Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 316 The Economic Principle of Heads

In the dark primeval forest, two Telden men fled together.

They dared not light a fire, nor dared they rest. The dense canopy of trees made it impossible for them to discern directions—direction was no longer important; survival was what mattered.

However, they were still caught up. The hunting dogs followed the scent, and a dozen farmers surrounded them.

At dusk, the farmers returned to the village, carrying two severed heads and other items they had taken from the barbarians on branches.

Instead of going straight home, they went to the village office first.

The firewood crackled in the stove, and outside the wall lay the freezing winter, but inside the village office it was warm and cozy.

A middle-aged man, clearly not a farmer, examined the two severed heads, frowned, and asked, "No helmets, armor, or anything else?"

The leading farmer, his cheeks red from the cold, answered hesitantly, "No, would a hat be alright? Or earrings?"

The middle-aged man clicked his tongue, turned back to continue warming himself by the fire, and only gave the farmers a side profile: "That won't do. Without evidence, how will we know if this is a barbarian's head or something you stole from somewhere?"

Another tall farmer instantly flew into a rage: "What did you say? How could this be something we stole? No one in our family looks like this!"

The middle-aged man sneered, refusing to reply or even look at the other person directly.

The two fully armed men sitting in the corner of the room stood up, their hands already on the hilts of their swords.

The tall farmer fell silent.

The leading farmer remained silent for a long time before finally speaking with difficulty: "Then what do you suggest we do?"

“These heads, whether real or fake…” The middle-aged man paused for a moment before uttering a number.

"How much?" The tall farmer immediately became anxious: "A barbarian's head is worth a whole piece of land! How much are you offering?"

"You heard me clearly, I don't need to repeat myself." The middle-aged man spread his hands, his attitude clear—take it or leave it.

The farmers were furious, unwilling to agree, and unable to leave.

Until a sturdy farmer who was usually quiet suddenly spoke up: "That's fine, my family is waiting for me to take the flour back."

The sturdy farmer calmly retorted, "What more could we ask for?"

The deal was struck, and payment was made in the form of flour.

The middle-aged man couldn't suppress his smugness. Watching the farmer take the flour, he couldn't help but laugh and say, "Hey, don't think that your heads are everything. Who knows how long the rebels can hold out in Tiefeng County? If the rebels collapse tomorrow, won't your heads be stuck in your hands? Don't you agree?"

These words, seemingly meant to comfort, are actually a way of showing off by rubbing salt into the wound.

The farmers silently accepted the flour and left the town hall without a word.

They divided the flour and the barbarian's clothes and boots right outside the door. The clothes were given to the farmers who still had food at home, and the farmers with hunting dogs received an extra share.

“Mesa got hurt.” The sturdy farmer whispered, “Give him an extra share too.”

Everyone agreed, and the tall farmer asked, "What do you want, Dad?"

The sturdy farmer took half a bag of flour and a curved knife.

[Note: Here, "father" is an affectionate and respectful term used to address an older male.]
So the group went home—and all of this happened to be seen by several passing riders.

Only after pushing open the door did a smile appear on the sturdy farmer's face.

He ruffled his son's and daughter's soft hair, handed the flour to his wife, and then found a whetstone and began sharpening knives in the backyard.

“Whatever you’re going to do,” a young man stood outside the gate. “Please don’t go.”

The sturdy farmer was startled at first, then calmly gripped his machete and asked, "How do you know what I'm going to do?"

The young man did not answer directly, but patiently explained, "Those two are both skilled fighters. You alone won't be enough... and weapons alone won't be enough either."

"who are you?"

This time, it was the young man's turn to fall silent.

The daughter ran out of the house and threw herself into the arms of the sturdy farmer. The sturdy farmer hugged his daughter, and in a moment of distraction, the young man had vanished.

"What's wrong?" the sturdy farmer asked his daughter.

"Mommy said someone left two bags outside the door," the girl replied in her childish voice. "Mommy told me to go find Daddy to check."

……

The middle-aged man answered every question with respect, and Winters didn't even need to reveal his identity.

The matter is simple: the middle-aged man came from Zhevodan and came here to buy heads.

In Tiefeng County, barbarian heads had become a tradable commodity.

The middle-aged man couldn't compete with his peers in the town, so he rushed to the rural areas that no one had noticed before—clearly, he wasn't the only speculator who smelled the scent of gold.

Small players buy heads from militiamen and farmers, but they don't keep them to sell for cash; instead, they resell them to big players.

The big players were gambling, betting that the Montagne tribunal would not break its promise, and betting on the future of Iron Peak County.

Winters and his party were passing through the small village of Xiema when they unexpectedly witnessed this scene.

