Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 132 Two Guards
Winters was quite shocked by the old mendicant's words. He retorted, "Then isn't the Highland Republic sitting on a volcano right now?"

“Pretty much, at least that’s the case in the newly reclaimed land.” Brother Reid didn’t refute this: “Palatu doesn’t suppress land consolidation, and a few people control most of the land. The rich own vast tracts of land, like the Mitchell family; the poor have nowhere to stand, they can’t even be tenant farmers, they can only be farmhands. The landlords are insatiable, suppressing the poor to cultivate land in order to seize more land. If this were in the Far East, there would have been chaos long ago. In my opinion, there is only one reason why there hasn’t been a popular uprising here, nothing more than ‘vast land and sparse population’.”

“Old man, you’re not exaggerating, are you?” Winters couldn’t help but defend the Mitchell family: “You say the landowners are greedy and insatiable, but I think the Mitchell family are good people.”

The old monk said calmly, "Girard is indeed a kind man, but his character is unrelated to the desires of the entire landowning class. Just like there are good and bad soldiers among common soldiers, but on the battlefield, regardless of their character, they all have to kill the enemy. If you look at each landowning family individually, most families are of above-average character. But is their land acquisition a sham?"

When it comes to sharp and eloquent speech, the greenhorn lieutenant is no match for the seasoned clergy.

But Winters remained somewhat unconvinced: "But the fact that these things have survived to this day means there's nothing wrong with them, doesn't it?"

“Young man, it’s not that it ‘exists’ to this day, it’s that it ‘maintains’ to this day! Politics isn’t a rock, it’s a set of building blocks, it’s never static.” Brother Reid’s smile widened. “Nobody knows what will happen in the future. Everything has an end, there are no immortal monarchs, no indestructible nations. To be honest, I really want to see where this system will ultimately go.”

Winters sighed. The old charlatan in front of him had become rambling again, something he was already somewhat used to. But the reason he had come to see the mendicant so late at night was actually for something else, but the old charlatan had inadvertently steered the conversation astray.

“That’s enough,” Winters complained. “I came to ask you what you think about setting up a standing security force in Wolf Town, but you didn’t mention anything important and just talked a lot of irrelevant things.”

“I’m giving you pointers because I think highly of you,” Brother Reid said, feigning anger. “Young man, don’t be ungrateful. This old man’s time is very precious.”

Winters' original idea was simply to keep the militia in place and maintain weekly training. Mayor Mitchell's idea, however, went a step further, making Lieutenant Montagne somewhat hesitant.

If it were in Hailan, Winters could consult Antonio if he had any doubts; asking an elder for advice was not something he would be ashamed of.

He had no one to rely on in Wolftown; Bud and Andrei were both dozens of kilometers away. But he was eager to hear other people's opinions on the matter, preferably objective and neutral ones.

After much deliberation, he could only seek Brother Reid's opinion. After all, the old monk had lived for ninety-five years (as he claimed) and had accumulated some wisdom—a fact Winters had to admit, and the old monk was also a neutral third party with no vested interest.

"Alright, alright, you've had your drink, let's get down to business. Is it really feasible to organize a standing security force in a small place like Wolf Village?" Winters glanced at the empty wine bottle on the table. Not wanting to arrive empty-handed, Winters brought a bottle of wine with him. Unexpectedly, the old mendicant monk became quite animated after drinking and began to talk incessantly.

“Well!” Brother Reid shrugged. “Looks like I wasted all my time.”

"What do you mean?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you to understand?" Brother Reid said helplessly. "Of course it's possible. In a small place like Wolf Village, if Girard supports it and you support it, it'll definitely work out."

“I think Wolf Town is too small to support full-time soldiers,” Winters expressed his concern. “Wouldn’t forcibly establishing a security force just add to the burden on the people?”

“That’s none of your business. Let Girard handle the money, you just need to be in charge.” Brother Reid was very dismissive: “The military manual says that fifteen men can support one soldier. If you and Girard work together, organizing a small squad of constables will be a piece of cake. If you can’t afford to support full-time soldiers, then you can be part-time farmers and part-time soldiers.”

"Won't there be any objections?"

