Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 230 Gully
In the Mitchell family's living room, Winters changed into his tattered lumberjack clothes and asked earnestly, "How do I look? Like a refugee fleeing famine?"

Anna smiled and shook her head.

"How long has it been since you washed this outfit?" Catherine asked, wrinkling her nose as she leaned back in her recliner.

Mrs. Mitchell entered the living room carrying a set of crystal-clear teacups.

When Catherine saw Mrs. Mitchell approaching, she immediately abandoned her casual demeanor, sat up straight, and politely accepted the teacup—like a mouse before a big cat.

The same goes for Lieutenant Juan.

Juan took the teacup with both hands and sneered at his junior, "Come on! If refugees fleeing famine had your physique, I'd pack my bags and flee too."

Juan's words were sharp and sarcastic, and Anna and Catherine covered their mouths and chuckled. Even Mrs. Mitchell couldn't help but show a smile.

Winters was neither fat nor thin; his body was well-proportioned and sturdy from years of physical labor, and he did not look like a refugee who sometimes went hungry and sometimes full.

"Then should I pretend to be a mercenary? A guard? A bodyguard?" Winters frowned slightly. "Kaman said that the checks in Theodore are very strict. There are only soldiers and disaster victims there. Other identities are easy to be suspected."

“You are you,” Anna whispered.

Winters seemed to be deep in thought.

"Yeah, what are you still thinking about?" Senior Juan scolded him with exasperation, "You're an officer, why are you pretending to be a refugee? Just wear your uniform, ride a tall horse, and enter the city openly and honestly. Who would dare to suspect you?"

Winters had used this method before; he once walked into Kingsburg through the main gate while wearing his uniform.

However, using this tactic in Ghevodan is a bit risky. There are many officers coming and going from Kingsburg, while Ghevodan only has a few regular officers, all of whom are familiar faces.

“However, we’ll see how things go then.” Winters thought to himself, his furrowed brow relaxing. “Then I’ll bring my uniform.”

The garrison at Zhevodan could not possibly be unaware of where their military police had gone.

From the moment the Wolf Town militia intercepted the military police scouts, it was only a matter of time before they were exposed to the gaze of Zhevodan.

Therefore, he must go to Zhevodan as soon as possible.

The time spent together was always too short. Winters had just met Anna in the morning and had to leave again in the afternoon.

As they were seeing each other off, Juan sighed and asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Don't worry, I brought guards." Winters smiled and shook his head.

"True," Juan scoffed. "With your abilities, you wouldn't need me."

Winters was struggling to keep up: "Senior...that's not what I meant."

Juan patted Winters's horse, his expression unusually serious, and said, "Listen carefully, be careful in everything. Don't let things go wrong and you die in Zhevodan. I went through so much trouble to find you alive, I don't want to bring a corpse back to Hailan."

"Do not worry."

"Get lost, don't waste my time."

Winters looked at Anna, Pierre, Mrs. Mitchell, and everyone else who had come to see him off… Scarlett was there too, her eyes red and swollen.

He nodded to each of them, then gently spurred his horse and rode away.

His figure grew smaller and smaller until it crossed a hillside and disappeared from sight.

……

For the Navarre sisters, the initial excitement of arriving in Wolftown dissipated in less than three days—similar to Winters' experience.

The vast and magnificent scenery quickly becomes tiresome, leaving only the endless horizon and the monotonous daily life.

Rural life is tough and busy. Women in farming families have to work like men, and underage girls also have to gather firewood, fetch water, pull weeds, and do whatever they can.

Life in the plantation owners' family was equally dull and monotonous, as all the hired laborers had left, and the women of the Mitchell family had to work in the fields like the men.

So nowadays, Mitchell Estate has only two forms of entertainment: housework and needlework.

Even in the "good old days," life on newly established plantations was a far cry from the vibrant and colorful sea.

For the manor owners of Wolf Town, the only spice in their daily lives is the banquet.

In the past, each estate would take turns hosting parties, where people would enjoy delicious food, drinks, gossip, and dancing.

This was the only opportunity for the ladies and young women to leave the manor, aside from going to church.

At other times, the manor owner's wife and daughters should not leave the house.

But now, no one holds banquets anymore because everyone is having a hard time.

The plantation owners with connections in Ghevodan had already fled Wolf Town to seek refuge with relatives and friends.

