Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 146 Lottery and the Lion

"Nanxin Village, Bart Sharling!"

"Hexi Village, 'Red-Faced' Philpott!"

……

Vahika pulled a small piece of paper with his name written on it from the iron pot and handed it to Panviche beside him.

The old housekeeper read aloud the words on the slip of paper while registering them in the roster.

One name after another echoed through the town square. The farmers whose names were called looked ashen, while those who didn't hear their names were secretly relieved to have escaped.

More and more small pieces of paper were piling up next to Panviche's right, and the forty-eight spots were about to be filled.

Someone in the town square started counting aloud; they had already reached forty-seven.

Everyone watched nervously as Vahika pulled the last slip of paper from the iron pot, and many believers prayed silently.

Pray that you won't hear your own or your family's names next.

Panviche took the last slip of paper from Vahika and paused for a moment.

"Read it quickly!" someone in the square couldn't help but urge.

Panvich gave the young man beside him a deep look and loudly proclaimed, "Dusa village, Vashika Sergenovich Morozov!"

……

The list of candidates required to serve in the military has been finalized.

Amidst pitying gazes, eighty young people stepped out of the crowd and stood on the open ground of the town square, marking the first time the Wolf Town Hundred-Man Team had assembled in full.

Sergei shouted the instructions, and several old Dussaks ran through the ranks, arranging the scattered young men into four neat rows.

As the formation took shape, these young men from the farm finally began to resemble soldiers.

Father Anthony began leading the newly recruited militiamen in their oath, reciting a line as they repeated it. Then, one by one, they approached Father Anthony and kissed the scriptures and sacred objects.

After the oath-taking ceremony, the militiamen lined up again and listened to the second lieutenant's instructions.

"Flight from duty is a serious crime, punishable by death for your entire family. Do not take the risk." Winters began with a brief explanation: "Many of you are still minors, many of you have never held a weapon, but after taking the oath, there are no children, no farmers, only soldiers. From this moment on, you are bound by military law. Go home and prepare yourselves, go and kiss your parents, wives and children."

Winters scanned the faces before him and concluded, "Now, soldiers, go home. May you all be blessed."

……

Winters thought the draw was the end of the process, but things weren't as simple as he imagined. The draw ceremony merely marked the end of the first half; the second half was just beginning.

Before the crowds had dispersed from the market, the Hoffmanns approached Lieutenant Montagne. The Hoffmanns owned the Golden Harvest Estate and were considered among the most prominent landowners in Wolf Town.

The piece of paper with Hoffman's name on it had just been pulled out of the iron pot, and old Hoffman was clearly unwilling to let his son leave home to serve in the military.

“Mr. Hoffman,” Winters said politely but firmly, cutting off the other party beforehand, “the lottery was absolutely fair. Your son was unlucky to be chosen, and there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“Understood, sir, we understand.” Old Hoffman rubbed his hands together and said, “What I mean is… shall we continue with the usual method?”

"What methods did you use in previous years?" Winters raised an eyebrow inadvertently.

Old Hoffman replied matter-of-factly, "Sir, the method used in previous years is the same as it used in previous years."

Winters soon learned what method old Hoffman was referring to.

The solution was an unexpected person.

“Sir,” Berion—the young blacksmith—stepped before the lieutenant. “I volunteer to serve in place of Mr. Hoffmann.”

“Didn’t I ask you that?” Winters glanced at the blacksmith. “You said you didn’t want to back then.”

As early as when the conscription order was first issued, Winters asked the blacksmith if he would like to sign up for the militia.
The army will always need blacksmiths, especially skilled ones.

Soldiers like Berion, who possess a special skill, can not only be spared from heavy physical labor such as digging trenches and building camps, but also receive double the salary.

At that time, Berian smiled silently and shook his head, declining the lieutenant's offer. But now he has volunteered to replace young Hoffmann.

Upon hearing the lieutenant's question, Berion calmly replied, "I am unwilling now as well."

“I see.” Winters nodded. “How much did you sell yourself for?”

"Mr. Hoffman offered a very fair price."

Winters had heard of conscripts paying others to serve in their place, but he wasn't sure if it was legal.

After Berion left, Winters asked Girard and learned that "substitutes" were common knowledge in Palatour.

As long as they have enough manpower, the newly established garrison troops do not care whether there are replacements among them.

In previous years, if the son of the manor owner in Wolf Town was selected, he would spend money to hire someone to take his place, as long as the roster had not yet been submitted to the garrison.

