Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 340 The Old Man and Dusac

Looking back on his childhood, old Vogt considered himself very lucky. His mother had given birth to eight children, but he was the only one who survived to adulthood.

Unfortunately, Vogt also had a father who was a thief.

Thieves face high occupational risks; if caught, they may suffer a severe beating or even lose their right hand.

The rewards of theft are disproportionate to the risks. After all, Palatine is not the prosperous and wealthy Venetia. In the land of galloping horses, almost no thief can make a living solely by stealing.

Therefore, Vogt's father mainly earned his living by doing odd jobs, and only had the opportunity to do side jobs when there were many people at markets, celebrations, and church services.

Even odd jobs have peak and off-peak seasons. During peak seasons—such as spring planting and autumn harvest—Fogg's father was always the last to be hired, only taking him on when employers had no other choice. During the off-peak season, however, he was always the first to be fired, because just seeing his wooden prosthetic leg was enough for people to know what crimes he had committed.

For Vogt's father, losing a hand meant he would never be accepted by the public again. Even passersby would clutch their purses and swords tightly when they saw him walking towards them.

Thus, Vogt's family fell into a vicious cycle of "theft due to poverty, and poverty due to theft," from which they could never escape.

In old Vogt's memory, his childhood consisted of traveling between towns with his parents, going to farms in the countryside to find work during the busy farming season, and returning to the town to do odd jobs in the winter.

Of course, there's also stealing.

Born into such a family, becoming a thief is only natural.

Vogt was sent to steal by his father when he was eight years old—children are more agile and less conspicuous, and even if they are caught, there will be no serious consequences.

Vogt continued stealing until he was sixteen, at which point he dared not continue. By then, he had grown a beard and an Adam's apple, and was already a young man.

When an adult is caught stealing, it's not as simple as a few words of reprimand or a few slaps. Young Vogt felt genuine fear every time he saw his father's prosthetic right hand.

So one quiet night, Vogt said goodbye to his mother, escaped from his father's control, and ran to a town where no one knew him, wanting to start over.

Interestingly, Vogt had never failed in his thievery since he was a petty thief. His skills far surpassed those of his father, who had only recently become a thief himself. He was a very skilled, albeit third-rate, thief, skilled enough to make a good living solely from stealing.

Vogt, who intended to turn over a new leaf and live an honest life, found himself unable to even make a living.

Lacking any special skills, Vogt could only make a living by doing manual labor.

They dug clay and fired kilns, working like animals from dawn till dusk, but the wages they earned were barely enough to make ends meet.

Just when Vogt felt he couldn't hold on any longer, his life saw its first ray of light—the potter who had taken Vogt in as a laborer invited him to his home and subtly indicated that he wanted to take him as his son-in-law.

The stated reason was that "after repeated investigations, we determined that he is a reliable and honest young man."

The real reason was that the potter's only daughter had long harbored feelings for Vogt, and the old widower had been pestered into agreeing.

It's difficult to infer from Vogt's current appearance what kind of outstanding physical attributes he possessed in his early twenties; we can only assume that the young Vogt was more in line with the aesthetic standards of the time.

And so, Vogt got married, found a virtuous and lovely wife, a kind and generous father-in-law, and was even set to inherit a small pottery workshop. He believed that no one in the world was luckier or happier than himself.

Then, war broke out.

Vogt remembers it clearly to this day: that year there was a severe drought in the spring and summer, followed by heavy snow in the autumn and winter, and then "Queye Khan" led an unprecedented barbarian army into Palatine.

People were saying in fear, "The barbarians from Hed have come this time, and they probably don't intend to leave."

The barbarians fought the Paratites, and the Paratite republicans fought the Paratite royalists. Vogt couldn't tell who was who.

At that time, he was preoccupied with another matter—the war had destroyed his father-in-law's pottery workshop, his father-in-law had gone bankrupt, and he was even in debt for a deposit.

Vogt ran around trying to borrow money; his father-in-law's deposit wasn't much, but no one was willing to lend him any. There was a war going on outside, and everyone was clutching their money tightly.

Vogt stood in the ruins of the pottery workshop all night, deciding to take the risk.

……

……

"And then?" Pierre asked, frowning. "You didn't succeed in stealing it? You got caught?"

"It's done." The old man looked down and fiddled with the campfire. "Although I hadn't done that kind of thing for many years, my skills hadn't completely faded."

"Then?" Pierre coughed. "Where is your pottery workshop?"

The old man feigned nonchalance: "It's all gone. Even the land was sold off by debt collectors."

"Then where are you?"

"I've been arrested."

"Didn't you say you succeeded in stealing it?"

"I got the money. But I also got arrested."

Pierre was a little annoyed: "What kind of 'success' is that?"

The old man was silent for a moment before explaining, "I was arrested because someone in Xiaolu City accused me of theft, which has nothing to do with the 'work' I did."

“I don’t understand.” Pierre was completely confused.

