Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 346 The Hunt (Part 2)

The convoy stopped on a high mound to take advantage of the terrain.

The horses, smelling the sulfurous odor in the air, began snorting uneasily.

The Iron Peak County delegation has entered a state of combat readiness. The soldiers quickly unloaded entire crates of armor and helped each other put them on.

“I…I’ve caused everyone trouble…” Anna held Winters’ hand tightly, biting her lip, blaming herself with fear and unease.

“Don’t talk nonsense, it’s nothing serious.” Winters comforted Anna while deftly helping her put on her half-armor. “You stay in the carriage for a while and try not to get out.”

Anna nodded vigorously.

"Alright." After confirming that all the straps were fastened, Winters habitually patted Anna's plate armor on the back and inexplicably and uncontrollably laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" Anna turned her head and asked suspiciously.

"I...I suddenly thought of a...dirty joke."

A well-mannered lady shouldn't be curious, but Anna couldn't help asking, "What?"

Winters leaned close to Anna's ear and whispered something.

"What...what do you know? The armor isn't even close to the body!" Anna's face turned red all the way to her earlobes as she angrily reached out to pull the short gun from Winters' waist.

"Watch out! The gun is loaded!"

"Really? That's perfect!"

The pistol ended up in Anna's hands—because Winters had originally intended to leave it to Anna as well.

After helping Anna put on her helmet, Winters squeezed his lover's hand, then turned and stepped off the carriage.

The translator, accountant, precious metal craftsman, and cook were crucial members who could not be lost, so they were all protected in the center of the formation.

Father Kaman was also left in the "safe zone".

When Winters got out of the car, Kaman was praying, holding a Bible in his hands, a hard-headed hammer under his arm, and muttering incantations.

As Winters approached, Kaman merely nodded indifferently, while Winters solemnly returned the gesture.

Winters stepped out of the makeshift circle formed by the wagons, took the reins from Charles, and leaped onto his warhorse.

In an instant, it was as if an invisible wave spread outwards from him, sweeping across the entire hill.

A subtle change has occurred among the riders. From an outsider's perspective, it's hard to pinpoint exactly what has changed, but something has definitely become different.

Unconscious salivation? Rapid breathing? Slightly sweaty palms? Dilated pupils... It's hard to say whether the physical state affects the mind, or whether the change in the mental state is reflected in the body.

If they were previously just sharp blades hidden in a box, now they are ready to strike.

"Your Excellency," Heinrich asked in a deep voice, "shall we raise your flag?"

“No need.” Winters looked at the dust kicked up by the horses’ hooves in the distance. “Don’t scare them away.”

As early as the night before last, the scouts had spotted a group of Harts two hours' horse distance away.

After receiving the reply, Winters ordered that the other party not be disturbed.

He did not intend to make contact with the other party, because "encountering" them on the road in the wilderness would only mean danger, especially since he was an outsider.

The wilderness has hospitable hosts, but it is also teeming with greedy, cruel, and hungry beasts. The law of the jungle here is not a metaphor, but a bloody way of life.

Whenever a strong leader is lost, the Hard factions inevitably fall into this costly internal strife until the next person who can rebuild order from chaos emerges.

Although Winters tried to avoid the situation, as the day went by, the distance between the two sides not only did not widen, but actually became smaller and smaller.

Until the Hurds also discovered the convoy's whereabouts and rushed towards it swiftly and proactively.

The dust settled closer, the hoofbeats grew louder, and the silhouette of the rider, Heard, appeared and disappeared against the undulating hillside.

Just as the riders' actions were completely exposed, the sound of hooves abruptly stopped. The figure of the Hedman vanished in a flash, as if it had plunged into the earth.

"What's going on? Where are they? Where are the barbarians?" Vahika looked around and muttered to himself.

Winters pointed his whip at a hillside a kilometer away and said with great interest, "Hiding on the reverse slope of that hillside, they probably don't want us to see what's going on... Interesting fellow."

Old Sergei glared at his son, clearly displeased with Vashika's cowardly behavior.

