Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 335 Q&A
Almost no one noticed that after that bloody and muddy battle, Winters Montagne fell into a kind of negative mood.

Or rather, Winters didn't want anyone to find out, so no one did.

It was a strange kind of fatigue, specifically manifested as "there seem to be a lot of things to do, but in reality, there are very few things that can be done."

The new town on the south bank, the starving refugees, the military school that exists only on paper, Pierre and Vahika who have disappeared without a trace... it's all a tangled mess, yet he seems to have nothing he can do about it.

……

The grain reserves in Theodore County were dwindling day by day, and Iron Peak County was on the verge of famine.

Winters dispatched Tamas to restore traffic with White Mountain County and to organize the merchants of Iron Peak County to transport their stockpiled goods.

However, he was unable to solve the fundamental problem. Until the summer harvest next year, Tiefeng County would have to rely on external grain imports.

So he could only wait.

The new town on the south bank of St. George's River is just an empty shell, far from Winters' expectations, and needs to be replanned and rebuilt.

But the southern part of the city is now crowded with homeless military dependents and refugees who need not workshops and cobblestone streets, but bread and shelter.

Winters continued the [work relief] policy and provided winter housing for refugees.

But he still couldn't solve the fundamental problem—the refugees didn't not want to go home; it was the winter that was holding them back. Only when "it's no longer freezing to death at night" could the refugees return home.

So Winters could only wait.

Winters also wanted to reopen the Iron Peak Mine, but encountered similar difficulties.

Previously, the Iron Peak Mine relied mainly on the labor of prisoners. However, due to the contributions of the prisoners during the Siege of Ghevordan, Winters granted most of them their freedom, directly leading to a shortage of manpower in the Iron Peak Mine.

Miners' lives are hard and dangerous; if there were land to cultivate, no one would want to be a miner.

What to do? Winters didn't know.

Pierre and Vahika went to look for Bélien and Dussac, but have not heard from them since.

Winters wanted to send someone else, but couldn't find suitable personnel at the moment.

Winters has already written two full volumes of plans for establishing the military school, and has even selected a site.

However, he doesn't know whether the trainees in the program, who have now become the backbone of the army and have risen to the rank of company commander, would be willing to return to school.

……

Every time Winters felt that drowning-like helplessness, he felt a deep hatred for the Teltown people.

The future of Tiefeng County, like his life, was being pushed off its original path by uncontrollable external forces. He tried to pull the carriage back on track, but he didn't know where to begin.

So during this period, not to mention compared to the two model workers, Bader and Mason, even Andrei's life was more fulfilling than his.

Apart from some mare and a small number of stallions that were kept for breeding, the rest of the warhorses in Tiefeng County were all sent to Baishan County as cargo.

At present, Tiefeng County is simply unable to ensure that those delicate warmblood horses survive the winter; on the contrary, the captured Herd horses are more adapted to the current situation.

Although he had few "decent" warhorses left, Andrei still tripled the size of his cavalry.

Seeing Andrei busy training new recruits, leaving early and returning late every day, Winters felt a faint sense of jealousy.

Looking at himself, it seems like he's needed everywhere, yet it also seems like he's not needed anywhere.

Winters hadn't told anyone about these troubles, not even Anna.

He felt it was all too trivial, and to be bothered by such trivial matters was tantamount to blasphemy against the dead.

After all, he's still alive, and he has all his limbs intact. So many people have died, and so many others will spend the rest of their lives in disability.

Compared to those who had lost everything, Winters felt his own suffering was insignificant.

There must be no such thing as fairness in the universe, Winters thought. If there were, then the fact that Winters Montagne is still alive would be the greatest irony.

He pretended that nothing had happened—and that nothing should have happened anyway.

But he couldn't control the feeling of powerlessness in his heart, and the resulting guilt tormented him even more than the powerlessness itself.

Therefore, Winters rarely goes out, and when he has to go out, he chooses to do so at night.

He didn't want to see the soldiers saluting him, and he couldn't bear to see the wounded soldiers' empty sleeves and trouser legs.

In addition, his family affairs were also tormenting him. He could always hear the deceased questioning him: "We died because of you, yet you are troubled by your children's affections. Is that fair?"

He wanted to send Anna back to Hailan, and Leo persuaded him to do the same.

“The newly reclaimed land is dangerous now, and it will become even more dangerous in the future, especially for a lady from a foreign land with no relatives or friends,” Leo said sincerely. “Sea Blue is the safest place. No one can harm Miss Anna in Sea Blue. In Miss Anna’s best interests, you should send her back to Sea Blue.”

Leo's words were very persuasive. War is the most uncontrollable beast, and if war breaks out again, Winters has no way to guarantee Anna's safety.

But Winters couldn't bear to part with her, because Anna was almost the only source of comfort for him.

