Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 119 Orion
The Senas Union is bordered by mountains to the north and south, with the terrain generally rising gradually from east to west. Therefore, the people living along the coast also refer to the Parat people as the Plateau people.

Langtun Town, located on the southwestern border of the Kingdom of Galloping Horses, is situated in the pine and oak forest belt on the northern slope of the Golden Peak Mountain.

In the forest south of Langtun Town, towering coniferous trees, each as thick as a person's embrace, pierce the sky, blocking out the sun. Only dappled sunlight filters through the gaps in the canopy, nourishing the weeds and shrubs in the forest.

For thousands of years, all things in nature have grown, died, and decayed here without anyone caring, eventually turning into humus soil several feet deep.

The hunter Ralph's cabin was built deep in this dense forest, with only a small path worn by hunters leading to human society.

After receiving Ralph's warning, Gerard, Winters, and Sergei immediately followed Ralph and his son to the hunter's cabin.

The wooden hut was simple and ordinary, with several wooden barrels outside that emitted an unpleasant odor; they appeared to be containers used for tanning animal hides.

“My lords, please look.” Ralph took out an animal limb from inside the house and presented it to Gerald and Winters: “This was found in an animal trap this morning.”

Winters has stopped trying to correct the villagers for calling him "Lord," and Girard seems to have long since gotten used to it.

It appears that this part of the limb once belonged to a deer, but now only the hoof and thigh bone remain.

Winters could only see so much; he didn't think anything was amiss.

Girard asked, quite puzzled, "It's unlucky for a wild animal to snatch the prey that's caught in a trap, but that's not uncommon. How does this relate to the wolf plague?"

"It's related!" Ralph, who was not good with words, became anxious and impatient: "Please take a look at the broken bone in your thigh!"

"How the hell do you talk like that? If you can't speak properly, I'll sew your mouth shut!" Sergei's temper flared up instantly; he couldn't tolerate anyone disrespecting his old brother.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Girard immediately reassured the two.

Old hunter Ralph didn't retort, but simply lowered his head and apologized to the mayor. Young hunter Bel, however, gripped his wooden bow tightly, glaring at old Sergei.

Winters took the deer leg and examined the broken bone carefully. He couldn't see anything wrong with it. "Mr. Ralph," he said, "we're not hunters. We don't understand what you take for granted. You need to explain to us in detail what's wrong with this deer leg."

The old hunter pointed to the broken bone and gestured as he explained, “My lords, this bone was bitten off while the deer was still alive. The deer stepped on the trap and couldn’t move. Some wild animal killed the deer and then bit off its leg, dragging the rest of the leg into the forest.”

"Is there anything strange about that?"

"Ordinary wild beasts can't even bite through a deer's thigh bone! Because they can't!" Hunter Ralph spoke rapidly, his expression anxious: "Sir! This is an extremely strong adult male deer, and its thigh bone is even harder to gnaw on, yet it was bitten through! You can imagine how much force this beast must have when it bites with its upper and lower teeth!"
After listening to the hunter's words, Winters re-examined the severed leg in his hand—the kind of bone that could be bitten through could tear off a person's arm.

Winters frowned and asked the old hunter, "Is it a wolf?"

"Wolves can't do that! A wild beast like a wolf, weighing over a hundred pounds, can at most kill a deer and eat it on the spot. Wolves don't have the strength to drag the carcass of a stag, not even a pack of wolves! Wolves only hunt the old, weak, sick, and disabled. Only a ferocious beast like a tiger or a bear could kill such a large adult animal!"

Words alone weren't enough. The old hunter ran back into the house and retrieved two smooth, white femur bones: "Sir, look, these are handles made from the thigh bones left over from deer eaten by wolves. Wolves love to eat marrow, and if they can bite through it, they certainly won't let it go. But look at these two bones, they're perfectly intact except for the teeth marks!"

"Then why did you say it was a wolf plague?" Winters was completely bewildered when the other party denied that it was a wolf.

Old Sergei explained awkwardly, "Sir, in our area, we call wild animal attacks on people 'wolf plague'."

Winters then understood. He nodded and asked the hunter, "You mean there's a large beast roaming this forest right now?"

