Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 474 Rekindling the Spark (Part 7)

[Fayaka Residence]
"Sigh, it's not just your son. All the young men who bought their backgrounds from Major Sandel are currently being held by Blood Wolves."

When Faeka said the word "blood wolf," he deliberately switched to a different accent, but still couldn't help shivering. Clearly, Artemis's sudden change of events had left him with indelible psychological trauma.

“No matter who pleads for him, no matter how much blood is shed, he won’t budge an inch.” Faeka pointed lightly to the top of his head: “Right now, half of Artemis City is working for him. Tell me, is he just short of those dozens of arms that dig the earth?”

Old Ma Jiya listened intently.

Faeka, feigning profundity, countered, "Or is it that he lacks a few dozen good hostages?"

Old Majiya remained silent, once again recalling the parting words of the officer named "Lannis".

“Mr. Maja, I can bet you that the weight of your saddlebags when you leave here will be just as heavy when you return from Artemis. Because no matter how much gold or silver you can offer, it will not sway your will. But you are not someone who can be easily persuaded, so I will not stop you. Besides, I don’t think it’s a bad thing for you to go to Artemis.”

The young officer laughed heartily, full of vigor: "Because no one has ever been able to meet you without being impressed by you."

Old Ma Jiya pressed his knees together, lowered his head, closed his eyes, and recalled what he had seen and heard along the way.

The almost fanatical confidence in "Blood Wolf" that the young officer revealed in his words was still clearly imprinted in Old Majiya's mind, filling him with inexplicable fear.

"Alright." Old Ma Jiya suddenly opened her eyes, got up and dressed without any hesitation: "I'll go back now."

"Wait! What's the rush?" Fayeka quickly grabbed his old friend and hurriedly explained, "Even if it's destined to be fruitless, you should still go and see the tribune."

Old Ma Jiya frowned.

“However, not ‘that’ tribune.” Fayeka kept everyone in suspense, deliberately drawing out his words with a smug tone, “but another tribune, the real tribune—Lord Bader. Don’t worry, I have connections and can introduce you to him.”

Old Ma Jiya pondered for a moment, then asked, "How many Protectors of the People are there in total?"

“Uh…several.” Fayeka looked rather embarrassed. “I don’t really understand the rebels’ inner circle.”

"This one is different?"

“Hey, that’s what you don’t understand.” Fayeka pushed his old friend back to his seat, poured himself half a glass of wine, and downed it all in one gulp.

Fueled by alcohol, Fayeka mysteriously explained to his old friend: "These rebel bastards are very different from the 'officials' we've met when we were serving His Majesty. Although those leaders are sharp-tongued and ruthless with their whips, we know all too well what kind of rotten things are inside them."

Old Ma Jiya didn't understand what his old friend wanted to say, but he still listened carefully.

“And those rebel bastards, on the surface they’re all friendly and even more like government troops than the government troops. But don’t be fooled by them, those bastards are all incredibly ruthless and cunning.” Faeka subconsciously lowered his voice: “Do you know how many men they used to take Artemis?”

Before his old friend could respond, Fayeka held up five fingers, stared wide-eyed, and answered himself, "Five hundred! Just five hundred men. As soon as that man's battle flag was raised, the rebel soldiers charged forward like madmen. Major Sandel didn't even get a chance to utter a sound before he was pinned to death! His ancestral sword was even taken away."

Old Ma Jiya gradually understood his old friend's thoughts, and his expression became increasingly solemn.

“Old friend, I’m only telling you this. I’m thinking, the government’s plan to wipe out this rebel group is going to be difficult! Too difficult! It will take a lot of bloodshed and a lot of effort! Even if the government wins in the end, it will definitely take a long time.” Fayeka slapped his thigh: “It’s going to be difficult! Too difficult! It will take a lot of bloodshed and a lot of effort! Even if the government wins in the end, it will definitely take a long time.”

Fayeka, his eyes still blurry with drunkenness, pointed at old Majiya, then at himself: "We still have a long way to go with the rebels! We can't just hide by covering our heads! If the authorities decide to offer them amnesty, then we'll be in even more trouble!"

Old Majiya remained silent, but his tightly pursed lips indicated that he agreed with his old friend's opinion.

“So,” Fayeka said helplessly, pouring himself another glass of wine and tapping the table, “you have to go see the rebels. You can’t hide; you can’t avoid it!”

