Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 392 Storm (Part Six)

The swift sword that attacked from behind was both fast and poisonous, viciously biting towards Ciel's armpit.

In a fleeting moment, the sword precisely caught the gap left by the right shoulder armor to hold the lance; the skill of the swordsman could not have been more superb.

Charles was unable to dodge in time and was struck by the sword. The pain caused his body to suddenly curl up and fall forward.

However, the sword only penetrated an inch into the gap in the armor, stopping at the lock under the arm of the armor, unable to go any further.

Even the most skilled swordsmen probably didn't expect someone to go to such lengths to prepare a full set of heavy armor—it's not like it's a battle.

When his first strike failed, the swordsman strode forward and stabbed the fallen armored soldier between the legs.

What greeted him was the black muzzle of a gun.

The shattered lantern, the fallen armored soldier, the silent swordsman, the bewildered militiamen—time seemed to freeze at that moment.

Charles gritted his teeth, enduring the excruciating pain, until the pistol was firmly aimed at the assassin before pulling the trigger.

With a crisp "click," the spring wheel spun, sparks and smoke burst forth, and time resumed its flow.

Lead bullets pierced through flesh and blood, shattering lungs and heart.

The swordsman stumbled, lost his aim, and the swift sword was pushed into Charles's left leg by his heavy body.

Charles used his gun like a hammer, smashing it down hard on the assassin's head: "[A curse word cracked in his voice]!"

The two sled dogs barked frantically and hesitated to move forward. The two militiamen who had followed Charles into the basement were taken aback. One reached out to pull the assassin away, while the other frantically tried to draw his sword.

Another muffled gunshot rang out, this time the smoke billowed out from inside the hidden door.

Immediately afterwards, a black iron ball flew out of the hidden door, the gunpowder fuse on the ball's outer shell hissing.

On the brink of life and death, Charles unleashed astonishing power, grabbing an iron ball and hurling it back into the hidden door, while simultaneously pulling the assassin, whose fate was unknown, in front of him.

……

Street.

Two bodies were dragged out of the yard. White-haired Roger looked them over one by one, but the "black-faced man" he had mentioned was not among them.

Charles sat against the wall, having already received treatment from Kaman.

Two bloody streaks extended from his temples, and his hair and eyebrows were covered in dust, as if powdered. Large patches of white were interspersed with dark red spots, which were mud mixed with blood and dust.

A militiaman lay quietly by the roadside, his upper body covered with clothes.

Another militiaman sat slumped beside his neighbor's body, his eyes glazed over, still reeling from the shock.

The place where the bodies were laid out became a temporary assembly point, with men carrying weapons constantly arriving in haste to join them.

Several reserve soldiers wearing sashes carried torches and ran through the streets to maintain order.

Some women living nearby wrapped themselves in shawls and came out of their homes. They stood a dozen meters away from the body, whispering and exchanging information.

A barefoot young woman recklessly cut through the ranks of militiamen, squeezed past the crowd of onlookers, and rushed to the side of the militiamen's bodies.

The young woman trembled as she lifted her clothes, her last glimmer of hope shattered. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

A moment later, an elderly woman, walking with difficulty, walked to the body with the help of a servant.

The old woman looked grief-stricken, but she did not shed tears in public. Instead, she silently covered the deceased with his clothes again, carefully tucking the corners of his garments in, and held the deceased's cold hand while softly reciting hymns.

Inside the courtyard walls, Winters had just interrogated the old doctor and his wife and was leading a group to examine the secret room that Charles had found.

Winters ordered the secret room and basement to be sealed off, prohibiting militiamen and unauthorized personnel from entering or leaving.

When only his own people were around, Winters asked Kaman, "You can tell if what I say is true or false, so why can't you tell if that old man is lying?"

Kaman followed behind and answered in a muffled voice, "He's too scared; even when he tells the truth, it sounds like he's lying."

The elderly royalist couple, terrified, blurted out everything they could say, like water being poured out.

The problem is that, apart from knowing that they are “serving His Majesty,” they have very little access to other things.

The old doctor has been “serving His Majesty” for sixteen years, and what he has done most in those sixteen years is actually to record his observations and experiences—writing a diary and regularly sending it to relatives in North Monta.

Four years ago, "His Majesty's servant," posing as the old doctor's coachman, dug a secret chamber beneath his house. Since then, the old doctor has dismissed all his household servants.

