Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 388 Storm (Part Two)

The scouts sent to the old town had not returned, but Winters could no longer wait.

Fuller stared in disbelief as the "baron's servants" carried out heavy wooden chests, from which they took out lockets, breastplates, arm guards, and leggings, and skillfully dressed each other.

Some people even excitedly ran over with a set of horse armor, only to be glared at by the Baron and slink back.

Winters are currently short-staffed.

Even with Charles and Berian joining him later, his retinue never exceeded a dozen. After separating the messengers and scouts, manpower became even more strained, leaving only Winters, Anna, Carmen, Anna's nanny, and six guards at the inn.

Kaman was dejected and unresponsive. The old woman was terrified and couldn't offer any help. The guards, responsible for outer perimeter security, could only take turns donning their armor.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, Anna entered the living room, silently took the silk corset from Berrian's hands, and awkwardly helped Winters change.

Winters deliberately avoided Anna's gaze. Anna also lowered her head slightly, not wanting Winters to see her expression.

"My lord," Fuller asked with a hint of unease, "are you going to... go into battle again tonight?"

Winters had already changed out of his full suit of civilian clothes and into a close-fitting silk suit, and was now putting on his military uniform.

He picked up the silver box he had found on the green-eyed corpse, threw it directly to Fuller, and asked, "Do you recognize what this is?"

Fuller carefully opened the box: "A clock?"

Old Schmid glanced at it: "It's the Nuremberg clock."

"Do you know what this thing is used for?" Winters asked again.

Fuller was puzzled: "Timekeeping?"

“One clock is for keeping track of time, ten clocks are for planning.” Winters opened his arms so Anna could fasten his belt for him. “The assassins lying in the courtyard are all highly skilled. You two have already witnessed their abilities firsthand, and I myself was nearly killed.”

Fuller instinctively wanted to flatter him with phrases like "Your Excellency is incredibly brave" and "Your swordsmanship is unparalleled," but then he suddenly remembered the half-exposed, slippery brain of the assassin. In an instant, he felt the soup in his stomach rushing to his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

Winters moved his shoulders and waist a few times to make sure the clothing was the right fit and wouldn't restrict his movements, then nodded to indicate that he could put on the armor.

He glanced sideways at the two forge masters and asked, "Those dozen or so assassins in the courtyard are just a claw. There's a wolf, or even a pack, hiding in the Steel Fortress. Mr. Schmid, Mr. Fuller, do you really think that the person who sent the assassins prepared such a large-scale operation just to deal with me?"

Old Schmid remained silent, and Fuller's heart skipped a beat.

Fuller had long suspected that he wouldn't be able to escape so easily tonight.

Corpses littered the streets, riots raged in the old town, and panic gripped the inn. Three or four groups of waiters and guests had already come to the Baron to inquire about the news, but all were ruthlessly turned away.

Although Fuller was terrified, his eyes saw clearly: the Baron and Duchess were treating his wounds and preparing mulled wine and a room for him to rest, but they didn't mention sending him home at all.

If they won't let me go home, then so be it. Fuller had a detailed account: with things in such a mess outside, I wouldn't leave even if they chased me away. We'll talk about it when it gets light.

Old Schmid abruptly asked, "Sir, may I ask who orchestrated the assassination?"

"I don't know," Winters replied without hesitation.

Why did they come to you?

"do not know."

Old Schmidt was silent for a moment, then asked in a hoarse voice, "If the situation is really as you say, shouldn't you stay in the hotel and wait until things calm down outside before going out?"

Winters roughly guessed what the old man Schmid was thinking, and he told the old blacksmith bluntly, "The assassin is neither from Monta nor from the United Provinces."

Old Schmid's expression turned serious, while Fuller, standing to the side, was puzzled.

"As for the other question, staying at the hotel is indeed safer in the current situation." Winters had already changed into three-quarters of his full armor, looking as dashing as a paladin who had stepped out of a mural.

He clenched and unclenched his five fingers, protected by leather and nail plates, getting used to the feedback, which was different from the feel of his bare hands: "But rather than sitting and waiting for death, I prefer to take the initiative."

"What does it mean to take the initiative?" Old Schmid stared intently at the Baron.

Winters drew his sword to examine it; the blade emanated a chilling aura that reflected in his dark pupils.

A moment later, Winters sheathed his sword and neatly fastened the scabbard to his waist: "I'm going to pay a visit to White Eagle."

Changfeng had already been led out of the stable, with a full set of saddle and harness ready.

Since arriving at Steel Castle, Winters has hardly ridden the Longwind, and there's no space for him to roam freely in Steel Castle. This combative stallion has long been impatient living in the stables.

Upon smelling the blood in the air, Changfeng was not afraid at all; instead, it excitedly pounded the ground with its front hooves.

Fuller followed the Baron into the courtyard, as if in a dream, watching the fully armed cavalrymen leading their horses and waiting for orders, watching the Baron take a pistol from his servant, and watching the Baron walk towards him with the pistol.

Fuller suddenly awoke, staggered back, and pleaded pitifully, "I...I won't say anything!"

Then, Fuller saw the Baron reverse the pistol, hand him the handle, and ask, "Do you know how to use it?"