"Who dares to object?" The old monk's eyebrows shot up. "What are the security teams good for?"

Winters suddenly remembered the Venetia Standing Army, which was always more focused on internal affairs than external ones. He said somewhat listlessly, "Alright, let's do as Mayor Mitchell says."

“No! It has to be done your way.” Brother Reed stroked his beard and said slowly, “The key to the guard is the selection of personnel. It cannot be done by anyone else. You must choose them yourself.”

"why?"

"Then why don't you think about what would happen if Gilard recommended and selected the people?" The old monk chuckled.

After thinking for a moment, Winters tentatively replied, "Are they all Dusa people?"

“That’s right. If Girard were to choose the men, the entire security force would be made up of Dusa people.” Reed scoffed. “The Dusa people are brave and fierce, and their horsemanship is superb. Even in a fair selection process, which farmer could compare to them? But you’re not the resident officer of Dusa Village; you’re the resident officer of the entire Wolf Village. The structure of the security force must be balanced, otherwise the other villages won’t be convinced.”

The old charlatan's words made sense, Winters nodded thoughtfully: "Then what should we do? Choose one person from each village?"

“Yes, just choose one person from each village.” Brother Reed looked at Winters with satisfaction: “We can choose two or three from Dusa Village, so the people of Dusa won’t have anything to say. No one will be satisfied, but everyone can accept it. That’s the beauty of politics.”

Winters found this kind of calculation boring and sighed, "Mr. Reed, there's one more thing I'd like to ask you."

Winters then recounted Sergei's speech at the funeral and described in detail the different reactions of the Dusa people and other villagers.

"What exactly did Sergei mean? Who is Ralfnovich?" Winters asked. "He seemed to have only said a few words of praise, so why were the other Dusas people so surprised?"

"Why do you care about the affairs of the Dusa people?" Brother Reid raised an eyebrow.

“Ralph entrusted me with the care of his son before he died.” Winters still felt a little sad when he mentioned the old hunter: “I need to figure out what Sergei meant, whether he had any ill intentions towards Bell.”

“That’s true.” Brother Reid sighed as well. “Ralph is indeed a rare hero, what a pity.”

The old monk stroked his long beard a few times, frowned, and said, "Don't worry, Sergei probably means well. Ralfnovich means Ralf's son; he wants Ralf's son to regain his Dusak identity."

"What do you mean? Isn't Bell a Dusa? Half a Dusa?" Winters entered a blind spot in his knowledge.

“Dusa people and Dusaks are two different concepts,” Brother Reid explained, leaning on the table. “Dusa people are not a race to be precise, but a way of life. People who follow a specific way of life are Dusa people, and their bloodlines are a complete mess, with a variety of ancestors.”

Furthermore, not every Dusa resident is a Dussak. Ralph was likely stripped of his Dussak status, which is why he can't live in Dusa village. If the father isn't a Dussak, the son naturally can't be either. Sergei's desire to restore Ralph's son's Dussak status is a good thing for young Bel.

"why?"

“Because Dusak’s status is tied to land,” Brother Reid countered. “Do you know about land grants?”

"Uh... I don't know."

Brother Reid, his body stiff from sitting for so long, stood up and paced back and forth, saying, “In the empire on the other side of the Shaded Mountains, the Dusaks are known as ‘the Emperor’s Whip.’ Their way of life is extremely unique. Every Dusak man is destined for lifelong service from birth and must provide his own warhorse. As a reward, the Emperor grants them abundant land, enough to make them rich farmers or small landowners.”

The emperor granted land to Dussac, so whoever the emperor ordered Dussac to kill, Dussac killed without hesitation. Therefore, Dussacs were mostly used to suppress rebellions; they were ruthless in killing farmers, hence the nickname 'the Whip'. This was the land grant system.

Winters listened and nodded: "Then how can they farm if they serve their entire lives? What's the point of giving them land?"

“Lifetime service doesn’t mean being in the army for life,” the old monk said with a sneer. “The land grant system is a very complex system. Dusak will first serve a six-year term, and then he can go home and be granted land. After a few years, he will serve a second term of three years. Lifetime service means that he will always be on the roster and can be called up at any time.”

