Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 365 Mountains
The legendary animal fighting performance has come to an end, but the story is not quite over yet.

Siegfried was lifted high by strangers and carried all the way to the royal viewing platform, along with the carcass of a bison.

The waving of flags on the viewing platform signified that the emperor had bestowed upon Siegfried the honor of cutting off the animal's ears and tail.

The group gently set Siegfried down, and Farnan finally found a chance to speak to him: "How was it?"

Siegfried crossed his left arm and gritted his teeth as he replied, "It's nothing."

He staggered toward the bull's carcass. The magnificent, wild animal lay quietly on the ground, staring blankly at the sky, still serene.

For some reason, the desire for victory and conquest that had just been surging in Siegfried's heart vanished without a trace.

He felt no joy or pride, no sense of accomplishment or happiness, a stark contrast to when he entered the palace of Charles XI.

Looking up at the stands, the girl who haunted his dreams was no longer there. Siegfried was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of absurdity and powerlessness.

He looked down at the bull. If it weren't for this impulsive, pointless fight, this magnificent and powerful animal might still be able to roam freely in the wilderness, live, and reproduce.

Seeing that Siegfried was hesitant to cut off the animal's ear, Farnan drew his sword to do it for Siegfried.

"No." Siegfried stopped Fanan.

Farnan saw Siegfried's struggle, his gaze filled with sympathy, but his attitude left no room for argument: "Some things must be done, otherwise it would be an insult to the Castilians... Let me do it."

The banner was raised, but the newly crowned legendary gladiator hesitated to cut off the beast's ears and tail, and the Castilians around him gradually sensed something was amiss.

Siegfried stood gazing at the bull's carcass: "I should listen to you."

“It’s all over, don’t think too much about it.” Fanan sighed and reached out to close the bull’s eyes. “No matter what you choose, from the moment it was captured, it was destined to die in the arena. With you as its opponent, it died with honor.”

"What glory is there in dying a senseless death?"

Farnan did not answer, but bent down and cut off the bull's ears and tail, wrapped them in his cloak, and placed them in Siegfried's hands. He grasped Siegfried's arm and raised the trophy high.

A deafening roar of cheers erupted as the surrounding young nobles surged forward, eager to lift the legendary gladiator high and carry him out of the hunting grounds, as was tradition.

"Step back!" Farnan protected Siegfried. "He's injured! Don't move him! Count Harlan needs a physician!"

The frenzied crowd suddenly parted like a tide and quickly fell silent.

The crisp sound of horse bells rang out as an old man led a silver-gray steed toward Siegfried, while the Castilian nobles on either side bowed in greeting.

Throughout the empire, only two people could command the unruly Castilian nobles to make way and pay their respects. One was the Emperor, and the other was right before Siegfried—Baron Hernán, the Imperial Marshal.

"A truly magnificent performance, Count Harlan," Marshal Hernán said, offering lavish praise: "To draw your sword against a charging bison—what courage! What skill!"

He smiled and handed the reins to Siegfried, saying kindly, "Your Excellency, please accept this warhorse as my congratulatory gift."

Upon hearing Marshal Hernán's words, the Castilian nobles, who had been focusing their attention on the marshal, finally turned their attention to the warhorse he had brought.

It is truly a priceless horse, with a tall and slender body, strong limbs, well-aligned hoof joints, and a beautiful chest. Even the most discerning horse connoisseur could not find any fault with it.

The original owner clearly adored this horse, as there wasn't a single scar on its body, not even under its ribs. It's clear the original owner was reluctant to use spurs, relying solely on his knees and the reins to control the horse.

Giving away such a beloved horse must have been heartbreaking for the original owner. And right now, the horse's original owner is following behind with a long face – yes, it's young Hernan.

The Castilian nobles who witnessed Marshal Hernán presenting a horse to Count Harlan had their eyes gleaming and their expressions varied.

Farnan nudged Siegfried's elbow, signaling for the latter to accept.

Exhausted, Siegfried had no energy left to care about the Castilians' thoughts, but even if he did, he wouldn't care.

“Marshal Hernan,” Siegfried replied to the elder Hernan with forced composure, “without the assistance of Sir Hernan the Younger, this buffalo would have killed me. This battle was not fair, and I apologize that I do not wish to accept your congratulations.”

The atmosphere instantly turned icy, and the smiles of the Castilian nobles froze.

