Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 322 The Old Man, the Wolf, the Sheep, and the Turnip
Tiefeng County, Rewodan.

“No passes.” Ivan repeated this phrase countless times, growing weary of it: “No one can leave.”

The stopped carriage carried a family of four and all their valuables. The rather portly male head of the household was driving, while the female head of the household was hiding inside the carriage with her two children in her arms.

News spread faster than the plague itself. Before the white horse knight with a bow even arrived in Theodore, everyone in Saint-Khedron knew about the plague.

Unfortunately, when war broke out, the common people of Tiefeng County flocked to Revodan in fear to seek refuge; and when the plague followed, people were eager to escape the crowded city.

"Hey, I was in a hurry and didn't have time to get a pass." The host smiled ingratiatingly, his stubby fingers deftly slipping Ivan a bulging little leather bag: "Please do me a favor, sir."

The bag was stiff, with the feel of coins.

Ivan couldn't help but sigh. It was impossible not to be tempted; Aksinya and the child were counting on him.

Since preparations for war began, prices in Zhevodan have only gone up, never down. Although flour is rationed, Ivan's family hasn't seen any meat in a long time.

“Sir.” Ivan didn’t take the leather bag. Because his mouth and nose were covered with a triangular scarf, his voice was somewhat muffled. “Although I don’t know your name, your family must be quite wealthy…”

The chubby male homeowner's heart sank; it seemed that being ripped off was inevitable.

But when you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head. So he still greeted them with a smile: "My name is Ivan, Your Excellency, Ivan Asta."

"Oh? You're also called Ivan."

"So...we share the same name?" The man eagerly agreed, "What a coincidence, what a coincidence."

“Mr. Asta.” Ivan’s words were interrupted, and his train of thought was also broken. He was silent for a moment, and then it took him a lot of effort to organize his thoughts: “Judging from your appearance, you are obviously a wealthy man, and probably also a learned one. If you were walking down the street on a normal day, you wouldn’t even give me a second glance, am I right?”

The man of the house was getting more and more confused. He chuckled and said, "Oh dear, Brother Ivan... what are you thinking?"

"But now you're taking out money and offering it to me." Ivan ignored him and continued, "You're doing this because you think I'm a person with power. At least for now, I have the power to let you go. Isn't that right?"

"Huh?" The simple act of bribery suddenly escalated into a philosophical debate, and the male host couldn't quite process it for a moment.

“Actually, I have no power at all. Only Your Excellency the Tribunal has the power to let you go; I only have the power to stop you. Now that I’ve taken your money, I’ll be hanged before sunrise tomorrow.” Having poured out all his thoughts, Ivan let out a long sigh and looked at the other man expectantly: “You’re asking me to exercise power I don’t have… Do you understand what I mean?”

For this family, it was the first time they had met Ivan and the first time they had attempted to bribe him.

But for Ivan, this was already "countless" times he had faced such an offer of money. This created an unequal relationship between the two.

Ivan's words were his venting to all those who offered bribes, and also the result of his thinking—the reason for convincing himself not to accept bribes.

The male homeowner was completely bewildered. He had only wanted to give the other party some money to bribe them, but instead he was inexplicably lectured.

The man stared at Ivan suspiciously for a while, then asked in a low voice, "Do you want to pay more?"

“No.” Ivan said expressionlessly, “No one can leave without a pass.”

……

Meanwhile, on the road between Zhevodan and Wangqiao, a troop of cavalry was trying to dissuade a group of refugees.

There were only twelve cavalrymen, but there were hundreds of refugees.

"There's a plague in Zhevodan!" The young cavalryman at the head of the cavalry blocked the road, waving his arms and shouting in a still somewhat immature voice, "Go back, everyone!"

The refugees dared not charge the cavalry, but none of them were willing to leave.

As the standoff continued, an old man, leaning on a long cane, shakily stepped out from the crowd and pleaded, “Sir! If we didn’t have no other choice, who would willingly leave their home? We haven’t seen the plague, but the hunger is real. The barbarians have looted and burned all the grain in our village; we truly cannot endure this any longer. Sir! Please have mercy and let us pass!”

A gaunt mother stepped out of the crowd, holding her infant, and pleaded with the cavalrymen.

The crowd, which had initially dared not move, began to stir, and the refugees started walking towards the cavalry.

"Listen to me!" the young cavalryman at the head shouted. "The relief grain is on its way!"

However, the clamor of hooves and cries drowned out the young cavalryman's voice; no one heard what he said, and no one cared what he said.

The young cavalryman gritted his teeth and waved his hand. The twelve cavalrymen turned their horses around, whipped them, and left.

"They've retreated!" the crowd cheered.

Immediately someone exclaimed, "They're here again!"

Twelve cavalrymen stood in a horizontal line, their adjacent cavalrymen seemingly linked by iron chains, pressing close together as they pounded towards the refugees with overwhelming force.

Before the cavalry could even get close, the momentum of the crowd's advance was halted and crushed.

