Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 319 Father and Son

"What's wrong?" Seeing Winters gripping the doorknob without moving, Moritz's expression was somewhat complicated: "You called me back, you don't mean you want me to take the fall for you..."

Winters replied righteously and firmly, "Of course not. You must explain the information about the unidentified spell user yourself."

"This day was bound to come sooner or later." Moritz chuckled lightly and said leisurely, "There's no escaping it."

The lieutenant colonel appeared calm and collected, but in reality, he had completely given up the struggle; as the saying goes, "a dead rat is not afraid of the cold."

There was no escaping it, so Winters gritted his teeth and knocked on the door.

A deep male voice came from the room: "Please come in."

Winters stiffly pushed open the door and greeted him as calmly and casually as possible: "Colonel Buka Chino... Your alias is certainly quite casual."

Lieutenant Colonel Moritz, who followed behind, stood at attention solemnly and raised his hand in salute: "Lieutenant General."

Lieutenant General Antonio Serbiati of the Republic of Veneta nodded in return, then looked at Winters.

When exactly did the father realize that his son had reached a position of equal standing with him? We don't know.

But there must be a certain moment when the male lion realizes that the cub's mane has grown up and the father discovers that his son has grown into an adult.

When that moment inevitably arrived, the emotions that welled up in the father's heart were not only relief and joy, but also sadness and anger.

Some fathers choose to embrace calmly, while others cannot bear it in their entire lives.

Antonio gazed at Winters Montagne from left to right, from head to toe.

It was as if a blacksmith was gazing at the most prized blade he had ever forged, or as if a lion was watching its challenger.

Winters felt a little uncomfortable being stared at, so he stood at attention and gave a proper salute.

Antonio did not return the greeting. Instead, he put his hand on Winters' shoulder and said with a mix of emotions, yet also a sense of relief, "Ah... I'm getting old."

Winters, that little rascal, can't possibly understand Antonio's feelings. He's still young, like a rising sun, and has never been a father before.

Unless one day he is defeated by the children he raised—Anglu, Charles, and Bell—he will not be able to comprehend even a fraction of the turmoil in Antonio's heart at this moment.

Unfortunately, the little ones haven't reached their "rebellious phase" yet, and they behave like puppies around Winters, wagging their tails vigorously. Naturally, Winters couldn't possibly understand Antonio.

The son who ignored his father's rare display of sadness is undoubtedly a bastard.

"Please...please don't do this." Winters was extremely embarrassed: "The lieutenant colonel has something to report to you."

After saying that, Winters looked at Moritz with pleading eyes. The message in those eyes was clear: Help!

Moritz knew perfectly well why he had been specifically summoned.

He took a half step back and politely asked, "General, may I visit again later?"

The room was completely quiet.

“No need.” Antonio waved his hand, sat back down at the table, and gestured for Winters and Moritz to sit down as well.

Winters breathed a sigh of relief.

When Winters was very young, Antonio said something to him. Winters has completely forgotten the exact words, but he remembers that the gist of it was, "We are men, and men don't exchange feelings."

That's what António did, and Winters learned it from him.

The rigorous military academy education reinforced this point—in a society composed entirely of men, the weak are bullied.

Therefore, Winters was somewhat at a loss when faced with his adoptive father's sudden outburst of emotion.

He had imagined many scenarios, but he never expected Antonio to say, "Alas, I am old."

Fortunately, the most difficult part was over. Winters sat down obediently and told Antonio about his experiences after leaving the Red River Tribe, omitting some of the more arrogant parts.

As he spoke, Winters carefully observed Antonio's expression.

He was actually very scared. He was afraid that his adoptive father would dismiss it and say, "Isn't this just playing house?"

Winters didn't care what others thought of him—or rather, he chose not to care. But he hoped to gain his adoptive father's approval, even the smallest bit of praise.

Antonio made no judgment; he simply listened patiently, nodding occasionally and asking questions now and then.

The only praise António gave was: "Your soldiers are good. Although their equipment and training are poor, their morale is excellent."

