Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 343 An Offer That Cannot Be Refused
John Jessica said "I'm not going," and he really didn't want to go.

Winters Montagne said, "I have to go," and he really did.

Ignoring his former superior's objections, Winters hired a carriage in town and left Beacon Tower that very night with Lieutenant Colonel Jessica.

In addition to the personal belongings that the lieutenant colonel could carry away in a single wooden crate, Winters also thoughtfully brought along the farmer couple who had been taking care of the lieutenant colonel's daily life.

When he was ushered into the carriage, Lieutenant Colonel Jessica was no longer furious. He calmly questioned his former subordinate: "As a 'free man,' do I still have the right to make decisions for myself?"

[Note: Here, "free people" refers to a minority of citizens within the alliance society who have the right to vote and be elected.]
“According to current prevailing moral ethics, suicide is a serious crime, and assisting suicide is also considered complicity.” Winters grabbed a shield at random: “Father Kaman said so.”

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica snorted, his usual sharp tone returning: "Captain, your moral standards are quite flexible, aren't they?"

"Please sit down and hold on tight." Winters politely and quietly closed the carriage door, then turned to Lieutenant Colonel Elec: "Shall we depart now?"

Lieutenant Colonel Elek, who witnessed the whole thing, sighed: "Back when we were still studying in the United Provinces, John Jessica was notoriously difficult to deal with... It's a wonder you were able to communicate with him normally."

Winters patted the wheel twice and couldn't help but smile: "That doesn't sound like a compliment."

Dusac, the driver, understood and whistled to signal the start of the journey. With a light flick of the reins, the carriage set off ahead, escorted by five riders.

"So eager to leave?" Lieutenant Colonel Elek smiled knowingly. "Afraid I'd stop you?"

Winters countered, "And what is your opinion?"

"Hmph, what objection could I possibly have?" Lieutenant Colonel Elek untied the reins, stomped onto his horse, and said, "He's not one of ours anymore anyway. Objection? You should go ask the Kings' Castle what they think!"

The lieutenant colonel's meaning was easy to understand. Winters chuckled a few times in agreement and mounted his horse.

Just as the two were about to set off, Lieutenant Colonel Elek glanced back at the desolate beacon tower and said with some sadness, "If he stays in a place like this, the blind man might survive this winter, but he won't survive next winter... Thank you."

"Let's go." Winters lightly nudged his horse's ribs, and the two riders disappeared into the night, one after the other.

……

The incident at Beacon Tower did not delay the caravan's journey. After Winters reunited with the caravan, he led it on its way west.

When passing through towns, these caravans, which had military government passes, would always purchase some local specialties or surplus goods, while also trying to sell as much of the cargo they were carrying as possible.

Their behavior made them seem like a genuine caravan, rather than a group of deserters using the caravan's identity as cover.

After a while, this unusual behavior once again aroused Lieutenant Colonel Elek's suspicion.

It was another busy scene of unloading and loading cargo. Lieutenant Colonel Elec strolled over to Winters, who was frowning and scribbling, and asked casually, "Aren't you in a hurry to go home?"

Winters looked up, three wrinkles unconsciously etched between his brows, making it difficult for him to even manage a polite smile.

He slammed the hardcover notebook shut and said with a hint of impatience, "I know what you're going to ask, but I don't have that kind of idea, you can trust me."

"So this is..." Lieutenant Colonel Elek pointed behind him, "What are we doing?"

Behind Lieutenant Colonel Elek was the warehouse of the trading post, where hundreds of convoy personnel and local merchants' employees were sweating profusely as they unloaded and loaded trucks.

“As you can see,” Winters replied thoughtfully, trying to wipe the graphite off his hands, “doing business.”

"Do business?" Lieutenant Colonel Elek clearly did not accept this dubious claim.

“That’s right, doing business.” Winters let out a long, painful sigh, then opened his hardcover notebook and handed it to Lieutenant Colonel Elec: “I’m out of money.”

……

Winters Montagne's unplanned spending habits destined him to periodically teeter on the brink of bankruptcy.

This wasn't very noticeable during military academy years, because students were generally in a state of periodic bankruptcy.

After leaving the ivory tower, the negative consequences began to gradually emerge. Winters repeatedly took sole control of the finances, but inevitably ended up spending it all, squandering it all, and ending up penniless.

After all, neither Cosa nor Antonio had specifically taught Winters how to manage money.

According to the pre-planned life path of young Montagne, rather than learning how to make money work for him, he should try to marry a financially savvy wife... or a widow.