However, if the replacement evades service, the original service member will also be held accountable, so the candidate must be honest and reliable.

It is not uncommon for tenant farmers and farmhands to repeatedly perform labor services for others and use the money they have accumulated to buy land and become self-sufficient farmers.

“Berion? Misha’s helper? Misha really likes him.” Girard thought for a moment and said, “Doesn’t he have a brother working for the Hoffmans? I suppose it’s to help his brother get some things.”

Winters strongly disapproved of hiring substitutes. But it was also a form of fairness, and he didn't want to break the original operating rules.

So Hoffmann's name was crossed out from the roster, and "Belion of Nanxin Village" was added.

The ink on the roster was still wet when Bell ran over excitedly: "Sir, I volunteer to serve in place of Mr. Wilkes!"

Winters finally understood how old Mr. Mitchell felt when he picked up the stick.

"What are you doing here causing trouble?" He forcibly suppressed the urge to beat up the brat in front of him: "I haven't even figured out what to do with your new pet yet!"

……

Rewind five days to the hunter's cabin.

Winters, Bell, and a lion cub—now not much bigger than a cat but sure to grow to several hundred kilograms in the future—share a room.

Bell quickly picked up the lion cub from the ground and held it protectively in his arms. The cub let out a dissatisfied howl and tried hard to climb onto Bell's shoulder.

"My lord, please don't kill it," Bell pleaded, backing away step by step with the lion cub in his arms, almost crying.

Silence, a silence that lasted for more than ten seconds.

Winters sighed and asked, "Is it weaned now?"

"not yet."

"Then what will you feed it?"

"At first, it was dog milk. A dog in Hedong Village had puppies. Later, there wasn't enough dog milk, so I bought goat milk from people."

"You need the money just to do this?" Bell nodded.

“Can’t you just tell me directly?” Winters dragged a chair over and sat down. “Put it down. The little thing is so uncomfortable being held by you. If I wanted to kill it, you couldn’t stop me.”

Bell wiped away her tears and carefully placed the lion cub on the ground. The freed lion cub quickly hid in a corner of the house.

The little hunter's pitiful appearance reminded Winters of Elizabeth, whom he had picked up when he was a child and begged Kosha to adopt—except back then she wasn't called Little General, but just a kitten whose eyes hadn't even opened yet.

The scene before him inadvertently touched a soft spot in his heart.

[Don't be impatient.] Winters thought to himself, [Use language Bell can understand.]
The poor lieutenant isn't even married yet, and he's already experiencing the hardships of raising a child.

“Male or female?” Winters gestured to another chair across the table. “Don’t stand, sit down and talk.”

“It’s a male.” Bell sat obediently in the chair.

"When it's two months old, milk alone won't be enough. At that point, it will need to eat meat, you know?"

Bell first shook his head, then quickly nodded.

"It will eat meat. How do you plan to feed it then?" Winters' question became sharp.

Bell quickly replied, "I can hunt! I hunt rabbits, deer, and wild boars to feed it!"

“With your skills, you should be able to feed it until it’s six months old. I’ll be generous and assume you can feed it until it’s a year old.” Winters tapped the table lightly, staring intently into the young hunter’s eyes: “But do you know how long a lioness takes to raise her cubs?”

The little hunter stared blankly.

“At least two years,” Winters said coldly. “According to Brother Reed, it’s not unusual for lion cubs to stay with their mothers for up to three years. You’ve seen the size of its mother; will you still be able to feed it after it turns one year old?”

“At that time I could release it back into the forest, where it can hunt for its own food and be well-fed,” Bell argued stubbornly.

"Hey kid, have you ever owned a cat?" Winters asked a completely unrelated question.

The little hunter shook his head.

"Only kittens raised by their mothers will catch mice, because the mother cat teaches them how to hunt. Cats raised by humans won't catch mice even if they're placed right in front of them. Are you a lioness? If it gets used to being fed by you, will it still hunt?"

“I…” Bell couldn’t speak.

"I'll ask you again, why did your father risk his life to kill its mother?" Winters didn't give the young hunter a chance to catch his breath, answering his own question: "Because its mother was a cannibal. And why did its mother cannibalize people? Wasn't it because the prey in the forest wasn't getting enough to eat? If you send it back to the forest, will it get enough to eat? Wouldn't that just repeat its mother's tragedy?"

After another long silence, Bell sobbed and said, "I don't care, I just can't kill it."

The little lion, who had been hiding in the corner of the room, gradually became less afraid. Unable to contain its curiosity, it shakily crawled toward the strange and terrifying upright ape by the table.

