200 The Deepest Pit of Hell

Chapter 201 The Deepest Pit of Hell

"This is not the work of a demon," Peter's voice echoed in the silence, "this is murder."

Someone murdered the mother and child, locked the door, and set the house on fire. The husband returned home too late to save them. In despair, they were burned to death together.

The priest made the sign of the cross on his chest: "May their souls rest in peace."

"The problem is," Peter pondered, "that old Father Richard couldn't possibly have been unaware of something amiss. Why didn't he reveal the truth?"

"You mean...that contract?" Father Marian seemed to understand.

"I remember that priests are obligated to keep the confessor's identity confidential after hearing their confession, is that right?"

“That’s true…” Father Marian suddenly realized, “That makes sense now.”

Peter nodded: "But to uncover the final mystery, we still need to go into the mine and find out more."

The mine entrance was located on a slope behind the village, its dark opening resembling a gaping maw ready to devour anyone. The closer one got, the stronger the stench of sulfur and decay in the air became, making one want to vomit.

As Peter prepared to go down the well himself, Chris quickly stopped him: "Your Highness, please let me go down! You can wait for news up here."

Brienne stepped forward, her iron boots clanging on the gravel: "It would be a disgrace for us servants to put Your Excellency in such danger."

Peter looked at his two loyal servants, a warmth welling up inside him. Under normal circumstances, he might have granted their request, but he clearly remembered the plot of the game: the depths of the mines concealed deadly dangers, and even the experienced Henry had nearly lost his life, let alone these two greenhorns.

"Blue Thunderbolt," Peter said to Brienne, "you stand guard up there. If you spot anything unusual, notify the rest of the Order immediately."

"But..."

There's no need to argue.

Peter interrupted her, turning to Chris and saying, "I trust you, the careful one, to protect my escape route more than the impatient blond Chris."

Brienne was deeply moved and nodded solemnly: "I swear by my sword that I will never allow anyone to threaten your safety."

"I wasn't that reckless..."

Chris scratched his messy blond hair and muttered under his breath, but still obediently prepared to go down the well with Peter.

They lit torches, the flickering flames illuminating the deep well opening. The wooden steps were rotten, creaking unsettlingly underfoot.

Peter stepped onto the ladder first, each step carefully executed. Chris followed closely behind, holding a torch in one hand and gripping the hilt of his sword in the other.

As they slowly descended, the light from the wellhead gradually shrank to a distant dot. A damp, chilly air enveloped them, and the torches flickered in the darkness, casting distorted, swaying shadows on the rock face.

After descending about thirty meters, the ladder finally came to an end. Their feet touched the soft soil, and ahead lay a narrow tunnel extending into the mountainside.

"My God," Chris whispered, "this taste..."

The air was thick with a pungent, putrid stench, mixed with the acrid smell of sulfur. On the rock walls on either side of the tunnel, faint, reflective marks left by some kind of viscous substance were visible.

Peter raised his torch and examined the ground closely. On the soft earth, besides their footprints, there were some strange marks—marks that resembled neither human nor wild animal tracks.

"Be careful," Peter whispered a reminder, "we're not the only visitors here."

The tunnel rounded a bend ahead, and the torchlight flickered at the corner, suggesting something was moving in the darkness.

Chris gripped his sword tightly, tense. "Your Highness, did you hear that?"

Peter nodded, his other hand already on the hilt of the sword. In the darkness, a faint, eerie scraping sound came, as if something was crawling on the rock wall.

"Be prepared," Peter whispered. "Whatever you see, don't panic."

They continued forward, each step fraught with unknown danger. The torchlight appeared so small in the deep darkness, as if it might be swallowed up by the endless gloom at any moment.

Just around the corner, Peter suddenly stopped and gestured for Chris to be quiet. In the firelight, many deep cuts appeared on the rock face, as if left by some kind of weapon.