The same applies this time. Using a caravan as a cover is a good strategy, but the problem lies in the money.

Winters originally came to rescue a few of his former subordinates, but the team eventually swelled to more than two hundred people, far exceeding expectations, and the cost skyrocketed as a result.

Purchasing vehicles, procuring goods, feeding people and horses—everything costs money.

Winters Montagne was another spendthrift; he spent the half-saddlebag of gold coins he brought like water, and also cashed all the promissory notes Anna gave him.

In the unfamiliar Jiangbei province, he had no way to borrow money or even use collateral; without money, he could not move an inch.

“That’s the situation.” Winters asked somewhat awkwardly, “How about your company… lend us some money… for temporary use…”

Lieutenant Colonel Elek laughed in exasperation: "You wanted people, we gave them to you; you wanted passes, we gave them to you too; what? You want me to pay for your trip home?"

"It's a loan."

"No! Impossible!" Lieutenant Colonel Elek waved his hand.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do then.” Winters shrugged. “We can only do what we’re doing now: sell some of the goods along the way to raise funds.”

He meticulously explained the situation to Lieutenant Colonel Elek: "Due to war and banditry, there are varying degrees of stockpiling and shortages throughout Jiangbei Province. Local goods can't be transported out, and goods from other places can't be brought in. Therefore, for caravans like ours... caravans that can move freely, there exists a subtle profit margin..."

Lieutenant Colonel Elek was an artilleryman, not a businessman. After listening to his explanation of business matters, he was dizzy and agitated.

"Alright, I understand." Seeing that the topic was getting further and further off track, Lieutenant Colonel Elek stopped the conversation directly: "I'll just give you one piece of advice. The sooner you leave Jiangbei, the safer you will be; the longer you delay, the more likely unexpected things will happen."

After saying that, Lieutenant Colonel Elek turned to leave.

However, Winters grabbed Elek's wrist: "Wait! Lieutenant Colonel, I have another proposal!"

"What?" Lieutenant Colonel Elek replied irritably.

“If you are willing to provide some… salary, I can assist you in eliminating all the bandits along the provincial road…” Winters paused, the meaning of which was self-evident: “No gold or silver is needed, goods will suffice. Flour and horse feed are both acceptable.”

Lieutenant Colonel Elek gave a dry laugh: "It's just a small matter under the military government's rule, we don't need the help of 'friendly forces'."

Lieutenant Colonel Elek emphasized the word "friendly forces" with particular force, and after saying it, he left without looking back.

Winters shook his head, unsurprised, opened his ledger, and continued calculating the accounts he could never seem to make sense of.

After confirming that the conversation between the military representative and Captain Montagne had ended, Gerard and Sergei cautiously approached.

Gerald wanted to speak, but didn't know what to address him with. Old Sergei, on the other hand, didn't mind at all and greeted him cheerfully in a loud voice, "Your Excellency!"

Winters noticed that Mr. Mitchell was preoccupied and said with a smile, "That sounds awkward. Just call me as you always have."

“That won’t do!” Old Sergei shook his head vigorously.

After much hesitation, Gerald Mitchell still used the conservative form of address: "Captain."

After the initial joy of reunion faded, Girard discovered that many things had changed.

Without a doubt, Gerald Mitchell was a warrior, one who could not be intimidated even by death.

However, in a rapidly changing social environment, he felt as helpless and fearful as a reed swaying in the wind.

Not long ago, Girard was the mayor appointed by the New Reclamation Corps, a dutiful Dusak, a good husband and father.

At this very moment, he was with the “rebels,” and these so-called rebels were none other than his beloved family and friends.

He wasn't even sure if he had become a member of the "rebels".

Old Sergei wouldn't be bothered by this, because he adhered to Dusak's simple philosophy of enjoying life and never overthought it.

Gerard Mitchell, on the contrary, was able to acquire everything he had in the past precisely because he thought more than his peers.

The more Girard thought about it, the more uneasy he became—something Winters fully understood and was quite forgiving of.

However, how to adapt to the current reality... or rather, "how to live with oneself" is ultimately something that Mitchell himself needs to figure out.

Winters didn't delve into the issue of address and instead asked directly, "Has Pierre's fever subsided?"

“He’s back.” Girard nodded gratefully. “He’s asleep now after taking the special potion you gave him.”

“Actually, it’s a sleeping pill with some pain-relieving effects; it’s not some kind of miracle cure… But given Pierre’s current condition, more sleep should help him recover.” Winters explained briefly, then asked, “When can we set off?”