According to the old doctor, the secret chamber had been idle since its completion, with some chests and boxes being moved in and out only two years ago. "His Majesty's servant" neither told him what was stored there nor allowed him to inquire. Occasionally, under the guise of house calls, he would move the stored items around.

He didn't know the other whereabouts of "His Majesty's servant." His superior was a dark-faced man from [John H. Sherlock Trading Company]—the same person who should be Roger's superior. But John H. Sherlock Trading Company was located in the Lake Bay District—that is, the Old Town—and Winters couldn't reach it for the time being.

In Winters' view, the secret room was never idle. With a reliable background, a secluded location, and the owner being a doctor, the secret room in this house was the perfect emergency refuge.

As for the old doctor's claim that "he never told me what was stored there," it was just an attempt to shirk responsibility.

Winters sighed: "Two decades have passed, and there are still royalists."

"Really?" Kaman retorted coldly.

The secret room is lower than the original basement of the house and is connected to the basement by a very short passageway.

Stepping out of the passageway, you are greeted by a basement room about the size of a bedroom. There are no household items inside; several small wooden crates surround a large wooden crate, serving as a table and chairs.

A lampstand lay on the ground, and dozens of dirty playing cards were scattered around the wooden box.

Apart from the passageway and a small open space for people to rest, the rest of the secret room was filled with crates.

Winters surveyed the scene inside the secret cellar; this hidden cellar was less a "fox's den" and more a "fox's storeroom."

"Pry them all open." Winters, somewhat disappointed, crossed his arms and ordered, "Let's see what kind of thing would hide in a place like this?"

The first crate is empty.

The second pallet box was also empty.

The third pallet box was still empty.

The guards carrying the boxes grew impatient and their movements became increasingly rough.

The fourth crate was opened; it wasn't empty. Inside were some sealed glass bottles, carefully separated from each other by wooden strips and straw.

"Wine?" the guard asked, puzzled.

Winters took out one of the glass bottles, removed the sealant, pulled out the cork, sniffed it lightly, and then suddenly turned around and extinguished the candle in Kaman's hand.

"What's wrong?" Kaman asked in a stern voice.

Winters unbuckled the brass buckle on his belt, and a dark green light filled the secret room again, making the liquid in the glass bottle even darker.

Winters slammed the glass bottle shut: "Liquid fire."

Kaman took a moment to process the information. He stared at the entire box of liquid fire and said, "Charles is very lucky."

Winters tapped the lampstand and scattered playing cards on the ground with the tip of his boot, mentally simulating the blast wave from a grenade explosion: "It was just good luck."

The next few crates opened were mostly empty, while the ones that weren't empty were filled with military equipment: liquid fire, grenades, guns, gunpowder... The secret room was already full, so the crates were moved to the adjacent basement.

The guards carrying the crates couldn't hide their smiles: "The Empire's arsenal is at our mercy, Centurion!"

Winters didn't want the armory; he frowned and paced back and forth in the basement.

Another guard stepped down the ladder: "Sir, Mr. Schmid and the North City Sheriff are here and waiting outside."

Kaman and the guards carrying the pallets all looked at Winters.

“According to that old man,” Winters tapped the hilt of his sword lightly, “the two assassins in the secret room were hiding here this morning?”

"Yes."

“Then they didn’t flee here to hide after we defeated Esther Manor.” Winters clapped his hands. “They’re protecting this secret room.”

The guards carrying the pallets asked in bewilderment, "Shouldn't the armory be guarded?"

"Then why were there no guards before? Now most of the boxes are empty. Didn't they contain more weapons before?" Winters spoke quickly and urgently: "In a place like this, which can't be seen in the light of day, it makes no difference whether there are guards or not."

The guard scratched the back of his head.

Winters recalled the oil lamp: "Once exposed, the assassin guarding the armory wouldn't have time to move the remaining weapons. All he could do was destroy them... or die together with them."

Upon hearing this, the two guards looked at the crates of liquid fire and gunpowder, and their Adam's apples involuntarily bobbed.

“White-haired Roger witnessed Green Eyes getting into the carriage half a block away. If this is just an armory, why would Green Eyes risk coming here?” Winters stared at Kaman: “You are Green Eyes, what is your reason for taking such a risk?”

"I am not an envoy, how would I know what an envoy is thinking?"

"What is a messenger?"

Kaman fell silent.

