Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 260 Church
This was the morning of the fourth day since Winters returned to Wolftown, a Sunday morning.

Winters strolled leisurely through the town, occasionally picking up a nail or two from the scorched earth.

People on their way to Mass waved and greeted the resident official from a distance, and Winters also greeted his fellow villagers.

In the early days when villages were merged to form a town, the town center of Wolf Town had only a church besides the town hall—to be precise, the church existed before the town center.

The vast majority of people in Wolf Town make a living by farming, with the few handicrafts scattered throughout the villages.

It took Girard all his efforts to transform Wolf Town into the place Winters first saw it in.

For example, the blacksmith's workshop—Girard had to get Misha unconscious several times before he finally convinced his old friend to move the workshop from Dusa village to the town center.

Fate played a cruel trick on them. The people of Wolf Town had worked hard for thirty years, only to be completely destroyed by a war.

Fortunately, Winters returned and rebuilt it himself.

Then came another round of war, and Winters' hard work was reduced to ashes...

However, as the proverb goes: "Don't spit in the well, or one day you'll drink from it."

Currently, the main people responsible for the destruction of Wolf Town are in labor camps weaving baskets to atone for their sins, and the town that Winters loved has been revitalized.

Flames leaped from the cold forge, and the clanging sounds of metalworking echoed from the blacksmith's shop once more. The key components and blueprints were still there, so the sawmill quickly resumed production.

The prison rose from the ruins of the military camp—there was no reason to abandon the hard-won, level ground.

Samkin learned how to do things from Winters, and he did it very well.

Father Kaman was probably a little unhappy because his church, which had just been rebuilt, was burned to the ground again.

Logically speaking, burning it wouldn't be a big deal; we could just rebuild. Wolf Town has the tools, manpower, and wood; burning it would be a good opportunity to build something even more beautiful.

The problem is that Kaman is a formally ordained Catholic clergyman, while Samukin... Samukin is a Protestant.

Therefore, Samukin was able to objectively and calmly assess the importance of the Wolf Town Church—undoubtedly ranked last on the reconstruction list, and frequently having to be pushed ahead of others.

Samukin built a shed without walls for Father Kaman, which served as a temporary place for the Catholics to hold ceremonies.

Kaman did not come to Winters to demand an explanation, and Winters did not apologize or explain to Kaman.

Upon returning to Wolftown, Winters immediately sent men to escort the potter brothers, Sean and his brother, to Ghevorden. He spent the remaining days mostly at Mitchell Manor.

Kaman ignored Winters, but Mrs. Mitchell was delighted that Winters was back.

Winters chatted with Mrs. Mitchell, mainly about Pierre and Scarlett: Pierre's experiences in the wasteland? What has Scarlett been up to lately?
We also chatted from time to time about the latest developments in the United Provinces and Venetia, as well as interesting stories, customs, and local conditions in the Tanilla Islands.

When Winters and Kaman first met, Kaman always had a gentle smile on her lips, while Winters always seemed impatient and didn't bother with her.

Now their relationship is completely reversed: Kaman is extremely anxious every time she sees Winters, to the point of being irritable; Winters, on the other hand, greets the priest with a smile.

But Winters never once said, "Come with me to Gervodan."

The sound of bells rang out from the old church site, announcing that the ceremony was about to begin.

Winters went back to the labor camp when he heard the bell, and Samukin was waiting at the door.

"Have the prisoners been assembled?" Winters asked with a smile.

“Everything is ready.” Samukin saluted.

“Not bad.” Winters handed the nail to Samukin. “If it’s still usable, why not recycle it?”

Samukin was both amused and exasperated. The Blood Wolf had been digging through the soil for ages, only to find out it was just collecting scraps.

Samukin suppressed a laugh and replied seriously, "Yes, I'll arrange for someone to pick them up right away."

"Never mind," Winters sighed. "I've been looking all morning; I think I've found everything."

On the other side, Father Kaman, seeing that the congregation had almost all arrived, began to preside over the ceremony of entering the altar.

