Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 473 Rekindling the Spark (Part Six)

[South of Artemis City]
Old Tasso stood by the roadside, haphazardly fanning away the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves.

He squinted, watching the "rebel" officer ride away, admiring the latter's handsome and capable riding posture.

“What a Dusak! He speaks and acts like a real man.” Old Tasso muttered to himself in bewilderment, “But how did he end up with the rebels…”

Majjah Raul was also craning his neck and staring intently at the back of the "rebel" officer.

However, unlike the admiration and disappointment in old Tasso's eyes, Raul's gaze was full of envy, longing, and resentment.

Raul's eyes were fixed on the distance, but he still stubbornly insisted, "How did you know he was Dusak?"

"Do you even need to look?" Old Tasso was taken aback at first, then burst into laughter on horseback, pointing to himself: "I can smell it with my nose!"

Raul stopped talking, but his cheeks were still puffing out.

Old Majiya and Old Tasso exchanged a silent glance—they were all too familiar with Raul's symptoms.

When a fearless young man encounters someone he genuinely admires, and that person unfortunately happens to be an enemy or adversary, he will naturally become like this.

Conversely, this also shows that this "little calf" was born to be a combative, bold, and restless fellow.

Old Tasso scratched his chin, pondered the words for a moment, and finally said, "I said from the beginning that if we had to make a future for ourselves, we should send this little brat to the army, not his brother... Madam is just too soft-hearted and can't bear to see her youngest son suffer. You are the same; you are too soft-hearted towards Madam and can only let her have her way. In the end, what happened? It only delayed the two brothers."

It took Raul a moment to understand the underlying meaning in the old servant's words.

When he learned that his elders had had such an argument, he looked at his father in astonishment, his lips parted and closed, but he couldn't make a sound.

Old Ma Jiya, however, remained expressionless, watching the departing "rebel" officer in silence.

Although they encountered an unexpected situation at the checkpoint, the three members of the Majiya family still managed to pass through unscathed.

The "rebel leader" named Lannis even stopped light cavalry passing by the checkpoint and kindly asked them to escort the three unfortunate men who had lost their money to Artemis.

Upon learning that the riders before him were the renowned "Wolf Riders" who had subdued seven towns, Raul nearly fainted from excitement.

Now that we've arrived outside Artemis, the most important thing is to rescue people.

"I'll explain the old, stale stuff to you later." Old Tasso patted Raul on the shoulder and asked the patriarch in a deep voice, "What do we do now? Where to go? Who to look for?"

Old Ma Jiya suddenly raised his arm and pointed at the back of the "rebel officer," then stabbed his horse hard in the ribs and galloped away like an arrow.

Old Tasso and Raul, surprised, hurriedly spurred their horses to catch up.

The three of them ran around the city wall, following the "rebel" officer, and finally stopped in the northwest of the city.

The sight before them left them speechless:

The old mounds in the northwest of Artemis have been completely transformed; the green surface has been removed, revealing the dark soil beneath.
Thousands of men and women are digging trenches and moving earth and rocks, while towering construction machinery lifts up boulders and drops them down.

A constant stream of horse-drawn carriages connected the river and the forest, delivering a steady stream of cut planks.

Everywhere you look, people and things are serving the same goal. The construction process is like a sacred and solemn ceremony, and the "rebel" officer is walking toward the "altar"—a mound in the center of the construction site that overlooks everything.

"It looks like..." Old Tasso exclaimed in surprise, "It looks like one of our people!"

Raul looked in the direction of the sound and was surprised to find that many of the laborers were wearing light gray coarse cloth shirts and military trousers—the "uniforms" of the Vaughan County Garrison.

He gripped the reins tightly, his words becoming hesitant and stuttering: "Dad, Pal... Pal might be here!"

Old Tasso frowned, his gaze turning grave as he looked at the "employer."

Old Majiya looked out at the mound in the center of the construction site and could vaguely see the "rebel officer" talking to two other people.

Judging from the "rebel officer's" demeanor, old Majah was certain that the other two men on the mound were the targets he had to visit. However, the soldiers guarding the fortifications had already noticed the three of their own men acting suspiciously and were constantly casting wary glances at them. Forcing a meeting would likely result in being thrown into prison before their voices even reached the other side.

Old Ma Jiya made up his mind and waved his hand: "Let's go into the city first."