"Yes! But not quite!" The old hunter muttered, pulling at his hair in frustration. "I don't know how to explain it to you, or where to even begin, but something just feels really off in the woods lately!"

After spending a year living and working alongside the rank-and-file soldiers, Winters gradually realized that some of them, who had not received any grammatical education, had extremely poor language skills. They spoke without focus, and even their retellings were halting and hesitant. One had to be patient and able to extract key words from their chaotic narratives.

“No rush, take your time, say whatever comes to mind.” Winters patted the hunter on the shoulder and gestured for Ralph to sit down on a wooden stake.

Hunter Ralph glanced gratefully at the town magistrate, then thought for a while before rambling on and on.

Winters listened attentively, trying to discern the key information from it.

"...As a result, starting a while ago, we rarely saw deer, roe deer, foxes, or rabbits running wildly out of the depths of the forest... My son and I set traps on the animal trails, and at first we caught quite a few good ones... But lately, most of the animals we caught have been dragged away and eaten by wild beasts, and the locations are getting closer and closer to the outside... Yesterday, I even found footprints in the forest that I had never seen before..."

"Wait a minute." Winters perked up, interrupting the old hunter: "You found footprints?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then why are you spouting so much nonsense?" Winters couldn't help but mutter to himself. He immediately ordered Hunter Ralph, "Where is it? Take us to see it!"

Led by the hunter father and son, Winters, Gilard, and Sergei ventured deeper into the forest.

This is a truly remote place, and the deeper you go, the quieter and more profound the forest becomes. The chirping of birds and insects cannot break the endless silence of the forest; the only sound is the rustling of the wind through the leaves.

Looking back, Winters could no longer find his way back.

But the hunter father and son knew this forest like the back of their hand. Ralph, a hunter who looked to be at least forty, moved swiftly through the woods and quickly found the spot he remembered: "This is it!"

Three days ago it rained and then the weather was sunny all day, so the footprints in the mud were preserved.

Pushing aside the ferns obstructing the view, a terrifying claw mark was revealed.

Upon seeing the claw mark, all three people except the hunter father and son gasped in shock. One hand and five claws; the entire claw mark was nearly twice the length of Winters' shoe.

Hunter Ralph was right; a beast capable of leaving such claw marks could not possibly be a wolf. A wolf is merely prey in the face of such a behemoth.

Upon seeing this claw mark, Winters' once peaceful and tranquil forest suddenly became fraught with danger and murderous intent.

The horses began to become restless. The two terriers that Girard had brought tucked their tails between their legs and whimpered.

“Beasts will urinate everywhere to warn their kind,” Ralph said decisively, pointing to the two fox terriers trembling with their tails between their legs. “These two fox terriers must have smelled the urine, otherwise they wouldn’t be so scared!”

"By the Holy Spirit!" Old Sergei exclaimed as he approached the paw print, "What could possibly grow this big?"

“Are there any other footprints?” Winters asked.

Ralph shook his head: "That's all, this is the only one I found."

“Then it’s best not to linger here. Let’s go back to Ralph’s house first.” Winters hadn’t brought any weapons and didn’t want to stay here for even a second longer. He looked at Girard: “Mayor Mitchell, what do you think?”

“You’re right, let’s leave here first.”

Led by Ralph and his son, the five of them returned to the hunter's cabin via the same route.

Gerard and Sergei, both over fifty years old, were starting to feel exhausted after trekking through the forest for so long. The hunter father and son, however, moved with light steps and looked perfectly normal.

Girard, panting heavily, asked the old hunter, "What exactly was that? Can you tell from the footprints?"

“Five paw prints, judging from the shape, it should be a bear,” Ralph replied gravely. “But the paw prints are too big, so big that I don’t even know what they are.”

"Do you think there will be another wolf attack?" Girard asked again.

Ralph thought for a long time, and finally said, "Wild animals usually avoid people, let alone venture into forests so close to human habitation. But this big guy's range is getting closer and closer to the edge of the forest. I think if it keeps going out, it will eventually encounter people. Once it tastes human blood, it will definitely start hunting humans for food. But maybe it will turn back and go deeper into the forest. Alas, but you asked me, sir, I don't know either..."

