Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 267 Autumn Hunt
"The fire-warmers are coming."

One sentence made the air in the room feel as cold as ice.

"A monkey's butt face?" Winters' eyes were dangerous, like those of a beast. "He knows I'm in Iron Peak County?"

"Him?" The little lion slowly fiddled with the tassel on his knife. "He probably doesn't know."

"do not know?"

"do not know."

"Then what is he doing here?"

"What else can we do?" The little lion shrugged: "Rob."

The story of the fire-warmer dates back two months.

With autumn in full swing and horses at their fattest, September and October are the traditional season for raiding and warfare for the Hed people.

As early as early spring, when Plato's standing army suffered a major defeat, the tribal leaders were already planning to seize some territory in the fall.

In June, new news arrived—the Paratites were fighting amongst themselves! The tribal leaders were overjoyed and began to prepare their troops for a big heist.

The Gray Eyes in the eastern part of the sea and the Eaters in the Suz tribe have each organized their own raiding groups.

For the Hed people, "plundering" and "war" were essentially the same thing. The amount of spoils a leader possessed was directly related to his prestige, and their distribution was directly tied to his status.

On one hand, the Chihe tribe had just fought a major battle with the Zhuerqin tribe, and the meat they had eaten had not yet been fully digested; the White Lion had stated in advance that he would not participate in the autumn raids, but he agreed to allow other tribes passage.
On the other hand, the Fire-Baker desperately needed a lucrative raid to regain his prestige; however, his influence was not what it used to be, so he pragmatically joined the Eaters' warband and joined forces with the Suz tribe.

By the end of August, both battle groups had been assembled.

In early September, the warhorses had eaten their last round of grass seeds and wild beans, and the two major war groups simultaneously marched eastward to invade.

Since the most fertile lands of Impalatu are located on both banks of the Ember River, the two major warbands are positioned one in the south and one in the north. The Grey-Eyed Ones travel on the north bank, while the Fire-Burning Ones and the Healthy Eaters travel on the south bank.

Both parties verbally agreed that "the horse and bow will not cross the river" to avoid an unpleasant meeting.

Having demarcated the area for their robbery, the Heds joyfully stormed into Palatour, and then... and were met with a crushing defeat.

As it turned out, the Alliance government's dozens of mediations and attempts to mediate were no different from farting; they were not as useful as a single horse hoof from the Hed people.

Before the vanguard of the Herd Raiding Chapter could cross the border river, the Red and Blue Roses, who were fighting to the death just a second ago, had already tacitly turned their guns on each other.

At a river crossing in Jiangbei Province, the Grey-Eyed Legion was pierced through the middle by Alpad.

Gray Eyes wisely abandoned his flag and fled for his life, and the smaller tribes below naturally followed suit, running away in panic.

Arpad led his hussars in pursuit for thirty kilometers beyond the border river, fighting until they were thoroughly satisfied before returning to base.

On the contrary, it took longer and more effort to clean up the scattered small groups of Hart raiders after the war.

South of the Ember River, the Eaters and Fire-Bakers warbands were also ambushed and repelled by the [New Reclamation-Red Rose] alliance in Mirror Lake County—the New Reclamation Legion was led by General Adams, while the commander of the Red Rose forces was unknown.

Because the ambush was exposed in advance, the Palatine coalition failed to inflict heavy casualties on the Hed barbarians; in addition, the Palatine coalition lacked cavalry and could not effectively expand its gains.

So the fire-gatherer and the fast-eating person only got a slap in the face and escaped back to the wasteland unscathed.

The Paratu coalition did not dare to pursue easily—the Paratu had suffered too many losses in the past when it came to pursuing their prey.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming force of the barbarians that stirred a sense of shared hatred between the two sides in the civil war. After the two battles, the Red and Blue Roses temporarily found peace.

No new war broke out, and the land of Palatour quietly welcomed winter.

Palatul has calmed down for now, but the Great Wilderness is anything but.

They didn't even get to eat the meat, and they even broke their teeth. This one incident alone could trigger countless mergers and power struggles. But no one is actually affected, because everyone is already involved in the situation.

“My brother received some very interesting news,” the little lion said lightly. “The Teldon tribe is regrouping its members.”

"and then?"