After Winters finished recounting his story, Antonio looked at Moritz: "An unidentified spellcaster in Iron Peak County?"

“Yes.” Moritz’s tone became very formal: “The expression of the non-natural phenomenon is consistent with the situation described in the [Red Iwo Jima Report]. Based on this, it can be inferred that the Teldon tribe is able to control high-level spell users.”

Winters heard an unfamiliar phrase: "Chiliu Island Report".

He looked at his adoptive father and his old superior, clearly only he among the three did not know what the [Akairo Island Report] was.

Moritz continued, "But strangely, in the next two major battles, Teldun did not receive any support from high-level spellcasters."

After learning that "a huge wave appeared out of nowhere and capsized the Iron Peak County fleet," Lieutenant Colonel Moritz van Nassou disappeared.

To be precise, Moritz began to act independently, no longer following Mason's orders, nor providing direct support to the Iron Peak County Army.

Mason was initially quite annoyed, half-jokingly and half-complainingly referring to the lieutenant colonel as "entering hunting mode."

Winters understood Moritz's decision quite well, as he shared the same sentiment.

While spellcasters who directly participate in combat are also terrifying, unknown spellcasters are the most dangerous.

Any high-value target that appears in front of a hidden spell user is likely to be killed before it can even react.

Therefore, in the main battle against the Firebringers, Winters only joined the assault at the last moment. Afterwards, Bard was so angry that he almost went crazy, and Charles was also severely punished.

Considering that the Teldon Department might have spellcasters, Bard firmly forbade Winters from participating in any actions that could expose him, and Winters even wrote a guarantee.

Of course, it turned out that the guarantee was just a piece of paper – Bard wasn't there, Mason wasn't there, so who could control Blood Wolf?

Antonio pondered for a moment and asked, "Could it be a priest or similar figure from the Hed tribes? A divine magician?"

“Possibly. But judging from the actual situation, it’s more likely to be a magician. A spellcaster from the Federation, or…” Moritz paused for a moment, then slowly uttered a proper noun: “[Oathbreaker].”

Antonio was not surprised. He tapped the table lightly with his fingertips. "Finish the report as soon as possible, and I will personally bring it back to Hailan."

"Yes."

The conversation between his adoptive father and the lieutenant colonel had entered uncharted territory for Winters. He could guess the gist of it, but he still wanted to hear more.

However, Antonio and Moritz's conversation had already ended.

Antonio looked at Winters, whose heart tightened, and he quickly changed the subject: "I know someone who should know the inside story of the Teldon tribe! He probably also knows the details of the spell users."

"Oh? Who?"

“The fire-gatherer’s advisor usually works as an interpreter in Teldun Khan’s tent.” Winters tried hard to recall the other person’s name, but quickly gave up: “As for his real name… I don’t know for now.”

Where is he/she?

“He might be mixed in with the prisoners, he might still be on the run, or he might be dead,” Winters said with certainty. “But he definitely can’t leave Iron Peak County; he’s between the two rivers.”

Winters then explained, "The man speaks Common Tongue very well, and if he changes his clothes, he'll look like any other old man. The heads and prisoners haven't all been identified yet, and the escaped Teldenans haven't all been captured, so the man's whereabouts are unknown. But he'll be found sooner or later—either alive or dead."

The room fell silent again. Antonio shook his head: "We'll talk about those things later. Let's talk about you first."

“I’m even more surprised that you’re here in Iron Peak County.” Winters still couldn’t quite accept it, it felt like a dream: “What about the Third Legion? Has the situation with the United Provinces eased? You… how did you get here?”

“I’m not coming,” Antonio sighed. “Who else can take you away?”

Oh no, Winters' worst fears have come true.

“You heartless bastard,” Antonio said reproachfully to Winters. “You left your sister and your aunt in Hailan, and what am I supposed to say about you?”

Winters lowered his head, unable to answer.

His worst fears had finally come true. Until this moment, he could still convince himself that "everything is fine in Hailan."