Girard's smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression. "At most, two quarters of an hour. Once the wagons are loaded, we can leave immediately." Winters casually shoved the irritating ledger back into his carrying case. "Send out the scouts now, and once the wagons are loaded, set off as soon as possible."

Gerard and Sergei instinctively saluted and replied, "Yes."

Coming to his senses and remembering his original purpose for striking up a conversation, old Sergei asked in a low voice, "Sir, the sun is past its zenith, and we won't have walked more than a few miles by nightfall. A few old buddies urged me to come and ask you, how about resting here tonight? We've been staying in the wilderness for several days in a row, and everyone's a bit exhausted."

"Can't take it anymore?"

Old Sergei patted his belly: "I'm getting old... but as long as you give the order, I will definitely do it without hesitation."

Winters considered for a moment and patiently explained to his two "old subordinates": "We've been delayed for too long, so we need to catch up as much as possible. Camping for a long time is indeed tiring... How about this, we buy as much fresh meat, chicken and duck as possible before we set off, so that Bellion can improve everyone's meals."

Old Sergei's eyes lit up, he happily saluted, and turned to leave.

Girard, however, had something on his mind and asked with some concern, "Excuse me... did Lieutenant Colonel Elek have some complaints about us? He seemed quite unhappy when he left."

Upon hearing Gerard's question, old Sergei stopped and listened intently.

“It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with you… Don’t worry, your matter has been properly resolved, and the military government will not pursue it.” Winters leaned against the carriage and said in a relaxed tone, “Lieutenant Colonel Elek is unhappy because I made a proposal to him.”

"What...proposal?"

Winters laughed: "I hinted to him that if he would provide us with some logistical support, we could help the military government clean up the bandits entrenched in the provincial highways."

"Oh." Old Sergei nodded vigorously, seemingly understanding but not quite.

“That’s it.” Winters shrugged.

"Oh!" Old Sergei nodded even more vigorously.

“Lieutenant Colonel Elek.” Girard’s brow furrowed sharply. “It’s unlikely he’ll agree to that…”

Winters said with regret, "He didn't agree."

Old Sergei suddenly slapped his forehead, realizing something, and blurted out, "Your Excellency, are you implying something about Lord Elek?"

"A hint?" Girard looked at his old friend, puzzled.

"Don't waste your time. A big shot like Lord Elek wouldn't understand!" Old Sergei said passionately, spitting as he spoke. "The bandits can't rob them, so how could they know how much bandits harm the common people?"

……

From small villages to large towns, no one can be completely self-sufficient; people always need to exchange materials and information with the outside world to a certain extent.

The banditry that accompanied the war made "traveling far away" a high-risk activity, and the exchange of goods and information between different places also declined.

The harvested cash crops were piled up in warehouses and slowly rotted, and the small path outside the village, just a few steps away, became unsafe.

From clergy, merchants, and landlords to poor peasants and tenant farmers, everyone lived in fear. Towns that were once semi-open erected walls, and farmers tried to live together in groups and communities to protect themselves.

Winters didn't quite understand the widespread panic that exists today.

It wasn't until he sat around the fire with many people, talking and sharing food, that he gradually understood that "although bandits are not as deadly as famine, they are just as devastating to one's sense of security."

Between the options of "no more military service" and "no more bandits," men, women, the poor, the rich, the old, children... people overwhelmingly choose "no more bandits."

……

“Lieutenant Colonel Elek,” Giladar pulled old Sergei aside, trying to smooth things over, “He can’t really be of much help, after all, killing bandits and catching robbers isn’t his responsibility…”

“Yes, ‘it’s not his problem.’” Winters said somewhat listlessly. He didn’t intend to discuss the ills of the bureaucratic system with the two old Dussacs, so he said with a smile, “I just casually mentioned it to Lieutenant Colonel Elek. After all, our convoy is like fresh meat that hasn’t been covered up; flies will always come smelling it. Either way, we’re going to fight it. Wouldn’t it be better if we could squeeze some money out of the Third Republic?”

"That's more like it!" Old Sergei perked up immediately, completely ignoring the extremely embarrassed look on Gerard's face beside him, and cheerfully chimed in, "I knew you wouldn't do a losing business!"

Fortunately, Winters had another group of guests—three local chamber of commerce directors came to visit—girard had an excuse to take his old friend away.

"These are our locally renowned smoked sausages, along with some other local specialties." The middle-aged merchant at the head of the group, panting, carried two baskets of smoked sausages and said with a fawning smile, "Sir, please accept these."