"If the Fire-Kissed Man hadn't been kicked silly by the horse, he wouldn't have started a war with the tribes at this time. His forces aren't enough to go to Mirror Lake County for a head-on confrontation. My brother thinks he might want to try his luck nearby, so he asked me to remind you."

"How did the White Lion know about the Teldon tribe?" Winters asked seemingly casually.

"Believe it or not, it's up to you." The little lion scoffed. "The Red River Tribe has its own sources of information."

Winters bowed respectfully to the lion cub: "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. My brother said that if you can hold off the Teldon tribe, I'll let you buy on credit; if you can't even beat the Teldon tribe, then we can just be friends, but forget about doing business."

The little lion affectionately put his arm around Winters' neck and teased, "There are a lot of things to do this year, so we didn't have an autumn hunt. That's why the winter hunt will be bigger. My brother invited you to join us for the hunt; someone wants to see you."

Winters felt a chill run down his spine; he neither refused nor agreed.

Winters understood what the White Lion meant:
The offensive and defensive relationship between Palatul and the Hed tribes has been reversed. Although Palatul's overall strength is still far superior to that of the Hed tribes, they are currently unable to spare any resources.

In contrast, the tribes of Hart constantly longed for the "good days" of harvesting hay and grain every autumn.
The great raid in September this year was just the beginning. As long as the offensive and defensive situation does not change, more raiding groups will come to Palatul in the future.

The "100-kilometer buffer zone" agreement has become a dead letter, and no Hed tribe will continue to abide by the agreement without the backing of force.

If Iron Peak County can't stop the Teldun tribe this time, the Fire-Burning People will bring even more raiders next time.

"War is brewing," Winters thought.

……

……

Early in the morning, the order to prepare for war had already been delivered to all military settlements and villages.

Peter Bunir (the shorty) from the first village ran to the company commander, looking dejected, and asked, "Company commander? Why are we fighting again?"

Company Commander [Tamas] had already packed his bags and was wrapping his legs. He glared at the short man and said, "Do what I tell you to do. If you dare to yell again, I'll demote you!"

Because of his outstanding performance in the Battle of Hammerhold, Peter the Short has been promoted to sergeant.

Hearing the company commander's threat, he was actually quite pleased: "Oh dear! You're leaving now? Ever since I became a sergeant, I feel like someone's watching my back wherever I go, it makes me very uncomfortable. You've given me such a big favor, I'll remember your kindness for the rest of my life. But I'm just a farmer, I really don't have the skills to be a sergeant!"

Tamas threw off his leg wraps and grabbed a grapevine whip.

Shorty Peter wanted to run, but he didn't dare. He closed his eyes tightly, his body trembling, and subconsciously leaned in the opposite direction, waiting for the company commander's whip to strike.

The shade-dried grapevines are both tough and resilient; a touch on them will sting. The wound the dwarf sustained from being whipped with a cane during the Battle of Hammerlock is still not fully healed.

The dwarf waited anxiously with his eyes closed for a long time, but he didn't hear the sound of the whip cutting through the air.

With his arm raised high in the air, Tamas couldn't bring himself to strike his short subordinate when he saw the latter's timid expression.

He threw away the grapevine whip and continued whipping his leg wraps, his tone still icy: "Who do you think you are? You think you can just promote someone or demote them whenever you want? You think you can be a company commander? Or maybe you can be a military civilian protection officer too?"

The dwarf dared not speak again and shook his head vigorously.

"This is the army. Promotions and demotions are not up to you! Not used to it? You'll get used to it after a few more battles!" Tamas finished wrapping his legs and sternly rebuked, "Let me tell you, not only are promotions and demotions not up to you, but even your life and death are not up to you! Did they give you three hundred acres of land for free? If you're a soldier, you should be grateful if you get an officer who treats your life like a human life!"

The short man tilted his head and thought for a while before hesitantly asking, "Company Commander... are you talking about yourself?"

Without saying a word, Tamas picked up the grapevine whip again.

Peter the Short was so frightened that he huddled up in a ball again.

Tamas kicked his subordinate, shouting, "I'm talking about Commander Montagne! I'm talking about Blood Wolf!"

The dwarf was kicked down, but he quickly got up, thinking, "How would I know what Lord Montagne is like? I've only ever seen you."

"Go back and get ready," Tamas said fiercely. "If you dare to be late, you'll get a whipping!"