The old man spurred his horse forward and volunteered, "Sir, let me take a few military knives and go take a look! Hmph, whatever tricks he has up his sleeve, let's give him a taste of his own medicine!"

“No rush, let’s wait a bit longer,” Winters said calmly. “However, if it really comes down to a fight, don’t rush too far ahead, Mr. Morozov. I’m afraid the others won’t be able to catch up with you.”

"Hehe." Old Sergei was very pleased with these words, grinned, and returned to his original position with a smug look on his face.

As Winters said, the silence is only temporary.

Before long, three riders emerged from where the dust had settled and sped over the hillside toward Winters' location.

The kilometer was covered in the blink of an eye. The three riders had just reached the bottom of the hill when they heard the lead rider shout at the top of his lungs—it was Little Lion's voice: "Not the enemy! Not the enemy..."

The little lion climbed up the hillside, panting. When he saw Winters and his group standing ready, he was taken aback for a moment, then burst into laughter: "Don't be so tense! They're not hostile."

His men all looked at Winters, but Winters did not order the guards to be lifted.

"No hostility?" Winters asked.

"No," the little lion replied with a smile.

"Who are they?"

“Hunters, the hunters of the Badlands tribe,” the little lion said meaningfully. “Actually, they are more afraid of you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Winters met the leader of the Badlands tribe.

“Batu, you don’t know me.” Upon meeting, the burly, dark-skinned leader of the Evil Earth tribe laboriously introduced himself in a unique way in broken Common: “But I have seen you before. I am Koshhachi, your defeated opponent.”

……

……

[Day 10 after leaving the Flying Feather Tribe's wintering pasture]
[A desolate wasteland, in an unnamed valley]
Although their identities were confirmed and they were "going the same way," the Iron Peak County delegation and the Badlands hunters tacitly maintained a certain distance from each other.

The leader of the Badlands tribe, [Khoshhachi], was quite unconventional, and he would take the initiative to visit the Iron Peak County delegation every day.

Koshhachi has a strong curiosity about the world beyond the wasteland.

What Winters found interesting was that Koshhach did not hide his curiosity about the outside world.

He was always asking questions: astronomy, geography, customs, religion, science, systems, technology... he asked whatever came to mind. Some questions were so naive as to be laughable, while others were so profound as to be unanswerable.

When Winters asked questions, he saw no shame in Koshhach's eyes; and when he didn't get answers, Koshhach never showed any discouragement or resentment.

When Koshhachi wasn't asking questions, he would observe the Parat people's every move with great interest, from dressing to eating, from setting up camp to traveling... He even carefully watched the mission members digging toilets.

Winters' men stared at the "barbarian" with surprise, disgust, or wariness, but the "barbarian" seemed oblivious and continued to do as he pleased.

"...Leaving the Inner Sea, sail south until you leave the Golden Peak Mountains behind, and you'll reach the [Shattered Lands]." Winters warmed himself by the fire while recounting the continent's geography: "There are only barren hills there, dotted with a dozen or so large and small duchies, where everyone from nobles to commoners is destitute..."

The campfire was crowded with members of the mission, some just there for the spectacle, others completely absorbed in the conversation. Koshhachi was also present, sitting among the Parat people, knees propped up, listening intently.

As he was talking, Winters noticed that his glass was empty, so he got up to pour some water.

When Winters remained silent, the area around the campfire immediately became somewhat noisy.

"Hedlao!" someone asked Koshhachi mockingly, "Can you understand me?"

“I don’t understand!” Koshhachi grinned and replied in broken Common Tongue, “I understand a little more now. The more I hear, the more I understand.”

Within a few words, Winters had returned with the iron kettle.

“Batu,” Koshhachi said bluntly, “In the various tribes, even the master of a tribe the size of a horse’s hand would not do things like fetching wine or collecting milk! If you do women’s work, your men will only look down on you.”

"[Excited and vulgar words] Bullshit!" Charles, as if bitten by a dog, immediately snatched the water bottle from his brother's hand and retorted sharply, "Does Blood Wolf need your approval or disapproval?"

