Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 225 Deep Thoughts

Winters was not surprised that the militia took down the gang without breaking a sweat.

He had three arrows and nearly forty men. If he still couldn't take down the twenty-odd bandits, then he would have wasted his time.

Anglu inadvertently got one thing right—"Fighting bandits is much easier than hunting them down."

For the "fishing and hunting tribes," hunting was equivalent to military training.

Determining routes, planning timing, and launching coordinated attacks – this is a typical military operation.

When Winters migrated with the Red River tribe, he discovered that the Hed people set up and broke camps every day during the migration, which was no different from marching.

"Marching, marching, the marshal leads us to victory through marching!" Warfare is mostly tedious marching and setting up and breaking camps; the actual time spent fighting on the front lines is actually quite short.

……

The militia arrested the gang of bandits and also ransacked their home.

"We captured twenty-two alive, and two others tried to resist, but we dealt with them all." Pierre was neither happy nor angry. He said expressionlessly, "We have a few broken swords and spears, but all we have are a few bags of wheat and rye."

Winters sighed, "How can they be so poor?"

“If he weren’t poor, he wouldn’t have become a bandit.” Pierre asked in a low voice, “Release him? Or…?”

He made a gesture of wiping his neck.

Winters thought for a moment and said, "If we let them go, they'll just go back to being bandits."

Pierre didn't say a word, and turned to leave.

"Don't rush," Winters called out to Pierre.

Pierre waited quietly for Winters's orders.

Winters frowned: "Killing them indiscriminately won't work either. These are all honest farmers who only ran away because they couldn't survive."

“I’ll take care of it, you don’t need to worry,” Pierre said softly.

“That’s not what I meant.” Winters patted Pierre’s arm. “Pick out the habitual criminals and bury them. Take the rest back to Wolf Town.”

Pierre's eyes widened: "You want to recruit them?"

“Of course not.” Winters shook his head and smiled bitterly: “Where would I get so much food? If I’m going to recruit, I’ll pick the best ones.”

"That……"

Winters made up his mind: "Give them something to eat, find them something to do, and let them settle down first. We'll take it one step at a time. If we don't have enough food, we'll find a way to buy or exchange it. We'll hold out until the autumn harvest."

“Then… under what pretext can we restrain them?” Pierre thought quickly: “If they’re not a militia.”

"What about the convicts?" Winters countered. "According to the laws of the newly established lands, they should all be hanged. We won't kill them; we'll make them work to atone for their sins. We'll make it clear to them that it's not a lifetime of hard labor, and if conditions allow, we'll let them return home."

“I think it’s a good idea.” Pierre nodded emphatically. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

After saying that, he raised his hand in salute, turned and left.

Winters watched Pierre's retreating figure, unsure of what to think.

Pierre is a very good young man—intelligent, reliable, and capable.

Winters could entrust his life to Pierre, and Pierre would entrust his life to him without hesitation.

But Pierre had changed; he was no longer the carefree little Dussac he once was.

Perhaps the world has changed, and Pierre chose to respond with a cold heart.

Winters felt a brotherly affection for Pierre and wanted to protect him from going astray.

But he had no idea what the future held.

Winters sighed. What right did he have to worry about Pierre? He himself had changed.

"Forced laborers? Slaves?" Winters shook his head with a wry smile. "Isn't this just turning us into the Hed tribe?"

……

Early August.

sunny.

Outside the village of Saint Giss Valley in Blackwater Town.

A simple, two-story circular wooden fortress stands alone at the edge of the forest.

The village is very small, less than twenty meters in diameter.

This wooden stockade was originally a place where the villagers of Saint Gis Valley in Blackwater Town hid from bandits, but it was instead occupied by a group of bandits.

Pierre used a door panel as a shield and rushed towards the wooden stockade.

"Listen up, bandits inside! Surrender now! Or we'll set the place on fire!"

While Pierre went to persuade them with reason, Winters was leading three arrows to build a simple battering ram outside the range of crossbows.

In just one week, the militia wiped out several bandit groups near Wolf Town.

As Winters said, militias and bandits are natural enemies.