"This isn't a demon..." Peter's voice echoed slightly in the tunnel, "but something is definitely nesting here."

This mine, abandoned for six years, is so dilapidated, damp, and filled with a foul stench and the smell of sulfur.

This led Peter to speculate that the silver miners at the time might have struck sulfur, and the mine tunnel support structure might have collapsed and leaked if it had been corroded by sulfur.

Sulfur ore is flammable and has a low ignition point, so torches in the mine can easily cause fires or explosions.

That's exactly how the mining disaster happened: a huge explosion and structural collapse destroyed half of the mine shaft, killing more than half of the workers inside.

Peter and Chris looked at the water-seeping mine tunnels and the many roads that had collapsed and ended up in disarray, and couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. People loved playing with the silver coin Groshen so much, but who would have thought that the workers who mined silver had to endure such a dark, narrow, and suffocating environment every day, working hard all day, only to earn half a Groshen as wages?

They continued their search and found signs of human habitation at a makeshift altar: a cross, candles, a sacrificial skull, and a small box.

Peter took out two wires and pried and pried, opening the small box in no time. Chris, who had received an aristocratic education since childhood, watched in stunned silence.

"Ahem, just a little survival tip, don't worry about it."

Peter awkwardly covered it up, opened the box, took out the parchment inside, and unfolded it. Sure enough, it was a copy identical to the contract found in Father Richard's house. Chris leaned closer and saw that it read: "The Honorable Lord Taras Muller, in the name of a knight, swears that he will guard the Hell Pit of the Old Kutner Mine and will never leave the mine during his service."

This oath can only be broken when another knight is willing to take on the burden of his regret and make a new oath in the mine.

The guardians of the Pit of Hell were paid monthly by local residents to deliver food and water to the mine. This task was undertaken by Richard, the parish priest of Old Kutner.

This oath was witnessed by Richard, God's humble servant, and Taras Muller, the knight, the first guardian of the Pit of Sacrifice.

The cross and skull displayed in the cave tell a mysterious past. Open the dusty sacred box and read the ancient blood pact.

"The person hiding here is actually a nobleman with a surname?"

Chris exclaimed. "Müller" is one of the most common surnames in Germany, meaning miller, derived from the German word "Müller," representing that the ancestor's profession was managing a mill.

The small box also contained several parchment books with some culinary terms written in Latin that would drive you mad.

Peter turned to the first page of the book—

"December 2, 1397 AD. I am very cold. I have to take down some scaffolding to light a fire for warmth. It is always cold in the mine, but today the wind blowing in from the wellhead where I get food is especially biting. I will soon see the first snow since I went down the mine, and my service period should be coming to an end soon. I, Taras Mulla, am the Shield of God."

"April 5, 1398 AD. I set up a cross in the tunnel, and God was with me. The stench of hell emanated from the pit of hell, but I will not yield. Lord, I am still your humble servant, please forgive my sins."

"June 6, 1399 AD. In the darkness, I heard weeping and gnashing of teeth, and I soon could no longer suppress them."

The demon's voice scraped against my helmet like a sword blade, piercing straight to my soul.

"July 15, 1340 AD. I dare not take off my armor; I am still in danger. Lord, please protect me! They are everywhere, and I can smell their burning flesh again. I do not want to become one of them! The demons of hell are always calling my name, their shrieks like the trumpets of the Last Judgment."

"I don't know what time it is. The wind and snow are blowing into the mine again. I can't sleep. Demons are approaching me, and death is close behind—perhaps I should become one of them... No, I will never give in..."

'

"I cannot sleep. Every time I close my eyes, images of purgatory assault my mind. I see a pregnant woman in the sunlight, her fetus being devoured by a dragon; I see fire and blood on the walls; vicious words surround me, blaming me for paying the price for their deaths. I kill them, and then all that remains is darkness. Lord, do you truly exist? Why won't you save me from this den of demons?"

7

This is a person driven mad by loneliness and darkness.

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