Koshhachi nodded thoughtfully: "That makes sense! A warrior like Batu, even if he just plays with needles and thread every day, will still have a large number of followers eager to follow him."

Winters: "I should clarify that I dislike both needles and thread."

A faint laugh came from inside the carriage five steps away.

Koshhachi seemed unconcerned about the personal interests of the Paratu champion. He asked impatiently, "Batu, what's further south from 'very fragmented land'? Where is further south?"

“A sea of ​​sand.” Winters recalled the contents of the Geography: “A desert that stretches as far as the eye can see, like a vast ocean.”

Koshhachi scratched his head: "What desert is it?"

Have you ever seen sand on a riverbank?

"I've seen it."

"A desert is a place where there is nothing but sand. That's what the books say, and I've never actually seen a sea of ​​sand."

"Only sand, no grass? And no water?"

"Correct."

"Then how do you raise horses? Cattle and sheep? And how do you farm?"

“It can’t raise anything, it can’t grow anything,” Winters added. “I’ve heard there are some small oases in the desert, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

Upon learning that grazing was not possible in the desert, Koshhachi was quite disappointed and continued to ask, "What happens further south from the desert?"

"do not know."

"Why don't you know?"

“Because it’s inaccessible.” Winters shrugged with a wry smile. “It’s said that someone once walked south for a hundred days and all he saw was sand.”

Ancient scholar [Toshen] believed the Sea of ​​Sands was endless, stretching to the ends of the earth, eventually merging with the eternally frozen ice caps at the poles; others said that further south lay another vast ocean; still others said that further south lay the Borehole, where all seawater would eventually flow. But the truth remains unknown.

Everyone sighed in unison.

"What is an ice sheet?" Koshhachi asked persistently.

“The ice sheet is ice that seems to have no end.” Winters couldn’t help but laugh. “The ancient empire people kept going north, and when they reached the far north, they found that there was only endless ice. So they thought that there was only endless ice in the far south as well.”

"Excuse me, can we take a boat?" Pierre, sitting next to Winters, asked thoughtfully. "Isn't the sea to the east of the desert? Can't we take a boat south?"

“Uh…” Winters was stumped by this question.

After racking his brains to recall, he said embarrassedly, "I'm sorry, I don't know either. I also think it's feasible to cross the desert by boat, but for some reason, I've never seen a description of crossing the desert by boat in any books. It seems that scholars all think it's impossible, or perhaps someone tried it and I don't know about it... I really don't know much about navigation. If 'Good Luck' Gold were here, he might be able to tell me some reasons..."

"Even Batu has things he doesn't know?" Koshhachi laughed loudly, drawing angry glares from the others.

“There is so much more I don’t know than I do know,” Winters readily admitted his ignorance. But for some reason, he also felt a subtle, melancholic regret.

"Don't pay him any attention!" Charles jumped up, agitated. "What does that barbarian know?"

“Batu knows as much as the stars in the sky,” Koshhachi said cheerfully. “If Batu says he knows very little, then wouldn’t I be as foolish as a stubborn rock on the ground?”

Witnessing this burly barbarian utter the most nauseating flattery in the most frank tone, the members of the delegation felt a mix of emotions.

Only the little lion was overjoyed, laughing so hard he was doubled over. Winters felt someone tap his shoulder, and when he turned around, he saw Father Kaman's impatient face.

"Here you go." Kaman handed Winters a folded piece of paper, shook his head, and walked away.

Unaware of what was going on, Winters examined the paper by the firelight, and his brow immediately relaxed—because the paper bore Anna's delicate handwriting.

Winters coughed twice, and the area around the campfire immediately fell silent.

“I have just learned something new,” Winters solemnly announced to everyone. “The reason we cannot sail south across the desert is because to the east of the desert are relentless thunderstorms, hurricanes, and raging waves.”

Everyone involuntarily held their breath, and the only sound was the crackling of the firewood.

