Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 126 Hunting
It's unclear what the mendicant monks said to the Protestants in the two villages, but the South New Village and North New Village suddenly became very enthusiastic towards Winters.

The villagers, who were initially quite hostile to the priest of Wolf Town Church, actually began to treat the old mendicant monk with utmost respect after listening to Brother Reid's sermon.

All the able-bodied men from both villages signed up to join the bear-hunting team, and the manpower for searching the mountains suddenly became plentiful.

"What did you say to them?" Winters asked curiously. "You didn't lie to them and say I was a Protestant too, did you?"

Winters still couldn't muster any respect for the old charlatan, a fact the old monk was well aware of. Because of this, the two could converse without restraint.

The mendicant monk did not answer directly: "Are you planning to seize the land they illegally cultivated?"

"Of course not, do you think I'd be so bored? I might not even be here in two months." Winters was completely baffled.

"Then it doesn't matter what I say," the old monk said casually. "As long as they know you have no ill intentions towards them, as long as they consider you one of their own, that's enough for you."

The lieutenant seemed to understand something, and then asked curiously, "Then why did they consider you 'one of theirs' too?"

“For some, ‘worship’ is a necessity. So the more devout a person is, the easier they are to manipulate, because they can convince themselves.” Brother Reed spoke these blasphemous words casually. “Those two villages belong to the Reformed. Once you know what they want to believe, the rest is simple—just say what they want to hear.”

These words, more wicked than heretical theology, left Winters speechless. He couldn't help but ask the question that had been lingering in his mind: "I really can't understand how someone like you could join the Catholic Church?"

"Having the identity of a clergyman makes things much easier. Merchants might be extorted, farmers might be questioned, but no one will bother an old and poor charlatan." The mendicant monk, who had converted to countless religions, smiled and said, "In the East, I am sometimes a monk of the Bodhi sect, sometimes a scholar of the Star and Moon sect, and on this continent, I am a priest of the Catholic Church. It's all the same, really."

Winters couldn't believe it when he heard Raed casually admit that he was a false believer.

Thinking about it carefully, it doesn't seem wrong, but the old man's tone was too bland, so bland that it was as if he were talking about the weather today.

After a long silence, Winters said, half sarcastically and half admiringly, "You certainly have a pragmatic spirit."

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the old monk laughed heartily.

……

With more manpower, Winters reorganized the search sectors and once again devoted all his energy to the hunt for the man-eating bear.

While the militia searched the mountains and forests inch by inch, two clergymen in the church in Wolf Town opened a bottle of wine and sat at a small table chatting.

“That kid is probably suffering in the deep mountains and forests right now,” Brother Reid said with a smile.

“That’s right,” Father Kaman respectfully echoed, “Teacher.”

Brother Reid took a small sip of wine and casually asked, "What's your relationship with him? Why do you want me to help him?"

“I have no connection with him, and I don’t know Lieutenant Montagne,” Father Carmen replied earnestly. “However, I believe he genuinely wants to do something good for the parish.”

"Many times," the old priest said calmly, "good intentions don't necessarily lead to good results."

"Don't you think we should help him?" Father Kaman asked, bewildered.

“What can I know? I am merely a stranger wandering in a foreign land. If I truly possessed wisdom, why would I be unable to return home?” A bitter smile appeared on the old priest’s face: “Let’s wait and see.”

……

Despite receiving full assistance from four other villages, the bear-hunting team still came up empty-handed for three consecutive days.

The militiamen marched through the dense forest, tapping on tree trunks and keeping a distance of more than ten meters from each other, sweeping across the woodland like a net. They found droppings, hair, and broken trees—all signs indicating that the ferocious beast was definitely in this forest, but they couldn't find the bear, not even a glimpse of it.

A full week had passed since the last attack, and the militiamen were becoming exhausted, their morale waning day by day.

The village chiefs from both the east and west banks of the river approached Winters and suggested, "Perhaps the bear escaped?"

It must be said that this is indeed a very persuasive and tempting hypothesis.

The large-scale search operation by the mountain team scared the vicious bear back into the deep mountains—which sounds reasonable.

