Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 413 Wedding
With the monsoon bringing the first rainfall of the 560th year of the Imperial Calendar, the vast fields of the newly reclaimed lands have come back to life.

New grass sprouts from the soil beside withered leaves, draping the earth in a thin green veil; pine and oak trees sprout tender green buds, giving the forest a distinctly different color.

Even deep within the Golden Peak Mountains, where the snow has not yet melted, patches of pale yellow wildflowers brave the frost and bloom first on the white wasteland.

However, the fate of the people living on this land did not change with the arrival of spring; instead, it was shrouded in the new shadow of war.

The Maplestone Incident ended in an extremely tragic manner: General Adams committed suicide, a large number of officers of the New Reclamation Corps were either killed in battle or murdered, and only those who chose to surrender at the first opportunity survived.

The Legion's direct troops stationed in Maplestone were incorporated into the victors, while a few newly established officers who managed to break through made everyone aware of the bloodshed that had occurred in Maplestone.

However, the fires of the rebellion did not sweep across the land in an instant as some had predicted.

As news of the Maplestone Incident spread, the newly established province fell into a strange atmosphere of silence.

No one raised a call to arms or raised a rebellion flag. The garrisons and garrison troops in each prefecture made no statement, as if nothing had happened.

The Red Roses, who had occupied Maplestone, made no further moves. They neither issued orders to the counties nor hastily consolidated their power. They merely issued an obituary for General Adams in the name of the New Reclamation Legion.

However, everyone knows that everything at present is just the calm before the storm.

Red Rose is racing against time to reorganize the newly incorporated Reclamation Army's directly subordinate units, while the remaining Reclamation Army troops, filled with rage due to the Maple Stone City massacre, are also preparing for war and contacting allies.

The calmer the current situation, the greater the power that both sides will accumulate, and the more devastating the war will be once it breaks out.

A new wave of refugees broke out in Maplestone City, with large numbers of wealthy merchants and manor owners fleeing to the interior of Palatour in droves full of their belongings, dragging their families along.

Those who could not escape could only watch in fear as the dark clouds rose in the sky, praying that war would not break out.

……

……

[Tiefeng County]
[Thervordan]
“I’m sorry, Major Mel, I’m so sorry—oh, and Major Nevets, I’m so sorry.” Mason stood alone before the messengers of the Red Rose, putting on a sincere and smiling face, and kept apologizing: “Captain Montagne is not currently in Gevodane, please wait a few more days.”

"Not in Ghevodan? Then where is our captain? Captain Mason, are you still trying to fob us off with 'relapse of an old injury'?" Major Mel leaned casually against the negotiating table and said unhurriedly, "As far as I know, Captain Montagne's old injury has healed—he was still making a public appearance just three days ago."

Mason knew that the other party was implying that he was not completely unaware of the situation in Gévodan. This meant that either someone in Gévodan was secretly colluding with the other party, or that the other party's spies had successfully infiltrated Gévodan.

“Major, I’m so sorry. Captain Montagne’s old wound has indeed healed, but he is indeed not in the city right now,” Mason explained innocently. “He’s out of the city.”

"Out of the city?" Major Mel raised an eyebrow, asking with interest, "What are you going out of the city for?"

Mason scratched his head: "It's a personal matter."

……

Having dealt with the messenger from the Red Rose with difficulty, Mason left the former's residence and hurriedly headed towards the other end of the city of Gevordan. The words Major Mel had said before he left were still echoing in his mind.

“Captain Mason,” Major Mel said gently, yet with a hint of warning, “if you want to return to the regular army, I can tell you this is your last chance.”

Major Mel stood up and patted Mason on the shoulder: "The war will eventually end, and the wise should stand on the side of the victors—so I advise you to think it through before making a decision."

Mason admitted he wasn't good at negotiating because he disliked dealing with people, who always spoke in hushed tones. In contrast, mathematics didn't lie.

So, as Mason rode his horse, he silently evaluated the message Major Mel conveyed in a mathematical way, as was his habit.

“The threat score is 7. Although Maplestone City’s forces are outnumbered, Kings’ Fortress is far stronger than the New Reclamation Army. From a probabilistic point of view, Kings’ Fortress is more likely to be the winner.” Mason thought, “However, the honesty score is only 3. Once we lose our value, according to Kings’ Fortress’s style of doing things, most of the promises we made will probably be void.”