Several manor houses are now empty, occupied by wild foxes and birds.

The manor owners who remained in Wolf Town did so either because they had nowhere else to go, or because they had a deep attachment to the land and were unwilling to leave their homes.

In comparison, ordinary self-sufficient farming families might have an easier life than landowners—but only in comparison.

Nevertheless, Ellen did not hesitate to bring out the best of her home to entertain the two Miss Navarre.

However, it was still too rough for the two pampered ladies.

“How are we supposed to eat this stuff?” Catherine complained to her sister every night in bed. “I just can’t swallow it. I know we’re not at home, and there’s no professional chef. But couldn’t they at least sift out the husks from the flour?”

In contrast to Scarlett, who scrubbed her plates clean every day, Catherine always left a lot of food uneaten at each meal.

It could be said that Miss Catherine Navarre now lives entirely on the candy and biscuits brought from Hailan.

Although Anna also ate very little, she always gently hugged her sister and tried to comfort her: "Mrs. Mitchell has been very kind and generous. They are having a hard time right now, and you are a cultured lady who should be more understanding."

In fact, Miss Navarre was also very uncomfortable, but she was naturally unwilling to complain and always silently endured it.

Furthermore, given that Catherine had already shown her immaturity, Anna naturally stepped into the role of the "more mature older sister."

Catherine grabbed her sister's hand and said coquettishly, "I'm not complaining about Mrs. Mitchell. Mrs. Mitchell is very good. I can't find many ladies with more charm than her. But... you know, she's just hard to swallow."

"Just bear with it."

“Oh, and that little Mitchell girl too.” Catherine changed her mind at the last minute, because Anna now strictly forbade her sister from using the words “little slut” and “little bitch”: “She practically eats the whole plate at every meal, she has no manners whatsoever. How can an unmarried lady finish all the food on her plate? That’s a privilege reserved for married ladies!”

Anna rested her cheek on her sister's shoulder: "I think Ms. Little Cher is very easygoing, genuine, and unpretentious, which is great."

Hearing this, Catherine angrily pushed her sister away: "Go away, don't hug me, go find that little slut to be your sister!"

"Alright! Don't use that word—" Anna had to adopt the older sister's tone: "Besides, you're not that much older than her, are you?"

Although Catherine always referred to Scarlett as "younger," she was actually only one year older than Scarlett.

Catherine was sixteen, Scarlett was fifteen, and Anna was four months shy of her nineteenth birthday.

In Hailan, ladies become mistresses at the age of sixteen, while Miss Navarre is about to enter the ranks of old maids.

Rumors circulated quietly in the living room, banquet hall, and small garden, while Madame Navarre's old rivals—also ladies—were gleefully waiting to see her make a fool of herself.

This is also why Mrs. Navarre has been sighing and lamenting every day for the past two years, suffering from insomnia, and hating Winters to the core.

“Mr. M left so easily, riding off to town and leaving the two of us here,” Catherine said, turning her attention back to the man.

She bit her sister's finger and said, "It's okay if the food isn't good. The bed is as hard as a rock, and my bones ache from sleeping on it, but I can still endure it. It's just so boring here, even more boring than the monastery. I'm about to suffocate. Today I spent the whole day counting the leaves on that big tree outside."

Even Anna was speechless. She sighed softly, for she felt the same way.

Compared to material deprivation, spiritual emptiness is even more unbearable.

Mrs. Mitchell would certainly not have the two "Ladies of the Blue" do farm work in the fields, nor would she have arranged for the guests to do housework.

In this situation, Anna and Catherine had almost nothing to do at Mitchell Manor, while everyone else was very busy.

Scarlett had to go out every day to herd cattle and sheep, and also cut hay for the horses.

There's no fine feed available for the horses right now, so we can only keep them from exercising and feed them mostly boiled hay and water—because they haven't fully adapted to roughage yet.

Catherine, curious and competitive, also went with Scarlett for a day.

When she returned home that evening, Ms. Navarre collapsed onto her bed and refused to get out of bed the next day.

To pass the time, Anna tried to learn embroidery from Mrs. Mitchell.

By the end of the day, Anna's fingers were covered in blood spots from the pricking. Even Ellen couldn't bear to let her continue, but she persisted.

As for Catherine? From a young age, whatever her sister had, Catherine wanted too, so naturally she wanted to learn embroidery as well.

