Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 86 The Dance to the River Styx
Night had fallen, but the Red Pine Manor was far from silent.

The Venetians finished eating and drinking and went back to rest, but the Hedians' feast would not end there.

After checking the preparations one last time, Winters dragged his exhausted body onto the wooden bed. He tried to take a short rest, but couldn't fall asleep at all.

It wasn't because he was nervous, but because it was too noisy—the Hed people seemed to have had enough of eating and drinking, and started beating drums and singing.

Winters is a light sleeper; he can't fall asleep to the slightest noise—spellcasters generally have poor sleep—not to mention the constant noise pollution from the Herds.
He tossed and turned on the wooden bed for a long time, but no matter what he did, he just couldn't fall asleep. Several times, just as he was about to step into dreamland, he was pulled out by the sound of drums and singing outside.

After being woken up several times while half-asleep, Winters' anger grew. He wanted to brew some sleep-inducing herbs, but after fumbling around for a while, he remembered that he had already given all the herbs to Kalman.

Enraged, Winters slammed his pillow to the floor: "[A vulgar expression of impotent rage]! What are you doing up in the middle of the night?!"

Undeterred, Winters put on his coat, kicked open the door, and angrily confronted the old man Herstace, who was vaguely the spiritual leader of the group.

"Are you also coming to our feast, Mr. Montagne?" Herstas sat comfortably by the campfire, smiling at Winters, whose face was dark.

Seeing this old man, Hurd, Winters was furious. In his neurasthenic state, his rationality could no longer restrain the urge to curse: "Why isn't he taking a proper rest before setting off and doing some dirty work here?"

Hearing Winters's vulgar words, Herstace remained unperturbed, still smiling: "The banquet must go on. In our Hed language, the word 'banquet' is composed of two words: 'eat' and 'laughter.' It's not enough to just have a big meal. Banquets are an important part of Hed life, and these children haven't attended a banquet since they were sold here."

You can't hit someone who's smiling, so Winters felt too embarrassed to swear anymore.

Around the campfire, several Hed men began to dance, and Herstace stared intently at the dancers by the fire.

Unlike Veneta's ballroom dancing, the Hed people were dancing intensely and freely. In Winters' view, it was less a dance and more a display of their physical prowess.

The men of Hed stomped their feet, swinging their arms and slapping their chests and calves. They squatted or leaped, performing one difficult dance move after another.

Even Winters, who came in anger, was drawn to the unrestrained and intense dance.

“This is ‘Courvalletta,’” Herstas said absentmindedly, “a dance to the Styx.”

"The River Styx? What's that?" Winters asked, somewhat uncertainly.

"It is the river that separates the living from the dead. In our legend, once the dead cross the River Styx, they can never return to the mortal realm," Herstas said calmly. "Young man, they are dancing a dance toward death. We have resolved to die, but please keep your promise and send the women and children back to the land of the Hed."

Winters remained silent: "I never trust promises or oaths, but all I can give you is a promise. If I live, I will personally arrange for them to return home. If I die, the Serbian Legion Commander will take care of it; I have already left him a letter."

“I trust you because I know you are a man of honor.” Herstius sighed deeply. “Just send the women and children back. Nothing is more important to a tribe than women and children. Even if all the men die, as long as the women and children survive, the tribe will soon recover and prosper.”

"But can they manage without men to protect them in the tribe?"

Herstace smiled: "The Hed people here come from different tribes. Many of them were originally enemies. Once they return to the grasslands, they will naturally return to their respective families."

"Who are you exactly?"

“Me? I’m just a shaman without a tribe.” Herstus shifted his posture, no longer meeting Winters’ gaze. “It’s just that I’ve found my tribe again in the land of the aliens.”

Winters' heart skipped a beat, and he sat down as well, asking, "Are you referring to magicians as shamans?"

"No, shamans are just people who communicate with the gods. As for the magicians you mentioned... there are no magicians among the Hed people."

“But you can do things that others can’t, right?” Winters pressed on. “I saw it. You made the oil spontaneously combust. You absolutely couldn’t do that if your fire-making skills weren’t superb.”

“Some shamans can indeed do things that others cannot,” Herstas said calmly. “But these are all gifts from the gods. The gods have chosen us so that we can use these abilities.”

Winters slapped his thigh hard. His voice trembled as he encountered another system of divine magic for the first time: "What is your training method? I mean... how do you select those children blessed by the gods, and how do you help them develop their abilities?"

Herstas looked at Winters with a half-smile, but said nothing.