But hunter Ralph firmly opposed this idea, saying, "Once a wild beast has eaten a human, it becomes a ferocious beast; it will never forget the taste of human flesh." Moreover, judging from various traces, the bear had clearly not gone far, but was lingering near Wolf Town.

The old hunter, abandoning his previous cautious approach to killing, opposed halting the large-scale search and insisted on "completely eliminating the ferocious beast to prevent future troubles." He believed the man-eating bear was nearby, and the lack of success in recent days was simply bad luck. He reasoned that as long as the search continued, finding it was only a matter of time.

Like many commanders throughout history who faced difficult choices, Winters agreed with the hunter's assessment—the giant bear was definitely not far away. But he also clearly understood that his militia had reached their physical and mental limits.

Searching the mountains was arduous work; every meter taken required immense physical exertion. Not to mention that the militiamen had abandoned their own farm work to search the mountains, and while they found nothing in the forest, their wives, children, and elderly toiled in the fields. Therefore, the longer the search dragged on, the more these farmers' resolve wavered.

Should the search be stopped? Or should the militia be forced to continue?
Previously, Warrant Officer Montagne only needed to obey orders, but now the garrison commander of Montagne needs to make his own judgments.

Winters summoned the village chiefs of the five villages to him: "If we continue searching, we will surely find the man-eating bear. But the people in each village are exhausted and can no longer continue searching. The only option now is to wait for the giant bear to attack again."

He didn't say it explicitly: there hadn't been any attacks for a week, so the bear was probably starving.

Upon hearing the news that the search operation had been suspended, the militiamen of Hedong Village and Hexi Village were full of complaints, and the villagers also had many grievances against Winters; on the contrary, the able-bodied men of the two Protestant villages obeyed the order without complaint, seemingly really regarding Winters as "one of their own".

After learning of Winters' decision, the old hunter Ralph left the group without a word and searched deeper into the mountains alone.

For the first time, Lieutenant Montagne felt the pressure of making a decision.

……

Three days after the search for the wolf stopped, Langtun Town welcomed another Sunday. Although the shadow of the wolf plague loomed over them, the villagers from the three villages still went to the church in the town center early in the morning to attend Sunday worship, just like always.

The church in Wolf Town isn't large, but it's not particularly small either, and its layout is similar to other single-bay churches. Two stone walls with windows form the nave, and the vaulted structure means the nave doesn't need pillars for support. At one end of the nave is the entrance hall, and at the other end are the altar and ritual implements.

Because revealing the spellcaster's identity could cause unnecessary trouble in the closed and conservative Wolf Town, Winters would sit with Girard in the church for a while during Sunday services.

The sermon was led by the young Father Kaman. He first led the congregation in prayer for the victims of the wolf plague, and then quoted the words of saints to encourage the believers.

Watching the devout believers praying for the gods to drive away the evil bear, Winters understood them somewhat. It was essentially a sense of powerlessness; when faced with something one was powerless to change, hoping for help from a higher being became the obvious choice.

Winters canceled the weekly archery training, so people hurriedly returned to their villages after the ceremony.

Winters found Father Carman: "I don't know why, but I still have to thank you. The two villages on both sides of the river have been quite resentful of me lately."

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Father Kaman said gently. “The beasts are in the forest, and you are right in front of them.”

Winters gave a wry smile: "My previous wish was to find a quiet job and retire, but now... now I'd rather go back to the army and be a lowly centurion." "There's always a reason why fate puts you in this position."

“I thought you would use the word ‘Lord’,” Winters joked.

Father Kaman smiled slightly: "Who told you to be an unbeliever? Let's put it another way that you can accept."

"But I don't believe in fate either. If everything is predetermined, what's the point of people struggling? Why don't we just lie down and wait for fate to come?"

"Perhaps human struggle is also part of fate."

“Sophistry.” Winters scoffed at this. “Don’t seminaries teach logic? You’re saying the future is both knowable and unknowable; you’re describing a paradox.”

Kaman was about to say something, but an urgent knocking on the door interrupted their conversation about metaphysics.

Kaman glanced at Winters and said loudly, "Please come in!"