Siegfried, arms crossed, staggered out of the crowd. As he passed Hernan, he gave him a slight nod, but said nothing to anyone else.

Farnan bowed deeply to Marshal Hernán apologetically, then chased after Siegfried's retreating figure.

……

[Sigford's Tent]
Fanan carried firewood into the tent and stuffed it into the stove one piece at a time to make the fire burn brighter.

Siegfried sat shirtless on a camp couch, being examined for his injuries by Brother Luke of the Order of Michael.

“Count Harlan,” Brother Luke said helplessly, releasing Siegfried’s left arm. “If you are in pain, you need to express it so I can know you are in pain.”

"Ouch, that hurts."

Brother Luke then gently massaged his left shoulder: "And here?"

"It hurts too."

"How is it?" Fanan asked with concern.

“It doesn’t look like a fracture, but it might be a bone crack.” The chubby Brother Luke wiped the sweat from his forehead. “It’s best to see the royal physicians for bone problems; they are more skilled at treating bone injuries.”

"Isn't divine magic enough?"

Brother Luke clicked his tongue, thinking it wouldn't hurt to tell the two: "No, it's easy for someone with a broken bone to appear to be healed after receiving divine magic treatment, but after a few days the patient will develop a high fever and then... be summoned."

"Why?" Siegfried asked.

“Don’t ask, and don’t pry.” Brother Luke spread his hands: “[Do not put your Lord to the test]! Oh, why am I telling you all this? I shouldn’t have told you this. Well, you’ve heard it, so just don’t go around telling everyone. Hold on a little longer, Earl Harlan, I’ll go find the royal physician.”

Brother Luke draped a blanket over Siegfried and then hurried out of the tent.

After a while, the curtain was lifted, and the one who walked in was not the royal physician, but Duke Lothair.

Duke Lothair waved his hand to indicate that Siegfried and Farnan did not need to bow. He first looked around the furnishings in Siegfried's tent, and then looked at Siegfried.

"How is it?" Duke Lothair asked.

Siegfried forced a reply: "A superficial wound."

Duke Lothair looked at Farnan.

“Brother Luke diagnosed it as a possible fracture.” Fanan bowed slightly, maintaining perfect etiquette: “The monk just went to fetch the royal physician.”

Duke Lothair gazed at Siegfried for a moment, a faint smile playing on his lips. Time had not diminished the Duke's handsomeness; rather, it had made his demeanor even more refined and elegant.

“Count Harlan,” Duke Lothair asked slowly, “I don’t understand why you publicly humiliated Marshal Hernan?”

“Humiliation?” Siegfried frowned, about to explode, but then suppressed the urge: “I have never humiliated Marshal Hernan. If I have unintentionally damaged the Marshal’s reputation, I can publicly apologize to him.”

Duke Lothair chuckled, too lazy to explain anything further to the irritable young stallion.

"Take good care of your injuries." With that, Duke Lothair walked out of the tent.

Not long after, the curtain was lifted again, and this time it was not the imperial physician who entered.

Young Hernan stormed into the tent, angrily demanding, "My father gave you the honor of having your ears and tail cut off, and he even gave you a warhorse. What more do you want?"

“There must be some misunderstanding.” Farnan stepped in front of Siegfried: “Young Hernan.”

"Misunderstanding? Too late!" Little Hernan roared, then turned and left.

As soon as Hernan left, the tent flap was lifted again.

This time, an exaggerated hat was the first to stick into the tent, and underneath the hat was Mawei's head, with two small eyes blinking. However, only the head was inside; Mawei's body remained outside the tent.

After confirming that no one else was in the tent, Mave entered with peace of mind. He skillfully pulled out a bottle of liquor hidden under the cot, took a big gulp, and then handed it to Siegfried.

“But I’ve really put you through a lot,” Ma Wei said with a laugh. “How about we base the male lead in the next play on you? A handsome man who’ll do anything for love—all those lonely middle-aged ladies in the capital will be madly infatuated with him. And if you’re willing to go on stage and play yourself, that would be even better…”

Siegfried rolled his eyes at Mav and silently took a sip of his drink.

"Hey, I knew you wouldn't like it. Okay, I'll respect your wishes and not write it." Ma Wei said with a pang of regret, "What a waste of such good material."