Old Ma Jiya stared at his hands, then suddenly exhaled a long breath. Along with this breath, something indescribable and inexplicable left his body.

"What kind of person is this Lord Bader?" Old Maja asked in a deep voice.

“He’s a really good man.” Fayeca perked up and introduced him with great interest: “He’s different from other rebel leaders—he’s devout, learned, kind, and easy to talk to. I heard he even studied in a monastery. Don’t worry, he might not be able to plead for you, but he’ll be willing to listen to your grievances. You should go see him, otherwise your trip to Artemis will have been in vain.”

Old Maja asked again, "When can I be arranged to visit His Excellency Bader?"

"Anytime is fine. Don't worry, His Excellency Bard works at the old garrison and meets with petitioners all day long."

"Take me there now."

"Why the rush?" Fayeka was taken aback.

Old Ma Jiya insisted: "Let's go now."

“Alright then, take your youngest son with you and let him see the world.” Fayeka scratched his thinning scalp and said frankly, “I won’t go with you. To be honest, even stepping into the old garrison scares me. I’ll have the steward take you. Don’t worry, it won’t cause any trouble.”

Old Ma Jiya nodded.

"Did Tasso come with you?" Fayeka asked with concern.

"outside."

“Why is he still like this? What’s there to be embarrassed about?” Faeka laughed amicably, rising to see his old friend out. “Well then—let your youngest son go with you, and let Tasso stay and drink with me. Don’t worry, the rebels, aside from anything else, have done a pretty good job maintaining order; even the streets are much cleaner. You two should hurry back; you’ll still make it in time for dinner…”

……

[Artemis Garrison]
The former Artemis garrison has now been requisitioned as the office space for the Iron Peak County Army.

A large number of civilians from Zhevodan occupied the place, transforming the originally solemn and quiet two-story stone building.

Every available space that could accommodate a small table had been claimed by clerks, accountants, and copyists; clerks and errand runners came and went, bringing in a flurry of requests and sending away a flurry of replies.

Iron Peak County Army's large-scale procurement in Vaughan County not only made the logistics department under Bud's control the most sought-after department in the entire army, but also made the Gevordan Accounting School famous in Vaughan County.

The citizens of Artemis were either asking "how to enroll in the Gevodan Accounting School" or "whether Lord Blood Wolf would open an accounting school in Artemis as well."

After all, being able to learn grammar and arithmetic for free is like a windfall.

There is clearly a wide range of room for evasion between "learning accounting at a school run by the rebels" and "joining the rebels".

For a moment, the old garrison's gray stone building became Artemis's focus. At the end of the corridor on the second floor of this stone building, in front of a small desk placed against the corner of the wall, a clerk groaned as he stood up.

The clerk stretched her stiff neck and shoulders, trudging between the stool legs, her back, and the wall, finally making her way to the meeting room at the other end of the corridor.

To facilitate access, the meeting room door had been removed. The clerk knocked on the door frame and only went inside after receiving permission.

"The contract sent by Morin Trading Company has been copied." The clerk placed a piece of parchment, the ink still wet, on the table. "Mr. Anglu."

On the other side of the long table, Anglu took the parchment and examined it line by line, word by word.

Thanks first to the enlightening education of Brother Rhett Butler, and then to the thorough corporal punishment of someone else, the young stable boy's literacy level has made considerable progress.

He checked the copied contents and recalculated the numbers before putting the parchment into the "awaiting submission" basket.

Although the office wasn't Anglu's favorite place, he still managed his hundreds of clerks with the same efficiency he would a herd of horses.

"You've worked hard." Anglu nodded with a smile—care and encouragement have always been important skills in horse training: "Of all these scribes, only you have never made a mistake."

"Of course." The clerk didn't intend to leave, but wanted to take the opportunity to get closer to the supervisor.

He rubbed his neck with a slightly exaggerated gesture, glancing at the several small baskets on the table, each filled with a stack of documents awaiting submission. Given Lord Bard's efficiency, this was unusual.

"Is His Excellency Bard still receiving guests?" the clerk asked obsequiously.

"Yes."

"Oh, Lord Montagne, really," the clerk complained, half-jokingly. "He either doesn't show up at all, or when he does, he spends money like water. He's so generous, but he keeps us up all night. We should invite his wife over and give him a good talking-to."

“Gold stored in a warehouse is no different from stones; it’s good to use it—money that’s spent is money.” Anglu frowned—appropriate whipping is also an important skill in horse training: “Don’t you have anything else to do now?”