Charles gritted his teeth in anger: "The war isn't even over yet! How can there be such people! In the end, they get away with it?"

The others in the group were equally indignant, but Winters remained silent in thought.

Seeing that Winters remained silent, Charles assumed his brother was hesitant to speak. He unfastened his saber and said angrily, "I'm going to teach that guy a lesson!"

“Teach them a lesson—on what grounds?” Winters called out to Charles: “The county government has never stipulated that heads cannot be traded.”

Charles paused, then answered loudly, "I can't stand it!"

Winters slowly gathered his thoughts: "If we kill all the speculators, will the starving people stop starving? No, it's more likely cutting off their last means of survival. The head-trading has actually made some people bring out their hidden grain, causing more grain to flow into the market."

Charles and the others listened, seemingly understanding but not quite.

Later that day, Winters and his group set up camp outside the village.

Charles, carrying Winters' secret letter, retraced his steps and rushed back to Saint-Claude Town overnight.

……

……

Anna discovered that Saint-Claude had completely changed.

The previous times I passed through Saint-Claude, it was just an ordinary rural town: two streets, a few rows of houses, a few homes, quiet and unremarkable. Now, Saint-Claude is completely like a military camp: the land has become muddy and filthy, everywhere are tired men carrying weapons, and foul language is mixed with the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs.

Through the car window, Anna saw someone urinating in an alleyway on the side of the street, and then several men wearing white armbands rushed into the alley to chase and beat the person who was urinating.

Anna also saw someone whistling at her and peering into the car with lewd eyes; if not for the bodyguards accompanying her, they might have taken further action.

She quickly closed the car window.

Mr. Leo, a portly man traveling with us, smiled and commented astutely, "The war is over, but many people haven't recovered yet. Returning to normal life won't be so easy."

Another passenger nodded and reassured Anna, "Miss Navarre, don't be afraid, they don't mean any harm."

“Thank you,” Anna said politely, “Colonel Kino.”

Upon learning that Anna insisted on coming to see Winters, Mr. Leo asked to accompany her.

The portly partner remained silent about the purpose of his trip, and acted as if nothing had happened to Anna, only saying that he wanted to meet Mr. Winters Montagne.

Anna, feeling guilty, didn't ask her mother's opinion.

In contrast, another Venetian in the group—Colonel Buca Chino—treated Anna much more kindly.

As Colonel Vineta, Chino was undoubtedly representing [Antonio Serbiati] in Iron Peak County.

In other words, Colonel Chino was practically a member of Winters' family. Thinking of this, Anna's cheeks flushed.

After all, Anna's false identity as "Madame Montaigne" could fool others, but it couldn't deceive the visitor, Hailan. Elopement without even being engaged was by no means the act of a lady.

The lockdown on Tiefeng County has been temporarily lifted, both internally and externally.

Here we must mention [Good Luck Gold], the old pirate actually returned from Aquamarine a long time ago.

The timing of his return was unfortunate, coinciding with the failed joint operation between White Mountain County and Vaughan County. Therefore, the old pirate was immediately arrested and imprisoned by Colonel Gaisa upon entering White Mountain County.

So Gold spent over a month staring longingly at the gallows in the prison yard, counting the days on his fingers as he ate hard, black bread, when suddenly he was taken out of his cell.

The old pirate thought his luck had finally run out, but what happened next was extremely dramatic.

He was taken to a bald man who told him to deliver a letter to Winters and then told him to get lost.

The old pirate found himself not only with his confiscated horses and luggage back, but also with several extra escorts. Although he didn't understand what had happened, since Lady Luck's favor hadn't disappeared, Good Fortune Gold had nothing to fear.

What happened next is unnecessary to recount; let's return to Anna's story.

After Anna arrived in St. Clair, she first went to see Father Kaman.

Father Kaman’s medical clinic was located next to the church, in a temporary shed that occupied a large open space.

"The believers all feel that even if they die, they should die in the church, at least they'll be closer to heaven. So we set up the medical clinic here." Father Kaman explained to Anna expressionlessly, "It's convenient, the body can be sent directly to the church cemetery, which is better than being buried in the wilderness."

Anna sensed that Priest Carmen wasn't in good spirits either. She felt a pang of sadness as she recalled Mr. Leo's words.

“Winters? Oh, right, you’re here to see Winters?” Father Kaman sighed. “It’s a bit dangerous to go any further. You can wait for him in St. Clair. There are a few very devout families in town. The conditions aren’t great, but it’s safe. You can stay there for the time being.”

“Father,” Colonel Chino asked politely, “where has Winters gone?”

Hearing the speaker's accent, Kaman raised an eyebrow slightly: "Are you a Veneta? A Sea Blue?"