Kaman wore a long white robe underneath a dark green velvet embroidered shawl, with a sacred sash wrapped around his neck and hanging down to his chest, looking holy and solemn.

He gestured with his hand and was about to speak when he saw Winters happily walk into the "teaching shed".

Kaman took a deep breath and continued to preside over the ceremony.

The next moment, the words he was about to utter were choked back by shouts of "Right! Left! Right..."

The prisoners marched out of the labor camp in columns, row upon row, like a long snake crawling towards the new church site. They walked all the way to the outside of the wooden shed and, guided by the guards' commands, sat down on the ground one by one.

The old believers in Wolf Town were confused and even somewhat panicked, looking around frantically.

Even with his excellent self-control, Kaman couldn't take it anymore.

He stormed up to Winters, gritting his teeth, and asked, "What exactly do you want?"

Winters sat in the first row of this simple tutelage and answered with dignity, "Attend Mass."

"You're a magician, what are you looking at?!" Kaman's face turned red.

"Keep your voice down," Winters scolded. "It's not good for the congregation to hear you swearing."

“Winters Montagne! You think you're so great just because you're a magician that I can't handle you?! Is that it?” Kaman gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and his cheeks twitched. “You think you can keep testing my limits of patience, don't you?”

“Not because I’m a spellcaster,” Winters put his arm around Kaman’s shoulder, “but because we’re friends.”

Kaman slapped Winters' arm away hard: "I'm not your friend!"

“But I’m your friend!” Winters tried his best to put on his most sincere smile.

"What exactly do you want?!" Kaman was nearly driven mad.

"You really want to know?"

"Say!"

“I want to pardon most of the prisoners in the labor camps,” Winters replied solemnly. “Before announcing the pardon, I want to let them attend a Mass and give them some religious admonition so that they will not do bad things again in the future.”

"That's all?" Kaman felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

"that's it."

"Is that all?"

“That’s all,” Winters told the truth. “There was absolutely no other purpose in bringing prisoners.”

Kaman turned away with a cold laugh, returning to the altar with a mixture of belief and doubt.

After presiding over the preceding ceremonies, it was finally time for the sermon. Kaman sighed, put down his prepared sermon, and began to recount to the congregation the "Call of St. Matthew".

"[I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance]..." In response to the unexpected circumstances of the day, Kaman preached the doctrines of new life, repentance, and salvation.

The green ceremonial robe he wore also happened to symbolize "hope and rebirth".

Winters listened intently and observed carefully. But he wasn't listening to the content, he was listening to the sounds; he wasn't observing the altar, he was observing Kaman's expression.

The shed, which had no walls on any side, had very poor sound absorption, and the prisoners were sitting outside the shed, sometimes dozens of meters away.

Kaman had to preach in a very loud voice so that the believers in the back rows could hear him clearly.

Kaman’s voice was indeed loud, clear, sacred, and solemn, and even the prisoners sitting at the very back listened attentively.

However, as a seasoned speaker, Winters is certain that this level of vocal power is not something that can be easily produced by human effort; it would require at least a flushed face, a hoarse voice, and shouting at the top of one's lungs.

Therefore, Winters concluded that Kaman must be using a kind of divine magic to preach, similar to [amplification]; or conversely, that divine magic can also achieve the effect of [amplification].

Winters even wanted to write down the discovery on the spot, and he had to exert a great deal of effort to restrain the urge to reach for his notebook with his right hand.

And so, the ceremony proceeded smoothly.

When receiving Holy Communion, Winters walked to the altar with a smile, unlike in the past when he deliberately avoided it.

Winters now understood perfectly—there was no need to deliberately adopt the posture of a spellcaster, as that would only make him look inferior; he would eat and drink as he pleased, treating it as if he were just enjoying free cookies.

However, when Kaman saw Winters come to receive communion, he deliberately gave Winters a piece of unblessed bread and refused to let Winters drink the "holy blood." He casually dismissed Winters, leaving Winters feeling quite wronged.