Winters gave a soft "oh".

Brother Reid pondered for a moment before continuing, “The problem is that the Dusak settlement is within the Empire's borders, and the Dusaks are all citizens of the Empire. Although I don't know how these Dusaks ended up in Palatul… as far as I know, the Palatul Council treats them exactly the same way the Emperor does, exchanging land grants for loyalty. So for these Dusaks, it's simply a matter of changing masters; nothing else matters.”

Among the Dusa people, men who serve their entire lives are called Dusaks—women, of course, are not Dusaks. Only Dusaks can serve, be granted land, and start families. Being a Dusak is both an obligation and a right. Sergei wants Ralph's son to be able to serve, be granted land, and return to Dusa village. It's a good thing for the boy; there's no need to worry.”

Winters' biggest worry was that the local bullies would make things difficult for the young hunter. Now that he understood Sergei meant well for Bell, Winters breathed a sigh of relief.

It was getting late, so Winters said goodbye to Reid.

……

……

In the following days, Winters and Girard focused their energy on routine matters.

The wounds of Wolf Town are gradually healing. Life must go on, and people are slowly ceasing to mention the victims, as if this way they can forget the pain. The beast plague, once a vivid memory in people's minds, is slowly transforming into a faded story told by the elderly, and Winters has witnessed it all.

He visited the families of every victim, experiencing both coldness and hostility, as well as gratitude. He could never heal the wounds inflicted on the families of the deceased; he could only do everything he could to offer comfort and support to the families of the dead and injured.

In comparison, organizing a standing militia is much simpler and easier.

Winters, in his capacity as town magistrate, changed Sunday archery training into militia training.

Men from each village attend Sunday worship in the town center in the morning, and receive military training at noon and in the afternoon.

Since the initial intention was merely to defend against predators, not to send the militia to the battlefield, Winters' training program did not include drills or formations. It consisted only of simple weapons handling training, along with some tactical training he had summarized for dealing with wild animals.

With the old hunter gone, Winters had originally planned to have the militia patrol the woodlands near the village once a week.

However, considering that patrolling and standing guard required the most perseverance, the militiamen would certainly not be able to persist in the long run. Therefore, he could only instruct the militiamen who went into the mountains to collect firewood to pay more attention to the situation in the forest.

Preparations for the security guard went much more smoothly, as Winters unexpectedly discovered that money was not an issue at all.

Although Langtun Town has a permanent population of less than ten, it is procedurally a "town". Therefore, after the merger of villages into a town, 20% of the annual tax revenue will be used as the town government's financial expenditure.

And the mayor of Wolftown was remarkably incorruptible; Winters had never met a public official as honest as Gerard Mitchell in his entire life.

Mayor Mitchell ate at his own home, lived at his own home, rode his own horse, and fed his own horse. Even his clerk was Panwitch, the butler who came with Mrs. Mitchell when she married.

Apart from hiring farmers from several surrounding villages to repair the dirt roads in the winter, Girard had no other expenses during his more than ten years as mayor.

Oh, except for one recent expense—paying Brother Rhett's scribes' salaries.

Pan Weiqie, the steward, scribe, and accountant, kept the accounts very neat, making the use of town government funds and surpluses clear at a glance.

The surplus accumulated over the years amounted to a sum of money, more than enough to purchase a small armory. Winters didn't intend to make the security guard too large; even a ten-man squad seemed a bit too much to him.

[Note: A full team of ten only has eight members; "team of ten" is a common term.]
Moreover, as a "tax collector," Mayor Mitchell theoretically has the power to levy an additional "security tax" on the people of Wolftown.

However, given Wolf Town's sound financial situation, there is no need to resort to such a desperate measure for the time being.

After Winters and the village chiefs of the five villages discussed the matter and reached an understanding, the matter of the Wolftown security guard was quickly settled.

Wolftown comprises five villages, and Winters will select one person from each village to serve as a part-time guard.

Part-time guards also receive a salary; they do not take time off work and only provide service when needed, such as helping to maintain order on Sundays.

On weekdays, the part-time guards still live in their villages like other farmers, and are responsible for the daily security of each village.