But when his adoptive father actually came before him and questioned him, he couldn't give any answer. If Antonio had said, "Come home with me,"...

How to do?
If António were to ask, "Are the Paratists more important than your family?"

What should I do?
He might actually go back to Veneta with his adoptive father, because for Winters Montagne, nothing is more important than family—nothing at all.

But he cannot leave Tiefeng County; he cannot go, at least not now.

Therefore, until that moment arrived, Winters did not know what choice he would make; he could only hope that his adoptive father would not say those words.

Moritz tactfully excused himself, saying, "I'll come to visit again later."

Winters grabbed the lieutenant colonel, speaking slowly and with difficulty: "I can't leave...at least not now."

"Why?" Antonio asked.

“Lieutenant Colonel Moritz can testify.” Winters looked at his adoptive father pleadingly, like a child who knew he had done something wrong: “It’s not that I’m being arrogant, but it’s the truth—if I leave now, Iron Peak County will be completely ruined!”

“A prefecture will not collapse because of one person’s departure.” Antonio’s eyes were stern. “Return Iron Peak Prefecture to the New Reclamation Legion. They are capable of taking over.”

“The New Reclamation Legion will not forgive my men, nor will it keep my promises.” Winters retorted stubbornly, “The New Reclamation Legion cannot do as well as I have… It’s not that they lack the ability, but that they are unable to do it the way I have.”

Moritz sighed and said earnestly to the lieutenant general, "I agree with Captain Montagne to some extent with what he said."

“There are still so many things I haven’t finished.” On one side of the scales were his family, and on the other, the countless corpses on the battlefield. Winters felt like he was being torn apart: “Those who died in battle, their families haven’t received compensation. The warriors who wandered the wastelands haven’t been redeemed. I burned Lower Iron Peak County to the ground, and I smashed Middle Iron Peak County to pieces… At least they should be restored to their former state…”

Antonio looked at his son: "This is not your responsibility."

“It’s my responsibility! I sent them to the battlefield, I sent them to their deaths. I knew they would die! It was bound to be a massacre on both flanks, but I still left them there—I knew the Teldenans would kill them, I knew it from the beginning.” Winters’s body trembled violently as the unhealed wounds in his heart were slowly reopened: “Those men, they went to war because they trusted me, but what did I do? I fed their flesh and blood to the wolves…”

Antonio wanted to hug his son, but he couldn't.

“You can’t cry,” Antonio said. “If you’re going to go down this road, you can’t cry.”

He remained silent for a long time before slowly beginning to speak: "The old marshal once told us a joke. He said, 'A proverb advises a general to love his soldiers like his own son, and only then will the soldiers be willing to die for you. But if a general truly loves his soldiers like his own son, how can he bear to let them go to war?'"

“We were all laughing then.” Antonio chuckled as well, his thoughts drifting back to his memories: “Your father was laughing too, and so was I.”

“But now, my child,” Antonio looked at Winters, his eyes filled with unspeakable pain, “I regret letting you go down this path.”

……

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Shaded Mountains lies the heart of the empire—the Palace of No Worries.

News of the victory has reached the Eternal City, and colorful flags are hung throughout the city to celebrate.

Each rope spanning the street was tied with thirteen small triangular flags, representing the thirteen victories the Imperial Army had achieved in the North over the past two years.

The bells of all the churches rang thirteen times in unison, summoning the faithful to witness the Victory Mass.

The grand banquet hall of Wulu Palace was brightly lit and adorned with flowers, where nobles of all ranks gathered to offer their congratulations to His Majesty the Emperor.

These were merely small, preliminary celebrations, for the victors had not yet returned to the Eternal City.

When the generals return with their spoils and prisoners, there will be an even grander and more magnificent triumphal procession and presentation of prisoners.

His Majesty will arrive at the Grand Arena in a magnificent chariot drawn by four white horses, and the barbarian banners, weapons, and treasures will be thrown down his steps.

Then will be an endless feast that will go down in history, and everyone who participates will receive a gift.

