Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 35 Arriving Home
Later that evening, Winters inexplicably received a small bag of jingling tips from a smiling customs officer, who then pinned a third-class service medal to his chest.

To the strains of a makeshift orchestra playing an off-key march, Winters and Bud carried Major Moritz out of the customs prison on a stretcher.

The heavy prison gate slammed shut behind them with a loud bang, leaving thirty-three warrant officers and a seriously wounded major at the prison gate.

Is the matter settled like this?

So where are we going now?

What about Brigadier General Layton?
The trainee officers stared at each other blankly.

"No matter what, get some carriages first! Get the major back to War Headquarters," Winters loudly suggested. Better to advance than to stop; getting a carriage is better than standing around doing nothing. Surely everyone can take turns carrying the major back to War Headquarters?
His colleagues clearly thought this made sense; if someone was willing to take the lead, things would be easier. Immediately, several quick-thinking individuals went to find a carriage.

"Hey! So why did those customs bastards give us money?" Andrei slapped his thigh hard. "So it's for our taxi fare!"

The anti-smuggling office was located in a very remote area, unlike the docks where drivers were always waiting for fares. The warrant officers managed to flag down two legitimate horse-drawn carriages, and then obtained two mule-drawn carts and a donkey cart carrying hay from a nearby farm.

But when it came time to assign seats, nobody wanted to ride in a donkey cart. At least a mule cart had a small carriage, but this donkey cart was just two wheels on a wooden plank with no shelter at all.

We're all officers, after all. We can't treat a warrant officer like that, can we? It's really embarrassing to ride in this little donkey cart.

"Alright everyone, stop dawdling," Winters said helplessly. "I'll take the major in a donkey cart; the carriage can't fit this stretcher anyway."

The warrant officers excitedly rushed to grab seats, while Major Moritz, still not fully conscious, was unknowingly arranged by Winters and was carried onto the donkey cart in a daze, with Bud following behind.

“You should come along and ride in the carriage too; this donkey cart is really beneath you.” Deep down, Winters, like his contemporaries, also thought riding in a donkey cart was shameful.

But who told him to ask for a car? He has to suffer the consequences of his actions.

“I’m from the United Province.” Bard laughed heartily. “This isn’t my hometown, and nobody in Blue City knows me.”

“Sigh,” Winters sighed deeply, “but this is my hometown.”

---Dividing line---

The guards outside the gate of the Army Headquarters in Venetia saw five animal-drawn carts, four large and one small, parked at the entrance of the military headquarters. Just as they were about to go up and reprimand these ignorant country bumpkin drivers, they saw a large group of young people in officer uniforms magically emerge from the carts one after another.

In this era, shoulder boards and armbands had not yet been invented. Soldiers and officers were identified by the style of their uniforms, while officers and higher-ranking officers were identified by the material and decorations of their uniforms.

Therefore, although the cadets of the Army Officer Cadet School wore summer uniforms, they were actually wearing proper officer uniforms. The guards at Army Headquarters were well-informed and would never mistake them for officers.

The guards dared not delay and immediately sent one of them to report to the headquarters building.

Army Headquarters was thrown into chaos by the sudden return of these junior students. Everyone had a feeling that this matter was not going to end well and that it might lead to another big fight. Some belligerent individuals were already secretly preparing weapons.

No one expected the customs to raise such high a tone, only to back down just as easily. The fact that the customs was so pragmatic as to abandon all pretense of decency shocked the entire Army Headquarters.

Fortunately, the army officers were very efficient and quickly and properly handled the emergency.

Major Moritz was taken in by medical staff.

The warrant officers were taken to complete the registration process and be registered.

After reporting for duty, the warrant officers were divided into two groups. The warrant officers who did not live in Hailan City were taken to the officers' club for resettlement, while the warrant officers from Hailan City went back to their respective homes after completing the reporting process.

Winters and Budd parted ways temporarily, with Budd going to stay at the officers' club. At the fourth intersection outside the Army Headquarters, he and Andrei also said their goodbyes and embarked on their respective journeys home.

Six years have passed, and the city has changed a lot. The uneven old streets have been paved with new stone, and many shops and buildings he remembers have changed their signs. But there are still some things that haven't changed and can serve as road signs.

Winters followed his memory and found his way home.