After hearing the hunter's words, Gerard looked at Winters: "Lord Montagne, I think we may need to call up the militia." Winters was taken aback at first, then realized that militia affairs were his responsibility as the stationed officer.

"Do you think we need to form a punitive expedition?" Winters countered.

Girard nodded silently.

Sergei slapped his thigh excitedly: "That's right! Damn it, who cares what kind of behemoth it is! As long as we get shot, we're not afraid of not being able to kill it!"

Winters Montagne had never considered himself a Palatine, but at this moment he truly embraced the identity of the garrison officer of Wolftown.

His brow furrowed: "Calling in the militia would at least give each village some self-defense capability, which I think is feasible. But whether or not to send people to hunt down this beast, I'd like to hear the opinions of professionals."

“Mr. Ralph,” Lieutenant Montagne looked directly into the old hunter’s eyes and said seriously, “Don’t worry, I’ll stand by your words. But you have to tell me the truth… As a hunter, do you think it’s feasible to send the militia to hunt down this beast?”

Lieutenant Montagne spoke earnestly, and Ralph gritted his teeth, mustering his courage to reply, "Sir, I cannot refuse your kindness. I will tell you the truth: the forest is simply too vast, and we have no idea where that thing is. If we really want to kill it, the entire town would have to go on a hunt, and even then, it could easily escape."

Ferocious beasts possess a kind of intelligence; if you fail to kill it, it will hold a grudge and become even more troublesome. Besides, it hasn't harmed anyone yet, so we shouldn't provoke it. I think it's enough for everyone to be careful now; if it does harm someone, then we can hunt it down. If it returns to the depths of the forest on its own, that would be even better.”

After listening carefully, Winters looked at Girard and asked, "What do you think?"

“That’s a safe approach,” Girard agreed. “Let’s leave it at that for now.”

With nothing more to say, Winters, Gerard, and Sergei prepared to leave the hunter's hut.

"Mr. Ralph, I think you shouldn't stay here for the next few days. Why don't you stay with some relatives or friends in the village for a couple of days?" Winters specifically instructed him before he left, worried that the hunter and his son might get into trouble due to carelessness.

The old hunter nodded gratefully.

Winters smiled and said to the young hunter, "Kid, come back for archery next Sunday. I'll prepare the prize you want next time!"

Young hunter Bell curled his lip in disdain. The boy's archery skills were astounding; he had easily won the prize—half a dozen quill pens—from a group of adults. However, the boy clearly didn't like these things.

Winters found the rebellious teenager amusing. He nodded and lightly nudged the hunter and his son's ribs in farewell.

……

On the way back to Wolftown, Winters, Gerard, and Sergei chatted idly.

"Why is the attack of wild animals called 'wolf plague'?" Winters was still puzzled. "Is this a Platonic dialect? What is its origin?"

“It’s not Palatour, it’s just our local dialect. That’s what Dusa Village, as well as the villages on both sides of the river, call it,” Girard replied with a smile.

Speaking of this, old Sergei was filled with pride: "This place used to be plagued by wolves! They really ravaged the farmers who lived here in the old days. Later, when we Dusaks were settled here, they really went on a killing spree. They slaughtered quite a few wolves, big and small. I still have a pair of wolf-skin knee pads! Finally, they drove all the wolves into the mountains, and that was the last time they stopped. Hey! The local women still use 'If you cry again, the wolf will carry you away' to scare the children!"

“Mayor Mitchell, Mr. Sergei, forgive my intrusion, but if I’m not mistaken, you’re both from Dusa, aren’t you?” Winters couldn’t help but ask the question that had been lingering in his mind for a long time: “How did you end up settling in the Cenas Alliance?”

Winters had already suspected that Gerard was from Dusa when he first heard the strange name Gerard Pleninovich Mitchell.

“Of course we’re Dusak! Aren’t we easily distinguishable from peasants?” Old Sergei laughed heartily, recalling, “As for how we ended up here, that’s a long story. More than thirty years ago, we were still serving the old emperor, and then…”

"Vladimirovich! Enough! Stop talking!" Gerard clearly didn't want to discuss the matter further and interrupted old Sergei's recollection.