Having said that, he pulled on the reins and walked toward Artemis without looking back.

Raul looked at old Tasso with resentment, and the latter gestured for Raul to calm down. The two followed the patriarch into the city in silence.

……

Meanwhile, at the dusty construction site, Majiya Par, half-hunched over, stared blankly at the main road to the south of the site.

Sweat and loose dirt mixed on his skin, almost turning him into a mud man; his soaked clothes were more like waterlogged toilet paper, clinging tightly to his back.

With a clang, the shovel fell from Majiya Par's hands to the ground.

“I…I think I saw my father…and my brother…” Majiya Par pointed into the distance, her voice trembling with sobs, “But…but they’re gone…”

"Lieutenant Ma Jiya!"

Amidst the dust, another equally disheveled man slammed his pickaxe into the ground, straightened his back, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

He glanced at a junior student on a small mound in the center of the construction site and spat angrily:
"meter!"

……

If human eyes could truly shoot out light, then Major Sandel alone could set someone's shirt on fire.

Unfortunately, "gaze" is just a rhetorical device, and Winters Montagne was naturally not hurt by the angry glare of a certain senior.

On the contrary, Pierre's return brought an involuntary smile to Winters' face.

The weary Pierre first greeted Winters, and then bowed to the tribunal of Mason.

"Thank you for your hard work." Mason pulled down his hat brim and nodded in return.

Winters then took out a water bottle and handed it to Pierre, asking curiously, "Didn't you stop by Wolf Town on the way?"

Pierre took the water bag but didn't drink from it. He answered respectfully, as if being questioned, "The horse only rested for one day in Gévord.

Winters shook his head helplessly and said with some emotion, "If you have the chance to go home, go back and visit more often. Who knows when it will become difficult to see someone again?"

Mason couldn't help but sigh softly.

“Yes,” Pierre answered, standing at attention. He then opened the document pouch at his waist, took out a stack of lacquered letters, and presented them to him: “These are replies from Monsieur Berlion and Monsieur Portin, as well as letters entrusted to me by Monsieur Chaussau, Monsieur Priestin, and the gentlemen of Gévordton to be delivered to you.”

Winters held the letter in his hand but didn't open it. Instead, he smiled and asked Pierre, "What did Bélien and Portin say about the barrel order?"

“Mr. Berlion didn’t say anything, only that he would do his best. Mr. Portin, on the other hand, was very excited and wanted to gather men to get started immediately. Mr. Portin also wanted more prisoners and laborers.” Pierre paused, then cautiously added, “The letter should have been more detailed.”

Winters glanced at the thick stack of letters in his hand and coughed lightly: "I'll read them."

Pierre carefully took out another letter from his pocket, wrapped in an envelope, and presented it to him: "This is a letter that Ms. Navarre asked me to give to you." Winters immediately perked up, and he calmly stuffed all the letters in his hands into Mason's arms, and took Anna's letter to open and read it on the spot.

Pierre glanced at the plebs of Maison, whose veins were bulging, and knew that the latter was furious but refrained from showing it because Pierre was present. Seeing that the plebs of Montagne were engrossed in reading a letter, Pierre wisely took his leave.

“Go ahead,” Winters said, putting down the letter. “Take care and get some rest.”

Pierre raised his hand in salute, mounted his horse, and rode away.

Once Pierre was out of sight, Mason immediately rolled up his sleeves: "You're too lazy to even read your letters now?"

“These are all official documents.” Winters carefully put away Anna’s letters. “Naturally, you should open and file them.”

“Official documents?” Mason laughed in exasperation. “You think I can’t tell the difference between public and private matters?”

Winters asked in bewilderment, “Otherwise what? Do you think they would chat with me about mundane daily matters? If these are not official documents, what are they? If I were to open and read them myself, it would be suspected of being a private transaction. That’s why it’s not for you to file them, which is what it means to blur the lines between public and private matters.”

Mason couldn't think of a rebuttal for a moment.

Winters articulated Mason's long-held, vague ideas more coherently. In fact, he agreed with Winters' view that all information received and sent by decision-makers should be recorded and archived by a dedicated agency, especially for military decision-makers.

"Just this once," Winters pressed, sincerely promising, "Just this once!"

