Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 118 Wolf Disaster
At dawn on Sunday, sparse morning stars twinkled in the blue-gray sky. A breeze blew down from the mountains, carrying a damp mist. The air was cool and pleasant, and the sun lingered lazily behind the horizon.

Old Sergei, who lived at the eastern end of Dusak village in Wolf Town, woke up early in the morning. The old man stared blankly at the old saber hanging on the wall of the inner room for a while. Then he slowly pulled up his trousers, slipped on his cloth shoes, and buttoned up his shirt as he walked out of the house.

Sergei stood at the gate, silently admiring his small yard: the newly built barn and livestock shed were covered with neat tiles, the family's large animals were peacefully chewing hay, the grain bins were full, and the old woman and her children were still fast asleep...

Abundance, comfort, and freedom—these are the good days that Sergei Vladimirovich could never have dreamed of in the past.

The old man watched for a while, then walked contentedly towards the backyard. He circled the wall and reached the window of his youngest son's room.

"Washa! Son!" The old man knocked on the wooden window: "Come on, come with me up the mountain to check on the trap."

[Note: Vasha is an affectionate nickname for Vashika]
Sergei knocked several times before Vashika, still half asleep, got out of bed. He opened the window and whispered, "Dad, what are you saying?"

“Come on, let’s go up the mountain and take a look at the trap I set the day before yesterday.”

“But today is Sunday!” Vahika complained.

Sergei urged nonchalantly, "It won't delay your trip to the church. Let's go, we'll be back before sunrise."

The son couldn't persuade his father otherwise, so he reluctantly grabbed his clothes and put them on.

Taking advantage of this moment, his father led two horses out of the stable.

Vasika helped Sergei put on his horse harness, and the two Dusak men, one old and one young, led the horse out of the tamarisk fence, leaped onto its back, and galloped off towards the mountains south of the village.

If you look down from tens of thousands of meters above, you can clearly see two majestic mountain ranges running east-west and almost parallel to each other in the north and south of the Seine Bay.

To the north lies the Shade Mountain Range, and to the south, the Golden Peak Mountain Range. This natural geographical separation inevitably leads to political division.

The saying "land between two mountains" comes from this.

Wolf Town is located at the foot of the Golden Peak Mountains, backed by the northern foothills of the Golden Peak Mountains. It is a settlement carved out of shrubs and woodlands.

This town is located not only at the westernmost point of the vast Alliance territory, but also at the southernmost point, beyond which lies a desolate primeval forest.

If you continue south, the terrain rises sharply. The primeval forest is replaced by alpine meadows, where only weeds can grow, all the way to the snow line.

On sunny days, the snow that has remained unmelted for millennia at the highest point of the mountain range glitters and shines brilliantly in the sunlight, as if it were cast from gold.

The "Golden Summit Mountain Range" got its name from this.

Of course, Sergei and his son weren't going that far. Living off the land and water, the villagers of Wolf Town usually only went to the outskirts of the forest.

Sergei rode his old horse, which the old man, feeling sorry for his old companion, hadn't sent to the village pasture. Vashika, on the other hand, rode a two-and-a-half-year-old pony, a strong and capable animal.

But the old man was a skilled rider, and even wearing cloth shoes and riding an old horse, Vahika could not catch up with him.

Sergei was having a blast riding, whipping his horse and yelling "Awoo!" as he filled his belly with the wind.

Vasika chased after him, thinking, "What trap? The old man probably just wants to walk the horse."

The two quickly reached the edge of the woods. Sergei pulled on the reins and happily said to his son, "Vasha! How wonderful! So comfortable! Running on horseback in the morning makes me feel so energetic!"

But Vasika, whose sweet dream had been disturbed, just rolled her eyes and urged her father to go check the clip.

Following his memory, Sergei led his son deeper into the woods.

Sergei was very lucky; he caught something with his first two traps: a rabbit and a pheasant.

The old man was even happier, and said to his son with a beaming smile, "God help us! Vasya, maybe we'll see a deer today! I dreamt the other day that a deer's antlers smashed down the roof, and maybe it'll even be a beautiful male deer!"

Wahika didn't respond, urging his father to hurry up and find the last clip.

When they found the last trap, they discovered two people already squatting beside it. And on the trap—all that remained was a mangled deer leg.

……

After leaving the forest, Vahika did not go straight home. Instead, following his father's instructions, he carried the rabbit and headed straight for Mayor Mitchell's house.

After leaving the paddy field ridges and stepping onto the village dirt road, and letting the horses run freely for a while, we could already see the roof of the town mayor's house.

Vashika walked around a row of neat oak trees, and a beautiful white two-story house came into view. Sergei's house was just a small courtyard belonging to a wealthy peasant, while this beautiful building was the estate of a large landowner.

Upon hearing the sound of hooves, the two hunting dogs barked.

