Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 398 The Game Between the Fox and the Cat (Part 2)
Lieutenant Colonel Thomas scrutinized the prisoner in the chair:

He was around forty years old, with an ordinary appearance and unremarkable demeanor. Apart from his muscular arms and shoulders, which suggested he came from an environment where there was no shortage of meat, milk, bread, or physical labor, there was nothing else particularly special about him.

In fact, it was precisely because of his physique, which was so different from that of the malnourished urban poor, that he became the most conspicuous prey and ultimately led to his capture.

“I think we can save each other some time, Mr. Capfen,” Lieutenant Colonel Thomas began, his tone not harsh but authoritative: “You know what awaits you—hanged as a traitor, or alive as a foreign spy. Two paths before you, choose for yourself.”

Alfonso's Adam's apple bobbed, and he coughed a few times with difficulty, pleading in a hoarse voice, "Could you give me some water? I haven't had any water for two days."

Lieutenant Colonel Thomas instinctively glanced at the fake Baron beside him.

Alfonso keenly noticed the other party's fleeting movements. "Is the younger one the one in control?" he secretly speculated.

From the moment he was brought into the interrogation room, the fake baron didn't even glance at him, merely fiddling with a small stack of cards on the table.

Only after being silently questioned by Lieutenant Colonel Thomas did the fake baron raise his eyelids to look at Alfonso. His gaze was indifferent, devoid of interest, as if sweeping over a specimen.

Alfonso tried his best to meet the other man's gaze without flinching, but for some reason, he failed. The other man was not easy to deal with—he instinctively realized this.

At the other end of the interrogation room, Winters also made a judgment—the prisoner showed no particular interest in the cards in his hand.

This illustrates one thing: either the prisoner was so skilled at concealing his emotions that he couldn't detect anything amiss, or the cards were so highly classified that the prisoner knew nothing about them.

Winters nodded slightly.

With permission, Pierre, who was guarding the room, picked up the kettle, walked to the chair, and brought the spout to the prisoner's mouth.

The cool, clear water flowed down his parched throat, and Alfonso greedily gulped it down, almost choking himself.

"Glug glug," the pot of water was quickly drunk up.

Alfonso carefully observed the person feeding him water, feeling that the figure looked somewhat familiar, as if it were the cavalryman who had been relentlessly pursuing him.

"Would you like some more?" Pierre asked.

Alfonso, panting heavily, said, "No."

"I've had my water." Lieutenant Colonel Thomas's tone carried a hint of sarcasm. "Isn't it time to go to the toilet?"

After drinking a pot of cold water, Alfonso's already bloated stomach began to churn again.

"No need." He endured the cramping pain and answered truthfully, "I couldn't hold it in before, I already peed."

"boom!"

Lieutenant Colonel Thomas slammed his fist on the table and shouted angrily, "You think I'm visiting you in prison? Don't try to stall for time, because it's pointless. You're a spy for the false emperor; no one knows more about interrogation than you. You want water? Fine, here's some water! You want bread? Here's some bread! You want a woman? I can find you a prostitute."

The lieutenant colonel paused for a few seconds, then threatened menacingly, "But if you don't cooperate, we have plenty of time to torture you slowly. No matter how long you can stall, it won't matter. I've never seen anyone who can withstand torture, but I have seen quite a few people tortured to the point of begging for death. Don't ask for trouble."

Alfonso savored the sweetness of the water, then let out a long breath: "You're going to kill me eventually."

“Nonsense!” Lieutenant Colonel Thomas retorted sharply, his voice softening slightly. “What good would killing you do us? I can tell you frankly, now that you’re here, you’re not going to leave unscathed. You can live, you can live comfortably, you might even regain your freedom—but only if you cooperate.”

"cooperate?"

Where are your other accomplices?

A mocking smile appeared on Alfonso's face: "How do I know you won't go back on your word?"

Just as Lieutenant Colonel Thomas was about to speak, Winters suddenly gathered the cards into a stack.

Upon seeing this, the lieutenant colonel straightened his back, cleared his throat, and stared at the prisoner but did not respond.

