Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 222 Rush
"I need to say more about the brothers who returned from the wasteland! And no need for further explanation from the people of Wolf Town! Let me introduce you to the rest!"

Pierre stood on the boulder, delivering a passionate speech to the bandits, a far cry from his previous listless and lethargic demeanor:
"This is Captain Winters Montagne! Palatine's champion! The best centurion! Centurion Montagne is back! We brothers have nothing to fear anymore! Centurion Montagne is back! Blue..."

Pierre spoke with great enthusiasm, but Pot-Circle Dixon's face grew paler and paler.

From the moment Centurion Montgomery and Pierre recognized each other, Pot Circle wanted to escape.

But he couldn't escape; he was being watched closely, unseen by anyone. Even when he went to urinate, two Dussacs followed behind him.

After a brief and not intense internal struggle, Guo Quan knelt down with a thud and pleaded, "Sir, I'm just an honest farmer. I only became a bandit because I couldn't survive. Please spare me!"

Winters raised an eyebrow slightly: "Stand up and speak."

But Guo Quan's knees felt like they were nailed to the ground, and he still wanted to kiss the centurion's hem.

Pierre stood in front of the pot ring, his face stern, and announced, "Centurion Montagne is back, so this group is none of your business. Get out of here."

"Can... I really go?" Guo Quan asked tentatively, his voice filled with mixed feelings of joy and worry.

"roll!"

This is truly a difficult choice; staying means certain death, and leaving might also mean certain death.

Pierre waved his hand, telling the other bandits, "Anyone who doesn't want to stay can leave!"

After much hesitation, Guo Quan gritted his teeth and decided to take a gamble: "Thank you for your mercy, sir, but I still don't want to be a robber!"

Guo Quan concluded that staying meant certain death. Besides, he was used to his freedom and didn't want to hear anything about centurions.

Given the current chaos in the newly reclaimed land, anyone who manages to leave can easily gather another group of people.

Seeing that Guo Quan was leaving, a few other people, all of whom were Guo Quan's old buddies, also wanted to leave.

"Get lost," Pierre waved his hand dismissively.

Guo Quan thanked him profusely, took a few steps backward, and turned to run away.

However, as soon as he turned around, Pierre's saber came crashing down.

The gleaming steel blade traced an arc, slicing open the left shoulder, pausing only at the bone. It left a gruesome cut, from which blood gushed forth in spurts.

Pierre flicked his saber, wiped away the blood, and sheathed it.

Other veterans also sprang into action, killing the habitual bandits who were trying to leave.

Winters was a little surprised, but he didn't say anything.

He gathered twenty-two "bandits" together, along with his thirteen warriors.

Looking at everyone's somber faces, Winters began his first speech.

“According to the laws of the newly reclaimed land,” he said calmly, but his voice was clear to everyone: “Those who gather to rob and loot on the road shall be executed by rotating punishment for the ringleader and by hanging for the accomplices.”

Everyone's expressions grew even more somber; who didn't know all this?

In the newly reclaimed land, becoming a bandit meant certain death. No one would seek refuge with a bandit gang unless they were desperate.

Winters spoke again: "But my appointment as the garrison commander of Wolftown remains in effect, so from this moment on, I am conscripting all of you into the Wolftown militia of the newly reclaimed land."

You must obey my authority and are now bound by military law. You are no longer bandits, nor farmers; it is now your responsibility to eradicate bandits.

The people from Wolf Town had red eyes; they drifted like rootless duckweed in the wind, living in fear of the future every day.

The appearance of the Montagne resident is like a plank of wood appearing before a drowning person; he is a remnant of the world that once existed, making one recall the good old days.

But the farmers elsewhere only showed numbness and indifference; they didn't recognize Winters Montagne.

To them, what difference did it make whether it was a pot of porridge, a garrison officer, or a centurion? It was just a matter of getting a different person to serve them some porridge.
Winters looked at each person in turn: “I promise you. One day, you can lay down your weapons, pick up the plow again, return to the golden wheat fields, and return to your mothers, wives, and children. This is my promise to you, please remember it well.”

His voice was calm, but there was a strange power in it, as if he could really keep his promise.

Even the most numb farmer felt a slight prick in his heart at this moment, as if pricked by a needle.

The earthy smell of soil, golden wheat fields...

So close, yet so unattainable; it feels like a distant memory.

……

Winters reunited with his warriors, and they had so much to talk about.