Gerard Mitchell's son and Wahika were childhood friends, and Wahika was very familiar with the Mitchell estate.

But this time he saw an unfamiliar face. A young officer he had never seen before was standing with Gerard in the open space in front of the house. Both of them were holding sabers and seemed to be practicing something.

"Alright, stop barking!" Gerard shouted at the hounds when he heard the barking and saw who it was.

The two hunting dogs recognized the familiar faces and excitedly hummed as they ran to Vahika's side, trying to bite the dead rabbit hanging on the saddle.

"Good morning, Sergenovich!" Gerard planted his saber in the ground and shouted to Vasika from a distance, "How is your father? Are you here to see Pierre?"

"He's doing great! He even went horse racing this morning!" Vashika tied up his horse, held up the rabbit, and said with a smile, "I came to give you this! My father told me to give you this rabbit!"

"What a fat rabbit! Thank you, Dad! Wait here for me a bit." Girard took the prey and hurried back to the house.

Only Vahika and the unfamiliar officer remained outside.

The unfamiliar officer smiled kindly at Vahika, at which point Vahika finally had a chance to take a closer look at the man.

Unlike those dignified, bearded officers who never smiled, Vasika found the unfamiliar officer in front of him to be very young, even younger than himself, and hardly like an officer.

But what he was wearing was a genuine officer's uniform—although the style was a bit strange, it was undoubtedly an officer's uniform. Any Dusak person would recognize what an officer's uniform looked like.

Gerard strode out of the house and handed a bag of sugar and tea to Vahika: "Take this back for your wife to use in cooking."

"I haven't finished the ones you gave me last time," Vashika said with a grin. "Why don't you give me some tobacco leaves?"

“Okay, I’ll take it to you.” Girard then hurried up the steps and went into the house.

Although I grew up listening to my father's stories about war, and although my father repeatedly ordered me to respect Pleninovich.

But in the eyes of most Dussac children, Gerard was just a kind, generous old man.

To the Dussacs of Wolftown, the Mitchell family—except for Girard's wife—were genuine Dussacs, just not living in the Dussac village.

“Here’s some for you two to take back and smoke.” Gerard ran back and brought out a large bag of tobacco for Vahika, laughing as he said, “Give some to your father, don’t smoke it all yourself.”

“Of course,” Vashika replied with a grin, but then he remembered something important and quickly told Gilard, “Uncle, today when my father and I went into the mountains, we encountered something strange, and my father asked me to tell you.”

"What a strange thing."

Wahika talked for a long time but didn't get to the point: "...Sigh, I'm bad with words and can't explain it clearly. My father just told me to mumble something and he'll explain it to you in detail when we get to church later."

After saying this, Vahika, eager to get home for breakfast, bid farewell to Gilard and rode home on his horse.

Halfway there, he suddenly remembered: "I still don't know who that officer is!"

……

Sunday is the biggest day of the week in Wolf Town.

After breakfast, villagers from several nearby villages walked, while those from farther away took a cart or rode horses, all heading towards the church in the town center. Everyone wanted to arrive early, because only those who arrived early could get a seat; those who arrived late would have to stand to watch Mass.

For the villagers, it wasn't that the church was built in the town center, but rather that the town hall was built next to the church. The history of the Langtun Church predates the history of Langtun Town's "merging of villages into a town".

Sunday worship is not only a religious activity, but also the main gathering place for residents of each village.

Before the ceremony began, Vahika finally learned who the unfamiliar officer was—Lieutenant Winters Montagne, who was said to be the town's new resident officer.

While the villagers from the three villages were gathered together, Gerard stood on the pulpit and publicly read Winters's letter of appointment, introducing the new resident officer to the crowd.

This was Winters' first public appearance in Wolftown, and his performance was adequate. He stood on the pulpit, saluted the crowd, and then stepped down.

For the ordinary people, the presence of several military officers in the town, though not directly related to their lives, was still a rare source of novelty in their otherwise monotonous existence.

The people in the church crowded to the front to see the new garrison commander, chattering about his uniform, appearance, and age.

Some unmarried girls, however, seemed to be blushing and secretly eyeing the new lieutenant, seemingly lost in thought.

After all, even an ugly person can gain a bit of prestige when wearing a uniform, let alone Winters, who is quite handsome.

After the introduction of the new resident officer, the formal Sunday worship service began. The two priests of the parish carried the holy image and slowly walked from outside the church to the pulpit.

Winters was embarrassed to find himself "trapped" in the church.

As a spellcaster, Winters naturally had no interest in getting involved in religious activities. However, he was also embarrassed to openly leave during the ceremony, as he and Girard, being the only two public officials in Wolf Town, were seated in the front row of the church.

Winters thought to himself, "If I leave now, I'll probably offend all the believers in Wolftown."

Driven by pragmatism, Winters believed that "it's better to do less than more." He sat there until the end of the sermon, gazing intently at the portrait of Anna in the pendant.