“You’re not actually afraid of us killing you,” Winters said slowly. “You’re afraid your accomplices will come after you to silence you.”

Alfonso's smile froze.

……

[North bank of the old town]
[City Palace]
A two-horse wagon entered the town square from the western intersection and stopped below the steps of the town hall. The driver immediately jumped off the wagon and hurried away.

The soldiers guarding the municipal palace became suspicious and repeatedly ordered the coachman to stop.

But the driver ignored him and instead strode off into the side street without looking back.

The sergeant waved his hand, and two guards on duty immediately gave chase. Then he drew his side sword and pointed at two more guards. The three of them descended the steps warily and surrounded the carriage.

A guard carefully used the tip of his spear to lift the tarpaulin covering the cargo box.

"It's all stones and scrap iron," the guard reported.

The sergeant's attention was drawn to the carriage shaft—the leather straps connecting the yoke and harness had been cut, and the horses remained in place not because of restraint, but because of good training.

The sergeant suddenly realized he had made a huge mistake, grabbed his subordinate beside him, and ran up the steps for his life: "Run!"

too late.

With a deafening roar, the earth trembled.

From a distance outside the city, a plume of dark brown smoke rose from the location of the city square. Immediately afterwards, muffled booms echoed from the direction of the debtors' prison and the parish's main guild, followed by billowing smoke.

Although the other guards at the main gate of the city palace were farther away, they were also knocked down by the shockwave and flying debris.

Before the guards could recover from their shock and dizziness, the enemy, wielding two swords and daggers, had already rushed up the steps and charged straight at them.

……

The sudden loud noise brought the interrogation to a halt, and the ceiling of the room was shaken down, causing a layer of dust to fall.

A flurry of running and questioning sounds came from outside, and then the door was pushed open. A lieutenant entered the interrogation room and whispered a few words to Lieutenant Colonel Thomas.

Taking advantage of the moment the door opened, Alfonso briefly observed the scene outside.

To his disappointment, the interrogation room was just an enclosed corridor, making it impossible to tell the time or guess the location.

Lieutenant Colonel Thomas nodded, the lieutenant saluted, and turned to leave the interrogation room.

Soon, the sound of horses' hooves, like hailstones, came from outside. The sound was loud at first, then faded and grew farther and farther away.

Alfonso listened intently until the noise subsided and silence returned. When he came to his senses, he found the fake Baron watching him with great interest.

Alfonso immediately lowered his head, but the other person spoke first: "Are you waiting for someone?"

Alfonso did not answer.

"Do you know who I am?"

“Baron Granah,” Alfonso licked his lips. “He calls himself Baron Granah.”

“Very good.” Winters remained noncommittal, tilting his head to gesture to the lieutenant colonel beside him: “Knowing that I and this Lieutenant Colonel Thomas do not share the same interests is enough for you.”

Upon hearing this, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas clicked his tongue and glanced discreetly at Bernie.

“Although Lieutenant Colonel Thomas has made all sorts of threats, you should be able to tell that he doesn’t want to torture you.” Winters carefully analyzed the situation for him: “A dying prisoner cannot prove the colonel’s competence. He wants an irrefutable confession, a willing witness. Only in this way can he turn the ‘Imperial Spy Arson Case’ into an airtight case.”

Alfonso listened in silence.

“But I’m different.” Winters stared into the prisoner’s eyes. “I only want the truth.”

The room was deathly silent, and Alfonso's heart skipped a beat.

Winters, however, acted as if nothing had happened, and got up to walk towards the closet.

Alfonso unconsciously watched as the other man opened the cupboard, but the fake baron only brought back a bottle of wine.

Winters uncorked the bottle and poured himself some wine: "Frankly, I'm no better at interrogation than Lieutenant Colonel Thomas, or you, or anyone else in this room."

Not only Alfonso, but everyone in the interrogation room had their eyes on Winters.

“I don’t like torture either, because inflicting pain on others doesn’t give me any pleasure.” Winters took a small sip of his drink, and his pale face quickly turned a sickly red.