“Think about it! Think about it!” Winters grabbed Kaman’s shoulder. “Think about those assassins. They had nothing on them to prove their identities—not even that green-eyed guy! We knew they were the jackals of the Oathbreakers, but we had no evidence. What does that mean? It means that’s how they operate.”

Kaman clenched his fist and then relaxed it.

"If I were Green Eyes, what would I do the night before the destruction of Steel Castle?" Winters asked himself, answering, "I would destroy all documents, kill all witnesses, erase all footprints, wipe away every trace of myself. Make tonight's riot in Steel Castle seem like a spontaneous disaster. Like..." Winters' voice grew lower and lower, "...like another fire,"

Kaman understood, but he didn't want to respond.

The guard carrying the boxes asked hesitantly, "You mean the imperialists hid their 'traces' here?"

“No,” Winters replied without hesitation. “Anything that can be destroyed has certainly already been destroyed.”

He then changed the subject: "But are there some things that 'cannot be easily destroyed,' 'don't need to be moved,' and 'must be properly stored'? If I were Green Eyes, I would put those things in the safest place tonight and have someone watch over them at all times. If everything goes well, they can be easily retrieved afterward; if any accident occurs, they will be destroyed immediately."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Winters walked toward the secret room: "Bring out all the crates and inspect them one by one!"

The four of them worked together, and their efficiency was extremely high.

The remaining crates were quickly moved into the basement and inspected.

Got nothing.

The two guards stared awkwardly at the tips of the boots, not daring to speak.

Winters drew his sword, looked around the walls of the secret room, and suddenly stabbed at the empty cardboard box that was being used as a card table.

The longsword pierced through the wooden box and into the earth, producing a metallic clang that seemed to penetrate the soil.

"Disintegration Technique!"

The crates were torn to shreds, and sawdust flew everywhere.

"dig."

They dug less than an inch before the thing buried in the soil was exposed.

They were small, fist-sized burlap sacks filled with hard, solid objects. They were neatly stacked on top of each other, lying quietly in the soil.

Winters cut one of them open, and the contents of the bag shimmered alluringly in the firelight.

It's a silver coin.

Kaman glanced at Winters: "It is indeed something that 'cannot be erased casually,' 'does not need to be transported away,' and 'must be properly preserved.'"

Winters said nothing, pulled out a thin linen bag, examined it, and then moved on to the next one.

Kaman shook his head and offered his help. The two guards, realizing what was happening, also rushed forward to assist.

The fine linen bags contained gold and silver, totaling more than a hundred bags, which were quickly all taken out.

When the last burlap sack was brought up, a guard exclaimed in surprise and pulled out a square iron box from the bottom of the pit.

Even Kaman raised an eyebrow, revealing a hint of surprise.

The metal box was locked. Winters pried open the latch, looked at the keyhole, and remembered the small bunch of keys he had found on the green-eyed corpse.

He took the bunch of keys out of his bag and tried them one by one.

No, no, no, that's right...

The fourth key went smoothly into the keyhole. Winters and Kaman exchanged a glance and steadily turned the key.

As if in response to his call, a "click" came from inside the tin box, and the lid popped open lightly.

All eyes turned to the box: a small, wasteland-style knife, a pair of glasses, a handkerchief, a portrait of a woman, an iron ring with a sun emblem, and a string of small keys engraved with numbers...

Winters took out a portrait of a woman. In the frame, a serene and elegant young woman smiled gently.

Winters silently placed the portrait back into the tin box, letting out a barely perceptible sigh: "It seems to be his personal possession."

Kaman took out the iron ring and stared at it for a long time: "This...this is the messenger's token. That guy really is the messenger."

“Really?” Winters took the iron ring and asked, “Is there anything special about it?”

Kaman shook his head slightly: "I don't know."

"It doesn't seem difficult to forge."

"They have their own verification methods."

As they were talking, the sound of a ladder came from the basement.

Since Winters had already ordered the basement sealed off, a guard immediately shouted, "Who's there?"

"It's me." Charles's voice was seven-tenths louder than usual: "Old man Schmid has been waiting outside for ages!"

Winters put away the tin box and casually picked up two bags of gold coins: "Let's go!"

The four filed into the passageway, and the small, secret room returned to darkness and silence.

However, just seconds later, Winters returned. He rushed into the secret chamber and frantically searched through the mound of earth.

Kaman followed back as if facing a formidable enemy. Seeing Winters turning over the soil, he gritted his teeth and asked, "What are you looking for now?"