Winters said with a smile, "The ocean east of the Inland Sea is called the [Stormy Ocean] because of its terrible sea conditions, while the Stormy Ocean is like a docile gelding horse compared to the ocean east of the Sand Sea—that ocean is called the [Raging Ocean]."

Legend has it that the Furious Ocean is where the sea god of the Golden Age perished. When the sea god fell, he cursed mortals, so that mortals can never cross that sea.

Many Venetian merchant ships attempted to cross the raging ocean, but all attempts ended in failure. The vast majority of ships never returned, and those that did manage to return failed to clear the route. On the shores of the desert, a beach is named Shipwreck Beach, supposedly because it is littered with the wreckage of sunken vessels.

With the rise of monsoon navigation, the center of trade in the inland seas shifted eastward, and people lost interest in the less valuable southern routes… This is why the southern routes are rarely mentioned in books and documents.

After Winters finished speaking, a series of unified exhalations rang out around the campfire.

“I see.” Pierre nodded admiringly. “That explains it. Storms, raging waves… the sea is so terrifying? It’s a pity I’ve never seen the sea.”

“The ocean is a capricious beauty, but most of the time she is gentle,” Winters said with a nostalgic smile. “Otherwise, how could the azure sea be situated on the shores of an inland sea?”

Vasika retorted defiantly, "Centurion, when the war is over, let's go and brave that raging ocean! I don't believe that wind and rain can scare us Dusaks."

"What do you know?" Old Sergei raised his hand and slapped his son on the head. "Have you ever been on a ship at sea?"

Vasika retorted, "What? You sat here?"

"Your old man actually did sail here!" Old Sergei raised his hand and slapped his son again. "Back when Pierre's father and I sailed to the foothills, we almost lost our lives in the sea after just a few days! We were vomiting and had diarrhea, and we had to crawl off the boat. Just ride your horse properly and stop thinking about boats!"

Winters couldn't help but laugh, and the small campfire filled the air with a joyful atmosphere.

……

at the same time
Raging Ocean
The fast sailboat [Intrepid] is cutting through the waves, attempting to cross this sea of ​​death.

The rage came without warning: one moment the sea was calm; the next, pea-sized raindrops pounded against the hull, a storm followed, and the raging ocean instantly revealed its ferocious nature.

The overcast sky was illuminated by flashes of lightning, and the thunder seemed to tear the air apart.

The gale whipped up giant waves tens of meters high, and the water curtain, like a towering, precarious wall, crashed down on the sailboat.

Everything was like a dying sea god venting his unquenchable resentment and rage.

The 60-ton fast sailboat, the Fearless, was like an ant in the cruel hand of a child, tossed high by the waves and then crashed heavily onto the sea.

If the ship hadn't been built with such lavish investment, that single hammer blow would have broken the Dauntless in two.

A deckhand lost his grip and was instantly thrown overboard. The safety rope failed to save his life; instead, it pulled him into the hull, subjecting him to a death more agonizing than drowning.

On the stern deck, a muscular man was yelling at the helmsman, "Restore the nation! Restore the nation! Restore the nation! But we have to save our lives first! You're going to kill us all here!!!"

The man at the helm had a resolute gaze, and his hand gripping the helm did not tremble in the slightest. He ignored his companion's shouts and calmly issued the order: "Keep the sails at one-third full!"

Sailing ships rely on strong winds to sail, but they can also be capsized by strong winds.

Some have praised the sails for taming the wind, but captains know in their hearts that when faced with the true power of the gods, the only thing you can do is furl the sails and pray.

But not now—at least not in the Furious Ocean.

Without sails, a ship can only sail by being swept along by the waves.

The raging waves of the ocean point northwest—directly towards the desert.

Any ship that loses its sail in the raging ocean will be mercilessly tossed to shore by the waves and ultimately be smashed to pieces in the reef-strewn nearshore waters.

Another terrifying bolt of lightning revealed the shapes of the rotten wood and wreckage on the shipwreck beach, resembling stark white bones—the remains of the ship, the only trace left by countless failures.

Now, the only force that can prevent the [Dauntless] ship from being destroyed and its crew from perishing is the "wind".