Overall, the envoys from Zhuwangbao were relaxed and confident, neither eagerly requesting help from Tiefeng County nor threatening Tiefeng County to surrender.

It seems that Red Rose doesn't care which side Iron Peak County stands on, as if Iron Peak County is like a dessert served last—it's a meal whether it's there or not.

“But…maybe this is just their negotiation tactic, who knows?” Mason thought wearily. “Let Winters figure it out.”

Riding through the city, Mason arrived at the gate of a large house located at the other end of Gévord.

The guards at the door stepped forward and helped the captain hold the horse's bit.

"Are the guests still inside?" Mason dismounted and handed the reins to the guard.

"Still inside." The guard saluted, took the reins, shrank back, and answered in a low voice, "But they've started swearing, and they're swearing really loudly!"

Mason's breath hitched, and he waved his hand. The guard looked at the captain with sympathy, saluted again, and led his horse toward the stables.

After the Maplestone City Incident, Tiefeng County's situation in the newly reclaimed province became delicate.

On the one hand, judging from the actual actions of the "Montagne Group," they were undoubtedly rebels who had committed treason.
On the other hand, Winters Montagne has never publicly raised the flag of rebellion, and several "rebel officers" have not yet been discharged from the New Reclamation Legion. Even on paper, the Legion continues to pay their salaries quarterly.

In the newly reclaimed province, where undercurrents are swirling, an independent force that does not belong to either side naturally becomes an object that both sides in the power struggle want to win over—or, of course, an object that they want to eliminate as soon as possible.

Therefore, there were not one, but two missions that came to Ghevodan.

How to receive envoys from both sides at the same time, while ensuring that they do not know about each other or have any contact with each other, has been a major headache for Captain Mason.

Looking at the dark main gate of the mansion, Mason carefully tidied his appearance, took a deep breath, forced himself to cheer up, and once again put on a perfect smile and apology. He walked to the door and gently knocked on the door knocker.

The door creaked open a crack, revealing half the face of a fully armed lieutenant. After recognizing the visitor, the lieutenant lowered his pistol, silently raised his hand in salute, and opened the door completely.

Even through the long corridor and another door, Mason could clearly hear the thud of military boots hitting the floor from the drawing room at the end of the corridor.

Mason swallowed hard and reluctantly walked towards the drawing room. He stood at the door and knocked three times softly: "Report!"

The sound of boots behind the door stopped, followed by a stern command: "Enter!"

Mason carefully pushed open the door and came face to face with an elderly, one-armed soldier.

"What, it's you?" The one-armed old soldier's eyes were sharp as knives as he asked in an unfriendly tone, "Where's that little bastard Winters?"

Besides the one-armed old soldier, several accompanying lieutenants and guards were also present in the reception room. Seeing Mason finally arrive, the group, who had been holding their breath, finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Excuse me, Colonel.” Mason entered the drawing room, carefully closed the door behind him, and solemnly saluted: “Captain Montagne is not in town—he has left the city!”

"Out of the city? Out of the city?!" Colonel Bode's roar nearly lifted the roof off. He demanded furiously, "What does he want by hiding from me? What does he want? If he wants to side with the Red Rose, with that viper Magnus, let him come before me! Tell him himself! Let him get out here!"

Mason was sprayed with spittle all over his face, but he couldn't wipe it off. He could only speak in a humble voice, "Captain Montagne wasn't trying to avoid you, Colonel... How could he possibly avoid you? He really did leave the city... I assure you, if he knew you were coming, he would have waited a couple more days no matter what... We have the utmost respect for you, how could we deliberately avoid you?"

Colonel Bode's anger was not quelled by a few kind words. He asked with a sneer, "Oh? Not deliberately avoiding me? Then tell me, what did he go out of town for?"

Mason's Adam's apple bobbed, both amused and exasperated: "Go to the wedding."

……

[Tiefeng County]
[Wolf Town, Dusa Village]
One after another, drunken and dazed Dusaks staggered up to Winters, wanting to toast the "blood of the wolf," but were all stopped by the grinning old Sergei.

Seeing that old Sergei was also in a daze, Winters turned and beckoned Vasika over, asking calmly, "Your father won't get drunk and cause trouble?"