When he opened the gate and stood in front of the familiar, beautiful, detached two-story stone building, he suddenly felt a sense of panic for no apparent reason.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door knocker.

"Who is it?" A clear female voice came from inside the room.

Although the voice had changed, Winters still recognized it, and a smile appeared on his face: "It's me."

The door opened a crack, and a small head peeked out, a pair of big eyes that looked just like Uncle Winters blinking as they looked at him: "Brother! You're back!"

The door was suddenly pushed open, and the girl rushed out, hanging around Winters' neck. She turned back and shouted into the house, "Mom! My brother's back!"

Winters was once again taken aback by this sudden act of intimacy and was at a loss for words. He awkwardly didn't know how to respond, so he could only gently ruffle the girl's hair.

"Hey, let go of her! Let your brother come inside!" A woman in her thirties with a high nose, deep-set eyes, black hair, phoenix eyebrows, and a dignified demeanor hurriedly came out and pulled the girl off Winters' neck.

She couldn't help but shed tears and stretched out her arms to hug her beloved nephew tightly.

She grabbed Winters' shoulders, then pushed him away, spending two seconds scrutinizing him. She pulled Winters closer and kissed his cheek. Her sobs intensified, she could barely speak, only repeating, "He's finally back, finally back."

Winters felt like a rag doll toy, manipulated like a puppet. He grinned and replied, "Auntie, I'm back."

For most people, family members are a gender-neutral entity; they are rarely described as beautiful or ugly. While handsome men and beautiful women walking down the street might attract attention, people rarely scrutinize the faces of their family members.

Even though they spend so much time with their families, they feel both so familiar and so strange. Their family members' faces are in their minds, but many people cannot describe them accurately.

Therefore, Winters did not judge these two women by the standards of beauty and ugliness. Although he felt helpless, it was just a normal reaction for an adult to be treated like a child. He simply felt safe and secure around them.

"Mom, let go and let my brother in." The girl angrily pulled her mother's arm away, rescuing Winters from her aunt's deadly rear-naked chokehold.

"Yes, yes, look at me." Aunt Winters wiped away her tears and smiled as she offered to help Winters with his luggage.

Winters, of course, would not allow a woman to help him carry his things, and his aunt did not insist. She led Winters inside, and the girl grabbed Winters' left arm and clung to him.

The older woman is Kosa Serbiati, Winters' aunt. The younger woman is Winters' cousin, Elizabeth Serbiati, whose name was given to her by Winters' aunt and uncle after Winters' mother.

Upon entering the house, Winters saw a large, robust ginger cat emerge from the living room.

The warm climate of Hailan has led to cats tending to be small in size to dissipate heat. However, this orange cat has a well-developed bone structure, high shoulders, thick legs, and a short, stocky build, making it look different from local cats.

The big cat held its tail straight up, the tip of which was bent into a hook. It swaggered from the room to Winters' feet, and brazenly rubbed its cheek against Winters' trouser leg, making a purring sound.

"General!" Winters scratched the cat's head and stroked the fur on its back. Just as he was about to reach out and touch the cat's belly fat, the cat coldly tossed its head and walked away with its pigeon-toed gait.

"The general still recognizes me," Winters said happily to his aunt and cousin, completely oblivious to the cat's disdain.

"How could I not recognize you?"

"Where is the young general?"

After entering and walking down a short corridor, turning right leads to the reception room. As if on cue, a small tabby cat, smaller than the previous large ginger cat, came running out, meowing.

"Young General!"

The tabby cat leaped onto Winters with a kick of its hind legs, its claws piercing his clothes and causing Winters to gasp in pain. Winters quickly grabbed the little general with his right hand, otherwise the tabby cat would have definitely scratched several bloody marks if it had exerted any more force.

The little general bleated and rubbed its cheek against Winters' collar, licking Winters' chin, its barbed tongue scraping Winters painfully.

"Haha, why is the little general so enthusiastic?" Winters looked at his aunt helplessly: "But his claws need to be trimmed."

"I miss you so much," Auntie replied lovingly.

"Get away from me!" The girl grabbed the tabby cat by the scruff of its neck without any politeness, lifted it up, and put it on the ground.

The tabby cat wouldn't give up, circling around Winters' feet and meowing incessantly, like a chatterbox. It didn't meow like other cats, but rather made short "baa" sounds.