The young horseman Anglu clung to Winters' arm, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing, but refusing to let go.

Pierre brought a young man to Winters and said happily, "Look who I've brought you!"

Winters couldn't help but laugh as soon as he saw it.

The young man in front of them looked exactly like the blacksmith Berian; no one would mistake them for one another.

However, Berrian was taciturn, honest, and cautious, while the young man in front of him had a mischievousness and liveliness unique to young people.

Winters asked the young man, "Your father's name is Alexander Sawyer, right?"

The young man was startled and looked at Pierre helplessly.

“Don’t tease him.” Pierre patted the young man on the shoulder. “I ran into Carlos in another group, and I recognized him as soon as I saw him. So I took him with me to keep an eye on him.”

"Do you know my brother too?" Carlos asked.

The surrounding soldiers all burst into laughter.

“How could I not recognize him?” Winters laughed heartily, then turned to Pierre and asked, “Where is Berrian?”

The laughter died down.

Pierre's expression turned somewhat somber: "He's a blacksmith under Arpad, and he's kept very close watch. My father, and many others, are also under Arpad. But I don't know exactly where they are. Are they still alive? I don't know either."

“We have to find a way to get them back,” Winters sighed.

Pierre roused himself, slapping his thigh and saying, "Anyway, now that you're back, we have nothing to be afraid of!"

Others nodded.

Winters remembered something particularly important, and he asked Carlos seriously, "How...are you a good cook?"

"No, no!" Carlos waved his hands frantically. "I always eat what my brother makes. I can't cook."

"Oh." Winters asked with a hint of regret and a sense of loss, "Then do you know how to forge iron?"

"Yes, I've been doing this since I was little, but my skills are nowhere near as good as my brother's."

“Pierre, let him be in charge of repairing weapons, but don’t let him handle swords.”

"Yes!"

Upon hearing this, Carlos immediately became agitated: "Why can't I use a sword? I have two arms and two legs too! I'm no worse than anyone else!"

Pierre slapped the kid on the back of the head: "How dare you! The captain was just looking out for you!"

Carlos didn't recognize the new centurion Montagne, but he respected Pierre and quietly quieted down.

"When did I become a captain?" Winters asked, bewildered.

“You didn’t know? Oh…you really didn’t know.” Pierre said with a smile, “Posthumously awarded! And with a grand ceremony. Every fallen officer was promoted one rank. Those guys from Arpad did it.”

Since Winters Montagne has already died in battle, there are naturally no restrictions on him.

When he received the Grand Cross of the Knight's Sword, he was already eligible for a promotion, as was customary.

"To die for one's country" is a promotion to the next level.

So the First Republic of Palatine generously posthumously awarded Winters the rank of captain—at that time, the Blue Rose and the Red Rose had not yet split.

However, since Winters is still alive, there is a problem with the determination of his military rank.

But who cares? Winters certainly doesn't.

“Tell me about your stories,” Wintes said, gesturing for Pierre and the others to sit in a circle. “Tell me everything.”

Everyone started talking, recounting the hardships they had endured fighting their way back from the no-man's land, the torment of being stranded at Shuangqiao Camp, and their escape back to Wolf Town.

Pierre didn't hide the ambush of the officers and pursuers from Winters.

“That beast Bentin, I wanted to kill him too,” Pierre said bitterly. “That beast has a keen nose; he smelled something was wrong and ran off to Gévordine with his tail between his legs.”

Winters nodded. If Pierre wouldn't go to talk to Big Ben, he would go to talk to Big Ben too.

“Then we moved from one gang to another, never straying too far from Wolf Town. Occasionally we could go home to visit and bring them some food.” Pierre’s voice trailed off as he spoke: “We just drifted along like that, living one day at a time.”

Everyone fell silent. They had machetes, but they didn't know where to strike.

Rebel against the authority that rules this land? They don't have the courage—and that would be suicide.

"How do these bandits eat and drink? By robbing travelers?" Winters asked patiently. "How much wealth can a traveler possibly have?"

While the others were still confused, Pierre had already grasped Winters' meaning. He said helplessly, "Don't let his appearance fool you, that guy is cunning and knows the ways of the authorities very well. He only robs travelers and merchants on the road, and at most extorts farms. He never runs into the conscription teams from above! He stays far away from them."

According to the laws of the newly reclaimed lands, it was the duty of the local towns to capture and kill bandits.