"Don't worry, sir!" Vashika let out a long hiccup and chuckled, "This is nothing!"

Winters smelled the alcohol on Vahika, his face hardening slightly as he asked, "You've been drinking too?"

“Just one cup,” Vahika replied softly.

Winters didn't know what to say.

Seeing Winters's look, Vasika slapped himself without saying a word, patted his chest and promised, "I won't drink anymore! Don't worry, from now on, I won't drink no matter who comes to me."

Winters nodded, turned to look at the people singing and dancing at the wedding, and clapped along in rhythm. Vasika wiped his mouth and stepped aside.

“I think Vahika has become a bit smarter,” Bard said with a smile, sitting next to Winters.

“Really?” Winters was speechless. He thought for a moment and said, “That kid hit his head hard earlier, it might have something to do with it.”

Bud laughed and reached for another beer.

“Thank you, Bud,” Winters said softly, looking at the people at the wedding.

“You never need to thank me,” Bud said earnestly, taking a sip of his beer. “But you really do need to thank Mason.”

A sharp pain shot through Winters' skull. He nudged Bud and changed the subject, saying, "That pie looks good. Get me one."

You can never know exactly how many treasures a Dusa family has hidden in their home. The unstable world and their cunning survival skills make every Dusa family dig holes like field mice to store up their treasures.

Even after a period of war and famine, the reserves in the village of Dusa in Wolf Town still appear to be far from depleted.

Winters, for instance, personally witnessed an old Dussac man digging up buried grain from under the stables, grinding it into flour, and baking it into bread. Others drove wagons into the forest, bringing back large barrels of ale from secret cellars. Cattle and sheep hidden in the wild were also found, slaughtered, and cooked.

Everyone gathered at the threshing ground was dressed as if it were a festival, wearing their best clothes and looking their best in colorful and pretty outfits.

All this selfless and all-consuming effort was for a wedding.

However, it wasn't Winters' wedding, but rather Pierre Gerardovich Mitchell's wedding.

The groom, dressed in a traditional Dussac-style white robe and blue trousers with embroidered sashes, sat in the center of a long table laden with food, smiling as he accepted congratulations from family and friends.

Mrs. Mitchell sat to the left of the groom, unusually dressed in the finery of a Dussac woman, and happily accepted the congratulations.

However, Gerard Mitchell, sitting to Mrs. Mitchell's left, didn't look so pleased. The old man was still sulking, forcing a smile in the face of congratulations, then downing glass after glass of wine.

There were many reasons for Girard's low spirits, but the most direct reason that made old Dussac drink alone on his son's wedding day was actually only one:
The bride sitting to Pierre's right at this moment, dressed in a wedding gown and veil, receiving congratulations from everyone, was none other than the unfortunate widow, Mrs. Medellin, the maid taken in by Mrs. Mitchell—no, to be precise, she was now "Mrs. Mitchell".

Winters watched the Mitchells from afar, sipping his alcohol-free apple juice, and couldn't help but chuckle at the wonder of life.

He never expected that Mrs. Mitchell, who was serious and seemed to have the strongest sense of hierarchy, would so easily accept her son's choice to marry a widow with a daughter.

On the contrary, Gerard Mitchell, who is cheerful, open-minded, and seems to care little about anything, is quite disappointed by the fact that his son is marrying a widow.

Even if Girard was dissatisfied, he couldn't change Pierre's choice. Young Dussac convinced old Dussac with just two sentences. The first was: "Father, I am Dussac now, and I can take responsibility for my choices."

The second sentence was: "Dad, I don't know how much longer I have to live. Maybe I will die in battle tomorrow, so please bless us."

Thus, all of Gerard's objections came to nothing, and he could only bitterly get drunk at the wedding. Unfortunately, he had such a high alcohol tolerance that he remains perfectly sober to this day.

As for Winters, he happily offered his blessings to the newlyweds. He didn't really know Mrs. Medellín very well; although he knew there was an affair between Pierre and the young widow, he hadn't expected Pierre to choose to take responsibility. This gave him a strange sense of anxiety.

Looking past the unrestrained, dancing crowd, Winters turned his gaze to the bridesmaids' seating area on the other side of the wedding venue. Perhaps it was a telepathic connection, but Anna, also seated among the bridesmaids, looked at Winters, and the two gazed at each other through the interlacing shadows of the people.