"Yes," Colonel Kino readily admitted.

“Winters went to Lower Iron Peak County,” Kaman said frankly. “Even if you’re a soldier, I don’t recommend you go with him. Lower Iron Peak County is dangerous; you’ll need at least a full escort to ensure your safety.”

Colonel Chino smiled and nodded repeatedly.

Seeing the other party's dismissive attitude, Kaman also became somewhat cold. He explained simply, "There are still Herds in Lower Iron Peak County—groups of Herd cavalry that haven't been defeated. Winters Montagne went to Lower Iron Peak County to deal with the Herds. Winters can go without guards, but you don't have that ability, that's all."

Colonel Chino wasn't annoyed; instead, he laughed. "It's much more comfortable talking to the Paratians; they're straightforward and easy to talk to. Let's stay here for now and wait for Winters to return."

“I’m not a Paratul.” Kaman clearly had no interest in pleasantries and went straight to the point: “I’ll find you accommodations first, and Lieutenant Bard will explain everything to you when he returns. He knows more about the inside story than I do.”

Colonel Chino politely thanked him, waving his hand. The accompanying Veneta cavalrymen dismounted, saying, "Please trouble you to arrange accommodations for Miss Navarre. As for us... just designate an open space for us, and we'll set up camp ourselves."

Kaman summoned a caregiver, gave her a few instructions, and the caregiver quickly left.

More than where Winters Montagne was, Mr. Leo was curious about something else.

“Father.” Mr. Leo’s plump face was full of smiles as he rubbed his hands together. “I saw something about ‘receipts’ and ‘heads’ posted on the notice board by the roadside. May I ask what this is about?”

Kaman glanced at the chubby, kind-looking man and asked indifferently, "What? What's it to you?"

"No, no," Mr. Leo quickly waved his hand and said with a smile, "Just curious. I'm just a very curious person."

Kaman led the group into the church for a rest, and took the opportunity to tell them about the merit of the chieftain of Tiefeng County.

"Winters Montagne has made a new move: he'll first exchange the heads for registered documents, and then later for land..."

Kaman wasn't very interested in this and gave a very brief explanation. Mr. Leo, on the other hand, was very enthusiastic and kept praising the priest, urging him to say more.

In short, the new government issued another announcement reaffirming the validity of the head-cutting merit and reiterating its guarantee that rewards would be given in accordance with the "head-cutting order."

However, because the allocation of land required measurement and settlement, it was difficult to fulfill the obligation immediately. Therefore, all heads had to be identified, registered, and exchanged for registered receipts by designated official personnel, and the land would be allocated later based on these receipts.

As the location of the main camp, the town of Shengke became almost instantly abuzz with excitement, with every militiaman who had made a kill eager to exchange their heads for "land grant certificates" as soon as possible.

Because of the official reassurance, the price of heads is skyrocketing, and the price of [land grant certificates] is also skyrocketing—although they are registered, it doesn't say that they can't be traded.

As they were talking, several hussars rode past the church, singing military songs with glee. Blood dripped from their heads in their saddlebags along the way.

The cavalry, acting as "guest troops," were happy to see the price of enemy heads rise. After all, no matter how valuable the head was, it had nothing to do with them, as outsiders.

The cavalrymen would simply sell their heads for money, so naturally the higher the price, the better.

Colonel Chino also became interested and asked some technical questions, such as "how is the merit recorded when two people take one head?"

“I don’t know.” Father Kaman made a gesture of respect. “Go ask Lieutenant Bard. He should be able to explain it to you in detail, since he’s the one who made the rules.”

Mr. Leo's brow furrowed more and more as he listened. He fiddled with his fingers in deep thought for a long time, glanced at Anna, then at Colonel Chino, and suddenly spoke:
"The root of Monsieur Montagne's predicament is ultimately a lack of food; ration coupons and similar measures are merely a symptom. How does Monsieur Montagne intend to solve the food problem?"

“Who knows?” Kaman sighed, his tone softening slightly. “He just ordered that military rations be used to aid refugees.”

Mr. Leo listened intently, clicking his tongue and exclaiming, "Too dangerous, too dangerous! This is playing with fire... and the audacity is astonishing... Was it intentional? Or unintentional...?"

Anna was somewhat bewildered, while Father Kaman and Colonel Chino exchanged glances.

Mr. Leo stopped abruptly, looked at Anna, and said with a smile, "Miss, we do need to see Mr. Montagne as soon as possible... no, actually he needs to see me as soon as possible."

[Many thanks to reader [Little Panda Yaren] for being the second patron of the alliance!]
[After sticking to the two-character naming convention for an entire volume, I can finally let loose!]
[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)