In his deep, pool-like eyes, melancholy and determination intertwined:
"But for the truth, I will use any necessary measures, and no one can stop me."

You can't handle what I'm about to do, and neither can anyone else. There are limits to both mind and body—you, I, everyone. No matter how brave you are, it's only a matter of time before you destroy them. A man with a hammer can smash the hardest stone. You should know that better than I do.

"I..." Alfonso lowered his head, his voice heavy with emotion, and asked with difficulty, "How can I cooperate with you?"

“It’s simple.” Winters yawned and said nonchalantly, “Give us a few insignificant underlings, tell us about an outdated hideout, and reveal some half-true, half-false information. Verifying information takes time, so we can buy ourselves another day or two.”

Alfonso looked up in surprise.

Winters stood up, walked between the table and the prisoner, and sat leaning against the edge of the table: "I fully understand your actions and can assure you that you will not be subjected to unnecessary torture for deliberately delaying the time."

At this, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas could not hide his confusion and shock, and turned to look at Winters.

“You’re clinging to a sliver of hope because you believe time is on your side.” Winters looked down at the prisoner and asked with pity, “Are you waiting for someone to come and rescue you?”

……

[suburbs]
[Outside the garrison camp]
The cavalrymen disappeared at the end of the road, and the dust kicked up by their hooves gradually subsided.

Eagle Lieutenant gripped the saddle handle with his left hand and held a drum-shaped silver box in his right. He stood beside his warhorse, staring intently into the contents of the box.

Apart from the Eagle Guards who were feigning attacks on the City Hall, prison, and guild headquarters, all the other Eagle Guards who were still capable of fighting were behind him at this moment.

No, to be precise, it's not just the Eagle Guards and advisors.

The Royal Security Council's spies, royalists who thought His Majesty would be at war with the rebels tomorrow, and desperate men tempted by huge rewards but not yet knowing what to do... all the armed forces the Empire could muster in the Solingen region were mobilized.

Those who could evacuate have already evacuated; those who couldn't evacuate are being squeezed dry of their last remaining value.

The deputy head of the Emperor's Hand was willing to end the Empire's years-long operation in Solingen with a Pyrrhic victory—because from the moment their highest-ranking officer was captured, the Empire's intelligence network in Solingen was destined to come to an end.

The pointer inside the drum-shaped silver box ticked again. "Now!" Eagle Lieutenant abruptly closed the lid, stepped into the stirrups, and mounted his horse. "The rebel cavalry has been lured away. A quarter of an hour is enough time for us to act."

A single-horse carriage was pushed out of the woods and carried onto the road.

Several guards efficiently harnessed the horses to the carriage, while the others, under the command of the deputy supervisor, dragged out trees that had been felled beforehand to block the road.

The harnessed carriage rumbled along the road out of the valley, rounded the last undulations of the mountain, and turned a corner, where the high walls of the legion's encampment and the western gate came into view.

……

[Interrogation Room]
"Recognize this?"

Winters placed a drum-shaped silver box in front of the prisoner.

Upon opening the box, the dial inlaid with luminescent stones and the gold hands emitted a dim green light—it was the Nylon clock that Pierre had taken from the other person.

Alfonso nodded, glancing discreetly at the time, but he wasn't sure if the fake Baron had adjusted the Nuremberg clock.

“Don’t overthink it, I didn’t touch the hands.” Winters casually pointed out the prisoner’s thoughts, then turned and took a drum-shaped silver box from the tortoiseshell box that had just been brought in—a Nuremberg clock taken from the masked man at Esther’s Manor—and placed it in front of the prisoner: “Do you recognize this?”

In the first few seconds, Alfonso didn't understand what was happening, as if he had been struck unexpectedly.

So he immediately exhibited a numbness and sluggishness similar to that of someone who was drunk. He quickly regained his senses; although his complexion remained unchanged, his lips turned pale.

Winters looked at Alfonso, leaned down and sniffed a few times, as if tasting the prisoner's fear.

Then he turned around again, met the prisoner's eyes, which could no longer hide their panic, and took out the third Nuremberg.