The clerk immediately and tactfully took his leave.

Looking at the crowded corridor outside the door, Anglu tugged at his hair a few times in frustration.

Compared to the monotonous, stuffy office, the endless plains were far more soothing to his mood. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but envy Bell—the little hunter must be frolicking on the savanna with his lion right now.

Suddenly, the door to the garrison commander's office opened, and the tribunal of Badbau came out with a lieutenant wearing an iron mask.

According to customary etiquette, the clerks should have stood up. However, the tribunal of Badr had his new rules, so the clerks pretended not to be curious and continued to work on their calculations.

Bard accompanied the masked lieutenant all the way to the main gate of the garrison: "Senior Morrow, I'll see you off here."

“It’s just a few steps, I didn’t need you to take me.” Moro maintained his aloof attitude: “I’m going back to Zhevodan now.”

Please be careful on the road.

Morrow nodded slightly, took the reins from the groom, and gestured to the attendants and guards to prepare to depart.

However, just as his right hand had grasped the saddle and the tip of his boot had slipped into the stirrup, Moreau abruptly pulled back.

He turned around, his eyes fixed on Bud through the mask, and asked seriously, "Why didn't you choose me?"

Bard smiled tolerantly and pointed northwest: "You mean that fortress."

"They've taken away most of my manpower and even delayed the progress of my bridge project. Aren't I allowed to ask a question?"

"What do you want to ask?"

“In terms of class, I’m from the 16th class, and Mason is from the 17th, so he should call me senior; in terms of experience, I served in the standing army, while Mason raised pigs in the new reclamation army; in terms of ability, Mason is a better artillery commander than me, but I believe my engineering skills are no less than his. So no matter what, Mason shouldn’t be in charge of such a project.” Morrow’s tone was less angry and more resentful: “Is it because I failed to earn your trust?”

Bud thought for a moment, but instead of answering directly, he smiled and asked in return, "Does every artillery graduate have a 'stonemason' (Mason) inside them?"

Moro frowned.

Bard explained, “Senior Mason reacted exactly like you. Winters and I initially just sent him a letter discussing the feasibility of setting up a garrison in Worgne County—just like the letter we sent you. He immediately rushed over from Maplestone and expanded the garrison into a star-shaped fortress on the blueprints.”

A few hoarse, dry laughs drifted from behind Moro's iron mask: "You want to tell me—that I'm late?"

“Of course not,” Bard replied calmly. “What I mean is that you don’t need to win our trust, because you’ve already been one of us.”

Moro stood silently for a long time, then suddenly said listlessly, "Forget it, I already have a bridge, so I won't bother with Mason this time."

Bud didn't say anything more, but simply raised his hand in salute.

Morrow mounted his horse, hesitated for a moment, then couldn't help but say somewhat sourly, "Civil engineering works, if left unmaintained, will be unrecognizable in less than ten years. But my bridge can stand for a hundred years, even a thousand years, still benefiting the region. So... let him have it!"

Having said that, Moro flicked his whip and rode away.

The accompanying orderlies and guards quickly saluted the tribunal of Badr and hurriedly chased after him.

Bard stood by the main gate of the garrison, gazing in the direction where Senior Moro had gone, and remained there for a long time.

"What happened?" Anglu rushed out of the garrison building. "What's wrong?"

Bard sighed and commented with a smile, "I originally thought that only the cavalry department could produce people with that kind of strange sense of self-esteem."

Andrea Cellini, Seb Carrington... Several figures flashed through Anglu's mind in an instant.

"And now?" Anglu asked cautiously.

"Perhaps everyone has a Mason inside them."

[Many thanks to reader 【凯风晴】 for being the patron of this book!]
[Captain Moreau's first appearance is on the eve of the Battle of Bloodsludge, where he risks his life to help the Iron Peak County army destroy the Telden's pontoon bridge (unsuccessfully). His disability stems from his repeated escapes while imprisoned by the Telden, for which he was subjected to corporal punishment by the Teldens.]
[After the Battle of Bloodsludge, Captain Morrow did not leave Iron Peak County with the others, but remained in Ghevordan to oversee infrastructure work.]
[The rapid progress of the project overseen by Mason was also thanks to the group of skilled workers that Captain Morrow had trained.]
[The rekindling of the spark will end in the next chapter.]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
(End of this chapter)