When bandits wreaked havoc on ordinary people, they were no less ruthless than grain requisition teams.

Besides the legitimate reasons, Winters had a more subtle idea: he wanted to get some food from the bandits.

How can you eat your fill just by hunting? Besides, the best parts of the prey are used to trade for grain, and the rest are just offal and scraps.

Winters felt nauseous just thinking about eating wild vegetable and large intestine soup twice a day.

However, it seems that the plan has failed, as the bandits have no surplus food.

But bandits still need to be suppressed, whether there's a reason or not.

The Saint-Gis Valley gave Winters a very good reason: two large cartloads of wheat.

It's not barley, not rye, and not oats.

It's wheat, the best grain.

Winters ate black bread every day, just like the militiamen, until his stomach ached slightly.

Even with this kind of coarse bread that's hard to chew, there are only two pieces per meal. Winters even began to miss the life he had in the Red River tribe, where he ate dairy products three times a day.

News of the return of the garrison commander of Wolf Town spread to nearby villages and towns, as did the news that he was leading troops to suppress bandits.

The villagers of the Valley of Saint Gis, driven to desperation by a gang of ruthless bandits, saw this news as a lifeline.

The village chief of St. Giss Valley rode a donkey for a day and a night to Wolf Town, requesting Winters to enforce the law across borders.

Moreover, he promised that Winters could take everything the bandits owned as spoils of war.

Except for women—the women of the Valley of Saint Gisele.

This gang of bandits not only robbed grain and money, but also harmed women.

More than a dozen women from the Valley of Saint Gis were abducted by bandits and taken to their village, never to emerge again. Five of them were unmarried, the youngest being a girl not even fourteen years old.

Winters's anger was palpable, and the militiamen were equally furious upon hearing this.

Winters would deal with these kinds of people even without pay.

There was no need for any morale boosting; everyone took their weapons and rushed to the Valley of Saint Gisso overnight.

Winters originally intended to lure out the bandits and ambush them in the wilderness.

However, the bandits were very vigilant. Upon discovering that their scouts had been eliminated, they immediately retreated into their wooden stockade.

The battle reached a stalemate for a time.

Not long after, Pierre ran back.

"How so?" Winters asked.

The militia was extremely lacking in siege capabilities. Winters had no usable muskets, let alone cannons, and had very little gunpowder.

It would be best if the enemy were willing to surrender; Winters really didn't want to see his warriors climbing ladders and risking their lives to besiege the city.

Pierre's expression was somewhat strange. He scratched his head and said, "That bandit leader made a condition."

"What conditions?"

"He...he wants to duel with you."

……

The bandit leader was a burly man, nearly two meters tall, who looked as fierce as a wild bull.

He was wearing a full plate armor set, not the ordinary infantry breastplate with a skirt, but a three-quarters heavy plate armor set for officers.

He somehow acquired a pair of cavalry leg armor and a boat-shaped helmet.

Although the combination of this armor is somewhat mismatched, it can be described as luxurious.

Even his opponent, the young garrison officer, was not wearing plate armor.

However, the bandit leader is currently lying on his back with a boar spear stuck in his face, so he is probably dead.

The village, which had been cheering and shouting just moments before, fell completely silent.

Winters took a deep breath; he hadn't encountered a demand like a duel on the battlefield in a long time.

This feeling... is something I really miss.

"Who else?" A thunderous roar swept through the forest.

Winters drew his boar-hunting spear, lifted the bandit leader's helmet, and asked again, "Anyone else want to try?"

The gate first opened a small crack, then burst open with a roar.

……

Once the criminals are under control, the next step is to identify them.

Find the habitual bandits, but leave behind the simple, honest farm boys and those who haven't yet been tainted by the lawless habits of bandits.

The Wolf Town militiamen are already very familiar with this process.

The village chief of the Valley of Saint Giss promised two carts of grain, but Winters brought four large wagons—he hoped to take some spoils with him.

Everyone was doing their job, and Winters didn't need to interfere. He stayed beside the bandit leader's corpse, examining the plate armor on his body.

After inspecting the area, Winters raised an eyebrow slightly: "Heh, this really is Officer A."