But after being pricked twice, Catherine started to act spoiled. She continued to circle around her sister with her sewing basket, not actually using a needle, but just chatting to distract her.

Watching the Navarre sisters' performance, the meaning of the term "[Lady Ocean Blue]" was rapidly changing from "a beautiful young lady from a prestigious family" to "a good-for-nothing who can't do anything" in the mouths of the only remaining maids in the Mitchell household.

Needlework was a compulsory course for all women, regardless of their social status; even the women of noble families had to learn it.

However, Madame Navarre never forced her daughters to learn needlework, because she had higher expectations for them.

When Anna got to Mrs. Mitchell, she started to "catch up" on her lessons.

Compared to the Navarre sisters, who couldn't even leave their estate, Don Juan's life was relatively comfortable.

He's a man, after all; it's convenient for him to go anywhere.

So Lieutenant Juan spent most of his time in the barracks. When he got really bored, he would take his men out hunting.

The newly reclaimed lands are vast forests and rich in natural resources. Don Juan had very few opportunities to hunt in Vinetta each year, so he had a great time in the new reclaimed lands.

Rabbits, roe deer, gazelles, elk... Lieutenant Juan's prey is getting bigger and bigger. He's only been in Wolf Town for a few days, but he's already thinking about hunting bears.

Upon seeing the remains of a giant bear and lion in the basement of Mitchell Estate, Don Juan's competitive spirit was also aroused.

Lieutenant Juan's passion for hunting saved Pierre a lot of trouble.

Lieutenant Juan brought twelve light cavalrymen, whose presence, along with their horses, placed an even heavier burden on the militia's already meager food reserves.

Nowadays, Don Juan goes out hunting before dawn and doesn't return until nightfall, which is a way of indirectly participating in production, reducing the amount of sweat on Pierre's forehead.

Until August 11th, the second Sunday of August.

The Navarre sisters were finally able to leave Mitchell Estate and relax.

Since the church in Wolftown has been renovated, Father Carman will resume weekly Mass, and attending the service is one of only two reasons why the ladies should leave the manor.

Early in the morning, Allen led everyone to the town center in a horse-drawn carriage.

As soon as she left Mitchell Estate, Catherine felt her breathing become easier. Like a cheerful little bird, she chattered and laughed with Mrs. Mitchell and her sister.

The old Christians from Wolf Town all came; people from Dusa Village, East River Village, and West River Village came to attend Mass.

This is the first time so many people have gathered in the town center since the church was destroyed.

People greeted each other happily, and the usually quiet streets became unusually lively.

The church was simply four wooden walls with a wooden roof, much simpler than the old Wolf Town Church.

But the people who come here are very proud because they also contributed to the reconstruction of the church.

Father Kaman visited every Catholic family in Wolf Town, persuading them to provide some food to fund the reconstruction of the church.

This is what Kaman meant when he told Winters, "I won't let you work for nothing."

The persuasion process was very similar to the sale of indulgences, both using the promise of posthumous benefits to persuade believers to give while they were still alive. No one was willing to be forced to hand over grain, but to rebuild the church, the Old Catholics happily dug up grain buried in the cellar.

The food collected by Father Kaman greatly alleviated the militia's urgent needs.

What Gévordan couldn't do, and what Winters couldn't do, Kaman did.

Fortunately, Winters wasn't in Wolf Town at the moment, otherwise who knows what scathing comments he would have made.

Wolf Town Church has changed a lot. Father Anthony is gone, and the gold and silver ritual vessels are gone too, but Father Kaman is still here.

Under Father Kaman's supervision, the ceremony proceeded smoothly.

In the past, it was Father Anthony who preached, but this time Father Kaman stood at the pulpit.

Kaman's sermons were simple: he encouraged people not to give up hope or their faith during difficult times, saying, "Persist and you will be saved."

Sitting in the front row of the church, Catherine was somewhat disappointed. She quietly asked Anna, "Is this all?"

Anna listened attentively and prayed silently, ignoring her sister.

Catherine looked around, her disappointment growing stronger.

Compared to the magnificent cathedral, the resplendent temple, the exquisite stained glass windows and murals, the elegantly dressed clergy, the choir and organ, and the grand and solemn Mass ceremony, the sea blue is a different story.

The little church in Wolf Town was so shabby, pitifully shabby.