This world has users of divine magic, and there are many of them within the Catholic Church. The Three-Five Association does not acknowledge the existence of a god, but the effects of divine magic are undeniable, which makes the Alliance spellcasters' atheistic theory inconsistent.

In response, a hypothesis circulates within the Magic Operations Bureau: that users of divine magic are also spellcasters, but their system of utilizing spellcaster abilities differs from that of Alliance spellcasters.

However, this hypothesis can only remain a hypothesis. Divine magic is a closely guarded secret of the Catholic Church. The Magic Warfare Bureau has neither the knowledge of the contents of the divine magic system nor the ability to find the bodies of priests for autopsy.

But now, Winters has discovered that similar systems of divine magic also exist among alien races outside of "civilization." People who pride themselves on civilization do not believe that there could be users of divine magic and mages among those barbaric nomads, but this old man in front of him can clearly use abilities similar to divine magic.

Perhaps this exotic divine magic could be used to decipher the system of Catholic divine magic. Thinking of this, Winters was almost trembling with excitement.

But the thin, dark-skinned old man in front of him smiled at Winters without saying a word.

Seeing the other person's amused smile and knowing look, Winters deflated. Just as the Catholic Church strictly guarded the secrets of divine magic, so too did the Hed shamans.

“I can’t say, can I?” Winters sighed.

"I can tell you, but can you keep it a secret for me?"

Suddenly energized, Winters nodded repeatedly: "Yes, of course."

"Yes, I can too."

Speechless with choking, Winters stood up, brushed the mud and grass off his pants, and said irritably, "You guys continue, I'm going back to sleep."

“Young man, why sleep so much before you die? You’ll have plenty of time to sleep after you die.” Herstas looked very happy now.

“Yes, if you don’t sleep well while you’re alive, you’ll naturally be buried in the ground and sleep forever soon,” Winters immediately retorted. Then, as if thinking of something else, he asked the old man with a strange expression, “I say, you’ve eaten meat, drunk wine, and danced, given this atmosphere, what’s next…?”

He didn't specify what it was, but instead made a half-fist with his left hand and then slapped it a few times with his right middle finger.

Winters in his normal state would never have made such an obscene gesture, but he was not only suffering from neurasthenia, but also in a terrible mood. His rationality had crumbled; all he wanted now was to disgust this old bastard in front of him. Herstace smiled and calmly replied, "I think so."

“Tomorrow we’re going to fight the Tanilians to the death. Your men aren’t getting any rest tonight. They’re drinking, dancing, and having sex. How the hell will you have the energy to fight tomorrow?” The old man’s attitude infuriated Winters.

Unexpectedly, the old shaman was not offended at all, and said frankly, "The men are going to risk their lives tomorrow. Do you think it's fair to not let them have one last moment of intimacy with a woman? None of them may come back tomorrow, so naturally they will want to find a way to pass on their bloodline. The same goes for you. If you die tomorrow, your bloodline will end. Don't you feel regretful? Hmm... If you want, I can help you find a match. I think some women will be interested in your good physique."

If it were the usual virgin Winters, he would probably be blushing to the roots of his ears by now. However, the sleep-deprived Winters has been taken over by another personality, and he retorts viciously: "You Hed shamans are also responsible for pimping?"

"It's just as normal for women to be attracted to men as it is for men to be attracted to women. If a girl wants you, it means you're attractive; it's a compliment," the old shaman Hersthas said naturally.

Winters suddenly realized that either the old man's skin had become incredibly thick, or the old man's spiritual realm had surpassed his own by several levels.

No matter how vicious his words were, they couldn't hurt the old man in the slightest.

“You are very tall and look very strong. You seem to be a chosen one. Bringing the bloodline of the chosen one into my tribe is a great thing. Is it wrong to pass on a better bloodline?” The old shaman asked seriously, “If you don’t breed horses with good horses and mares, do you use inferior horses?”

The old man's set of seemingly serious fallacies and a barrage of flattery left Winters, whose malicious personality was utterly speechless. Winters, his face flushed, retorted, "A person is a person! Not an animal!"

"There's not much difference between humans and animals," Herstace said with a faint smile. "Good people are the best animals, and bad people are the worst animals. Stallions in a herd are constantly vying for mating rights, and men in a tribe all want to pass on their bloodline. Humans are just animals, there's not much difference between them."

“Humans are different from animals.” Winters wanted to argue, but he suddenly felt that his statement was too weak.