“Look, look, you’ve grown into a fine young man.” Kosha sat down to Winters’ right, holding his right hand with both of hers and said with deep emotion, “Your features really resemble your mother’s. Elizabeth (referring to Winters’ mother) will be overjoyed to see you grow up.”

This is the second time Winters has heard his elders say he looks like someone else since he came home. It seems like everyone has a different opinion.

Winters wasn't as sentimental as his aunt. He smiled and said to her, "Really? The lieutenant colonel said I look like my father."

"Hmph!" Kosa glared, her eyebrows shot up. "How could that be? Look at your nose, your hair color, your eyes—this is the bloodline of the Granahsi family. I'll find you a portrait of your maternal grandfather; you look exactly like him when he was young. The lieutenant colonel is just spouting nonsense! I'll give him a good beating when he gets back tonight."

Lieutenant Colonel was the nickname given to Major General Antonio Serbiati at home, a nickname he earned after he retorted to his aunt during an argument, "I'm a lieutenant colonel, you should at least give me some face."

From then on, Kosa addressed her husband as Lieutenant Colonel, and forced her nephews and daughters to do the same. As a result, when Winters saw his uncle in the customs prison, he subconsciously called him "Lieutenant Colonel."

"Ella, go and take your brother to put down his luggage first." Kosha remembered that Winters had just returned home and asked with concern, "Are you hungry? You probably didn't eat anything at customs, right? I'll go and cook for you."

As she spoke, she stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

"No need, Auntie." Winters quickly stopped his aunt. "I'm not hungry. I'm just a little tired and want to sleep for a while."

“How can we not eat? I’ll make some snacks, it’ll be quick.” Kosa ignored Winters’s opinion and went to the kitchen.

At the military academy, Winters was the third-year sergeant; among the soldiers and civilians, he was an officer; on the Skuas, he was a brave warrior who dared to board; among his peers in Veneta, he was vaguely showing signs of becoming a leader.

However, at home, his status was still that of a child, slightly higher than his younger sister and the young general, but far lower than that of the eldest general. So he could only helplessly watch his aunt walk through the service door into the kitchen.

“Brother, let me take you back to your room.” The girl pulled Winters up from the soft chair in the reception room: “After you left, Mom had the maid clean it every day, and it’s even cleaner than when you weren’t going to school.”

Leaving the reception room, passing through another corridor, and going up the stairs to the second floor, Elizabeth smiled and pushed open that familiar door, and long-sealed memories were opened along with the door.

There was a charred mark on the wooden floor, a blackened spot from when Winters played with fire as a child. Two wooden swords, one large and one small, which he and his uncle used when learning swordsmanship, still leaned against the corner, above which hung a dartboard. The bed was covered with a clean white sheet, and the desk was spotless.
“Right? It’s even cleaner than when you were here, isn’t it? I was the one who checked it every day.” Elizabeth proudly boasted, but Winters was lost in his memories and didn’t hear a word.

Winters gently stroked the familiar old objects, and finally opened the wardrobe.

He had only casually opened the closet to see if he still had his old clothes. To his surprise, the closet was filled with five or six new garments, all in adult sizes. "Your aunt made these for you," Elizabeth's voice came from behind him. She complained to Winters, "Your aunt asked you to take your measurements and write a letter to send them back, but you wouldn't listen. So she had to guess the sizes and make them herself. After you left, she made them every year, and threw them away every year. She didn't dare send them to you; she just kept them here, saying she was afraid you wouldn't have anything to wear if you came home."

“I can only wear cadet uniforms at military school, so sending my size back in a letter is useless. Three sets of cadet uniforms are enough for me.” Winters felt a warm current flow through his heart. He gently closed the wardrobe door and smiled at his sister, saying, “But you, do you still have a tutor at home?”

The girl tossed her hair and said, "I'm way past the age of needing a tutor. I'm learning painting from Mrs. Anguisola now."

"Learn to paint?"

"Yes. Sigh, anyway, the lieutenant colonel just can't stand seeing me idle, he has to find me something to do. And now my mother is sighing every day, thinking about how to marry me off."

Winters laughed heartily upon hearing this: "After all, you're a young lady now."

“But I’m not worried.” Elizabeth’s eyes darted around a few times, and she chuckled, “Anyway, you’re the one to take the blame. As long as you’re not married, the one under the most pressure isn’t me.”