The church handyman burst through the door: "Father! Something terrible has happened... Ah! The garrison commander is here too!"

“What happened?” Winters asked.

"Sir!" The handyman swallowed hard. "Beacon Fire!"

……

"Where did it go?" Winters, who had been galloping wildly, pulled hard on the reins, and Redmane stood on his hind legs in front of the village chief of Hexi Village.

The village chief dared not delay and pointed to the west of the village, replying, "The west!"

Winters spoke rapidly: "When did they arrive? Were there any casualties?"

"It must have been during Mass when that thing came in, ate a lot of food, and bit a paralyzed old woman to death!"

Winters turned his horse around: "Gather all the militia and follow me!"

"Yes, sir, yes." The village chief remembered something and added, "That hunter has already gone after him."

The militia of Dusa village also saw the beacon fire, and old Sergei immediately led the people of Dusa to join the militia of Hexi village.

Unlike the previous three times it had wreaked havoc, this time the beast had just escaped, leaving behind clear tracks. Following the tracks, Winters led the group straight to the woodland to the southwest.

In the shade of the tree canopy, Winters could see broken bushes and weeds. The bear was enormous, and the tracks it left in the bushes and saplings were practically a path.

Guided by the tracks on the ground, Winters pursued relentlessly. At this moment, he had only one thought in his mind: to kill this man-eating bear. Unconsciously, he even left the militia behind him quite a distance.

He spurred his horse, leaping over a thicket of hazel trees, crossing a cold stream, charging up a mound and then down again, galloping wildly through the woods.

On the back of a galloping horse, pine needles scratch the skin like the sharpest arrows, leaving a bloody mark with each contact.

The complex terrain in the woodland was even more dangerous. Fortunately, Redmane's hooves seemed to have divine assistance; otherwise, a small rat hole could have broken his neck.

After crossing several mounds, broken branches and bushes led Winters to a depression, then around a sharp bend and suddenly uphill again. Winters didn't know how far he had chased them, but he could tell the terrain was rapidly rising.

The slope became steeper as they went further. Red Mane neighed and used all his strength to stomp his feet, digging deep holes in the soft black soil with his four hooves.

The warhorse was already exhausted, and Winters dismounted upon seeing this. He took two heavy matchlock muskets and a powder flask from the saddlebags and began loading them.

An eerie silence permeated the dark forest.

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from nearby.

Winters picked up the musket and braced the butt against his shoulder.

"My lord, it's me." The hunter Ralph's figure emerged from among the branches and leaves.

Without time for pleasantries, Winters asked directly, "Is it up ahead?"

"It should be up ahead."

"take me."

“We can’t bring a horse; it’ll make too much noise,” the old hunter explained. “That thing is incredibly fast in the forest; we can’t catch it on horseback, and it will only scare it away. If we frighten it away, we’ll just have to wait for it to die of exhaustion.”

Winters took two javelins from Redmane's saddlebag, gave one to Ralph, and kept one for himself.

He then turned the red-maned horse back in the direction they had come from and lashed its rump hard with the whip: "Go! Go home!"

Red Mane, in pain, fled back the way he came.

“Let’s go,” Winters said to the hunter, slinging the two muskets over his shoulder and holding a javelin in his hand.

"Sir, the two of us probably can't kill that thing on our own. We'd better leave a mark along the way and wait for reinforcements to follow." Besides a hunting knife and a single bow, Ralph's only weapons were a javelin given to him by Winters.

It was then that Winters realized he had become separated from the other militia members.

"No matter what, let's find that thing first." Winters drew his Dussa saber.

"Yes." Ralph nodded and walked in front, but he couldn't help but remind him, "Sir, your gun doesn't have a matchlock."

The hunter was answered by a cold voice: "I don't need a fire rope."

Horses are actually incredibly good climbers; I've seen them climb slopes of up to 60 degrees, even while carrying people (the actual angle might be 45 degrees, but it feels very steep). However, Redmane is designed as a small, spirited horse, so its carrying capacity is somewhat limited. It struggled to climb a slope carrying two guns and a strong adult male.

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(End of this chapter)