Hunger overwhelmed the mother, who was holding her baby, left her no strength to run. She turned around, her back to the sound of hooves, and shielded her child in her arms.

The anticipated horrific scene of horses crushing human bones did not occur; the cavalrymen steadily stopped their horses on the outskirts of the crowd.

The fleeing refugees gradually stopped, and the young cavalryman at the head of the group rode forward, took off his helmet, and revealed a face that was physically youthful but mature and composed.

“Listen to me.” Anglu clearly repeated what he had just said: “The relief supplies will arrive soon.”

Everyone heard clearly this time.

The refugees regrouped, and Anglu quickly surveyed the crowd: no injuries, no injuries, a scraped arm, no injuries...

Then he saw a ragged middle-aged man sitting on the ground, his expression contorted in pain. A middle-aged woman and several children of varying ages were anxiously surrounding the man.

The middle-aged man didn't make a sound, but large beads of sweat kept appearing on his forehead.

Anglo felt a pang of pain in his heart. He softly called to old Dusak beside him, "Baran Timoyevich?"

In the cavalry, old Dussac [Baran] was practically a medic. The old man sighed, dismounted, and walked toward the wounded middle-aged man.

To be honest, old Balan didn't care about the peasants' lives or deaths; his character still carried the cruelty that Dussac had been deliberately cultivated as "the emperor's whip."

But when Balan heard the company commander use his "real name and father's name" as a respectful title, he knew the little boy had softened again.

"My lord," the old man who had stepped forward first approached Angruma and mustered his courage to ask, "Relief...is there really any? When will it arrive?"

“I’m not some adult,” Anglu reassured him. “Don’t worry, it’s not fake. The Montagne tribunal has already ordered the allocation of military rations to everyone, they should be here soon…”

As he spoke, Anglu turned around and looked back.

At the end of the road, on the hilltop, a carriage slowly rose above the horizon, then another, and many more.

Each carriage was adorned with a conspicuous red flag.

“We’ve arrived,” Anglu replied.

……

Wherever life gathers, it naturally becomes a breeding ground for disease.

The wealthy people who had previously flocked to various towns because of the war are now desperately trying to leave.

Driven by hunger, the poor began to flock to various towns, forming a second wave of people.

The logic is simple: when people lack safety, they flock to safe places; when people lack food, they go to places where there is food.

Winters was trying to stop the influx of people into the city—the more people there were, the less controllable the plague would become.

On the other hand, he also had to stop the flow of people leaving the city—if people were allowed to leave, the plague could easily spread to all parts of Iron Peak County.

However, there were some departures that Winters could not interfere with—Colonel Gaza and the hussars were also leaving.

In this campaign, Telden's forces were divided into left and right wings. Although the right wing was crushed in Iron Peak County, the left wing is still wreaking havoc in Vaughan County.

Teldun's right wing was mainly composed of the Fire-Burning Tribe's direct descendants, while the left wing consisted of outside tribes that had submitted to them. This division was, of course, due to the Fire-Burning Tribe's own self-interest. However, it also resulted in Teldun lacking a clear command center, with the leaders, both large and small, acting independently, making the region even more difficult to manage.

After the main battle of Winters-Burninghorse ended, Colonel Gaisa originally planned to go to Vaughan immediately.

The reason I've been waiting until now is to wait for someone.

When Major Ronald and his party, weary from their journey, finally arrived in Gévodan, Colonel Gaisa, who had been waiting impatiently, was about to set off.

Winters did not want the hussars to leave because he was worried that the [Aishen Plague] that had just been brought under control would be carried away.

But that's exactly where the problem lies.

The plague had just begun to spread on a small scale in the shacks when it was discovered by Father Kaman and then tightly controlled by Winters.

So much so that this "plague" seems like a harmless joke: not many people died, yet the response was so harsh. Was it an overreaction?
The hussars had a perfectly valid reason for leaving: the war was not over yet, and Vaughan County needed them.

Aside from the need for epidemic prevention, Winters had no reason to detain the hussars. Furthermore, the reason given for epidemic prevention was not convincing to the other side.

So in the end, Winters had to give a send-off to the reinforcements.

……

Q: How can you distinguish between Paratul and Venetians?
A: Look at the beard.

The Paratites considered beards to be beautiful, as if the thicker the beard, the more masculine they were.

The Venetians, on the other hand, keep their upper lips, lower jaws, and cheeks completely clean. They may not bathe, but they must shave their beards; otherwise, they always feel uncomfortable.

Even in the Republic of Venetia, there is a legally mandated rule that Venetian officials and merchants residing in overseas colonies and trading nations must shave.

The reason for this strange law is simply to "distinguish between you and me".

In other words, the Venetians not only do not intend to integrate into other countries, but also deeply fear being "melted" by them, thus the forced shaving has become a form of identification.

Anyone with a discerning eye could roughly tell where the group of clean-shaven young men at the send-off ceremony came from just by looking at them.

The farewell party was small, with only a few prominent figures from Zhevodan invited to attend.