“You should at least respect the Emperor’s personal wishes, Mr. Mavy.” Farnan took the bottle from Siegfried and turned to Mavy: “Duke Lothair just came by and said that Count Harlan humiliated Marshal Hernán…”

“I thought you did it on purpose!” Mave laughed heartily. “Don’t you know what ‘publicly gifting a warhorse on an important occasion’ means in Castilian culture?”

Siegfried gave a soft hum.

Fanan asked seriously, "Please enlighten me."

“Marshal Hernán gave you a warhorse, which means he gave you the opportunity to pursue glory, and you—rejected him in public.” Mavi’s smile faded, and he sighed regretfully, “I estimate that you won’t be able to touch the marshal’s scepter for at least ten years.”

……

Meanwhile, in the Emperor's private palace tent, attendants and ladies-in-waiting were dismissed, leaving only the Emperor, Queen Diana, and Prince Richard inside the vast tent.

"Count Harlan refused Baron Hernán's offer of horses." The Emperor looked at the Prince: "Even in front of the Castilians."

Prince Richard broke out in a cold sweat and hurriedly explained, "There must be some misunderstanding, Your Majesty. I'll go find it right away..."

The emperor slightly raised his hand, and Prince Richard immediately shut his mouth.

“The problem isn’t with Earl Harlan,” the Emperor said softly. “The problem is with you.”

Upon hearing this, Prince Richard immediately knelt on one knee and bowed his head deeply.

"You want to take over my empire," the emperor said slowly, looking at his son. "But... you can't even control a hunting dog."

These words carried great weight; even the Queen's expression changed, and Prince Richard was struck dumb.

Feelings of injustice, resentment, and anger surged through Prince Richard, and tears welled up in his eyes. After all, even as a prince, Richard was still just an eighteen-year-old young man.

Richard Sun wiped away his tears, straightened up, bowed, and turned to leave the palace tent.

As soon as the prince left, the queen, who had remained silent until now, couldn't help but defend her son: "He's only eighteen!"

"I was already on campaigns with the late emperor when I was fifteen years old."

"Richard is not like you."

“Indeed, it’s different.” The Emperor frowned slightly. “I entrusted him to your care, but he didn’t inherit any of the simple and robust nature of the Lieyang family. Instead, he adopted the mannerisms of a whiny woman, acting like a mouse before a cat whenever he sees me. I simply dislike his hypocritical and effeminate demeanor.” “Haven’t you considered that it’s precisely because you’re so domineering that Richard is so afraid of you?” Queen Diana retorted bitterly. “Ask yourselves, have you ever embraced him? Have you ever kissed him? Have you ever let him play on your lap? Not even once! How can he not be afraid of you?!”

“Diana,” the Emperor looked directly into the Empress’s eyes, “if he can’t even handle me, how can he cope with the responsibilities and difficulties I face?”

The empress was speechless, and overwhelmed with grief, she suddenly covered her face and wept bitterly.

The emperor sat quietly for a while—even an emperor has family matters that are difficult to manage.

"The 'Grand Conference' of the Cynas Alliance will be held in Varne next month." The Emperor paused for a moment. "Let Richard attend in place of Count Narcia. Let him step out of the palace and see the world for himself—instead of continuing to be a 'caged bird' by your side."

Count Narzia was the Emperor's Keeper of the Seals and also in charge of diplomacy, often traveling on behalf of the Emperor. Being able to visit the Cenas Alliance in Narzia's place was undoubtedly a great opportunity for Prince Richard.

Queen Diana was initially overjoyed, but then anxiety overwhelmed her: "Southern rebel territory? Will Richard be in danger there? What if the rebels take Richard hostage? Could we..."

The brief moment of genuine emotion vanished, and the emperor stood up indifferently, walking out of the palace tent without a word.

(Royal Hunt - End)
……

……

Time: The last day of February in Imperial Calendar 560

[Note: This refers to half a month after the conclusion of the Red River Tribe's hunt and the royal hunt.]
Location: Tiefeng County, Rewodan, former garrison
Early in the morning, a row of people sat neatly outside the office of Tribunal Mason. The already narrow corridor was instantly half occupied, leaving only a narrow space for one person to pass through.

Don't get me wrong, these people in the corridor are neither here to seek justice nor to file an appeal.

They were official officers of the Republic of Palatour, all of whom had served in the Fifth and Sixth Regular Legions of the Alliance. They were blocking Richard Mason's door for only one thing—to see Winters Montagne.