Sergei was unusually obedient. When Gerard told him to stop, he immediately fell silent.

Seeing that Gerard didn't want to talk about it further, Winters changed the subject: "Mr. Mitchell, I'm a little curious... why do you call Mr. Sergei... Vladimirovich?"

The question was obviously answerable. Gerard explained with a smile, “Sergei’s father’s real name was Vladimir, and Vladimir Novich means Vladimir’s son. He also called me Preninovich because my father’s real name was Prenis, which is what we Dusa people call him.”

Winters laughed and said, "Then should I call myself Enriquenovich?"

Unexpectedly, these words caused Gerard and Sergei to look somewhat embarrassed.

Remembering something else, Girard hurriedly asked Winters, "Did you just ask Ralph and his son to stay with relatives and friends for a few days?"

"Yes, I think the two of them are probably in the most dangerous situation right now."

“I’m afraid they have nowhere to go,” Girard said with some concern.

"why?"

"Because that little child is of Hurd descent," old Sergei blurted out the truth in a gruff voice. "Ralph brought in a Hurd woman, and she died. That left behind that little child. If it weren't for Pleninovich taking pity on them, they wouldn't have been able to register as citizens of Wolf Village at all!"

"Alright, alright, stop talking!" Girard interrupted his old friend.

Sergei immediately fell silent.

Girard scratched the back of his head and continued, "Actually, it's easy to solve. I'll just invite the father and son to my house for the time being."

Sergei said coldly, "I'm afraid they won't appreciate it."

Girard thought for a moment and said, "Even if Ralph doesn't want to come, he will come for his son's safety."

Old Sergei snorted coldly and said nothing more.

Girard then looked at Winters: "Lieutenant Montagne, what do you think of this arrangement?"

“That would be wonderful.” Winters was somewhat flattered and quickly replied, “It would be a lot of trouble for you.”

“Hey, it’s alright, I feel uneasy with so many empty rooms…” Girard said, then suddenly slapped his forehead: “Lieutenant, about gathering the militia… I can go to the east and west banks of the river and Dusa village. But those two Protestant villages, we absolutely have to go together…”

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Remarks:

The content about werewolves recorded in the "Hammer of Wizardry" published by the Catholic Inquisition in 526 of the Imperial Calendar:

"...Half-human, half-wolf...fears silver, garlic, and holy water...immensely strong, tyrannical, bloodthirsty, and extremely dangerous...once bitten, even a pure-hearted person, someone who never forgets to pray at night, will inevitably transform into a wolf on the night of the full moon when the aconite blooms..."

An excerpt from an anthropology master's thesis, "An Exploration of the Deep Consciousness Behind Mythical Creatures—Taking Werewolves as an Example," from the year 1020 of the Gregorian calendar (Imperial calendar), included in a large database:
"...After the fifth century, with the deepening of internal colonization, humans began to claim land from forests and wilderness, leading to numerous incidents of wild animals attacking people. It was during this period that the legend of werewolves spread far and wide... The name of Langtun City in present-day Zhevodan Province originates from a pack of wolves that occupied this area in the early sixth century, and legends about werewolves still circulate in the rural areas of Langtun City to this day..."

I made a reference to the Beast of Thervadan. I wrote 4900 words today, I tried my best.

My knowledge of the complex relationship between the bite force and femur of wild beasts comes from the book *Raising Tigers*. After reading *Raising Tigers*, I watched a video that thoroughly argued that "feeding large felines to dispose of a carcass is inconvenient." It stated that it takes 1700 pounds per square inch to bite through a human femur, while a tiger's bite force is 1050 psi… I also checked, and wolves can't bite through a sheep's femur. So, the description that wolves can't bite through a deer's femur isn't entirely fabricated… I guess.

Thank you to the readers who voted for the book before, and thank you to the readers Tianshui Youjiaren, Ideal Thirty Uncle, Black Computer Sword, Yellow Rabbit of the Flower Country, I don't know what to call, Calmly Gray, Justice and Purity is Koala, Sky Lens, Together with the World, and Nothing is Xiao Gao.

Thank you to readers Wujiushaoxiaogao, Tianjingtou, and 54yue for your recommendation votes. Thank you everyone.

(End of this chapter)