"But I still have a lot of land that hasn't been tilled or planted!" the short man pleaded pitifully. "Company commander, can you give me two more days? I can plant everything if you give me two more days! Even one day will do."

"Don't worry about the last bit left; leave it for the women and old men to plant."

The short man said sadly, "My family... has no women, no old men, just me..."

“Am I also a bachelor? What else can I do? Just leave it fallow!” Tamas rarely showed a hint of melancholy: “Never mind! If we can come back alive, the land we planted now will be enough to feed us. We only have one mouth, how much can we eat? Stop being greedy for small gains, packing our bags is the most important thing.”

Peter the Shorty picked at the hem of his clothes and gave a dejected "Oh".

"What are you standing there for?" Tamas glared at him again. "Go pack your things!" After being kicked out of the company commander's house, Shorty Peter returned to his own home. His home was a laughingstock to anyone who saw it.

What kind of "home" is this?

A dilapidated prefab house, drafty from all sides; a large section of the roof, made of straw, had collapsed, resembling an old woman's missing tooth.

Thankfully it's autumn now, so there's not much rain. If it were summer, hey, we could expect to see a waterfall!
The willow branches, leaning and swaying, enclosed the yard in front of and behind the prefabricated house, and many branches showed signs of being grazed by cattle and sheep.

A wooden plaque engraved with "[Iron Peak County Regiment, First Company | Peter Bunier]" is proudly nailed to the gate, declaring to passersby that even a dilapidated shack has an owner!

These prefab houses were originally intended as living quarters for the farmhands at Zisu Manor. The materials and workmanship of the farmhands' houses were very poor, and they fell into disrepair after being neglected for several months.

Good houses were given priority to soldiers with families, so the shabby flat ended up in the hands of bachelor Peter Bunier.

The new owner of the house was so focused on the land that he didn't have time to renovate it.

So everything in the house and yard was old, except for the cowshed, which was newly built.

In the cowshed lived a very thin six-year-old bull, with protruding ribs and a sunken belly. Working day and night had exhausted both the people and the bull.

The lean ox was now vomiting up the fine food in its stomach little by little, savoring it carefully.

Peter the Short sat silently on the bed.

Is this courtyard dilapidated?
broken.

But for Peter the Short, there was no better, more beautiful, or more lovely house and yard in the world!
Because this place belongs to him, truly belongs to Peter Bunier. This is the first time since he was born that he has owned his own land and house.

He always felt like he was in a dream and dared not wake up, but the wooden sign nailed to the gate firmly told him: This is yours.

Shorty Peter looked around his shabby yet welcoming house. Everything was fine—except for a woman, and a bit of the flavor of life.

Living alone as an old man, it's inevitable that he'll live a rather casual life.

Peter the Short was like that, and so was his company commander, Tamas—they would come back from the fields, lie down on the bed, too lazy to move or eat, and wear their clothes even when they were sour.

If there's a woman in the family, things are different: someone will wash the clothes, someone will cook the food and drink, and the house and yard will be kept spotless.

Every time Peter the Short saw other soldiers' wives bringing food and drink to their husbands in the fields, and saw couples cuddling intimately by the field, he was so jealous that his eyes almost bled.

Peter the Short sat silently against the headboard, hoping that one day he too could get married. But then he remembered the order to assemble.

The 300 acres of land were great, the house was great... He got things he had never had before, but he had to pay with his life for them.

Peter the Short didn't want to fight; he was afraid of dying, terribly afraid of dying.

Everything was so wonderful; he hadn't even repaired the roof or properly installed the fence. The crops had just been planted and still needed weeding and watering.

He couldn't bear to part with it; he really couldn't bear to.

But also because he couldn't bear to give up everything he had, he had to go to war.

If he doesn't go to war, these things will no longer belong to him. To this day, he still dreams of the lifeless eyes of deserters who have been hanged.

Peter the Short sighed, took the yoke down from the wall, and slowly walked to the barn to harness the skinny ox.

“Good buddy, one more time.” Shorty Peter stroked the head of the skinny ox and couldn’t help but cry: “I can’t bear to part with you either.”

Peter the Short shouldered his plow and led his skinny ox out of the house. The thought of how much land was still unplowned made him feel a pang of anxiety.