Winters felt something touching his boots. Looking down, he discovered that a lion cub had somehow escaped and was rubbing and nibbling at the toe of his boot.

He scooped up the lion cub; its fur was fluffy, soft, and warm, just like the feel of a cat.

Bell was startled. He was about to rush forward to snatch it, but seeing that the lieutenant was just casually playing with the lion cub on the table, he sat back down in his chair.

"You don't want to kill it, do you?" Bell asked cautiously.

“I never said that. If I thought it would become a menace to Wolf Town, I wouldn’t hesitate. But there are still many possibilities.” Winters gently rubbed the cub’s round belly, and the little lion whimpered in a dissatisfied voice, “Did you help it poop and pee today?”

Bell was clearly flustered: "What?"

"Don't you understand? Then you probably found a mother dog for it before." Winters sighed. "Otherwise, this little guy would have died long ago. It's only because it's so resilient that it's survived in your care until now."

Winters took out a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it in warm water, and gently wiped the cub's excrement. Soon the handkerchief was completely soaked with a pale yellow liquid.

After holding his urine for several days, the little lion finally felt relieved as his bladder was no longer being compressed. He yawned contentedly.

“Kid, haven’t you realized it yet?” Winters walked to the basin to wash his hands, saying without turning his head, “You’re not capable of taking care of this little guy right now. If you leave it here, it’ll be killed by you sooner or later. It’s a matter of ability, not willingness.”

Although Bell was unconvinced, he was speechless when he saw the handkerchief on the table that was wet with pale yellow liquid.

“And even if you can raise it, you have no idea what to do with it once it grows up.” Winters, having washed his hands, sat back down and gestured with his chin to the handkerchief on the table: “Wash it and give it back to me tomorrow.”

"Then what do you suggest we do..." Bell said dejectedly.

"The best fate for this behemoth is probably to live in the cage of some high-ranking official. Send it to the emperor's court, and it will live a very comfortable life thereafter," Winters said with a wry smile. "Perhaps the Venetta Governorate would also be happy to buy a lion as a mascot."

"No!" Bel jumped to his feet. "That's an insult to Tengri!"

The little lion was startled and scrambled off the table, fleeing to a corner of the room.

Winters rested his chin on his hand and said slowly, "But it can't go back to the mountains either. I'm the resident officer of Wolf Town, and I won't allow it to go anywhere that could harm the people of Wolf Town. If you insist on putting it back, either I'll kill it, or someone from another town will kill it. Do you want to see that happen?"

“I’ll take care of it for the rest of my life,” Bell murmured.

Winters chuckled, "Let's not even talk about the money. Once it grows up, the whole town's pigs and sheep probably won't be enough to feed it."

The little hunter fell silent again.

“I’m quite curious, why are you so insistent on protecting it?” Winters asked earnestly.

“Because it is the spirit of the wilderness, the darling and mount of Tengri,” Bell whispered. “That’s what my mother said.”

"Your mother is a Hud woman, right?"

"Ah."

"But your father also killed a giant lion before."

“The giant lion wants to kill my father, and my father wants to kill the giant lion. It’s fair.” Bell continued in a low voice, “But Tengri doesn’t allow the indiscriminate killing of cubs. My family already owes a debt to the gods of a lion cub, and I have to repay it for my father, otherwise he will not be able to rest in peace or be reincarnated.”

"Oh no, he's a believer. I can't explain this to him now," Winters thought.

Bell called out softly, and the lion cub obediently ran over from the corner of the house, showing no signs of the fright it had just suffered.

It climbed onto Bell's knees, rubbing its head against Bell's chin and licking Bell's face.

Seeing the close bond between the man and the lion, Winters was at a loss for words: "You don't want to send it to a captive enclosure."

The little hunter nodded.

“Sending it back to the mountains might be feasible, but I disagree,” Winters said helplessly, fiercely, and resignedly. “You brat, you’d better go work in the circus!”

……

Back to the present, Bell ran up excitedly: "Sir, I volunteer to serve in place of Mr. Wilkes!"

"What are you doing here causing trouble? I haven't even figured out what to do with your new pet yet!"

"I've got an idea!" Bell shouted excitedly, his eyes filled with joy. "The white lion is a sacred object among the four-legged tribes. We can return the white lion to the Khan!"

Winters gave the little hunter a sharp rap on the head: "I'm going to fight the 'Great Khan'!"

[Note: The term "four-legged tribes" is the self-designation of the Hed people, meaning "horse riders."]
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(End of this chapter)