“It must have been stolen or robbed,” Charles reassured him.

Pierre came out of the village and walked quickly back to Winters' side.

His lips trembled as he whispered, "You...you should come and take a look..."

Pierre led Winters into the village, where Winters saw more than a dozen women who had been tortured beyond recognition in the two-story wooden building.

Some are still alive, some are already dead.

The bandits didn't rape them; they brutally murdered them.

The bandit leader used this method of venting his lust to force all the bandits to "join the gang".

A very young girl, younger than Ella and Scarlett, sat in the corner of the room, her hands tied to the wheel, her head bowed low.

The blood beneath his body stained the wooden floorboards red.

The militiamen covered the girl's naked body, stained with blood and mud, with their clothes; she was already dead.

A woman was still alive, but when the militiamen tried to put clothes on her, she seemed to be greatly agitated.

She desperately tried to back away, flailing her arms wildly and letting out a horrifying scream.

She has gone crazy.

Pride, complacency, the excitement of the duel, the joy of victory... Winters' emotions vanished in an instant.

His heart was filled with only sorrow, helplessness, and anger—an rage that could burn the world.

The militiamen stood silently, their fists clenched tightly and their teeth grinding together.

“Bring them here!” Winters said with difficulty, breathing heavily. “Take her off.”

The bruised and battered thugs were brought before the girl.

Before Winters could speak, a gaunt bandit suddenly knelt down and begged for mercy: "Sir! Hammerhead and his gang forced us to do it! If we didn't, they would kill us! Palin was killed by Hammerhead! His body is buried in the village!"

Winters drew Vahika's saber.

“It’s true! We were really forced into this!” The gaunt bandit, snot and tears streaming down his face, lunged at another bandit with a bulbous nose, shouting, “It’s him! It’s him! He’s Hammerhead’s accomplice! And him too!”

Winters grabbed the bulbous thug by the hair, dragged him to the girl's corpse, and made him kneel.

The rosacea-nosed bandit was so terrified he was paralyzed and incontinent. He desperately begged, "Sir! Spare me! Have mercy!"

Winters placed his machete against the neck of the bulbous-nosed bandit.

The militiamen were all waiting for that moment.

Winters stopped moving, released the bulbous-nosed bandit, and threw the saber back to Vahika.

"Thank you! Thank you, sir!" The red-nosed bandit, ignoring the excrement and urine on the ground, desperately kissed Winters' boots: "I'll be your slave! I..."

Winters delivered a powerful kick, the iron-studded toe of his boot shattering the bulbous-nosed bandit's jaw.

……

The threshing grounds of the Valley of Saint Giselle were turned into makeshift execution grounds.

All the villagers came.

Regardless of whether they are men or women, everyone's face shows sorrow.

The father and mother, who had lost their daughter, wept and cursed, yearning for justice.

During this special period, keep everything simple.

After the indictment and trial, the execution follows.

The bandit with the bulbous nose was tied to a stone millstone.

Winters was both judge and executioner. He carried out the executions himself—a job no one else could do.

He raised the iron wheel high and slammed it hard into the left arm of the bandit with the bulbous nose.

With the sound of bones cracking, the thug with the bulbous nose bent his left arm at an unnatural angle, exposing the bone fragments.

Blood splattered on Winters' hands and cheeks. He expressionlessly lifted the wheel and slammed it down again.

After the left arm, the order is right arm, right leg, and left leg.

The bandits who witnessed the execution were all so terrified that they lost control of their bladders, and several of them knelt on the ground retching.

The bandit with the bulbous nose was still alive, and Charles and Pierre took him off the millstone.

Accompanied by screams and muffled thuds, the bandits were nailed alive to the wheels of a car.

An innocent girl once died on this wheel, and now one of her killers is also tied to the same wheel.

Rosacea-faced bandits would be hung up as a form of public humiliation until their deaths.

Even after death, he will continue to be displayed until vultures and crows peck away at his rotting flesh, until only his bare bones remain.

This is wheel torture, one of the most severe and cruel punishments.

Even professional executioners are unwilling to carry out this punishment because it is too cruel.

