Chapter 225 Brabant

Peter's gaze swept over Sir Waquerin Brabant's slightly uneasy face.

Although this Frenchman was boastful in his words and acted with the slickness of a conman, the surname "Brabant" itself carried an undeniable weight.

The surname Brabant is unusual.

The Duchy of Brabant was established in 1184 by Frederick I, the Holy Roman Emperor nicknamed "The Redbeard."

The first duke was also named Henry, and his territory encompassed a large, wealthy area in what is now Antwerp and Brussels in Belgium, and even the province of North Brabant in the Netherlands. The roaring golden lion on his family coat of arms was once a symbol of power and prestige in the Low Countries.

More importantly, this bloodline is closely linked to the current Bohemian royal family.

Sigismund's great-grandmother was Princess Margaret from the Brabant family. This means that all living members of the Luxembourg royal family have Brabant blood flowing through their veins.

Whether the man before them, Waquerin, was a genuine impoverished nobleman or merely a fraudster who had stolen the honorary surname, publicly executing someone with the surname "Brahbant" could bring unnecessary political risks in the future.

No matter how boastful, greedy, or chameleon-like the Frenchman Václav Brabant was, he couldn't be killed in front of so many of his knights and warriors without any solid evidence.

Peter instantly suppressed the murderous intent that flashed through his mind, and his eyes returned to a deep, calm state.

He needs a more subtle and less controversial way to deal with this problem, while also making the most of this unexpected "piece".

Peter's eyes lit up, a calculating glint flashing in his deep gaze, as he came up with a plan to kill two birds with one stone.

He immediately changed his previous plan to set a gunpowder trap at the ruins of Szymborg to lure the Hungarian army in and inflict heavy damage. A new, bolder, and more deceptive arrangement quickly took shape in his mind.

That night, after gaining complete control of Malesov Castle, Peter displayed political wisdom commensurate with his military might. He did not mistreat the prisoners, but instead "invited" von Polgao's young and beautiful new wife, Madame Ophelia, and the knowledgeable, gray-haired old butler to return to the "luxury cell" on the third floor where Hans had been imprisoned.

He instructed his men to provide them with sufficient food and water, and to ensure their personal safety, giving them "noble treatment" befitting their status.

This kindness earned the praise of Lady Ophelia, the old steward, Young Master Hans, and a host of knights.

Then, Peter arranged a private meeting with the Frenchman Václav Brabant.

The meeting took place in a small council chamber on the first floor of the castle, where the crackling fire in the fireplace reflected the different expressions on the faces of the two men.

Peter gracefully stroked the engravings on the hilt of the sword and nodded slightly to the French knight: "Your Excellency Sir Brabant, the battle scars on your body speak of glory like stars."

To hear the teachings of such a legendary figure as yourself in the Bohemian night air is truly a blessing from God.

Peter's humility pleased the Frenchman greatly.

Waquerin immediately stroked his meticulously groomed mustache and responded in Czech with a heavy French accent.

"Ah! My dear Prince Brunswick, your praise reminds me of the grand occasion when His Majesty Charles VI personally placed the golden spurs on my heels beneath the dome of Notre Dame Cathedral!"

He spread his arms wide exaggeratedly, "At that time, all the noblewomen of the French court were infatuated with me, just as naturally as the moonlight now gilds your sword."

"Such an honor?" Peter picked up his silver cup and took a sip, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "I'd like to hear more about it."

"It was a May when roses were in full bloom!"

Waquelin suddenly raised his voice, his silk sleeves fluttering in the candlelight, "I shattered twelve shields in the tournament of Burgundy, and even the English longbowmen knelt in defeat!"

He leaned closer to Peter and whispered, "You know what? Even the Duchess of Orléans secretly slipped me a handkerchief embroidered with roses..."

Peter exclaimed at the opportune moment, "Lord! This is even more exhilarating than winning a championship!"

"That's not even the most exciting part!"

The Frenchman, in his excitement, knocked over his wine glass, but nonchalantly stepped over the stains. "On the banks of the Danube, I led three thousand iron cavalry to confront the Ottoman Sultan's army of one hundred thousand!"

He brandished his knife, gesturing, "Those infidels' scimitars swarmed at me like locusts, and I—" He suddenly paused, as if choking back a beat, "It was...uh...thirteen years ago, on Saint Michael's Day! Yes! That was the day!"

"Such a feat is worthy of being recorded in epic history."

Peter lowered his eyes to hide his smile, not bothering to correct the other's numerous flaws, and continued to flatter, "Would you be willing to impart some more insights into military strategy?"

Waquerin immediately straightened his back, his coat flapping loudly: "Military strategy? Ha! When I learned how to deploy elephants in Venice, those Italians were still only using pigeons to send messages!"

He suddenly noticed the tapestry on the wall and exclaimed spontaneously, "Look at this brocade! It reminds me of teaching knights how to use the new stirrups at the Aragonese court..."

Peter didn't mind the other party's abrupt change of topic and maintained a perfectly timed expression of amazement.

When the Frenchman stammers due to memory confusion, Peter will even cleverly change the subject with a freshly poured glass of wine to avoid embarrassing him.

In the flickering candlelight, this conversation, filled with lies and flattery, was like two nightingales testing each other in a gilded cage.

Seeing that the time was right, Peter began to close the net. He pretended to be sincere and tricked Waquerin Brabant, saying, "Sir, although the castle has changed hands, we have not captured Earl von Polgau."

According to the inquiry, he had gone to the Hungarian military camp to serve as an officer, commanding 5,000 troops. Rather than engaging in armed conflict, he decided to make a profitable deal.

I plan to send someone to contact the Earl and ask him to pay a huge sum to redeem his beloved wife, his loyal steward, and this newly acquired castle.

"Those two on the top floor, plus the castle, I'd estimate at 100,000 Grossen!"

Upon hearing this astronomical figure, Waquerin's eyes lit up instantly, his greed almost impossible to conceal.

Peter continued, “Such an important asset” must be guarded by a reliable and distinguished person before I can feel at ease.

After much thought, I believe there is no one more suitable than you, Sir Sir Brabant!

You come from a distinguished family and are well-informed; you are sure to be able to handle the situation. Please personally guard the room on the top floor to prevent any accidents.

"Once this is accomplished, I will certainly not treat you unfairly; a generous reward will be offered."

Flattered by Peter's praise and lured by the huge ransom and future rewards, Waquerin Brabant almost eagerly agreed, patting his chest and promising that he would live up to the trust placed in him.

He happily entered the "noble prison cell" on the top floor. Peter had "thoughtfully" arranged for two fully armed knights to "assist" in guarding the door.

As soon as the Frenchman entered the room, he saw the still-shaken and charming Madame Ophelia, and his lust was aroused again.

He straightened his collar and slightly disheveled mustache, struck what he considered his most charming pose, and began to display what he called "French romance."

He first inquired with concern whether the lady was frightened, then changed the subject and began to boast about his noble lineage and adventurous experiences, his words full of innuendo and flirtation.

Lady Ophelia was already feeling empty and insecure. When she suddenly encountered a polite and flattering "nobleman" in her extreme fear, it was inevitable that she would be somewhat shaken.

"This romantic and witty nobleman may be a reliable person."

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