In the end, the small-farmer mentality prevailed, and the company commander's instructions were forgotten.

“If I put in a little more effort, I should be able to finish the rest of the work before we leave,” Peter the Short calculated. “As for the luggage, we can prepare it later.”

Peter the Short was overjoyed to be able to till his own land.

To be or not to be? That is not the question, because Peter Bunier has stopped thinking about it.

He saw many of his comrades sharing the same thought, leading their livestock from their homes to the fields.

……

The First Juntun Village presents one scene, while the Second Juntun Village presents a completely different scene.

Bart Sharling is giving a speech to the soldiers of the Second Company who have been granted land.

The soldiers stood in straight lines, while young women, wives, the elderly, and children stood watching from a distance. They whispered and murmured among themselves, making the small square noisy.

"Enough!" Bart Sharing frowned and scolded the onlookers, the military families: "You bunch of sparrows! If you want to watch, then watch, but stop chattering! If anyone dares to make a sound again, I'll whip your husband and son! Just you wait!"

The crowd immediately fell silent, and the soldiers burst into laughter.

Bart Sharling has become increasingly adept at public speaking. He no longer trembles with fear as before, and dares to speak loudly without blushing or flustered.

After settling the families of the soldiers, Bart Sharing addressed the troops:
"The rallying order has been issued, you all know that. But do you know what it's about? Do you know why we're being asked to abandon our farm work and pick up spears and muskets?"

"I'm telling you! The barbarian Hed is coming!"

"These barbarians come to steal your livestock, kill your children, and rape your wives!"

"Which of you wants your wife to be fucked by other men?" Bart Sharing roared rudely. "Then offer your wives up for everyone to fuck, and you won't have to go to war!"

The square was silent, many soldiers looking indignant. Even if they were willing to fight, they didn't want to suffer such humiliation.

Bart Sharing, a self-taught man, had learned to consciously manipulate the emotions of his audience. Once the desired effect was achieved, he abruptly changed the subject:
"Listen up! I may be saying something harsh, but the truth is absolutely right!"

"Where does that barbarian Hede live? He lives in the far west! It takes ten days and ten nights to get here from there!"

"These barbarians went through all that trouble to come all this way, are they here to give you gifts? Are they here to be your guests? Do you think they're your second cousin who can't even afford to eat, and you can just send them away with two bags of flour?"

"They're here to make money! They'll take it all from you! They'll rob, burn, and kill!"

"Rob you! Burn you! Kill you!"

"You don't believe me?!" Bart Sharing ripped open his shirt, revealing the shocking scars on his chest: "These were all left to me by the barbarians!"

Not only were the soldiers frightened, but several exclamations also came from the military dependents watching.

"Stop wasting your breath!" Bard Sharing slowly buttoned his shirt and coldly dismissed the ranks. "Go back and pack your things! Prepare two weeks' worth of rations! Anyone willing to come with me to kill barbarians, assemble first thing the day after tomorrow!"

The soldiers silently raised their hands in salute, and the formation disintegrated without a sound.

……

Meanwhile, in the Third Military Village, a soldier in his thirties hurriedly returned home.

"Mom!" the soldier shouted as he entered the door, "Prepare some 'son's rations' for me!"

"Oh dear? What's wrong?" The soldier's mother ran out shakily, asking in alarm, "Is there going to be another war?"

The soldier's mother was a very thin old woman with wrinkles on her face and arms as dense as a spider web; the hardships of life had aged her prematurely.

"Don't worry about it!" The soldier took his saber off the wall and strode into the bedroom.

The son's voice came through the thin wooden wall to the mother's ears: "Go and prepare food for my son."

When Dusak went out to serve in the military, his mother packed his rations into his backpack before he left—this was called "son's rations."

Only Dussac knows this word.

But all the able-bodied Dusaks had been conscripted, leaving behind only... those who had deserted.

To avoid war, this man in his early thirties, Dusak, took his mother and fled his homeland, changing his name and leaving behind a false home. However, fate played a cruel trick on him, and after many wanderings, he ended up in this place, where he still had to rely on his son's rations.

The old mother went to knead the dough with tears in her eyes.

……

In the twelve military settlements, many similar yet different stories are unfolding.

There's only one reason—war is about to break out.

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(End of this chapter)