“Because,” the old man said calmly, raising his head, “my work is done in Raven Town.”

Pierre didn't understand at first: "You mean...you mean they framed you?"

The old man grinned and said, "It can't be called 'framing,' because I deserved it."

"what happened."

"It wasn't complicated. I went to Raventown and got enough money to pay off my debts. The day after I paid back my creditors, someone came to the mayor saying their house had been burgled and a sum of money had been stolen. The amount was exactly the same as my family's debt."

Pierre narrowed his eyes: "A double-cross?"

“Who knows?” The old man ladled another cup of hot soup and handed it to Pierre. “Have some more… Anyway, when the city official asked me where the money to pay off the debt came from, I couldn’t tell him.”

Pierre took the cup and held it in his hand.

"As luck would have it, another 'old acquaintance' has exposed my identity. So now everyone knows—I'm the son of a thief. A thief's son is a thief, could it be simpler than that?" The old man laughed nonchalantly. "But he wasn't wrong, I really am a thief."

"You didn't offer any defense?"

“At that time, there was a war, and the sentences were very heavy. Those who did not confess were sentenced to death, while those who confessed were spared.”

"You confessed?"

“Yes, I admit it.” The old man repeated, “They weren’t wrong either, I am indeed a sinner.”

The two people around the campfire fell silent for a moment.

"You're not kidding me, are you?" Pierre suddenly burst into laughter. "Where did you hear that story from?"

The old man laughed too: "I wish I was lying to you."

There was another moment of silence.

"And then?" Pierre asked.

"And then?" The old man stood up and dusted himself off. "Then I was punished with hard labor and sent to the army. Back then, there was a war, and the army needed people to do the work."

"You served in the military?"

“They never held weapons; they were just laborers, cutting down trees, driving carts, and carrying things.”

"Oh." Pierre was a little disappointed. He picked up his cup, took a small sip of hot soup, and casually asked, "What about your wife and father-in-law?"

"They're all dead." The old man exhaled. "My father-in-law committed suicide with a rope, and my daughter-in-law died of illness shortly after."

Pierre remained silent for a long time before saying in a hoarse voice, "If I were you, I would kill everyone who framed me." "You're Dussac, you have the ability." The old man smiled bitterly and mocked himself, "What about me? I'm just an ordinary person, at most a petty thief, I don't have the ability to kill anyone. Besides, I'm a sinner, this is all deserved."

Pierre gave a dismissive snort.

"When I got home," the old man muttered, breaking off branches one by one to add to the campfire, "I found my home was gone, and my daughter was missing too. So I started looking for her. After I found her, the days just passed by, one after another, in a daze, and I don't even know how they got by..."

"Wait a minute." Pierre coughed suddenly. "You have a daughter?"

"Yes, I have."

"Where is she?"

"Where?" the old man asked, puzzled. "Where else could it be?"

Pierre suddenly had a flash of inspiration: "Xiaolu City? Your daughter is in Xiaolu City? That's why you're in Xiaolu City?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?" Pierre couldn't bring himself to ask the rest of the question—"Then why have you been in this dark prison for so long? Why hasn't she come to ransom you?"

The old man noticed Pierre's confusion and shook his head. "My daughter is married, has children, and is doing well. She doesn't know I'm still alive. Why would I tell her? So she'd pay to ransom me? And then what? Then I'd have another thief as a father? Actually, I'd be more than satisfied if she could just stand by and watch..."

Pierre looked at the fire in the fireplace and sighed deeply. He didn't have children yet and couldn't understand what it was like to be a father, but he thought of his own father.

"Um," the old man scratched his head, "thank you for getting me out."

Pierre didn't even look up: "Without your care, I would have died in prison long ago."

"You've only talked about my affairs. We've been living together in the same place for so long, and I still don't know why you got arrested. I asked you before, but you wouldn't tell me. Can you tell me now?"

Pierre sipped his hot soup: "My story isn't as complicated as yours."

……

……

Winters sent Pierre to find [Bélion], [Girard] and others because only Pierre could accomplish this task.

Others either lacked the ability to make decisions independently—such as Tamas and Bart Sharing at that time—or were too busy—such as Bard and Mason.

Pierre thought so too.

Upon learning that the Hed raiders had entered Paratú territory, the Paratú army "overreacted" and immediately issued a mobilization order to all reserve Dusaks.

The temporarily conscripted Dussacs were organized into a separate cavalry corps and placed under the command of the expeditionary force headquarters.

After the bloody night at Kingsburg, the expeditionary force transformed into a military government. The military government, desperately needing combat power, naturally wouldn't let the Dussacs go home, and the [First Reserve Cavalry Corps] was logically incorporated into the Third Republic's operational order of battle.

After winter set in, the fighting temporarily ceased. In order to alleviate logistical pressure, the Paratu military government split its troops into various towns and cities within its territory to eat and spend the winter.