The expeditionary force prisoners of war had been in Iron Peak County for more than ten days. The city government of Zhevodan arranged accommodation and food for the prisoners of war, and also sent doctors to examine them, treat them, and prescribe medicine.

They provided food, lodging, and medical care, but they wouldn't say how they would arrange for the prisoners of war to return home, and they wouldn't allow the prisoners of war to leave Zhevodan on their own.

How could the officers possibly tolerate being treated like under house arrest?

And so, they've come to demand an explanation.

Mason, who was on his way to work early in the morning, turned the corner and saw a row of people sitting neatly in the corridor, which made him feel like his head was about to split open.

Poor Mason has been blocked at his door for a week. The alumni who came to demand an explanation neither argued nor made a fuss; they just wanted to see Winters and wouldn't leave until they did.

After such performance art had been going on for a while, rumors were already spreading throughout the city of Gevadan.

The most widespread rumor is that "Commissar Mason had an affair, and the woman's brother blocked his door demanding an explanation."

Those who spread gossip often ask in a serious tone, "Otherwise, why not block others, but specifically block Mason Bailiff?"

The pink-hued news added a lot of fun to the long, dreary winter for the citizens of Gevordan, but it also unjustly implicated Captain Mason. The most noticeable change was that city councilors with unmarried women in their households had recently stopped inviting Mason to their homes.

"Excuse me." Mason leaned against the wall, inching his way toward the office door. "Excuse me, could you please let me through?"

Just as he reached the door, an arm stretched out, blocking Mason's path.

The arm belonged to a scrawny, unshaven man in his early thirties. His officer's uniform was tattered and patched, but the scrawny man still wore it with pride.

"Good morning, Major Cyber," Mason greeted with a smile.

"Captain Mason," the gaunt man addressed as Major Seber asked expressionlessly, "Is Captain Montagne ready to work?"

Mason resorted to the official line, scratching his head: "Sorry, Major, he's still recovering from his illness."

"As far as I know, he's been recuperating for almost three months, hasn't he?" Major Seber glanced coldly at Mason. "What? Did he die? And you're keeping it a secret?"

Mason was both amused and exasperated.

Major in the army of the Republic of Palatour [Serber Carrington], nicknamed "Saber".

It's said that there are no wrong nicknames, only wrong names. Cyber ​​Carrington was known as "fearless to the point of madness" in the Plattour Standing Army and earned himself the nickname "the sharpest saber."

However, in Mason's opinion, Major Cyber's sharpest weapon was his mouth, rather than his saber.

However, Mason only muttered a few complaints to himself. Being good-natured, he rarely argued with anyone, so he just smiled wryly and comforted Major Seber: "He'll be alright soon, he'll recover soon."

"Captain, there are no civilians here. Don't try to fool us with lies we all know the truth about!" Major Seber stood up abruptly. "Where did Winters Montagne go? When will he be back?"

"How should I know?" Mason lamented, to whom could he confide his sorrow? "I don't know either!"

"Then what do we do? What about the soldiers at the resettlement site?"

"This... must be Winters' decision; no one else can make the final decision."

When will Captain Montagne be back?

"do not know."

Major Cypher stared at Mason for a while, and after confirming that the latter was not lying, he slumped down, wearily supporting his forehead: "Never mind. I apologize for any offense I may have caused."

Mason looked at Major Seiber, then at the other alumni who had just returned from the wasteland in the corridor, and couldn't help but feel a lot of sympathy.

They were promising army officers when they stepped into the wasteland, but when they returned to Palatine, not only was their country gone, but they also knew nothing about themselves.

“Don’t rush, you have food and lodging, focus on getting better first.” Mason put his hand on Major Cyber’s shoulder: “I know you want to go home, and I believe Winters will respect your wishes.”

Major Seber, resting his forehead on his hand, asked, "When will Winters be back?"

Mason paused, then said, "I don't know."

“Then you go about your business.” Major Seber looked up and resumed his upright sitting posture. “We’ll continue to wait.”

Mason stood there for a moment, then turned to open the door. His fingertips had already touched the doorknob when he turned back and suggested, "Actually, there are two other people in Iron Peak County who have decision-making power, Lieutenant Bard and Lieutenant Cellini. Why don't you go and pay them a visit? By the way, Colonel Jessica is currently compiling teaching materials and is short-staffed. You could also go and help him out."