After the ceremony, the crowd gradually dispersed.

In the past, every Sunday was a small gathering in Wolf Town, and the men would line up to practice archery.

However, no one is taking care of these matters now, and the resident official in Montagne is not here either.

After receiving communion, everyone chatted for a while outside the church before heading home.

“Let’s go, Kate,” Anna said, taking her sister’s hand.

Catherine sighed, "I thought going to town would be fun, but it turns out it's not that interesting at all."

“I’ve thought of a fun game, one that would be suitable for ladies too,” Ellen said with a smile, linking her arm with Catherine’s. “Miss Navarre, do you know how to play cards?”

Anna and Catherine looked at each other and shook their heads vigorously: "Mom said that dice and cards are the rudest things that soldiers play, and Mom doesn't allow us to gamble."

A nostalgic look appeared in Ellen's eyes, and she smiled and said, "Not entirely. My husband taught me some card rules that are suitable for ladies to play. Would you like to try them? Besides, we don't bet chips, so it's not gambling."

“Okay, please teach us.” Catherine immediately let go of her sister’s hand and clung tightly to Mrs. Mitchell’s arm. The intimacy made Scarlett feel a little jealous.

The ladies of Mitchell Estate returned to their carriages and began their journey home.

Not far from Wolf Town, the surroundings turned into an empty wilderness again.

Only at times like these can one truly feel the desolation and loneliness of newly reclaimed land.

People lived in settlements that were far apart from each other, and that was all.

Catherine was still pestering Mrs. Mitchell to explain the rules of the game, and Anna listened attentively.

Suddenly, everyone heard a "bang" from under the carriage.

Then came several loud "booms," and the carriage shook violently, quickly tilting to one corner.

The ladies in the carriage were terrified; Catherine and Scarlett screamed.

Mrs. Mitchell calmly reassured the two screaming girls, while Anna pursed her lips, tightly gripping her sister's hand. Her face was pale, but she remained silent.

Panwich—Ellen’s old servant from her family home—jumped off the driver’s seat and quickly helped the ladies out of the carriage.

Old Panwiche lay on the ground and looked at it for a while, then got up and explained to Mrs. Mitchell, "Miss, it must be a broken axle."

"Uncle, take the horse off the horse." Allen only had one option at the moment: "Ride it home first, then bring a carriage."

Although they were master and servant, Ellen always called Panwitsch "Uncle," and Panwitsch rarely called her "Madam," but instead called her "Miss," just like Ellen did when they were children.

"Then what will you do if you stay here, miss?"

"Don't worry, it's very safe around here," Allen replied with a smile. "Don't worry about us."

Pan Viche nodded, still somewhat uneasy, but rode away on his horse.

After old Panwich left, only four women remained by the roadside: Ellen, Scarlett, Anna, and Catherine.

Left alone in the desolate wilderness, with only the vast horizon in sight, Catherine suddenly felt a sense of fear.

"Isn't it... dangerous here?" Catherine clung tightly to her sister's arm, asking timidly, "What if there are wolves? Or robbers and bad guys?"

“Wolves? No, wolves rarely appear here. Mr. Montagne and his men wiped them out very well,” Allen gently comforted Catherine.

Scarlett, however, was not afraid at all. With a hint of victory, she proudly told Catherine, "There were no bandits or robbers either, because Mr. Montagne wiped them out completely."

"So there were wolves, and bad people before, right?" Catherine was even more frightened.

“Yes, but Mr. Montagne cleaned it all up,” Scarlett replied matter-of-factly.

"I don't want to stay here anymore, sister." Catherine hugged her sister and cried, "Let's go back to Hailan, it's too dangerous here."

Anna hugged her sister helplessly, smiled apologetically at Mrs. Mitchell and Ms. Mitchell, and gazed thoughtfully at the sky.

"What are you afraid of?" Scarlett found it unbelievable. She pointed to the hillside not far away and said, "Look, aren't there people over there?"

"where?"

"Right there."

Following Scarlett's directions, Anna and Catherine witnessed a strange scene.

Five shirtless men and a very thin cow were moving slowly on the sunny side of the hillside.

"Good heavens!" Catherine turned her head sharply. "Why aren't they dressed?"

Ellen sighed and replied softly, "Clothes need to be mended when they're worn out, but flesh can grow back when it's torn."

"What are they doing?" Anna asked, looking at the five people.

