Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 327 The Dog Marching in Formation

Zhevodan, the stables of the officers' quarters.

Father Edmund of the parish of Gévordne entered the stables and found that, in addition to the tribunal of Montagne, there was another man wearing an iron mask in the stables, and the two were talking about something.

“…A stone bridge is much more troublesome than a wooden bridge.” The masked man’s voice was deep. “However…the last thing you need right now is manpower, so it’s not difficult to repair it if you really want to…”

Accompanied by a series of strange noises, Father Edmond heard the voice of the Montagne tribunal coming from the innermost room of the stable:

“The past is the past, and the present is the present; things are different now… Before, people could barely accept not being paid. But not now; nobody wants to work for free… Sigh, I kind of miss the Teldon people… Could I ask you for this favor…”

The masked man scoffed mockingly: "I eat your food, drink your water, and live in your house. Do I have the right to refuse?"

"Of course."

The masked man clearly lacked the awe that the people of Iron Peak County held for the infamous—no, now renowned—"Blood Wolf." He gave a light snort, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Then I'll take that as your agreement. How long will the construction period take?"

"Let's be optimistic," the masked man replied casually, "two or three years, I guess."

The strange noises stopped, and the Montagne tribunal, carrying a shovel, walked out of the stables: "Two or three years?!"

But it was precisely because of this that Father Edmund, who was stuck in a daze for a while, was able to get noticed by the other party.

"Your Excellencies," Father Edmund said, making the sign of his heart and greeting them first, "Good day."

"Good day." Winters recognized the visitor as the current de facto manager of the Gevordan Cathedral and nodded in return.

"Shall I take my leave now?" Edmund asked awkwardly.

“No need.” Winters waved his hand. “Captain Morrow and I are talking about building a bridge. You can listen in as well.”

Then, Winters looked at the masked man: "Two or three years is too long."

“You want a stone bridge, not a wooden one.” Morrow’s impatience couldn’t be hidden even by his mask. “Given the span of the St. George River, two or three years is a short time to build, and four or five years might not be impossible. The key is how many people you can send and how much money you can afford!”

Winters confidently assured them, "We'll provide as many people as you need! And as much money as you want!"

Moro was reluctant to speak in the presence of others. He sighed deeply: "Wait... I'll submit a written plan to you tomorrow."

After saying that, Moro was about to leave.

Winters, however, wouldn't let his senior off the hook: "I have another question. It's so cold in winter, isn't it dangerous to do underwater construction?"

“Underwater construction is never safe,” Morrow replied dismissively. “By summer, during the rainy season, you won’t even be able to finish the work!”

Moreau then bowed to Father Edmund and, ignoring Winters's remaining questions, walked out of the stable without looking back.

After watching his senior leave, Winters politely explained to Father Edmund, "During the siege, wasn't the bridge demolished? Since it's going to be rebuilt, I think we should just build a stone bridge."

Father Edmund looked somewhat embarrassed, because the old wooden bridge was actually the property of the Gevordan Monastery, and outsiders had to pay the monastery to cross it.

“To have such a wise and benevolent tribunal as you,” Father Edmund said, adjusting his posture and showering Gévord with praise: “is truly a blessing from the Lord upon Gévord.

Winters, carrying a shovel, walked back into the stable: "Did you come here for something?"

Father Edmund's gaze fell into the stable, behind which stood a pure black foal and two small dogs.

The little pony stood in the corner of the stable, its eyes full of grievance.

Two small dogs were running wildly around the Montagne tribunal, but their running posture was a bit strange—they were both lifting their legs high. It didn't look like dogs... more like the dance of horses.

Edmund finally figured out where the strange sound was coming from: it was Montagne tribunal shoveling horse manure.

“Truly worthy of being your hunting dog.” Edmund racked his brains for something to praise: “They even marched in formation.”

Winters, who was swinging a shovel, froze, his face turning somewhat dark.

"This little black horse is quite magnificent!"

Changsheng barked like a dog at the opportune moment.

“Father, what is it you need?” Winters stopped what he was doing, leaning on his shovel as he looked at the priest. “Please speak plainly.”

Father Edmund forced a fawning smile: "I heard your wife can ride horses too?"

"Ah."

“It’s inconvenient for a lady to ride a large horse,” Father Edmund enthusiastically recommended. “I’ve brought you two ‘ponies’ that nuns ride; I hope you’ll accept them.”

Winters was both amused and exasperated.