According to the laws of newly reclaimed land, those who gather to rob and loot on the road will be punished by ringleaders and accomplices by hanging.

After the wheel-dripping punishment came the hanging.

Six habitual bandits were hung from a crooked tree at the entrance of the village. They twitched a few times and then stopped moving.

Thirty-three accomplices who had been involved were flogged.

The militiamen who carried out the executions showed no mercy; after twenty lashes, some accomplices were whipped to death.

As for the already dead bandit leader "Hammerhead," his bones were crushed and scattered to the winds.

He will suffer in the fires of hell forever, and even if the angels sound the horn of doomsday, he will not be able to rise from his grave.

Those surviving accomplices will face hard labor.

The public trial and execution came to a quick end.

As the Wolftown militia left, the village chief of Saint Giss Valley gripped Winters' hand tightly, tears streaming down his face: "Thank you... thank you..."

The original agreement was to give only two truckloads of wheat, but the villagers of the San Gis Valley loaded two more truckloads of oats and rye, and even loaded more, hoping that the militia would take more.

“I…” Winters hesitated, unable to accept the food emotionally, but he needed it.

He held the old village chief's hand and said firmly, "If this happens again, just come to me. You don't need to give me anything."

……

Winters embarked on his return journey with a heavy heart.

After reuniting with Pierre and other former subordinates, everything went smoothly for him.

Life is tough.

Half a portion of wheat, two portions of rye, and one portion of oat bread were not enough to fill one's stomach—even on the Great Wilderness, Winters had never experienced such hardship.

Moreover, he was constantly getting angry with his subordinates—except for Pierre, everyone else was completely clueless and he had to teach them everything step by step.

But Winters was happy.

His body was exhausted, but his spirit was joyful.

He felt out of place in the Red River region, in the Kings' Castle, and at Mitchell Estate.

He had woken up in terror from his dreams more than once, and he had felt more than once that enemies were lurking in unseen corners.

Winters returned to the army and thrived. He slept soundly, breathed easily, and no longer subconsciously suppressed his emotions.

He laughs loudly, and when he gets angry, he can be furious. Whoever he wants to teach a lesson will inevitably have a boot print on their trousers.

His subordinates were not surprised by this; in fact, they respected and loved him even more because of his character.

Despite being kicked the most and hardest, Vahika still grinned and approached Winters every day.

Winters was not only happy, he even became somewhat proud and self-satisfied, and he was very satisfied with everything he had done.

He fulfilled his duties as the resident officer, rebuilding Wolf Town bit by bit, and protecting its peace—even if only temporarily.

"Why should I stay here?" He had asked himself this question more than once.

There is only one answer: "I feel wronged, I want to protect something, I want to change something."

However, Winters couldn't figure out the extent and scope of the changes.

Does this mean we have to change Plato? One man against a nation?
“This is too arrogant,” Winters’ rationality told him that it would not succeed.

So he set his goals as small and realistic as possible: "I can't do a lot, but at least I can keep Wolf Town safe."

However, what Winters saw in the Valley of Saint Gisele told him in a bloody way: "It's not enough."

Brother Rhett warned him on his deathbed: "He who does not plan for the long term cannot plan for the short term; he who does not plan for the whole cannot plan for a part."

Wolf Town isn't enough.

When the world goes bad, honest farmers can turn into the most vicious thugs in the blink of an eye.

If Theodoran and the entire newly reclaimed land were burning fiercely, how could the small town of Langtun survive alone?
Winters realized he had to take a longer-term view.

He is thinking.

(A total of 4 extra chapters have been added, currently 4/4).
I wonder if my fellow book lovers have noticed this.

Prior to this, Winters's approach to habitual criminals was always to "bury them." There was no trial, and no public announcement.

This is the simplest and most straightforward way to handle things from his perspective.

The Valley of Saint Giselle was the first time he had publicly executed bandits.

His mindset had actually changed somewhat, which is why he didn't kill the man with the red nose directly.

He could feel good killing him, but he couldn't kill like that. Because he had gradually become a "public authority," he had to bear more responsibility and could no longer just feel good and comfortable for himself.

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(End of this chapter)