Just sitting quietly beside Anna made Winters feel less pain.

But... that's too selfish.

……

……

The day after Leo's long talk with Winters, on a cold, gloomy morning, Bard returned to Ghevordan.

"Why are you back?" Winters asked with a smile. "Isn't there a lot going on in Lower Iron Peak County?"

"Old friend, just seeing you makes me happy," Winters thought.

“Winter is here, so there won’t be much to do.” Bard looked even thinner. “Have you decided what to do with that heretical priest?”

"You came all this way just to discuss this with me? Couldn't you have just written a letter?"

Bud replied seriously, "This matter could be a big or small issue, but it still needs to be taken seriously."

“I don’t have any good ideas either. Kaman asked me to help him buy some time; he seems to have his own plans.”

"So what's your plan?"

“I only have one backup plan. I wrote to General Serbiati and asked him to contact the Alliance Magic Operations Bureau. However, the round trip will probably take longer than Kaman needs.”

Bud nodded: "So how do you plan to buy some time?"

“Delay, stall.” Winters smiled helplessly. “What else can we do? This isn’t the Empire, the Catholic Church can’t use force.”

"Delaying is a good strategy, but dragging it out is not."

Winters knew his friend too well, so when he heard Bud's words, he immediately smiled and said, "If you have a solution, just say so. Don't give me any more difficult questions."

“It’s really nothing.” Bard raised his hand in a gesture of respect. “If we consider the Catholic Church as a religious organization, then the nature of it as protecting heretics is very serious.”

"so what?"

"On the contrary, if we view the Catholic Church as a bureaucracy, then this is no big deal. You must understand that the clergy of Jevodan were not obsessed with eliminating Saul out of piety or hatred of heresy. They wanted to try Saul simply because their superiors had ordered them to do so, nothing more."

"Uh... the current acting bishop of the Church of Zhevodan is probably the kind of clergy who is 'extremely devout'. Moreover, he is particularly rigid and probably very inflexible."

“Rigidity means orderliness, which makes dealing with him even easier. Don’t worry about this, leave it to me. I’ll talk to the Church of Jervodan.”

“Great.” Winters breathed a sigh of relief. “So, how do you plan to negotiate?”

“The church has no problem with judging Saul—we respect the church’s internal authority.” Bud cleared his throat, adopting the formal tone of a public official:

"But the Zhevodan Garrison is a branch of the New Reclamation Corps. Procedurally, this matter must first be approved by the New Reclamation Corps. We do not have the authority to grant it directly. In short, let's be patient and go through the process. We can't rush it."

"What if they actually got permission from the Legion?"

“Don’t forget, Bishop Zhevodan has tragically died, and a new bishop has not yet been appointed. Whether the acting bishop is qualified to apply to the Legion is still up for debate.” Bard smiled. “Anyway, you don’t intend to solve the problem completely; you just want to stall for time.”

Winters laughed uncontrollably.

Bud smiled warmly, looked at Winters, and asked softly, "I heard you haven't been doing too well lately?"

"What's not so good?" Winters wiped away tears of laughter. "Aren't I fine?"

"You're starting to look more and more like Lieutenant Colonel Moritz; you're never around."

"Who said that?"

“Senior Mason. There are also rumors in Lower Iron Peak County that your old injury has relapsed and you are not going to make it.”

Knowing that someone cared about him, Winters felt a strange mix of emotions. He sighed, "Senior Mason was probably seeking revenge. As for the others, let them talk."

“I finally made it back to Revodan,” Bard suggested. “Want to come for a walk with me?”

Winters instinctively refused: "It's too cold outside, I don't want to move."

Bud stood up, took the two men's coats, and looked at Winters.

Winters had no choice but to surrender: "Okay, let's go for a walk. But we can't go too far, my legs have been hurting lately—bring me my cane too."

Upon leaving his residence, Winters discovered that Bud had come prepared. A carriage was parked in the courtyard.

“I know you have a leg injury,” Bud said with a smile. “I borrowed a carriage for you.”

"Where are we going?" Winters asked bitterly. "You're not going to take me to Lower Iron Peak, are you? Are the rumors in Lower Iron Peak that serious?"

“No, just wandering around.” Bud urged Winters, “Get in the car.”

The two boarded the carriage, Bud knocked on the window, the driver pulled on the reins, and the carriage glided towards the St. George River.

The carriage blocked out the outside view, slightly alleviating Winters' discomfort.

The bonfire, emitting wisps of smoke, divided the road in two, with pedestrians and vehicles each using one side in an orderly fashion.

Bader suddenly spoke up: "I have been seriously considering General Serbiati's suggestion during this period of time."

"Which suggestion?" Winters raised an eyebrow: "To side with Arpad's military government?"