Only roaring, furious winds, determined to destroy the Dauntless.

The man at the helm looked at the lean and capable man and calmly repeated the order: "Keep the sail at one-third full!"

Keep the sail at one-third capacity? Easier said than done!
The Intrepid's winch was long gone, and the only remaining way to furl the sails was to climb up the mast and operate it from the top of the spars—which was practically suicide.

Even the bravest sailors, handpicked from the best, did not have the courage to climb the mast at this moment.

Their will had long been shattered by the sea god's rage, and all the sailors could do, and all they were still doing, was to pray.

Seeing this, the burly man was furious and cursed loudly. He ripped off his shirt, threw off his pants in a couple of swift movements, drew his sword, and bit it into his mouth.

Suddenly, the burly man turned around, punched the helmsman hard, then climbed onto the sail ropes and, naked, scrambled to the top of the mast.

The man at the helm spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, but still maintained firm control of the helm.

At this moment, on this sailboat with forty-two sailors, only the captain—the man at the helm—and the first mate—a capable man—are still able to perform their duties.

If Winters Montagne had the chance to witness the heroic feat of two warriors defying the gods, he would have been amazed by the coincidence of fate.

Because both the captain and the first mate were "old acquaintances" of Winters.

The wiry man struggling to climb the mast at this moment is none other than the famous pirate captain, the Union Ropes Master, who once commanded the Tannaria Fleet against Admiral Naresha in the Battle of Lighthouse Harbor [Frank Drake].

The man holding the helm at this moment is Edward Kenway, the same man who rescued Drake at the last moment of the Battle of Lighthouse Harbor, also a Master of the Ropes of the Federation and captain of the Firebird.

In name only, the Tanilia Federation no longer exists.

However, the reason why the two sailing masters and the two leaders of the Tanilian Federation are at this moment in the Raging Ocean is to complete an important mission entrusted by the Tanilian Federation—to find it if there really is a sea route to the Empire's far western colonies south of the Sand Sea!

Find it!
The storm showed no signs of abating, and the cables creaked under the strain of critical stress.

Finally, one of the thin fibers could no longer withstand the strain and broke.

Then came the second, the third... The rapid chain reaction caused one of the Intrepid's main cables to snap as if it had been torn apart by a tremendous force in an instant.

The elastic energy accumulated inside the cable was suddenly released, and the cable swept across the rain curtain, lashing straight at Captain Kenway.

In the blink of an eye, Kenway dodged a fatal blow with incredible agility that could have shattered a skull.

If the rudder were released, the cable might not have had a chance to hit Kenway at all.

But there are no ifs. Kenway paid the price of being hit hard on the left shoulder by the rope tip to ensure that his hands never left the helm.

Drake witnessed the crisis, lost his balance, and fell off the mast.

Ignoring the excruciating pain in his bones, Drake forced himself to his feet and climbed toward the stern, grabbing the safety rope.

"Edward!" Drake cried out through tears, "Don't die!"

The ship heaved violently with the waves. Drake struggled to climb into the stern, while Edward Kenway's hands remained firmly gripping the helm.

Captain Kenway's face was deathly pale, but his voice betrayed no pain: "Are the sails stowed?"

"Okay!" Drake yelled at the top of his lungs—otherwise, he wouldn't even be able to hear himself in the raging storm: "And then?!"

"Take the helm for me!"

The Intrepid's steering wheel is connected to the tail rudder via a pulley and lever system, and the force of the tail rudder is directly transmitted to the steering wheel.

The moment Drake's hands gripped the steering wheel, he immediately felt the immense reaction force on the tail rudder. He gritted his teeth and held on: "And then?!"

Kenway climbed to the railing at the stern and tied himself securely to a wooden post with rope.

"We're going to die here!" Drake was practically going crazy: "Hahahaha!!!"

"We'll all die sooner or later! Listen carefully!" Kenway's voice had an unusual penetrating power, clearly reaching Drake's ears: "I've figured it out! Sailing along the coast! Against the wind and against the waves! It's impossible to cross the raging ocean!"