The girl's sharp retort silenced Winters, who awkwardly put his luggage on the table and took out his belongings one by one.

First came the everyday gadgets. Then came the more valuable items: his spellbooks, spellcasting materials he secretly brought out from spell classes, his handwritten notes and class notes from military school, and several real printed books.

On a side note, printing technology had been in Venetia for over a decade, but Winters, like the clergy in the old church schools, primarily used handwritten copies, making them himself. This was because even printed books were extremely expensive, mainly used for printing scriptures—things that were easy to sell.

However, this was still a huge leap forward compared to the past, because advancements in papermaking improved paper quality and lowered its price. In the past, theologians and clergy had to rent books page by page—note, rent, not buy—and the price of one book could equal a craftsman's entire year's income. Therefore, not only was becoming a clergyman expensive, but attending seminary was even more so.

It was the advancements in papermaking and the introduction of printing that enabled the Allied Army to establish a tuition-free school to train officers, modeled after the structure of a seminary, at a relatively low cost. And it was precisely because the Army Officer Academy was tuition-free that it held such a strong attraction for a large number of ambitious young people from impoverished backgrounds.

That's enough about the digression, let's get back to Winters.

After taking out all the other small items, Winters finally retrieved his handbag from the deepest part of the container.

"Brother, is that blood on this cloth bag?" Elizabeth exclaimed, covering her mouth.

“No,” Winters replied calmly, “it’s red wine.”

This is the same shoulder bag Winters used during the night shift when he encountered the female thief. After that encounter, Winters was led to put out a fire, then lost consciousness and was carried onto the Skua.

So the satchel was never washed; it was covered in Winters' bloodstains, splattered from the fight and rubbed off when he was holding the whistle.

"Really?" The girl was skeptical; she wasn't stupid. But her brother's tone was calm and composed, not feigning anything.

Winters opened his satchel, carefully took out the female thief's dagger, and put it back in his bag after boarding the gang.

Elizabeth's eyes lit up, and she reached out to take the dagger: "What is this? It's so beautiful."

Winters was startled and raised the dagger high, out of his sister's reach: "Be careful, it's sharpened."

Winters was tall and had long arms, so the girl couldn't reach the dagger no matter how hard she tried. She simply grabbed her brother's left arm and pleaded, "Just let me see it. I just want to see it, I don't want it, okay?"

“Alright,” Winters said helplessly. “I’ll show you, but be careful, it’s very sharp.”

Winters had previously either casually stuffed the dagger into his bag or simply used it to stab people, so this was the first time he had carefully examined the captured weapon.

This dagger is about twenty centimeters long and two fingers wide, with a double-edged blade and a straight, unsharpened body. It resembles a short sword, but lacks a handguard or guard, being completely smooth from top to bottom.

The sword may have originally had patterns, but because Winters used it to cast a light spell, the sword turned red and black, and any patterns were covered up.

However, it is precisely because of this that the red and black sword has a strange beauty.

The dagger's hilt was undecorated; a wooden handle was wrapped in some kind of leather, and three strands of some kind of silver metal were twisted together and wrapped around the hilt at finger-width intervals. At the end of the hilt was a rounded counterweight ball.

Winters surmised that the metal wire on the dagger hilt might be silver, and even if it wasn't, the wire drawing technique behind the three strands of metal wrapped together was something that no ordinary craftsman could pull off.

Although the blade is not visible now, when I stabbed people on the boat, this dagger entered the human body as smoothly as a hot knife cutting butter, so the steel blade should be no less.

Judging from all the evidence, this should be a pretty good dagger. I didn't expect this female thief to be so particular about her weapon.

"This little knife is so pretty." Elizabeth took advantage of her brother's absent-mindedness, snatched the dagger, and brandished it in the air.

Winters watched his sister clumsily wield the weapon, his heart pounding with fear, lest she inflict a cut on herself. He cried out, "Ella! Be careful, this dagger is incredibly sharp!"

Actually, it would have been better if Winters hadn't said anything. The more he talked about how sharp the dagger was, the more Elizabeth wanted it.

Winters, from a male perspective, hadn't realized that this dagger was originally meant for women. Although its style was simple, its small size and exquisite craftsmanship naturally attracted a girl's attention. Winters then used a light-enhancing spell to "color" it, making Elizabeth even more enamored with it.