"Correct."

What was the result of your consideration?

"I think it's worth a try to make contact."

“The Alpad faction are the orthodox Paratist warlords, and they will not tolerate us.”

“If we can avoid war, we should strive to avoid war.” Bard’s eyes gleamed. “Even if it means making some concessions to legitimize our work in Iron Peak County, it’s worth it.”

If anyone else had said these words, Winters would have assumed they were afraid and wanted to surrender. But Bard… Winters believed Bard would never waver.

Winters rested his hands on his forehead: "To be honest, I don't know what to do either. Bud, I really envy you. You're always so determined, but I..."

“You’re wrong.” Bard put his hand on Winters’ shoulder. “Nobody knows where we’re going, nobody knows what will be engraved on our tombstones after we die. It’s only because you’re here that others don’t have to worry about these unanswerable questions. Tamas, Bart Sharing… and all the warriors you can and can’t name, they don’t need to think about the future. They live on because of their trust in you.”

Winters did not speak.

“I often wonder, if the former provincial militias had truly understood the power gap between them and the Empire,” Bard said with a touch of melancholy, “would they still have had the courage to raise the ‘Freedom Flag’?”

“I don’t know about the others.” Winters sniffed. “The old marshal came from the Imperial Army, so he must know.”

"Where did he get the courage? An ant provoking a lion is far too presumptuous."

Winters leaned back, his expression somewhat subtle: "Although it's not mentioned in official records, I saw a handwritten note in the Army Academy archives that said the old marshal's participation in the militia was tantamount to... kidnapping."

“Who knows?” It was Bud’s turn to laugh heartily. “Who knows?”

“Yes. Regardless of the initial intention, actions cannot be faked.” Winters said with a touch of emotion.

“Speaking of history, I have roughly summarized this pattern,” Bard pondered. “No matter what we do, we always start with a strong sense of unity, with everyone putting their heart and soul into it. It’s not that the difficulties don’t exist in the beginning, but rather that people deliberately ignore them.”

Winters listened silently.

"When you achieve something, you may feel lost. Because when you achieve something, setbacks follow. When the environment improves slightly, your spirits become lax. More importantly, your blind confidence gradually dissipates, and you begin to objectively recognize the difficulties. The mountain is so high that you can tell at a glance that it is insurmountable. It seems that no one, whether an individual, a family, a group, or even a country, can escape this cyclical pattern."

"You're here to give me a lesson?" Winters smiled. "So, how do you think we can break free from the so-called cyclical pattern?"

“I don’t know either,” Bud said cheerfully. “But I think it doesn’t matter what we think, whether we feel fear or confusion, what matters is to keep going. Maybe Marshal Ned was the one who was most afraid, but he gritted his teeth and walked at the forefront.”

“Bard,” Winters said with difficulty, “I’m not afraid, I just…”

“Look,” Bud knocked on the car window. “We’ve arrived at the St. George River.”

Two pontoon bridges span the St. George River during the dry season, with pedestrians and vehicles constantly crossing the river.

Besides the pontoon bridge, six pile-driving boats are also working busily on the river, driving wooden piles into the riverbed.

“Are those the piling boats for building the bridge?” Bard pointed to the river. “I heard about it in Lower Iron Peak County too. The der Vordan is going to build a magnificent stone bridge.”

Winters glanced at it: "Yes."

"What are those ships doing?" Bud asked with great interest.

“Senior Morrow’s plan,” Winters explained with effort, “is simply this: drive two rings of wooden piles into the water, fill the space between the two rings with sand and gravel to form a pool-like [cofferdam]. Then use a pump to drain the water from the cofferdam, remove the silt from the riverbed, and finally pour lime mortar from the rock layer to create the bridge piers.”

"When will it be completed?"

"If all goes well, the bridge piers will be repaired before next spring. Senior Moro plans to lay a wooden bridge deck temporarily, and then dismantle it during the off-season next year to build a stone arch. If the plan goes smoothly, it will be completed the year after next."

The carriage drove onto the pontoon bridge, allowing Bad to watch the construction of the bridge piers up close.

Two waterwheels were set up on either side of a completed dam, continuously drawing water from it.

Several other small boats, carrying sand and gravel, rowed toward a cofferdam that was under construction.

“The Victory Bridge in Menai province took five years to build, and its span is not even as long as the St. George River,” Bader commented. “Although I know your abilities, it still seems incredible that you were able to build the Ghevodan Bridge.”

“It’s not my skill,” Winters corrected. “It’s Senior Morrow’s skill.”

He sighed: "And right now, the last thing that Gervodan has in abundance is able-bodied people."

The carriage crossed the pontoon bridge and entered the "new city" on the south bank.

Rows of low-rise prefabricated houses, like furrows plowed out, lay flat on the ground enclosed by three city walls.