After the death of the former bishop of the Gévordne parish, the Gévordne Monastery and its attached cathedral were temporarily managed by Father Edmond.

Unlike his smooth and worldly predecessor, Father Edmund was naive, dull, and extremely devout.

According to Winters' observation, the reason Edmond was chosen was likely because the other monks were afraid of the "Blood Wolf," so they put this honest man at the forefront.

Fortunately, Edmund was a good person and cooperated well with Winters' arrangements.

However, Gévordan is probably the only one who can give gifts to the point that makes the recipient feel extremely uncomfortable.

Seeing that the other party was stammering and unwilling to get to the point, Winters cut to the chase: "If what you are seeking is the position of Bishop of Gévordine—forgive my bluntness, but that is an internal matter of your church, and I have no intention of interfering. You should take your pony back."

The Catholic Church is a centralized, top-down organization. Although the Pope is thousands of miles away, he still decides the next bishop.

How it is actually implemented involves power struggles within the church, and Winters doesn't want to get involved in that mess.

"No, no, no!" Father Edmund shook his head vehemently. "The appointment and removal of bishops are subject to the Pope's decree. How could I dare to plot against him!"

Winters leaned on his shovel, remaining silent and waiting for the other person to continue.

"You seem to be short of money lately?" Edmund asked tentatively. "How about the Gevordan Monastery donating you another sum of cash? By the way! Let's donate the money for the bridge construction!"

Winters felt wronged and wanted to question the other party: "Building bridges and paving roads is a public expense, how can you say it's money for me?"

But as soon as the words left his lips, they became: "How much do you want to donate?"

Edmund cautiously mentioned a weight.

Winters cleared his throat, pulled two stools from beside him, and helped Father Edmund sit down.

Then Winters sat down face to face with him and asked seriously, "Tell me, what exactly do you want?"

Edmund hurriedly defended himself: "I, and the other brothers in the monastery, do not want anything from you, but only hope that you will respect a sacred and existing right of the Catholic Church."

"What rights?" Winters observed Father Edmund with interest. "Would they be worth two ponies plus most of your fortune?"

Father Edmund swallowed hard: "The right to internal trial."...

After a period of time.

Andrei led two miniature ponies into the stable.

The miniature pony is only about one meter tall, and its back just reaches Andrei's waist, making it look like two large dogs.

"Where did these two little guys come from?" Andrei asked as soon as he entered the room. "They're really rare finds."

Winters, who was teasing the puppy, didn't even look up: "You want one? I'll give you one."

"I don't want to. These are for old men and women." Andrei found an empty stable and temporarily locked the miniature pony inside. "If I ride it, wouldn't that be like riding a rabbit?"

"Sent by Father Edmond from the Gevordan Monastery."

“That makes sense. Nuns and monks ride these kinds of horses too.” Andrei dragged over two large bundles of oat straw, rolled up his sleeves, and laid out bedding for another stable. “Don’t underestimate them. These horses are very valuable! They have short legs, making them stable to ride and more expensive than ordinary horses. But they are also troublesome to raise. If I leave them to you, I estimate they will die sooner or later.”

"I'll still let you raise it."

"When do I have time?" Andrei spat out the bits of grass in his mouth and stood outside the stable fence waiting for the dust to clear.

Glancing at the two beagle dogs fighting at Winters' feet, he couldn't help but burst into laughter: "But I really can't let you keep them. Look at what you've got! Horses barking like dogs, dogs marching in formation, you can't argue with that."

Looking at the two puppies with their legs raised high, Winters covered his face and sighed deeply.

Gerald Mitchell's hound had a litter of puppies, and when Mrs. Mitchell left Wolftown, she took two of the puppies with her for company.

Later, the two puppies and Changsheng were raised together. The end result was that the puppies walked with a stiff, marching gait, while Changsheng barked off-key every day.

“Ronald brought back a prisoner from Lower Ironpeak County.” Winters picked up a small dog and placed it on his lap to groom it. “You know that?”

The puppy, which was never still for a moment, became very docile the moment Winters caught it, and licked Winters' fingers with its tongue in a flattering manner.

Seeing that the dust had mostly settled, Andrei led the two ponies into the stable: "I heard they're clergy from the Catholic Church?"

"Yes. Have you seen that person?"

"I haven't seen him. I wasn't walking with Ronald when I came back." Andrei picked up the empty bucket to fetch water for the miniature pony. "What's wrong?"

Winters fiddled with the puppy's chubby ears: "The Catholic Church is going to deal with that prisoner."