"That damned Green Eyes, he's always deceiving and playing tricks. Gold and silver, portraits, rings. But how can he destroy things when he buries them so deep?! That Green Eyes guy always puts the most important things in the easiest place to destroy them."

"Found it!" Winters suddenly stood up, carefully holding a dirty playing card in his hand.

Kaman was unaware of the situation.

Winters examined the card carefully for a moment, then gently lifted a corner of it. With a slow, forceful motion, he peeled off the layer of patterns and numbers on the card, revealing the pale yellow cardboard underneath.

Kaman looked at the still empty cards: "Still nothing?"

“It’s not that there’s nothing at all.” Winters paused for a moment, exhaled a long breath, and said with a somewhat dim look in his eyes, “It’s steganography.”

He heated the bottom of the playing card by the candlelight, revealing the brown, irregular letters.

……

Old Schmid finally saw "Captain Bern" carrying two bags walk out of the yard.

Before the old man could speak, Captain Bern's voice reached his ears: "How many men have you brought?"

The sheriff quickly replied, "All the freemen from the nearest nine blocks have arrived, and with your group, it's almost a large contingent. More are on their way."

Old Schmidt eagerly replied, "But things seem to be getting worse in the old town, sir. What should we do next?"

Winters glanced at the city under the cover of night. The assassin who escaped from Ester Manor had not yet been found, and there must be other secret hideouts of Imperial spies in the North District.

Continue the search; there may be a chance to uproot the spy network that the Oathbreakers have planted in Steel Castle.

But there was something more pressing at the moment—the firelight in the direction of the old town painted the sky blood red.

He stuffed the two bags of gold coins into the sheriff's arms: "You personally guard this place and do not let anyone in or out. Anyone who trespasses may be killed on the spot. One bag of gold is for the family of the militiaman who just died. The other bag is for the injured militiaman and the families whose property was damaged during the search."

The sheriff's eyes widened, he nodded first, then raised his hand in salute.

“Come with me.” Winters looked at old Schmid, quickly recalling the map and main roads of Steel Fortress: “To Constitution Street. I’m going to set up the first line of defense there. Pick two reliable men to relay the order, so that the free men who arrive later can assemble directly on Constitution Street.”

"I'll send my son!" Old Schmid hurriedly walked towards the line.

Winters leaped onto his horse and galloped through the streets where armed citizens were lined up in formation, roaring like thunder: "Attention!"

The loosely dressed, whispering "free men" subconsciously obeyed the order, and the street instantly became solemn and quiet.

Thanks to years of winter military training, even men from Monta who have never served in the military know how to use weapons, march in formation, and obey orders.

Winters felt a sense of approval. As expected of the imperial family's recruitment ground, the average military skills of the recruits were far superior to those of the newly reclaimed lands.

"I am Army Captain Eck Berne. The highest military commander of Solingen has appointed me to take over the defense of the northern city. A curfew will be imposed on the northern district immediately." Winters's cold and powerful voice echoed through the long street: "From this moment on, you are under my command; from this moment on, you are bound by military law; from this moment on, I give orders, and you obey. In exchange, I will protect your property! Protect your families! Protect your city!"

Winters didn't give the militiamen time to question him, and simply waved his hand: "Everyone—turn to the right!"

"Target—Constitution Avenue!"

"That will be our first line of defense!"
"Ready—Forward!"

After a brief delay and some minor confusion, the militia ranks slowly began to move. Once the ranks were in motion, there was no room for thought; only instinctive obedience prevailed.

Winters then rode to the crossroads, and as he requested, the militiamen with horses were organized into a separate unit.

The North District is the wealthiest district in Steel Castle, and there are quite a few people who can ride horses and can afford to keep them.

Winters glanced over and saw that the militia, leading horses, stretched for nearly a company, all the way to the next intersection.

He immediately assigned a small squad of mounted militia to the sheriff to enforce the curfew and prevent imperial assassins from taking advantage of the chaos in the rear.

After making arrangements for both the front and rear, he gathered the remaining hundred or so "cavalrymen" together.

“I will personally command you.” Winters rarely smiled tonight: “It’s okay if you don’t know how to fight on horseback, just stick close to me.”

With that, Winters pulled on the reins, and the wind raised its forelegs high, neighing excitedly.

"Gentlemen, there is another city waiting for you to defend! Let's go!"

[Strive to pay off your debts!]
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(End of this chapter)