“Heh.” A smile appeared on Bard’s face: “Mason’s room.”

Winters couldn't help but laugh: "Yeah, I'm really worried that one day Mason will run to the South Bank and set it on fire."

To save living space, the Mason houses did not have separate kitchens. Instead, like the quarters for single officers, several prefabricated houses shared a single stove.

Once you enter the new town, the roads become difficult to navigate.

The clanging and clattering of gravel filled the air as burly men dug and paved the road, forcing the carriages to take a detour.

As we approached the prefabricated housing area, wisps of smoke mixed with a pleasant aroma drifted into the carriage.

A group of snotty-nosed children chased and played in the open space between two rows of prefabricated houses. Women with their hair tied up in square scarves gathered in a sheltered corner, each with a wooden basin on their lap, beating clothes with wooden sticks.

Winters stared silently out the window, and Bard remained silent as well.

After leaving the new town, the carriage took the main road towards the forging furnace village. For several kilometers, one could see teams of laborers repairing the road.

In Winters's memory, Forgetown should have become a dead town. The blacksmith workshops had all been moved to the new town of Gevordan, the residents had taken refuge there, and even the houses had been burned to the ground.

But when the carriage crossed the hills, the sight that appeared before Winters took him by surprise.

Five two-story smelting furnaces stand on the original site of the forging furnace village, spewing out thick smoke.

A rammed earth road starts from the smelting site and extends towards Tiefeng Mountain.

Many other people were busy around the smelting furnace.

The middle-aged blacksmith Saussa and the young blacksmith Carlos were greatly surprised by Winters' arrival.

"Lord Montagne," Chaussa was the first to rush to Winters, sweating profusely as he inquired, "Is your old injury any better?"

Winters didn't know how to explain: "Don't worry, everything is fine now."

Carlos rambled on, "Mr. Sausage and I have been wanting to invite you to the smelting plant, but we heard your old injury had flared up, so we didn't dare disturb you. Thank God, you look so healthy now, I can finally rest easy..."

"Here?" Winters frowned slightly. "When did so many smelting furnaces come in?"

Seeing Blood Wolf's displeasure, Shao Sha knew he was in trouble. He hurriedly explained, "The county government has been building bridges and repairing roads lately, and they need a lot of ironware. That's why Mr. Soya and I hired some refugees to reopen the Iron Peak Mine. Your Excellency, we didn't act on our own... we consulted with the county government..."

"I don't blame you."

"I wouldn't dare," Shao Sha said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"But... how come I didn't know about the Iron Peak Mine?" Winters looked at Bard and asked with a slight smile, "Was this arranged by Senior Mason? You came here just to show me this?"

“How could you possibly know everything?” Bard retorted. “This—I don’t know how to describe it—this being, she is not your puppet, she is the collection of the wills of many, many people. She is both thousands upon thousands of scattered consciousnesses and individuals with instincts and desires. You are an important part of her, but she does not belong to you. You feel that she has deviated from your predetermined path, but have you ever considered that in the beginning there was no such thing as a path?”

What truly tormented Winters wasn't what Budd was thinking, because he never believed he had absolute control over "her." But Budd's words still touched him, from another perspective.

“Bard,” Winters asked after a long silence, his voice trembling slightly, “we did do something good, didn’t we?”

“I don’t know.” Bard turned to look at the vast expanse of land. “You should ask them—I think they’ve already answered you.”

[To explain why the "land-based" policy cannot be implemented in Tiefeng County at present. Because, from the perspective of the economic system of that era, the land-based system was actually a disguised form of the gold and silver standard.] [Gold is not currency, but currency is naturally gold. Taxation and transactions are essentially priced using precious metals. The gold standard is linked to [gold-currency], while the land-based system is linked to [gold-land-currency], still using precious metals to price land.]

This raises a problem. If new regulations are imposed on the 'value' of land, it will create two tracks. The official land price will be one number, while the actual price in private transactions will be another. This becomes a means of plundering wealth.

If a fixed 'value' for a unit of land is not mandated, it means that the 'value' of currency also fluctuates.

Therefore, instead of linking currency to land, it would be better to simply issue something like "military scrip." Instead, link currency directly to precious metals, and then use the value of those precious metals as a benchmark to price other goods and even taxes.

[For example, the 'Red Army notes' during the Long March, and the 'faction notes' issued by various domains in Japan during the Edo period. Examples in Europe are also easy to find; generals relied on this tactic to plunder wealth… the legendary skill of General Wallenstein, the 'Locust General'.]

[Regarding raising funds by mortgaging land, it differs from the "land-based" system, although the process is similar. However, by not granting bonds monetary status, there's no need to worry about inflation and deflation caused by fluctuations in bond value.]

[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)