Elizabeth stopped upon hearing this, blinked, and, feigning indifference, obediently returned the dagger to her brother.

Then she grabbed Winters' left arm and started to whine, "Brother, can I have this knife? Please? The security in Blue City has been terrible lately, I need it for self-defense."

I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself.

“I’ve used the kitchen knife and the paper cutter too, and I’ve never hurt myself.” Elizabeth was eloquent and quick-witted; Winters had never been able to win an argument with her since childhood.

“The design purpose is different. This dagger is really dangerous. If you don’t know how to use it, you can easily hurt yourself.” How could it not be dangerous? Winters did the math in his mind. This dagger had taken three lives in his hands alone, not to mention in the hands of its previous owner. The most dangerous thing in this house was probably this little gadget.

"Then you can teach me how to use it."

Winters was speechless for a moment. He only felt love for his sister and couldn't bring himself to say something like, "Why would a girl learn this?"

He sighed, finally giving in: "Fine, here you go. But this dagger doesn't have a sheath right now. I'll make you a sheath later, okay?"

"It's just a scabbard, right? I'll go find some leather and sew one on." Elizabeth cheered, her goal achieved.

"Alright, come back to me to get the scabbard once you've finished making it, okay?"

"You're the best!" Elizabeth gave Winters a quick kiss on the cheek and then rushed off to her room to sew her sword sheath.

Winters shook his head. In his memory, his sister was still a little brat who would fight with him with snot running down her face and burst into tears at the drop of a hat. He didn't know when she had become like this...

Impressive? Not quite.

Understanding and considerate? Not quite right.

Is he good at persuading people? That's not quite right.

Anyway, she's definitely different now; girls really do change a lot as they grow up.

As he was thinking, he emptied his satchel, and a small white silk package fell out. Winters picked up the package and thought for a while before remembering that it also belonged to the female thief.

However, Winters was too tired to care about what was inside, so he casually tossed the small package back onto the table, turned around, pulled off the white sheet covering the bed, and collapsed onto the bed as if all his strength had been drained.

Close your eyes.

go to bed.

...

...

I can't sleep yet!

Curiosity overcame his sleepiness, and he still wanted to know what was inside the small package.

Winters suddenly stood up, walked to the desk, and unwrapped the white silk cloth.

The contents were visible; it looked like a small notebook.
The notebook cover and back cover are yellow, and the texture feels like some kind of leather, possibly cowhide?
There is a clasp on the side.

Winters unfastened the clasp and opened the notebook with anticipation…

...

...

what? ?

Blank?
He flipped through the notebook over and over, only to find a tiny letter L in the bottom left corner of the last page.

L?

What the heck is L?

Winters tossed the notebook back onto his desk with a self-deprecating laugh, thinking, "Warrant Officer Montagne, what are you expecting? A treasure map? A shocking secret? Some kind of indescribable novel? That female thief probably can't even read."

He sighed and collapsed back onto the bed.

He hasn't had a good rest for two days.

After relaxing, fatigue set in.

On this familiar bed, all the pain in his body was soothed.

Sleepiness washed over him.

He drifted off to sleep.

[Although marrying one's cousin is quite normal in this era, this story will not contain any incestuous content.]

Before the invention of papermaking and printing, books were incredibly expensive, and ordinary people had almost no need to read them. The main consumers and scribes of books were clergy.
According to the paper "Standards of Living in the Later Middle Ages" by Christopher Dyer, Cambridge University Press, 1989.
[In 1397, Oxford University purchased 126 books, each averaging 77 pages, for £113. Here, "pound" refers to one pound of 92.5% pure silver. The average price of one book was approximately 0.830 pounds of silver. The weight represented by a pound has remained relatively stable over time; roughly converted to today's definition, it's equivalent to 376.482 grams of silver.]
[Converted at the current silver price, a book would cost close to 1500 RMB. Considering the purchasing power of precious metals at the time, this was a huge sum of money.]

The low price of silver today is due to the fact that extensive mining has turned silver into almost an industrial raw material, causing it to lose its monetary attributes.
Even after movable type printing was introduced to Europe, book prices remained high because the readership was simply too small. As I mentioned before, many sword masters in the 15th and 16th centuries went bankrupt trying to print sword manuals, some even resorting to embezzlement and ultimately being hanged to fund their printing.
(End of this chapter)