This time, he said nothing. He simply opened the clasp decorated with acanthus flowers and laurel branches and gently placed it in front of the prisoner.

"Click."

"Click."

"Click."

The three Nylon clocks emit a synchronized ratcheting sound from within, and the three gold hands, inlaid with luminous stones, point neatly to the same position.

Three bells? Three bells! How could he have bells? How could they be in his possession? The other two teams were all wiped out? Is the messenger's bell inside? The messenger, where is the messenger? Was the messenger also captured?

Countless terrifying thoughts flooded Alfonso's mind at once, and an invisible hand gripped his throat, making it impossible for him to breathe.

For the first time, he showed genuine fear—not the feigned fear he had previously displayed. His heart pounded uncontrollably, and the veins on either side of his forehead throbbed. Sweat beaded on his back, yet his chest felt so cold it seemed he could exhale icy breath.

Winters leaned down, close to the prisoner's head, so that his voice could clearly reach the latter's ear canal.

With a hint of satisfaction, he spoke softly, "I've pulled you out of the shadows."

As soon as he finished speaking, Alfonso's body began to tremble uncontrollably.

He sobbed and howled, desperately trying to break free of the ropes. This time, there was no composure or confidence, only the instinct to flee that humans, as animals, have when faced with an uncontrollable beast.

……

[Legion Base]
Because of the riots and fire at Steel Fortress, the officers who remained added another checkpoint outside the gate of the garrison.

The so-called checkpoint was actually just a piece of unpeeled wood blocking the road.

Four militiamen stood guard at their posts. When they saw the carriage approaching from afar, they waved their spears to signal the driver to stop.

"What are you doing?" the militia leader asked.

The coachman calmly replied, "It's for feeding the animals, pork and horse meat."

“I haven’t heard of anyone wanting to send meat over.” The militia leader frowned. “Get down here, we need to check.”

"I don't have money to bribe you right now." The coachman remained unmoved: "It's not easy to get out of the city. I'll have money when I deliver the goods to the quartermaster and come back."

The militia leader cautiously took a step back and laid his long halberd flat: "Get out of the carriage!"

The other two militiamen with muskets realized something was wrong and quickly untied the flint ropes from their wrists.

"Alright, alright." The driver raised his hands in surrender: "Get out of the carriage."

The driver lifted his buttocks, using his body as cover, pulled out a short gun from under the seat, aimed it at the militia leader with a halberd, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

With a turn of the spring and a flash of fire, a bloody hole appeared in the chest of the militiaman wielding the halberd.

Another swordsman leaped out from under the veil, his swift sword bypassing the trajectory of the halberd from below, and plunged into the chest of another militiaman wielding a halberd in an extremely contorted posture.

Even then, the two militiamen equipped with matchlock muskets had not yet properly attached their flintlocks. Seeing the black-clad swordsman's murderous intent, the two militiamen threw down their muskets and fled in panic.

The swordsman didn't chase after them; he simply moved the wooden block in his path.

The guards at the camp had been alerted by the gunfire, and the alarm bells were ringing frantically.

The eagle guard driving the carriage lit the fuse, yanked the reins, and spurred the horse into a gallop. When they were still a dozen meters from the gate, the guard thrust his sword into the horse's rump, then leaped off the carriage.

Although the horse was in pain, it still instinctively wanted to avoid the wall.

Just then, the fuse burned out.

The hindquarters of the draft horse were blown to pieces, the shockwave overturned the surrounding guards, and the camp gates trembled.

The guards on the camp wall were still calling for help when a cavalry unit had already broken through the dust and smoke, scattered the guards outside the camp, and reached the west gate.

Soon after, there was another violent explosion.

This time, the west gate of the legion's base was torn down like a piece of paper.

"Use grenades and explosives to clear the way, don't worry about friendly fire!" Lieutenant Eagle, his face covered in soot and his eyes bloodshot, shouted, "Better dead than alive!"

……

Another commotion erupted outside the interrogation room, with shouts and the sound of horses' hooves filling the air.