After the ceremony, Winters had the prisoners line up in an open space, while the Wolf Town cultists watched from a short distance away.

The Platut had a tradition of enslaving prisoners of war—slavery doesn't really deserve to be called a tradition, as all the ancient states recorded in the epics kept slaves. It's just that while others gradually abandoned slavery, the Platut continued it.

From a practical standpoint, it's understandable that the Parat people enslaved the Had. They wanted to weaken the Had tribes, but they couldn't simply "relocate the barbarians to their side," so killing only men wasn't very meaningful; women and children were the key.

However, the Paratites were equally ruthless towards each other. In the past, when Paratite nobles fought private wars, prisoners of war who couldn't afford to buy their freedom were either made serfs or sold overseas. Before the rise of the wool textile industry, slaves were the Paratites' main export commodity.

So, although Winters' prisoners were unwilling, they accepted their forced labor to some extent—after all, they weren't sold overseas, so it wasn't too bad.

When all the prisoners who were about to be pardoned had arrived, Winters stood on the platform made of carriages and loudly questioned them: "Do you recognize me?"

His gaze swept across the crowd, and the prisoners all lowered their heads, none daring to meet his eyes or answer him.

Who doesn't know Blood Wolf? It was Blood Wolf who brought them here.

"Do you know why I treat you like slaves?"

Still, no one dared to speak.

Winters paused for a moment, then answered for the prisoners: "Because you lost the battle, right?"

These words struck a chord with the prisoners, most of whom were members of the grain requisition teams ambushed later. Most of the prisoners from the earlier ambushes were released after screening. "Completely wrong! You worked because you deserved to starve if you didn't! You stand here not because you lost the battle!" Winters roared. "Raise your heads, look at me! You stand here because you forcibly seized grain from the people! You forced them to starve! If we don't punish you, only you will survive, and everyone else will starve!"

The vast majority of prisoners looked bewildered and confused.

How many people can understand this logic? Winters doesn't know; perhaps the logic of "losing a battle makes you a slave" is more easily accepted.

Winters sighed inwardly. Big Benting had escaped with his life today. Budd was firmly against a public trial for Big Benting, because as long as Winters remained in the garrison's guise, he had no legitimate reason to try the "dutiful mayor of Benting."

Where exactly does the legitimacy of the regime he seeks to establish lie? Divine mandate? Force? Popular will? These are questions Winters has to ponder deeply.

But Winters isn't here today to hold a meeting with the prisoners.

"Among the enemies I captured, those who committed serious crimes such as murder and rape during the grain requisition process," Winters pointed to the gallows outside the labor camp, his voice sending chills down the spines of all the prisoners: "have all paid the price."

"Among the enemies I have captured, those who committed minor offenses such as assault during the requisition of grain," Winters declared without question, "will continue to serve their sentences."

"You're the only ones left! You mediocre villains are left! I'm giving you a chance to regain your freedom, I'm giving you a chance to return to your families."

Winters waved his hand, and Samukin led his men to bring out a brazier containing six branding irons.

“But you only get one chance!” Winters pointed to the brazier, his voice cold and authoritative: “Those who want it, come forward.”

The prisoners looked at each other, none of them daring to move.

Samukin strode up to a thin prisoner in the first row: "You! Do you want to go home?"

"Me?" The prisoner swallowed hard in alarm, stammering timidly, "Yes."

Samukin dragged the prisoner back to the brazier and took out a branding iron. The tip of the iron was shaped like a holy emblem and was already red-hot.

"Tear off his shirt," Samukin coldly ordered his men.

Two strong guards immediately pinned the prisoner down, and a third guard tore open the latter's shirt.

Samukin made his move without any expression.

The branding iron was mercilessly pressed against the prisoner's left chest; those nearby could hear a sizzling sound, like fat hitting a hot pan. The prisoner's screams were unbearable to hear, and the onlookers from Wolf Town instinctively looked away.

Samukin did not intend to kill the prisoner, so he only touched him for about a second before removing the branding iron. A holy emblem was left on the prisoner's left chest.