The townspeople, unaware of the truth, thought the newly arrived resident official was praying fervently.

After the sermon, Winters subtly avoided the part about receiving communion.

Everything went very smoothly. The elderly and senile priest was completely unaware of Winters's subtle actions, nor was anyone else in the church.

But the young deacon saw everything clearly, and Winters' actions puzzled him greatly. However, he didn't call out to Winters, but simply watched as the newly arrived garrison commander left the church with the crowd.

Winters found the church's deacon rather odd. Such a small chapel clearly didn't qualify for two full clergy members, yet Wolftown Church had two. However, Winters wasn't interested in charlatanry and didn't inquire further.

Outside the church, the weather was clear and dry, with several layers of light-colored clouds floating high in the sky.

Girard was leading a few people in setting up the target and the field. The target board was carried out from the church's backyard and placed on the meadow next to the church.

Seeing this, Winters went over to help.

Gerard wiped his sweat and said to Winters, "Lieutenant, there was no resident officer in the town before, so I had to fill in. Lieutenant Montagne, from now on, Sunday archery training will be your responsibility."

“Archery training on Sundays?” Winters looked puzzled. “Could it be the ‘Archery Ordinance’?”

“Yes! It’s the Archery Law!” Girard replied with a smile.

The Archery Law was a law during the imperial period that required all men to participate in archery training after church services.

After Girard explained, Winters learned that this law had never been repealed in Plato.

The Great Council of Plato never passed a separate repeal bill—a move that raised suspicions of bureaucratic inertia—and the Archery Decree remained in effect.

However, this law had lost its enforceability, and for ordinary people, archery was more of a recreational activity. After all, shooting a few arrows on a Sunday morning wasn't a chore.

Winters was surprised to see such a "historical site" level weekend event in this remote town. After he and Girard set up the targets, the archery training officially began.

Women and children, elderly people who couldn't draw their bows, and some men who thought archery was beneath their dignity stood by and watched.

A hundred or so young men lined up, waiting for their turn to shoot.

Some people brought their own bows and arrows. These people were obviously very confident in their archery skills. They stood in the queue like proud roosters, waiting to show off their skills in front of the villagers.

As for those who did not bring bows and arrows, they used inexpensive ash wood practice bows provided by the town hall.

Some farmers brought their homemade sweet beer and pushed wooden barrels around, loudly hawking it for sale.

Some traveling merchants from other places also come to sell small items such as needles and thread on Sundays.

No one cares about the dogma of "no work on Sundays," and the once quiet Wolf Town has become extremely lively.

Winters' job was easy; he just had to watch out for people accidentally shooting him when they tried to pull arrows from the target.

If the shooter misses the target, the onlookers will boo.

When the archer hits the bullseye, the onlookers cheer loudly.

Simple happiness is infectious; even Winters, whose mind was filled with thoughts of going home, had a slight smile on his lips.

At the same time, Winters also keenly noticed some adult men in the crowd who seemed out of place with the joyful atmosphere.

They were unshaven, disheveled, and mostly had gloomy faces; they neither came to shoot arrows nor to watch at the shooting range.

Even the residents of Wolf Town deliberately avoided these people.

Only the farmers who brewed illicit liquor liked them, because they would drink cup after cup around the barrels.

Although Winters had considered running away and returning to Veneta countless times, he had to fulfill his duties as long as he was in office.

So the garrison commander of Wolf Town stopped the archers beside him, pointed at the men, and asked, "Who are those people? Are they locals?"

The young man who was shooting arrows looked in the direction Winters pointed, shook his head, and replied, "Sir, those guys are from the lumberyard. They've been hired from outside to cut down trees."

Winters wanted to ask more questions, but Girard pulled him aside.

Besides Gerard and Sergei, there were two other men, one old and one young, in the town hall.

The older man appeared to be in his thirties or forties, but his face was etched with deep lines like a spiderweb. His skin was tanned dark, and his lips were tightly pressed together. He carried a roll of leather in each hand.

The youngest looked only fifteen or sixteen years old, still quite childish, and was staring around curiously with his big eyes. He held an unstrung single bow in his hand, about a meter long, smaller than an adult's bow.

Upon seeing Winters enter, Girard introduced him to the group again: "This is the town's new resident officer, Lieutenant Montagne."

Gerard pointed to Sergei and introduced him: "This is Sergei Vladiminovich, Dusak from the village of Dusa."

Upon hearing the name Dusak, old Sergei puffed out his chest with pride.

Girard then pointed to the old man and the young man and introduced them: "These two are hunters from this town, Ralph and his son Bell. Ralph, if you have something to say, just say it."

Hunter Ralph first awkwardly removed his hat and bowed, then anxiously and nervously warned the two officials of Wolf Town: "Sir, the wolf plague is coming!"

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(End of this chapter)