Therefore, regardless of whether they were nobles or commoners, everyone in the Eternal City was looking forward to a magnificent triumphal procession.

While triumphant songs resounded and toasts were exchanged in the grand banquet hall, the protagonist of the banquet was alone in that small office.

The door opened a crack.

“Your Majesty,” Count Narzia said from outside the door, “His Highness the Prince has arrived.”

Without the emperor needing to take any action, Count Narzia already understood His Majesty's thoughts.

The door opened fully, and a young man walked into the room.

Judging by his appearance alone, the young man is a dashing young man, tall, handsome, and debonair. His bearing and demeanor suggest that he grew up in a privileged environment.

That's all. He's still young, and in an empire where a beard represents masculinity, someone without a beard is never reliable.

But when people learned who the young man's father was, when they learned that the young man was the legal heir to the empire, this young man, who was not yet twenty years old, instantly became sacred and inviolable.

Interestingly, if the old man in the oil painting bears a nine-tenths resemblance to the emperor in front of the portrait, then when it is passed down to the young man, only one-tenth remains.

People say it's because the Queen's family bloodline is too powerful. Of course, there are also darker rumors circulating quietly in the sewers.

The door was closed completely, leaving only the father and son alone.

The room was dark, with only one lamp on.

The young prince squinted, but dared not look directly at his father behind the desk: "Your Majesty."

"Come here," the emperor said.

The young prince took a few steps forward.

"Come to me." The person in the lamplight seemed to be smiling.

The prince was somewhat surprised, but walked steadily to the desk.

Although the emperor remained stern and unsmiling in front of the prince, the prince keenly sensed that his father had become a little emotional... just a little bit.

The emperor stood up, and at his command, the young prince took the emperor's seat.

It's not a throne; the coronation throne is placed in the main hall.

Anyone close to the highest power knows that the extremely simple chair in the small office in the corner of the Wulu Palace truly represents the highest power in the empire.

"How do you feel?" the emperor asked with great interest.

The young prince shifted uncomfortably: "It's very hard."

"It is indeed very hard and uncomfortable on the buttocks." The emperor seemed to be in high spirits today, and even explained for his son: "But if you use a soft cushion, you will sweat after sitting for a long time, and it will be very damp and uncomfortable."

The emperor was amiable, but his son grew increasingly fearful.

A great father is the greatest obstacle to his son. In the eyes of the young prince, his father’s divine side far outweighed his human side, and he was more accustomed to the latter.

But when the god was transformed into a human, and the emperor became a father, the young prince was somewhat unaccustomed to it.

The emperor's fingertips traced the dents and engravings on the desk: "The material of this desk comes from a warship, and it was only after my father that it was used for daily office work."

The prince's gaze swept across the desk, which was not only stained with ink but also had crooked letters carved by a child. It was a very old desk.

“From as far back as I can remember, my father,” the emperor said, looking at the old man behind his desk, “worked right here. From dawn until night. At midday, he would take a walk in the garden. After dinner, he would go for a stroll in the street.”

The prince had certainly heard the story of the previous emperor, but what he knew better was that ever since the failed assassination attempt, the previous emperor had never left the Wulu Palace for his walks.

“He does this every day. If he’s not on an inspection tour or waging war, or if he’s not receiving his subjects, he’ll be working here.” The emperor looked at his son. “He does this every day. He doesn’t rest until very, very late.”

Was the previous emperor really that diligent? The prince didn't know much about it.

"But do you know what people call him?" the emperor asked.

They asked about areas the prince knew, but the prince dared not answer.

The emperor calmly said, "Richard, you're a madman."

Richard IV, the mad emperor who lost all his territory south of the Shade Mountains, is known to all.

“When I was young, people called my father a warrior, a handsome man, and a pious man. But when he died, people called him a madman.” The emperor asked, “What do you think people will call me after I die?”

“Your Majesty,” the prince replied.

“No.” The emperor laughed: “They will call me—Henry, the man who slaughtered his own family and betrayed his sacred oath.”

[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]


(End of this chapter)