The guards dragged the prisoner to the side and applied a burn ointment made of turpentine, egg yolk, and rose oil to him.

“You only get one chance.” Samukin, on behalf of his centurion, issued the most honest threat to the prisoners: “If you dare to pick up a weapon again, what awaits you is the sword thrust into the holy emblem! Anyone who doesn’t want to go back to serve their sentence! Next!”

The prisoners wavered, but none of them dared to step forward.

Then a man came from the back row—the prisoner Ivan stepped out of the line and stood tremblingly by the brazier.

He refused to be restrained by others, and instead swore an oath before the branding iron, then exposed his chest and closed his eyes, waiting for Samukin to make his move.

Samukin nodded without saying anything, and released his hand after only about half a second of burning.

"Do the same as him!" Samukin pointed at another prisoner in the front row and ordered, "You, next!"

With Samukin around, Winters didn't have to do everything himself, which saved him a lot of trouble. He got off the carriage and saw Kaman, who had changed out of his priestly robes and into everyday clothes, walking towards him.

"What are you doing?" Kaman asked, frowning.

"I'm leaving a souvenir for the prisoners, hoping they'll remember this next time they want to point a sword at me. I can't just let them go, can I?" Winters answered honestly, and said with a smile, "I even specially chose a symbol that everyone likes."

Not far away, prisoners swore oaths, were branded, and were finally taken aside to be treated. Screams echoed one after another, and the air was filled with the nauseating smell of roasted meat.

A widely beloved symbol? Kaman was puzzled, then he saw the holy emblem branding on the prisoners' bodies.

He was first angry, then helpless, and finally let out a deep sigh.

“You’re no longer letting them be slaves, which is a good thing no matter what.” Kaman looked at the prisoners in the open space and consoled himself, “This holy emblem is very appropriate here.”

“I thought you were going to fight me,” Winters said with a hint of regret.

Kaman gave a disdainful snort.

"Do you want to know how I became the protector of the Seven Towns?" Winters suddenly asked casually.

"Do not want to know."

“It’s alright, I agree to tell you,” Winters said casually. “I ambushed the grain requisition teams and brought the prisoners back to the villages for the villagers to identify. Which ones had killed, committed arson, and abused women? Which ones had stolen and injured people? It was originally a clumsy way of identifying prisoners, but after doing it so many times, I became the protector of seven towns. So the seven towns south of the St. George River were willing to support me, while the eight towns to the north were only half-hearted towards me. That’s how it is.”

Kaman sighed deeply again. He looked directly into Winters' eyes, as if trying to see into Winters' heart, and Winters met his gaze without flinching.

“Mr. Montagne, I respect you, and I know you are a good man,” Kaman told Winters solemnly and earnestly. “But I have sworn an oath of secrecy, and I will not tell you any secrets about divine magic. Even without the oath, I am unwilling to tell you. You should not try to find out, because this is not a realm you can touch. I hope you understand.”

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Winters retorted with a smile. "I didn't ask you anything! Did I ask you anything? Not even a single question, right?"

"Stop pretending." Kaman became irritable again. "You might as well just ask me directly, so I can refuse you directly. Didn't you go back to Wolf Town to pry the secrets of divine magic out of me? Let me tell you, it's impossible! You won't get anything about divine magic from me!"

"I am indeed very curious about the principles of divine magic. But I really came back to Wolf Town to pick up Brother Sean, the potter!" Winters cried out in protest.

He composed himself, speaking solemnly and seriously: "I know you don't believe me. I swear on my parents' graves, I will never ask you about any secrets of divine magic—without your permission. How about that?"

"Without my permission?" Kaman scoffed.

"Maybe one day you'll tell me willingly?" Winters said with a smile.

“I can tell you right now,” Kaman said, surprising everyone.

"I do not believe."

“Divine magic comes from devout faith in the one true Savior. It doesn’t belong to me; it is the Lord who performs it through my hands. You wouldn’t understand,” Kaman said coldly to Winters. “You unbeliever want to use divine magic? Convert first.”