This also has another benefit: it can deter potential rebels and increase the military government's control over the internal situation.

Since there are advantages, there are naturally disadvantages as well. For example, spreading out for the winter means dispersing troops, and if the Red Roses suddenly attack...

For example, the Jiangbei Province saw an increase in a large group of disgruntled Dussac veterans.

Veterans love to complain, and complaining is a veteran's privilege. They complain about the food, the weather, the stupid centurion, and the ill-fitting boots, as if nothing in the world can satisfy them.

Dussac veterans, in particular, love to complain.

Because of the special system of lifelong service, most of the Dussacks who were temporarily conscripted were veterans who had served seven years of active duty. Many of them had long beards, and some even had grandchildren.

When they were conscripted, they were told they were to fight the Hed barbarians, and once they drove them away, they could go home.

So the Dussacs, regardless of age or willingness, mounted their warhorses, carried their rations, and headed to the field camp to assemble.

The results of it?
The barbarians were driven away by Hed, and now the Dussacs are being forced to fight their own people? What happened to the agreement?
The Dusaks, loyal to the Republic of Palatine, haven't done any dirty work for many years.

The younger generation born to Plato no longer even know the true meaning of "[the Emperor's Whip]", only the older generation of Dussac still have the memory of wielding a saber to cut down "peasants".

Winter was fast approaching, and the military government showed no sign of lifting the conscription order. The Dussacks were filled with resentment, angry, feeling betrayed, and homesick.

The bolder Dussacs deserted, while those who dared not desert could only drown their sorrows in alcohol every day.

The army did not supply alcohol, so the Dussacs traded it with merchants using armbands, belts, and silver stirrups, or even resorted to robbery.

In the taverns, inns, and crossroads of Jiangbei Province, there were drunken Dusaks everywhere, looking for a fight.

In this context, Pierre and Vahika's identities are almost seamless—because they are Dussac.

After leaving Tiefeng County, Pierre and Vahika detoured through the uninhabited area to the west, crossed the Jinliu River with the assistance of the Chihe tribe, and then headed east into Jiangbei Province.

The area of ​​Jiangbei Province is similar to that of Xinkendi Province. Finding a small group of people in a land of more than 200,000 square kilometers is like finding a needle in a haystack.

But Pierre had a way. Whenever he arrived in a city or town, Pierre would first go to the tavern to inquire about things. If he encountered Dussac drowning his sorrows in alcohol, he would offer him a drink.

Dusak was an outcast among the Parat people; their hairstyles, ornaments, and clothing differed from the latter.

When two Dussacs meet, they naturally feel a sense of closeness. Coupled with the constant refills of strong liquor, the Dussacs sitting with Pierre soon began wiping away tears, putting their arms around each other's shoulders, calling each other brothers, and wanting to tell Pierre everything they knew.

While passing through Oakwood, he heard a rumor from a Dussac about a hoof trimmer with exceptional culinary skills. Following the rumor, he learned from another Dussac where the hoof trimmer was located.

Although he only realized upon meeting that the other person was not Berian, he unexpectedly learned that the hoof mechanic had previously worked with "a blacksmith who was young but very skilled," and that the hoof mechanic had learned his cooking skills from the latter.

Persistence pays off. Pierre followed the clues, searching from one outpost to another, and finally managed to meet with Bélien.

Winters' task for Pierre was simply to "find the person and do your best." Although the supervision of Bélien was not particularly strict, it was still not something that Pierre and Vahika could handle on their own.

So after discussing it, Pierre and Vahika decided that Vahika would return to Iron Peak County to deliver the message, while Pierre would stay in Jiangbei Province to await reinforcements.

Actually, Pierre had another idea—he wanted to find Gérard Mitchell.

It was around this time that Pierre was arrested and imprisoned in Stonehill Prison.

……

……

The old man chuckled: "I knew you were someone important."

"So that's why you're taking care of me, right?" Pierre asked with a half-smile.

“That’s right,” the old man readily admitted. “The moment I saw you… I felt that you might be sent by God to save me.”

Anyway, thank you.

The old man changed the subject: "How were you caught? You still haven't told me! Was there a roadblock?"

Pierre scoffed: "A checkpoint? If we run into patrolling gendarmes, my companions and I can shake them off with a flick of our whips. They won't even be able to catch us. They probably all think we're just two drunken Dussacs."

"That……"

“Things went very smoothly… I bought all the Dussac liquor in the tavern.” Pierre’s cheeks twitched. “For some reason, more and more people came, and they got drunk and started fighting, dancing, and causing a ruckus.”

"and then?"

"Then someone suggested burning down the tavern."

"..."

"The tavern owner was so scared that he sealed the door, and the military police arrested us all as soon as they arrived."

[Last week's debts have been paid off.]
[This chapter might have a lot of typos because it's late and my brain isn't working properly. Sorry (facepalm). If possible, please point them out, and I'll fix them all tomorrow.]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, rewards, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)