Winters will also select a few more people as full-time guards, and the selection of full-time guards will not be limited to a certain village; Winters can decide on the matter at a moment's notice.

The total number of guards, including both full-time and part-time personnel, does not exceed one team of ten [eight people], that is, a maximum of three full-time guards.

Just like the old charlatan said: Everyone was dissatisfied, but everyone could still accept it. So in the end, no one opposed Winters.

Winters actually felt that three full-time guards were a bit too many, since he usually stayed at the town hall. With a spellcaster officer in charge, there was practically no need for any guards; Lieutenant Montagne could handle everything by himself.

Even considering that he might return to Veneta someday, one or two full-time guards in the town would suffice, and Winters already had a very suitable candidate.

……

"Me? You want me to go to town as a guard?" Young stable boy Anglu's eyes widened, the bruises on his face still fresh. The boy, his voice hoarse, cried out, "Sir, you're kidding me!"

“I’m not joking.” Winters patted the young stable boy on the shoulder. “You can’t stay a stable boy forever, can you? Being a guard won’t stop you from getting your land. You can work in town until you’re twenty, and you can continue working after your first term of service. I’ve talked to Mayor Mitchell, and he’ll keep this position for you.”

Winters had always liked the young stable boy who knew horses so well, because the boy always reminded him of Bard. Not to mention that the stable boy had saved his life during the bear hunt, which made him want to find an opportunity to express his gratitude.

Anglu looked down at his toes and hummed softly, "Actually...actually, I just like being a horse herder."

"Huh?" Winters asked, puzzled. "Why?"

According to Brother Red, the status of horse grooms in Dusa society was not high. Most of the time, it was Dusa men who had been punished or who were unable to fight who were assigned to be horse grooms.

“Because being a horseman means I can ride horses whenever I want, and I’m happy enough just being able to ride a horse,” Angru muttered softly. “I don’t have my own warhorse, and if I don’t become a horseman, I won’t be able to ride a horse, so I don’t want to go to town to be a guard.”

Winters laughed: "Kid, being able to ride a horse is enough?"

"That's enough," the young horseman shrugged.

Winters thought for a moment and decided to try a different approach to persuade the young stable boy: "You Dusaks are required to provide your own warhorses for your service, right?"

“When you’re on duty, your superiors will give you a sum of money to buy a horse,” Anglu replied softly.

"Is that enough money to buy warhorses?"

Anglu lowered his head, his voice even softer: "Not enough."

"Then what will you do? You have no warhorse, no equipment, you can't go..." Winters paused, "...to serve. Will you still receive your land grant?"

Anglu stopped talking. The boy, still immature, was almost brought to tears by those few words.

Winters pressed his advantage, saying, "You won't get paid to be a stable boy, but you'll get a salary working in town. You can save your salary while working in town, although you can't ride horses freely for the time being. But when you turn twenty, the money you've saved, plus the money they give you to buy a horse, should be enough to buy a warhorse, and then you can go to work. After your first term of service, you'll receive your land grant, and then you'll be a true Dussac, with your own land, warhorse, and family..."

Anglu burst into tears and nodded in agreement to go to town to "work".

"Why are you crying, kid?" Winters ruffled the young horseman's hair helplessly. "It's not like I'm going to forbid you from riding anymore. I can lend you Redmane."

“My mother…” Anglu sobbed, “…when my mother passed away, she was hoping that I would become Dusak. I originally thought that I would never become Dusak in this lifetime…”

Winters was also a little sad. He patted the young stable boy on the shoulder but didn't say anything.

“And…Sir…” Anglu wiped away his tears forcefully, “Don’t overwork Rerik, take good care of it. With Teleqing gone, Rerik will be the only stallion for the village’s horses next year…but you don’t cherish it at all…”

“I don’t care about Redmane…” Winters was so angry that he laughed and slapped the young horseman on the head: “Then Redmane will be yours to take care of from now on. When you get to town, you’ll be in charge of feeding my horses!”

Winters only planned to place two full-time guards in the town. The young horseman Anglu took one position, and he had already decided on the other person long ago.

Little hunter Bell was brought to town by Winters from the cabin in the woods and became the second official guard of the Wolftown town guard.

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(End of this chapter)