"Is that how it is?!" Winters exclaimed excitedly. "I'll convert right now! Teach me!"

Kaman clutched his chest, bent over, and it took him a while to recover.

“You…” Kaman looked at Winters, hesitated, and said with a complicated expression, “You…you’ve changed.”

"It's all thanks to Father Reed's excellent teaching."

“No wonder,” Kaman coughed. “No wonder.”

“Brother Kaman, I’m going back to Zhevodan.” Wintesa held Kaman’s arm and said reluctantly, “Before I leave, let me give you a gift.”

Kaman forcefully shook off Winters' arm: "No need, you just need to leave."

“No, I’ve thought about this gift for a long time before I decided on it.” Winters blinked. “I’ll give you a cathedral.”

“The Gevordan Cathedral, huh?” Kaman sneered. “You’ve even torn down the emblem of St. Artaud. What else are you incapable of doing?”

“You’re really wronging me.” Winters was first surprised, then extremely aggrieved. He retorted, “Wasn’t it my men who saved the Gevodan Cathedral from being looted and set on fire by thugs? Weren’t my men the ones who recovered the lost relics?”

His words struck Kaman like cannonballs: "Do you know how desperate for money I am right now? It's only because of you that I haven't melted down those gold and silver relics from the Jevodan Church! The emblem of St. Artaud is in Bard's hands, but that's just a loan, with an IOU! It's for charity! I came to Wolf Town this time to take the emblem of St. Artaud back with me!"

“Father Kaman, we’ve been through thick and thin together. How could you make such a serious accusation against me without any investigation?” Winters clutched his collar in anguish. “I’m so heartbroken!”

"You didn't destroy the Zhevodan Cathedral?"

"no!"

"You didn't take any of the property from the Gevordan Cathedral?"

"no!"

"You didn't harm any clergy?"

“No!” Winters added, “Although the bishop died, it was because he panicked and ran to the roof for refuge, and accidentally fell off. I didn’t kill him, nor did my men kill him.”

Kaman stood there for a long time before finally managing to say, "I'm sorry..."

“It’s alright, I’m more than happy to forgive you.” Winters laughed and put his arm around Kaman’s shoulder. “Although the church in Wolftown was destroyed, I got a bigger one. What do you think? Not bad, right?”

“Not good at all.” Kaman slapped Winters’ arm away again and coldly retorted, “The church is the property of the church, not your gift. How can you accept the position of bishop in private? Besides, Wolf Town is my diocese. How can I leave it so easily? What will happen to the believers of Wolf Town if I leave?”

“Send another one from Gevodan,” Winters said dismissively. “As for the position of Bishop of Gevodan… I’m in charge of Gevodan right now, and I can recommend you.”

“Oh? Mr. Montagne. So you’re not the garrison commander of Wolf Town, but our Pope?” Kaman retorted angrily. “You think you can just elect someone like that? You think you have the final say?”

“Alright. I won’t force you to accept this gift.” Winters patted Kaman on the shoulder regretfully. “I’m going back to Gervodan today.”

Kaman sneered and waved his hand dismissively.

Winters nodded in acknowledgment and walked away without looking back.

Kaman watched Winters's retreating figure until the latter rode away and disappeared from sight, only then realizing with surprise that Winters was really gone.

After a while, Charles ran over: "Father Kaman!"

"I knew it wasn't over yet!" Kaman was both angry and amused. "What now?"

“My brother told me to tell you that Mrs. Mitchell is also going to Ghevodan with us. She’s leaving today.”

A mouthful of blood welled up in Kaman's throat: "What?! Why didn't anyone tell me this?"

“My brother said that if that’s how you ask, then this is how I should answer you.” Charles cleared his throat, mimicking Winters’s bewildered tone: “Who are you? Why should I tell you?”

[Thank you to all readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments.]
[The legitimacy of his rule is an issue Winters cannot avoid; it will be briefly mentioned in this chapter and discussed in more detail later.]
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(End of this chapter)