Andrei stopped in his tracks, looking surprised: "Deal with?"

“Hmph, ‘dealing with’ is an understatement. A more accurate description would be…” Winters put down the puppy, watched it dash off to chase after his brother, and slowly uttered a single word: “[Inquisition trial].”

"Huh?" Andrei stared in disbelief. "Huh?"

Winters and Andrei were born after the League was founded and did not experience religious oppression during the imperial era.

The term "Inquisition trial" evoked in them a feeling akin to seeing a moldy, worm-eaten, and rotten old coat pulled from the bottom of a box—both familiar and strange, but mostly uncomfortable.

Winters' brow furrowed slightly: "Judging from the price Edmund offered, if I agree, the Gevordan Monastery will probably be burning at the stake immediately."

"A stake for execution? Wait a minute?" Andrei threw down the bucket. "What grudge do they have? Wasn't that prisoner an old man? They want to burn an old man too?"

“I don’t know either.” Winters pondered. “According to Edmund, the trial of clergy is an internal matter of the Catholic Church. He offered a very high price, hoping that I would ‘respect their sacred rights’.”

Andrei's jaw hadn't closed for a long time: "The Catholic Church? Internal trials? Is that true?"

Winters shook his head: "I still don't know, at least according to Edmund—that's how it is."

"Then..." Andrei paused for a moment, then asked, puzzled, "Since it's an internal matter, why do they need your approval? And why such a high price? Are they trying to bribe you?"

“That’s the most interesting part.” Winters stood up and paced back and forth. “Why would they bribe me if it has nothing to do with me? Why do they need my permission?”

“That makes sense.” Andrei said with relief, “Without our approval, who would dare to erect stakes at the stake in Iron Peak County?”

“If only it were that simple,” Winters said with a smile. “Do you know what price Edmond offered me?”

Andrei tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

Winters stated a weight, then casually added a word: "Gold."

Andrei took a deep breath: "Why don't you just agree? It's the Catholic Church's own business anyway, why should we get involved? It has nothing to do with us anyway!"

"If that's the case, why ask for such an exorbitant price? Couldn't you just tell me casually, or burn it first and then report it?"

"..." Andrei was stumped by the question: "So you agreed to his request?"

“I neither agreed nor disagreed. In order not to reveal my hand, I hinted to Father Edmund—” Winters casually picked up a straw and briefly entered a spellcasting state to stimulate his mind.

The phantom pain made Winters' smile look somewhat sinister: "It'll cost more."

It's as if an invisible pair of scissors is moving back and forth in mid-air, shortening the straw inch by inch, so precisely that the difference between the two cuts is indistinguishable to the naked eye.

Winters sorted out his thoughts and suddenly smiled knowingly: "Could it be that Edmund believes we know far more information than we actually need to know? That's why he quoted us such a high price."

"Hmm...uh...it seems...to make sense..." Andrei pondered for a long time, then suddenly slapped his thigh: "Damn it, why bother with all this effort! Just grab that old man, interrogate him, and we'll know everything!"

“That’s the problem.” Winters tossed out the last bit of straw, which shattered in mid-air. He said helplessly, “The prisoner isn’t in my hands.”

"Huh? Didn't that old man come back with Ronald?"

“I don’t know. I’ve already asked Charles to investigate.” Winters walked up to Changsheng, who hummed and stuck out his tongue to lick his fingers. “Even if that prisoner returned with Ronald, I have no idea where he went afterward.”

Andrei slapped his thigh again: "Could it be that the old man has already fallen into the hands of the Catholic Church?"

Winters shook his head: "Then Edmund must have brought me news of his death."

"I really don't understand." Andrei tugged at his hair a few times, then picked up the bucket from the ground. "I'd better go feed the horses."

"It's not complicated. There's another person involved in this, the one who sheltered the prisoner." Winters stroked his long, soft mane, his thoughts drifting far away.

He pieced together the known information bit by bit: "He had the motive to shelter that prisoner, and the ability to shelter that prisoner. Most importantly, who was the person who could lead Father Edmond and others to believe that 'Winters Montagne was sheltering that prisoner'?"

Andrei stood there, stunned, his expression strange, and asked in a low voice, "Your wife?"

……

Fifteen minutes later.

"Father Kaman!" Winters kicked the door open violently. "What have you done this time in my name?!"

[It's the weekend until dawn! !!!]
[The image of dogs (or cats) marching in formation is accompanied by a picture, but it's not considered original content.]
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(End of this chapter)