Wolf Town is plagued by bandits, Wolf Town takes charge; The area near Revodan is plagued by bandits, Revodan takes charge.

The New Reclamation Corps would only send out military police in one situation: when bandits raided the corps' territory.

As a seasoned bandit, Guo Quan never touches the conscription team.

As long as he doesn't provoke the New Reclamation Army, with the local security forces already on the verge of collapse, no one really can do anything to him.

With this little bit of cleverness, Guo Quan managed to remain a robber for many years without any consequences.

However, evil people will always have their match, and the pot ring has now been buried.

Winters counted, and the only people he could truly rely on were his thirteen "veterans".

Of the other twenty-two people, the people of Wolf Town might be trustworthy, but the rest are the type who rush in and then scatter in a panic.

Winters had no intention of commanding them, but if he dismissed them all, he would reunite with another gang of thugs the next day.

Winters thought to himself, "I have to find a way out for them." "It's alright." He couldn't say anything discouraging, so he tried to sound confident: "I have a plan."

……

……

"Crench."

"Crench."

That's the sound of wheels turning.

A convoy was slowly moving forward on the road, pulled by horses, mules, oxen, and donkeys.

The cart was loaded with wheat in sacks and straw baskets, unripe fruits and vegetables, and all the grains they could scavenge.

It even included two squealing piglets and a goat.

The people escorting the convoy were armed and looked like soldiers.

But they all looked listless, their shoulders slumped and their hands hanging down, just walking along with their heads down.

The drivers were the same; they casually swung their long whips, and even the movement of the whip tip seemed reluctant.

They returned from Wolf Town laden with their spoils and were on their way to Revodan.

Of the fifty or so escorting soldiers and twenty or so coachmen, only one was in high spirits.

That was Sergeant Ivan, the leader of this grain requisition team.

Sergeant Ivan was originally a member of the security force and was known in Zhevodan for his fiery temper and his habit of beating his wife and children when drunk.

The military commander of Zhevodan expanded his troops, and Ivan also rose in rank to become a sergeant.

There was only one reason for his promotion—his superiors thought he had a bad temper and a burly physique, which would allow him to keep the lower-ranking soldiers in check.

"Farmers have no food? Bullshit! Farmers are the most cunning of all!" Sergeant Ivan spat as he proudly recounted his grain-collecting experience to the squad leader beside him: "Want grain? No! Want wheat? No! Open the cellar and you'll find it full of flour and wheat! You have to put a knife to their throats to make them behave!"

The squad leader next to him smiled wryly and nodded repeatedly in agreement; he couldn't afford to offend this barbarian.

The convoy traveled slowly, taking anywhere from one or two days to four or five days to return to Zhevodan from various villages and towns.

Therefore, military outposts were set up along the route of the Gevordan garrison—a common strategy of the Plattite army.

"Keep it up!" Sergeant Ivan shouted to the soldiers. "We can rest when we get to the outpost!"

They walked until dusk before the outpost finally came into view.

It was called a military post, but it was really just a wooden fence enclosing a circle on a flat open space, with a few sheds built there.

This was to prevent the cattle and horses from running away and to provide the conscription team with a place to spend the night.

Sergeant Ivan entered the outpost and saw four soldiers eating dinner and chatting around a table.

They seemed to be having a great time, occasionally bursting into laughter.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Sergeant Ivan asked with a displeased expression.

The young sergeant rose to greet him.

Sergeant Ivan, seeing the remaining bottles of liquor on the table, grew even angrier: "You bastards! You've been drinking again?"

"Oh." The centurion scratched his head. "I'll put it away now."

"Where are the original people who used to work at this outpost?" Sergeant Ivan frowned.

"Ran."

The direct consequence of forced conscription was a large number of deserters.

The New Reclamation Corps currently relies entirely on collective punishment to maintain discipline, which means that when a deserter appears, the entire ten-man squad runs away together.

Sergeant Ivan was not surprised by this.

"You'd better keep a close eye on things tonight," Sergeant Ivan snapped coldly. "If I find my men have deserted by tomorrow morning, you'll be held accountable too!"

The captain nodded emphatically.

"Get us some water!" Sergeant Ivan said casually, sitting down at the table. "Leave the bottles."

There was no need to wait until tomorrow morning; the grain requisition team was raided by Winters that very evening.

The impolite Sergeant Ivan was given a severe beating after having a sack put over his head, and then he was tightly tied up.

When the sack was removed again, Sergeant Ivan found himself surrounded by three masked men.