Having just lost all hope, Alfonso now seemed to have grasped at the last straw.

He stopped struggling and resisting, and instead craned his neck, listening unabashedly to the sounds outside the interrogation room. He stared intently at the sealed window, as if trying to pierce through the wooden planks to see what was on the other side.

Winters didn't stop the prisoner; he coldly asked, "Still not giving up?"

……

Once the west gate is breached, the central guard area of ​​the garrison will be just ahead.

The attackers, no longer concerned with concealment or keeping a low profile, recklessly used explosives and grenades to clear the building, searching room by room for the messenger.

Meanwhile, the guards still occupying the west gate tower continued to fire bullets and crossbow bolts. In the distance, figures could be seen moving, indicating that more guards were on their way.

The "army" cobbled together by the emperor was on the verge of collapse. The small group of thugs lured in by the high bounty could not withstand the situation and all wanted to escape.

The eagle captain, who was in charge of the rear guard, killed one man on the spot and ordered the others to set fires to disperse the defending troops.

“My lord.” The exhausted Eagle Captain bowed deeply to the masked man beside him: “If the rebels’ fake magicians are exposed, please do your utmost to help.”

The masked man looked around. The Eagle Guards were already engaged in street fighting, and the ragtag group that had been there to make up the numbers had already fled into the camp and disappeared.

He sighed and knocked Eagle Commander unconscious with a punch.

……

The sound of horses' hooves came again from outside the interrogation room, this time approaching from afar.

Alfonso listened intently: the man entered the courtyard, dismounted, opened one door, then another, and the footsteps grew clearer.

Immediately afterwards, the interrogation room door was pushed open completely.

A cavalryman wearing a saber with an eagle-beak handle entered, took a package from his saddlebag, and respectfully presented it to the fake baron.

The fake baron merely glanced at it and casually ordered, "Show it to him."

The cavalryman opened the blood-stained cloth covering the package and placed the contents in front of Alfonso.

It was the fourth Nuremberg clock—and also the last Nuremberg clock.

Alfonso's straight back suddenly went limp; all his hope and strength were drained the moment he saw the four hours.

"Kill me! Please, kill me!" Alfonso trembled, pleading desperately, "I cannot betray His Majesty! My family in the north must all die! Please! Please! Kill me!"

“This problem is easy to solve.” Winters’ voice carried a convincing power: “Help us kill all your accomplices, and no one will know you’re still alive.”

Winters stared into the prisoner's eyes, and he knew he had won.

Eyes always tell the truth. Steadfast and unwavering eyes stare intently, either directly at you or focused on a point behind you. Those eyes are fixated on one spot, drawing strength from it.

But at this moment, Mr. Capfen did not have those eyes. He looked at everyone in the room with fear and pleading, trying to find power, but to no avail.

"Would you like a drink?" Winters placed the glass in front of the prisoner and poured it full.

Alfonso looked at the glass; the white foam swirling on the dark red liquid was his flag of surrender.

……

A moment later, Winters walked out of the interrogation room and into the front yard.

This detached house, which once belonged to royalists, has been temporarily requisitioned by him—along with the secret storage room underneath.

The sun pierced through the smoke and dust, and the sunlight was just right in the courtyard.

[Big chapter! No upper, middle, or lower grades! Hooray!]
[Almost it was still a three-part series, but! I'll still finish this long chapter with a coherent flow.]
[I felt that parallel storytelling worked well in this case, so I tried using it.]
[The two timelines were not initially parallel; Winters' interrogation was short, while the Empire's plan to rescue the envoy spanned a longer period. Only in the very end did they become "occurring at the same time."]
[Because it's easy to get confused about the timeline, I wanted to "write it all out before releasing it," but in the end, I split it into two parts...]
[The interrogation techniques in this chapter come from "Cardinals of the Kremlin." Since I know absolutely nothing about criminal investigation and interrogation, I think it's better not to write anything myself and instead borrow strategies from Tom Clancy's book... After all, Tom Clancy is a writer so professional that he can even surprise professionals.]
[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)