"They are clearing land and plowing the fields."

However, neither of the two Navarre ladies understood what "plowing" meant, so Scarlett had to explain it to them carefully.

Ellen simply explained to Anna and Catherine the ins and outs of "the Montagne resident official distributing wasteland to displaced people for cultivation".

“But today is Sunday,” Catherine asked, puzzled. “Shouldn’t they be working on Sundays? Don’t they get a day off on Sundays?”

Ellen and Scarlett fell silent.

“They,” Anna said softly, “must also have reasons that neither you nor I know or can understand.”

Just like I don't understand why he stays here, Anna thought.

Among the five men plowing the field, there was one old, one middle-aged, and three young.

The middle-aged man, panting heavily, said to the old man at the front, "Dad, let's rest for a while?"

The old man with gray hair stopped and looked back at the thin ox whose nose was dripping water. He said, "Let's rest for a while, let the animal rest for a while."

This old man is the same old man who answered Winters in the town square.

When plowing, the animals should be in front of the plow and the people behind it.

But four of the five men, who were adults, stood in front of the livestock, leaving only a small child, whose strength was not yet fully developed, to hold the plow from behind.

It wasn't because they were stupid, but because they didn't have enough large animals to pull the plow.

The soil of the newly reclaimed land was sticky and heavy. The wasteland, which had not been cultivated for thousands of years, had long since hardened into a solid block, as hard as stone.

It requires large horses and heavy plows to cultivate the land.

Winters didn't have many large livestock to begin with, and he gave them all to the refugees, but it still wasn't enough.

If there aren't enough livestock, then people have to be used as livestock.

"Look! Grandpa!" The young man pointed to the women by the roadside. "There are ladies watching us!"

The old man slapped the young man's arm away, saying, "Don't point at him! And don't stare at him."

The young man turned away sheepishly.

The four men pulling the plow were all drenched in sweat, sitting on the ground panting heavily.

The old man patiently warned his son and grandchildren: "Be careful not to fall. A plow blade can slice off your ankle in one go. If you do fall, fall to the side, never fall into the plow blade."

"How many times have you said it..." The young man who had just been beaten was getting impatient.

Before he could finish speaking, he was slapped by his father again.

The middle-aged man nodded to the old man: "Don't worry, Dad."

Another young man asked, "It's Sunday today, is it really okay if we don't go to church?"

“The Lord won’t blame us.” The old man swallowed. “If we miss the farming season, we’ll all starve next year. Then, no matter how devout we are, it will be useless. The Lord won’t blame us. If he does blame us… we won’t need to believe in him anymore.”

It's already August 11th, and winter wheat needs to be planted in late September or early October. If we miss the planting season, we'll have to wait until next year.

Although Wolf Town has a large area of ​​wasteland, the flattest and best-quality land that can be irrigated has already been purchased and cultivated.

What remains are gentle slopes, distant water, and rocky land—like the land the old man is cultivating with his children and grandchildren.

If the slope of this land were any steeper, it wouldn't even be possible to grow crops.

They had to work hard to move the stones before they could plow the soil, otherwise the stones in the soil could easily damage the plow blades.

But the old man was already content with having such a piece of land.

A new horse-drawn carriage was approaching on the dirt road in the distance.

"You've rested enough, let's get back to work." The old man, supporting himself on his knees, struggled to his feet. "But be very careful with the plowshare!"

The carriage picked up the ladies by the roadside and rumbled away into the distance.

The tow rope tightened once again on the old man's sunken shoulders and thin, bony back.

He moved forward slowly but steadily, step by step.

……

Meanwhile, at the military camp in Ghevodan.

Lieutenant Cellini had a guest.

"Who did you say?" Lieutenant Andrea Cellini's eyes widened.

"Sir," the soldier who came to report repeated, "a lieutenant named Don Juan wants to see you."

[Regarding the history of playing cards: In 1392, King Charles VI of France commissioned Jacques Grenouille to hand-paint a deck of cards. The royal treasurer in charge of the accounts at the time mentioned that there were three decks of cards, printed in "gold and various colors, and with many decorations, for the entertainment of our King." Seventeen of these decks are now on display at the National Library of France.]

However, this does not mean that playing cards originated in France; it only proves that playing cards existed at least as early as the 14th century.
[Today's chapter is also long, with 6587 words.]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)