Winters didn't stand on ceremony and gestured for the guards to accept them all.

Seeing the military bearing of the young man before them, and looking at the fully armed guards around them, the three merchants who had come to visit became even more convinced that this large caravan must have a military background.

"If it weren't for your visit, I don't know how many honest merchants in this town would have gone bankrupt." The middle-aged merchant continued to be courteous: "Could we do our best to help you find accommodation?"

"No need, we'll leave today."

"So urgent?" The middle-aged businessman's eyes widened.

Winters answered succinctly: "In a hurry."

"Where are you going? To the west?"

Winters didn't answer, he just crossed his arms.

The middle-aged merchant wiped the sweat from his brow, exchanged a silent glance with the other two directors, and then gritted his teeth and boldly asked, "If I have offended you, please forgive me. May I ask... may I ask whose caravan you are?"

Whose caravan is it?
Winters was baffled by this unprovoked question. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the three chamber of commerce directors until they felt a chill run down their spines.

Suddenly, Winters smiled slightly: "It's a secret, you mustn't tell anyone..."

Upon hearing that there was hope, the middle-aged businessman nodded eagerly, "Definitely! Definitely!"

Winters gestured for the middle-aged businessman to come closer and said slowly, "We are that general's private property."

"Who? That person? That person!" The middle-aged businessman's eyes widened.

“Yes, that’s the one, the biggest one.” Winters uttered a surname softly: “Alpard.”

As the young man finished speaking, the three chamber of commerce directors held their breath for a second, a sense of "I see!", "No wonder!", and "I knew it!" sending shivers down their spines.

"Don't believe me?" Winters raised an eyebrow. "Want to see your passes?"

"No! No!" The three chamber of commerce directors waved their hands repeatedly.

“Look, it’s nothing.” Winters took out the pass from his pocket, deliberately showing Alpad’s lacquer mark.

The three chamber of commerce directors dared not actually take the thin letter to examine it, and kept pleading with the young man to take back the pass.

"Finished reading?" Winters put away the letter, his face instantly turning grim. He asked in a stern voice, "What are you trying to achieve by inquiring about military secrets?"

Winters' tone changed, and the guards around him moved closer, gripping their sword hilts, and surrounded the three chamber of commerce directors.

"No ulterior motives, absolutely not." The middle-aged businessman blushed and stammered, "The local chamber of commerce nominated us... to ask you, sir, for a favor..."

"explain."

“You know… the roads haven’t been safe lately… could you…” The middle-aged businessman licked his lips, “could we allow our caravan to follow yours? You just need to wait one more day, just one day! Just one day! Give us one day to load the trucks. The local chamber of commerce is willing to offer you a sum of money… Thank you.”

"That's all?" Winters chuckled.

"Yes, yes, that's it." The middle-aged businessman was overcome with emotion and suddenly burst into tears: "Please have mercy on us! It may be a trivial matter for you, but it's a matter of life and death for us!"

Seeing this, the other two chamber of commerce directors also joined in, appealing to emotions and wiping away tears and snot.

Suddenly, the atmosphere became very strange. Three prominent local figures burst into tears, and the guards and employees around them couldn't help but stop and watch.

"Alright, that gets the point across." Winters couldn't stand seeing people cry: "Those two gentlemen in the back cried without shedding a single tear."

The middle-aged businessman suppressed his sobs and awkwardly offered a few forced laughs.

After a moment's consideration, Winters replied, "No."

The middle-aged businessman wanted to say something more, but Winters stopped him with a gesture.

“First, my time is very tight, and I can’t wait for you for a day and a half.” Winters tapped his elbow lightly with his fingers. “Second, even if you were to travel with us, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with our pace.”

If it were a matter of compensation, perhaps there would be room for negotiation. But Winters' reasoning was so practical that the middle-aged businessman didn't know how to refute it.

"Well... then let's leave it at that." The middle-aged merchant straightened his appearance and respectfully took his leave: "Thank you for your consideration in explaining things to us. The local trade association would like to offer you a small gift as a token of our gratitude..."

“How can I take money from you if I haven’t done any work for you?” Winters interrupted the middle-aged businessman’s polite words.

"And I haven't finished speaking. There are actually only two gangs entrenched around your town; the rest are small-time operations and insignificant." He took out a map, pulled the middle-aged businessman down to sit, and enthusiastically began to promote his idea: "I have a suggestion..."

Happy National Day!
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(End of this chapter)