Fuller took the pistol dumbly, and upon closer inspection, realized it was the same spring-loaded pistol he had previously gifted to the Baron. "Do you know how to use it?" Winters asked again.

Fuller stood there for a long time, stunned: "Never used it."

Winters patted Fuller on the shoulder: "Then you might have to learn how to use it tonight."

After saying that, Winters walked towards the wind.

Old Schmid strode to catch up with Winters and asked anxiously, "Sir, are you really going to the North District?"

Winters took the reins from Longwind, mounted his horse, and ignored the old blacksmith.

Old Schmid gritted his teeth and knelt on one knee: "Please take me with you."

Winters sat on horseback, looking down at the old blacksmith with a slight frown.

Old Schmid stood up, clenching his fists tightly: "My whole family is still in the North District. If what you say is true, I must go back to find them tonight! They can't do without me."

“The situation in the old town is still unknown,” Winters said calmly. “Crossing the old town right now could cost us our lives, so we can’t afford to bring another burden along.”

“I know the risks, and I’ll take them all on myself. You don’t need to take care of me; I can still ride a horse.” Old Schmid turned to Fuller: “Fuller’s son, you be my witness. Tonight I owe you a favor, and if I die, you go and tell my sons to pay it back for me.”

Winters remained unmoved: "My men are more important than your favors."

“You’ll always need help!” Old Schmid persisted. “Every household in the North District knows me, and I know them. Can you get the North District moving? I can!”

Winters stared at old Schmidt for a few seconds, then pointed at him and said, "Get him a horse."

The guards quickly led out another prepared horse and handed it to old Schmidt. Without a word, the old blacksmith mounted the horse.

Fuller, belatedly realizing what was happening, stumbled into the courtyard, tears streaming down his face: "Take me with you, sir! My whole family is in the North City too!"

Winters glanced at Fuller's short, stocky limbs and round belly: "You're no good."

Fuller tried to plead again, but Kaman stepped out of the shadows and tapped Fuller on the back of the head. Fuller, still wiping away tears, shuddered, collapsed to the ground, and lost consciousness.

“I’ll go with you.” Kaman’s expression was stern.

Winters shook his head: "You stay and protect the others."

As they were talking, it became noisy outside the courtyard.

The sound of hooves, like hailstones, approached rapidly, and a scout in the distance shouted, "It's Charles! Charles is back!"

The guards opened the gate at the sound, and Charles, enveloped in the wind, galloped into the courtyard, stopping just before Winters. His clothes reeked of smoke, and a struggling man was strapped to his horse.

Charles dismounted and rushed to Winters' side, whispering, "The old town is in complete chaos. Mobs have blocked the main roads in and out of the city. They're looting, robbing food, and setting fires."

Where are the troops stationed outside the city?

“Colonel Bern’s men won’t be here anytime soon,” Charles said, panting heavily, his words flowing rapidly. “There are several roadblocks on the road into the city, and the slums along the way are ablaze. It’s said that…”

Charles gritted his teeth: "It's said that someone has opened the warehouses of the riverside workshops and is distributing weapons to the mob!"

There was another burst of noise outside, and a dull bell rang out from somewhere.

A mounted sentry responsible for perimeter security rode into the courtyard, panting, and reported: "Centurion! There are shouts outside, ordering every citizen with civil rights to immediately take their weapons and assemble in Gerten Church Square! It's said to be an order from the sheriff!"

Charles strode forward, grabbed the much older scout from his horse, and snapped, "Shut up! Don't panic!"

The scout realized he had made a slip of the tongue and, in frustration, slapped himself hard across the face.

Fuller lost consciousness and heard nothing. Old Schmid remained expressionless, as if he hadn't heard anything at all.

“Sheriff?” Winters looked at old Schmidt.

“The city council appoints sheriffs who are responsible for catching thieves and criminals; there are sheriffs in every district,” Old Schmid immediately explained. “In an emergency, the sheriff can call on citizens to maintain order.”

The situation became even more complex and unpredictable. Having witnessed the ways of the court sorcerers, Winters would never easily believe any outside information.

Immediately, a guard accompanied old Schmidt out of the courtyard to verify the authenticity of the "sheriff's order."

Winters pointed to the man on horseback and asked Charles, "Who is he?"

The person on horseback was blindfolded, gagged, and bound like a shrimp, with only a head of sickly white hair showing.

The white-haired man sensed the horse had stopped and tried to speak, but his mouth was gagged, and he could only make indistinct "woof woof" sounds. He struggled desperately, but his hands and feet were bound, preventing him from moving.

"I don't know." Charles punched the white-haired man, who quieted down a bit. "Found it in the assassin's carriage!"

[Regarding citizens and weapons]
[In autonomous cities, citizenship is essentially limited to a specific area, or even equivalent to citizenship.][Generally, it requires possessing a certain amount of property, and... a weapon.]
[The minimum property requirements for citizenship in autonomous cities may fluctuate across different periods, countries, and cities, but "weapons" are generally mandatory. This is because armed citizens serve not only as a security force but also as a military force in autonomous cities.]
[So the idea that an old farmer instantly transforms into a militiaman by ringing a bell seems to make some sense...]
[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)