"[Swearing]!!!" Drake used all his strength to fight the steering wheel, completely ignoring Kenway: "Hahahaha!!!"

"There has only ever been one and only route across the raging ocean!"

"We're going to die here!!!"

All the noise disappeared, and the heavy rain seemed to stop at that moment.

Edward Kenway's voice, for the first time, carried an irrepressible fervor as he articulated the true plan, word by word: "That is to go east! To the unknown! To the sea! To the eye of the storm! To where no one has ever been before!"

"And then?" Dred roared.

"And then?" Edward Kenway lost control for only a moment before regaining his composure and saying calmly, "Then we took a longer route around the raging ocean, and then we continued to fight until victory or death."

Faced with Kenway's insane plan, even the madman Drake became as wise as a philosopher.

Drake's eyes were bloodshot: "Do you know what you're saying? How do you know it'll work? You bastard! Just for this? Just for this you brought me into the Raging Ocean?!"

Kenway smiled contentedly: "That's right, do you want to bet on me to win?"

"Hahahaha!!!" Drake laughed heartily, "Edward Kenway, so you're the fucking insane gambler!!!"

"You are now in control of the ship."

"Hahaha! Give the order, Captain!"

Edward Kenway looked back at the familiar land one last time and suddenly laughed: "My friend."

Drake gritted his teeth and asked, "What now?"

“Perhaps now…” Edward Kenway cast his gaze toward the unknown sea, his laughter growing even more unrestrained: “is the moment we step into immortality!”

"Fuck you!" Drake wiped away the blood, tears, and seawater, cursing, "I'd be happy to die with you!"

In the pouring rain, Kenway, with a broken left scapula, exhausted, and tied to the railing, asked casually, "First Officer Drake?"

“Captain Kenway.” Naked Drake returned a hat-tipping salute, as if he were not wearing a top hat.

"Set course southeast!"

"Yes, set the course to southeast."

Towards immortality!

"Yes, toward immortality."

Edward Kenway let out his final roar: "Forward!"

"go ahead!!"

"go ahead!!!"

----appendix----

"...In February of the year 560 of the Old Imperial Calendar, Edward Kenway and Frank Drake successfully crossed the Furious Ocean...The logbook records Edward Kenway's famous command, 'Towards Immortality, Onward'...It is said that even in the most perilous moments, the two maintained their exceptional composure..."

—History, Grade 7 (First Semester) [New Ocean Blue Education Press]
[There's a subtle premonition that the 'top-middle-third-fourth-fifth' naming structure is about to reappear.]
[Regarding Edward Kenway's audacious plan: The first time in human maritime history that a ship rounded the Cape of Good Hope was by "avoiding the nearshore waters and instead sailing the outer ring," thus bypassing the headwinds and currents near the Cape of Good Hope.]
[In popular perception, early Portuguese maritime exploration simply involved sailing along the African coast, which seemed to pose little challenge.]
However, due to limitations in navigation technology, even sailing along the coast could still encounter insurmountable sea areas.
[It took Portugal over twenty years just to break through that short distance between Portugal and Liberia. During this time, the Portuguese even mistakenly believed that the westernmost point of Africa was the southernmost point, and they popped champagne at the halfway point.]
[And the Cape of Storms/Cape of Good Hope, even though you can see the southernmost tip of the African continent, you just can't get there because of ocean currents and sea breezes.]
[In 1488, Bartolomeu Dias bravely sailed into the vast ocean with his back to land (note: the Americas had not yet been discovered at that time). After more than a month of sailing, he crossed the Cape of Good Hope and reached the east coast of Africa.]
[Therefore, the plot of this chapter is a poor imitation of a fragment of the Age of Discovery.]
[Of course, Diaz's feat was accomplished under specific conditions; latitude, ocean currents, climate... all were indispensable.]
[The author knows absolutely nothing about meteorology, but for the sake of the story, please allow us to assume that similar conditions exist in a low-latitude sea area on a continent in the alternate world where the story takes place (just kidding)]
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(End of this chapter)