The three masked men were Winters, Pierre, and Vahika. Because of their accents, Pierre was the one who greeted Sergeant Ivan at the post station.

"You fucking dare to do this!" Sergeant Ivan cursed. "Do you know who you're robbing? The military police will arrest you one by one and crush your bones inch by inch..."

Pierre swung his fist and slapped him twice across the face: "Why are you talking so much nonsense?"

"Hey!" Winters patted the sergeant's cheek. "Look at me, who's in charge in Ghevodan now? Speak up!"

The sergeant was already dazed from the two slaps. He vaguely heard someone complaining, "You little brat, why didn't you know your own strength?"

Soon a bucket of water was brought over, and it was poured over Ivan's head.

"Who's in charge in Zervodan? Speak up!"

"Major... Ronald..."

Why does he need so much grain?

"do not know……"

Is he a red rose or a blue rose?

"neither……"

"Neither of them?" Winters narrowed his eyes. "Who's above Major Ronald?"

"do not know……"

Winters raised his chin, and Pierre stepped forward and slapped him again: "You don't know?"

"I..." Sergeant Ivan felt a hard lump in his mouth; his teeth had been knocked out. "...I really don't know..."

How many soldiers does Zhevodan have now?

Sergeant Ivan's eyes rolled back and he fainted.

"What do we do?" Pierre was completely dumbfounded.

Winters' head was throbbing: "Who told you to punch me?!"

"Should I wake him up?"

"Alright, he's no different from the others; we can't see anything. Take him away."

……

Subsequently, the still bewildered escort soldiers were gathered together by masked men, whose weapons had been taken away and whose hands had been tied behind their backs.

"Head north along the road!" the masked leader coldly ordered. "Anyone who dares to turn back will be killed!"

The soldiers in the escort team were initially stunned, but suddenly they all rushed north along the dirt road.

“Let’s hurry.” Winters pulled off his veil. “Don’t wait for the military police to catch up.”

Anglu asked, rather inopportunely, "Does Jevodan have any rangers?"

……

Twenty large trucks and the weapons of more than fifty men fell into Winters' hands.

While harnessing the vehicle, Vasika exclaimed excitedly, "This is a really big deal! It's much more satisfying than robbing pedestrians or farms!"

“Isn’t this still being a bandit?” Samukin said, somewhat displeased.

"Why worry about so much?" Vahika touched the healed wound on the back of his head. "If the sky falls, the centurion will hold it up. Just follow him."

Ever since that time he deserted and was stabbed in the back of the head, Vahika has always been a little afraid of Winters.

Meanwhile, Winters lamented, "Isn't this still being a bandit?"

"What are you saying?" Pierre didn't hear clearly.

“I said,” Winters said, enunciating each word clearly, “that once we’ve done this job, we can finally reorganize our team.”

Pierre said happily, "Great! Now they're bandits! They need to be disciplined. But why not recruit them? Aren't there already over fifty of them?"

“Are those soldiers?” Winters began to lecture Pierre as well: “Those are fifty mouths!”

A series of footsteps echoed from the road to the north. Winters and Pierre exchanged a glance—someone was heading towards the outpost!
The veterans quickly drew their weapons and leaped onto their horses.

Soon, they brought back three Revodan soldiers with their hands tied behind their backs from the darkness.

"What are you all doing back here?" Wentes put on his mask. "Want to die?"

“Lord Montagne!” one of the soldiers actually called out Winters’s surname: “Please take us with you!”

He explained rapidly, “I recognized your soldiers immediately! I recognized them when they entered the outpost! So I didn’t expose them. I’m not one of your soldiers, but I’ve seen you before. I fought alongside you, and I came back from the wasteland too! Take us with you! We don’t want to risk our lives for Zhevodan anymore!”

“Well, that’s it,” Pierre sighed, mimicking Winters’ tone. “Three more mouths to feed.”

“Wrong.” Winters patted Pierre on the shoulder: “There are three more warriors.”

[The Winters character card has been updated at the end of Volume 2. Readers are welcome to add more.]
[Thank you to the two patrons. I have no way to repay you but to add more chapters.]

There are currently three extra chapters due. There will be two more chapters after this one, but please wait.

Because I have a habit of revising as I write, it's best to keep a draft of one chapter so I can revise it the next day before sending it out.

Therefore, updates will tentatively resume next Monday. This chapter is an extra update.
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)