According to the customs of the Parat people, after winning a battle, even if it's not a three-day, three-night feast, a big meal and drinks are always expected.

However, given the limited resources and special circumstances in Iron Peak County, everything was kept simple, and Colonel Gaisa didn't find fault with Winters.

Upon seeing Ronald, who was still alive, Gaisa was overwhelmed with emotion and immediately hugged and kissed him passionately.

Yes, a solid kiss.

"Kissing" is the primary way for the Parat people to express intense emotions such as excitement, joy, long-awaited reunion, and long live friendship; it can also be done between men.

Face to face, lips to lips, whether there was any exchange of saliva is unknown.

There shouldn't be—right?

Andrei looked at the Paratist elders kissing passionately with disdain, and asked Winters worriedly, "They're not going to kiss us too, are they?"

Winters' mind was filled with all sorts of things related to the pandemic response. He glanced up and replied emotionlessly, "No, kissing is an act of intimacy. They are hostile towards us."

Andrei looked around and saw Ronald and other former Iron Peak County officers reunited with Colonel Gaisa and his group. The scene was very warm and touching. A group of adult men hugged and kissed, and some even cried.

In contrast, Winters and Andre, though surrounded by people, seemed subtly isolated. No one spoke to them, and no one hugged or kissed them.

Andrei snorted and took a sip of his wine: "Now I understand why Lieutenant Colonel Moritz and Bard didn't want to come."

“The identities of the lieutenant colonel and Juan are still confidential. Mason and Bud are too busy to come.” Winters answered mechanically, taking a sip of the liquid in his glass. The slightly bitter taste pulled him back from the world of pandemic prevention.

Winters changed the subject, clinking his beer glass against Andre's: "The key is—in this life-or-death situation, who else can I count on besides you?"

Andrei gave another soft hum and clinked his beer glass against Winters'.

After downing the golden liquid in his glass in one gulp, Andrei burped and muttered, "Does this even deserve to be called beer? It's practically tasteless."

Winters suddenly had a strange feeling, as if he had returned to the Blue Army Officers Club, sitting with Andrei on the second-floor north-facing windowsill overlooking the square, enjoying the breeze and drinking beer.

Winters took a small sip: "Mmm."

Andrei raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to look at Winters: "What are you laughing at?"

"Did I laugh?" Winters touched his cheek.

"Don't you know it yourself?"

Winters thought for a moment and said, "Then I didn't laugh."

Andrei chuckled and poured himself another glass of pale golden liquid.

If it's a farewell party for the Parat people, how can it be justified without drinks?

But even grain was scarce in Iron Peak County, let alone alcohol. Old Widow Allen's cellar was long gone; perhaps a few families might still have a few bottles, but those were just wines and the like.

Finally, the short, stout representative from Cowhoof Valley came up with an idea: crush the dry bread, soak it, heat it, add yeast, and ferment it...

The final filtered product was a strange liquid that resembled beer, but wasn't beer.

According to Mr. Short and Fat, back in the day, in General János's army, when the soldiers had no alcohol, they would ferment bread to make this "fermented water" to satisfy their cravings.

That is, what everyone was drinking at the farewell party.

Winters didn't really like the taste of alcohol; he preferred this strange liquid that didn't taste like alcohol at all.

Two Venetians stood among a group of Paratians engaged in lively conversation, silently drinking fermented water, cup after cup.

A plump man walked through the crowd and went straight up to the two of them.

The portly man took off his hat, bent slightly, and smiled broadly: "Captain Montagne, Lieutenant Cellini."

“Mr. Leo,” Winters nodded in greeting, poured a glass of fermented water and handed it to him, asking casually, “How is it?”

Mr. Leo—the plenipotentiary representative of Navarre Trading Company—took the glass, held it in his hand but did not drink: "It's all settled."

"Everything has been agreed upon?"

Mr. Leo's smile faded: "Please rest assured."

Winters breathed a long sigh of relief.

"What's going on?" Andrei asked, puzzled. He looked at Winters, then at Mr. Leo. "What are you talking about? With whom?"

Andrei returned to Zhevodan with Ronald and others, missing many meetings.

Upon hearing Andrei's question, Winters was overwhelmed with thoughts and didn't know how to explain it.

"May I explain this to Lieutenant Cellini?" Mr. Leo volunteered.

“Thank you for your trouble.” Winters was naturally happy to oblige.

“Lieutenant Cellini, you should know about the wool textile industry in Veneta.” Mr. Leo shook the cashmere fabric from his coat. “On one side are us, the Veneta people. The Navarre Trading Company has a shipment of wool that needs to be transported back to Veneta, General Serbiati has a batch of warhorses that also needs to be transported back to Veneta, and Captain Montagne needs to deliver grain to Iron Peak County. On the other side are the Palatours, who control the roads and the grain…”

"Alright, I understand." Andrei, feeling dizzy, impatiently interrupted, "It's just an old man, a wolf, a sheep, and a turnip!"

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