Look at the living conditions of these Hed slaves and Senas contract slaves. Were they really treated as human beings by the Kalman family? They were human beings, but at the same time they were also upright-walking livestock, and they did not even own themselves.

“Humans also have animal instincts, but unlike animals, humans can suppress them.” Winters knew this wouldn’t convince the other person. He thought for a moment, then smiled and said, “I have a good friend who is taller and stronger than me. He has long arms and legs, a broad back and a narrow waist, and is also a top-notch swordsman. If there’s a chance in the future, I’ll introduce him to you for breeding.”

The old shaman nodded with satisfaction.

Thinking of Axel, Winters couldn't help but sigh deeply. Only a month and a half had passed, yet life at military academy already felt like a dream.

Two months ago, I would never have imagined that two months later I would be hiding on an enemy island in the middle of the ocean, leading a small group of slaves and remnants to fight the enemy to the death.

What is Axel doing now?
Winters had lost his temper, and even the thought of anger was gone; all he felt was exhaustion.

He bowed to Mustas, and the old shaman straightened his back and accepted the bow calmly.

Winters turned and left, returning to his temporary lodgings.

He kicked off his boots, collapsed onto the bed, and quickly fell asleep.

After an unknown amount of time, and without knowing where he came from, Winters entered a gladiatorial arena, carrying a shield and a spear, while people around him were applying olive oil to his body.

I started applying olive oil from my feet, then my waist, then my chest, and then... where the hell am I even touching that?!
The thing being smeared with olive oil... is it a hand? It is a hand! It's warm and soft... not a man's hand, but a woman's hand!
Winters, who was fast asleep, was suddenly awakened and pushed away the strange woman on top of him—there really was a Heard woman who had sneaked into the room!

Winters, who was woken up for the second time, was both shocked and furious. His morning grumpiness overwhelmed his impulses without hesitation, and in a fit of rage, he used his explosive vocal technique to yell, "Get out!"

The strange woman, who had fallen to the ground, was startled by the deafening explosion, then screamed and ran out. The entire manor had probably heard the angry shout; the singing and drumming of the Hed people outside had all ceased.

Exhausted, Winters collapsed back into bed amidst the ringing in his ears and slept soundly. This time, no one dared to disturb him.

——Cut——

In the city of Guitu, on the other side of the sea, lies the Army Command of the United Provinces Republic.

Axel, who was on night shift, was awakened by a knock on the door.

A senior student stood anxiously at the door of the duty room, panting as he said, "Passed unanimously with a three-to-zero vote... condemnation... mobilization order... war budget..."

The senior swallowed hard, struggling to calm his breathing, and gripped Axel's arm tightly: "...We...we're going to send troops too."

——Cut——

Inside the Hed longhouse, the young boy who had ambushed Winters served Herstus as he lay on the meadow.

"Don't go with them tomorrow. The Venetians will send you back to the grasslands and protect your sister as she goes back to find your brother." Even when the two were alone, Herstace still spoke in broken continental language.

“[Herd’s words] I’m not a child anymore, I can kill people too,” the boy said defiantly.

Herstius tapped the boy's head with his withered hand: "Speak the language of the two-legged people, not our language. When you get home, you must practice the language of the two-legged people often... It's a pity I won't be able to practice with you then."

"[Common language] Those two-legged people just want to use us." The boy, now a teenager, switched to broken Continental English, saying, "I don't understand why you made a deal with them, and... and even performed the Kurshitashi ritual with that guy..."

“Foolish boy, do you want to be a slave on this island for the rest of your life? Do you even remember what the grasslands are like? If your children are born, they will be complete slaves.” Herstace ruffled the boy’s hair. “This is your best chance to return to your homeland. If we don’t pay a blood price, even if the Venetians take over this island, they will not give us our freedom.”

The boy, barely out of school, responded with an "Oh."

“I know you’re not convinced, you’re not convinced by the two-legged people,” Herstace said earnestly. “There’s nothing to be unconvinced about. We did lose, otherwise we wouldn’t have ended up here. I taught you their language so you could learn their knowledge. Only by learning from those who defeated us will our defeat not have been in vain, and your children won’t be enslaved like we are…”

Outside, the Hed people, who were responsible for finishing up, extinguished the campfire.

The feast is over; all that remains is blood and fire.

Thank you to all the readers who voted for this book. Thank you to Yanyunsan, Ami, writersblock, Zhengyichunjieshikaola, reader20181013204343295, Yuan Hongjian, please call me Xiyangyang, and social justice Lao Wang for your votes.

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(End of this chapter)