“Alright.” Mason placed the thick stack of letters into his saddlebag. Meanwhile, another thought popped into his head, so he casually asked Winters, “Why do I always feel that Mr. Mitchell has become much more reserved, not like he used to be…”

Winters laughed tolerantly: "Why don't you just ask—why are Pierre and I not close anymore?"

Mason hadn't expected Winters to be so blunt. He hesitated and asked, "Yes, weren't you two very close before? You were the one who mentored him."

“The child has grown up.” Winters said, feigning an old-fashioned tone. “We can’t expect him to act cute, behave obediently, or perform talents for the guests, can we?”

Mason chuckled to himself.

Winters, however, put away his smile and said seriously, “Pierre is an adult—I mean not only in age, nor only in mindset, but also in terms of rights and status. What he needs is not love and care, but the respect and recognition of one adult for another, so he will naturally behave seriously and restrained in front of me.”

“But does that mean we’re not close?” Winters paused slightly, looking into his senior’s eyes, a smile returning to his lips. “On the contrary, I feel that Pierre and I are closer now than before. Because I know he’s ‘grown up’ and no longer needs my ‘care.’ I can fully trust him and entrust him with important responsibilities. What else is that but closeness?”

After listening to Winters' long speech, Mason pondered for a long time before giving his comment with a complicated expression: "I now believe that Mr. Little Cheshire was trained by you personally."

"Thank you for the compliment." Winters exaggeratedly removed his hat and bowed.

“And now I’m even more convinced of Bud’s opinion.” Mason chuckled, “You do have a bit too much of a bias towards Mr. Littlecher.”

"Where?!"

As they were talking, a rider led his horse out of the city gate, clumsily climbed onto its back, and galloped all the way to the mound in the center of the construction site.

The horse was so tired that it was foaming at the mouth and panting heavily from its nose.

Houdel, on horseback, was also drenched in sweat, his clothes looking as if he had just been pulled out of the water.

"Your Excellency," Houdel jumped off the swaying saddle, panting, "Um... um... we didn't sell a single one today."

Winters kept a straight face, pretending not to hear: "What?"

"Not a single one has been sold..."

Winters emphasized, "What?!"

"Report!" Houdel stood at attention, his face contorted with grief, and shouted in reply, "Your plows! Not a single one sold today!"

Winters nodded expressionlessly: "That's how you answer questions. Whether it's good news or bad news, you have to say it clearly and unambiguously."

"Yes." Houdel grinned.

However, the next second, the official asked again: "Why haven't any of them been sold?"

Houdel was dumbfounded. He hunched his shoulders and neck helplessly and looked to Tribunal Mason for help.

Seeing this, Mason couldn't bear it, so he gently reminded him, "Tell the truth."

“I don’t know,” Houdel answered softly.

“What?” Winters asked, frowning.

"Report!" Houdel shouted, seemingly oblivious. "I don't know."

"Alright," Winters waved his hand. "Go find someone else."

Houdel could not contain his elation. He hurriedly mounted his horse and fled in the first place, even forgetting to salute.

“Did you see that?” Winters’ cold expression melted away, and he smiled as he said to his senior, “This is what a ‘minor’ looks like.”

Looking at Houdel's pitiful yet comical back, and recalling Winters's kind attitude towards Pierre, Mason couldn't help but feel indignant for Houdel: "Why do you always scare him?"

“This kid gets carried away easily and needs to be kept in check.” Winters dismissed the concern: “Besides, when we first enrolled, didn’t the faculty and upperclassmen joke with us like that? And…”

Midway through his sentence, Winters suddenly felt a tremendous grip on his arm. He turned his head and met Mason's angry glare.

"Promise me one thing," Mason said, enunciating each word clearly.

Winters unconsciously became deferential: "Please... go ahead."

“If you ever have children,” Mason said solemnly, “you must make sure Miss Navarre is in charge of their education.”

"why?"

Don't ask why! Just promise me!

You have to tell me your reasoning!

"Promise me! Promise me!"

"..."

"..."

……

While the two tribunals were still arguing over the methods of education, the old Maja, who had successfully entered the city, met his old friend and close acquaintance—Fayaka, the municipal councilor of Artemis.

“Don’t count on it.” Upon hearing his old friend’s purpose, Fayeka immediately replied, “Blood Wolf will never allow you to redeem Madiya Par.”

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(End of this chapter)