"Colonel Jessica has some connections. Lieutenant Bud is in Blackwater, over a hundred kilometers away." Major Seber sneered. "Lieutenant Andrea Cellini is even more cunning, like an eel, and has long since hidden himself at the horse farm outside the city."

“So,” Mason tried to process what the other person was saying, “you blocked my door because…”

“Yes, that’s because we can only catch you.” Major Seber patted Mason on the shoulder: “You’re the only one working in Thevordan.”

Mason forced himself to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from being seen by others, then turned around and forcefully pushed open the office door.

"I'm not going to work tomorrow either," he thought fiercely, but then he immediately thought, "If I don't go to work, what will happen to my daily routine?"

Just then, someone outside in the corridor shouted excitedly, "They're back! They're back!"

Mason jumped in surprise and quickly asked, "Who's back?"

"The delegation!" the messenger exclaimed joyfully. "They're all back!"

Mason was overjoyed and, disregarding the others present, exclaimed, "Take me there now!"

……

Meanwhile, at Winters' camp.

"You sent someone to fetch me, saying it was an extremely urgent matter, and this is what you showed me?" Father Kaman glared at Winters, barely suppressing the urge to curse, and asked through gritted teeth, "Do you know I'm doing morning prayers? I thought you'd committed suicide!"

“This is an extremely urgent matter,” Winters replied seriously, then threw the wooden stick in his hand far away.

The two dark figures sitting in front of him vanished into the thin mist in an instant.

A short while later, a large dog that looked like a wolf came running back excitedly, carrying a stick in its mouth, while another large dog that looked like a wolf followed behind dejectedly.

"It's extremely urgent." Kaman clenched his fist: "You think I can just watch you walk the dog?"

“No.” Winters smiled faintly, extending his right hand and letting down a peculiar bone whistle: “It means I’ve figured out the principles of the Hed Beast Speakers’ divine magic. Want to hear it?”

……

[Outside the city of Zhevodan]
"Lieutenant Colonel! Where's Winters?" Mason grabbed Lieutenant Colonel Moritz's shoulder and shouted angrily, "Where is he? Did you drink too much and leave Winters in the wasteland? Winters! Winters Montagne!"

"Don't bother looking." Lieutenant Colonel Moritz, still half-asleep, yawned. "He's not here."

Mason was on the verge of tears: "Then why did you come back alone?"

“Oh? Oh,” Moritz said slowly, “He told me to send these things back.”

Having said that, Lieutenant Colonel Moritz, sitting in the carriage, casually lifted the blanket beneath him.

Everyone who came to greet them gasped in unison: gold bars, dark yellow gold bars, covered the bottom of the carriage in a whole layer.

So, it turns out that you, Lieutenant Colonel, slept on gold the whole way.

Mason immediately rushed over and rearranged the blanket, carefully tucking it in as if afraid the gold bars would get cold.

"You found it?" Mason asked in a low voice.

"Hmm." Moritz yawned again, casually fiddling with the arrow: "Found it."

He patted the ground beneath him and pointed behind him: "Three carts. Take a count. Winters took one of them."

"Oh? That's right!" Mason, still immersed in joy, suddenly remembered another crucial question: "Where did Winters go? Does he know how hard I've been lately..."

……

Meanwhile, at Winters' camp.

Just as Winters was about to start some haggling with Father Carman, Pierre approached: "Centurion, Mr. Ed from the Steelburg branch of the Navarre Trading Company is here and wants to see you and your wife."

“Great!” Winters jumped off the carriage and replied with a smile, “Mr. Ed’s arrival means we have our ‘invitation’ to Steel Castle.”

Just then, a gust of wind dispersed the thin mist in the valley.

Paths, pools, hillsides covered with a thin layer of snow, and flocks of sheep wandering on the hillside like clouds.

Looking out from the valley opening, you can see the mountain peaks covered with millennia-old ice in the distance.

After crossing the mountain pass ahead, and then another one, the steel fortress came into full view.

[Sorry for being late, but this is a long chapter of over 6500 words, so I've made up for yesterday's absence (laughs)]
[The steel fortress, which we've only talked about for a short while, has finally revealed its true form!]
[Mason: Winters, you bastard! I think you're addicted to being a hands-off boss!]
[Also, I need to explain that I didn't delete the comments from the previous chapter, and I don't know why my comments aren't displaying properly. Could it be that Qidian's system thinks I'm spamming comments? I'm confused...]
[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)