Winters lowered his head as if he'd been electrocuted, and continued sipping his apple juice.

As the rhythm of the lyre and tambourine gradually quickened, the dancing of the people in the center of the venue, surrounded by long tables, became more and more intense, and the wedding atmosphere gradually reached its climax.

A drunken Dussac, carrying a saber, shouted as he climbed onto a table and jumped into the arena. The others screamed and moved aside, but instead of stopping him, they made way for him.

Surrounded by onlookers, Dusak, carrying a saber, threw away the scabbard and began to perform a "dance of the sword." He wielded the saber with a whooshing sound, drawing arcs of light around his body.

Although the alcohol made him stagger, it didn't stop him from dancing. He would squat down and jump up at times, his postures comical and amusing—if you didn't consider that the saber in his hand could easily cut off an arm.

The onlookers clapped and cheered for the sword dancers. Soon, other Dussacs entered the arena with sabers and began to perform sword dances in a competitive manner, with the most skilled one even holding a saber in each hand.

The dangerous yet exciting dance further fueled the crowd's excitement, with cheers and whistles growing louder, the music tempo increasing, and the dancers' movements becoming more intense.

Until the final, high-pitched note, the dance, the music, the flashing swords—everything came to an abrupt end.

After a brief silence, the crowd erupted in deafening cheers. The dancer proudly accepted the wine offered by those around her and was escorted offstage.

Then the gentle string music and tambourines sounded again, and people continued to drink, laugh, and dance.

“Perhaps it’s during the toughest times,” Winters thought to himself, “that people need an opportunity to celebrate and make themselves happy.”

According to traditional Dusak customs, marriage is a major event, not only expensive but also involving a strict and complicated process including matchmaking, engagement, wedding procession, bride's departure, banquet, and return home. Both the groom's and bride's families must be prepared to spend a fortune.

However, given the current poor harvest season and the fact that the bride is not from Dussa and is even a widow without a family, many procedures have been omitted.

Pierre, dressed in his finest attire, led his companions in a carriage to take the equally elegantly dressed bride from old Sergei's house—which old Sergei had volunteered to offer as the bride's family home—to Mitchell Manor, thus completing the entire wedding procession.

Next comes the indispensable part of any celebration, big or small—a big feast.

Because Mitchell Estate was raided by someone, it was no longer able to host a banquet.

However, without Girard and Ellen saying a word, the people of Dussac dug up the wheat buried deep in the cellar, drove back the cattle and sheep hidden in the fields, and sent them to Mitchell's estate by wagon.

Slaughtering livestock, grinding flour, baking pastries... the men and women of Dusa Village naturally participate in the wedding preparations, working together to make the wedding a lively and joyous occasion.

Not only the people of Dussa, but also people from several other villages and even neighboring towns, came from afar to offer their congratulations when they heard that Mr. Mitchell was getting married. Not wanting to burden the Mitchell family, many people, after giving their gifts and offering their congratulations in person, did not stay to attend the banquet and turned back on their long journey home.

Even hunters living deep in the forest traveled a long way to Mitchell Estate, bringing their finest furs and venison—Winters and Girard had no idea where they had heard the news.

In a corner of the wedding venue, a group of young men from Dussack were gathered together, seemingly plotting something.

A moment later, Anglu—the former young stable boy, now the cavalry captain—came to Winters, carrying a huge horn cup and surrounded by the other Dussacs.

The horn-shaped glass was filled with a colorless liquid that was almost overflowing.

"Why are you getting involved?" Winters said, both amused and exasperated. "I can't drink today."

"The finest wine is offered to the most distinguished guest!" Anglu shouted with a laugh. "Centurion! Please drink this cup!"

Attention was drawn to Anglu's shouts at the wedding, and people gathered around the long table where Winters was.

The men either slammed their fists on the table or stomped their feet, making synchronized sounds. The women, on the other hand, watched the young and valiant tribunal with curiosity.

The bride and groom also came over, Pierre and his wife holding hands, looking at Winters expectantly.

This time, even old Sergei, who had been shielding Winters from the drinks, stopped helping.

“My lord,” old Sergei whispered, “you must drink this cup—it is the most important drink, only you can drink it, and you must drink it.”

Winters reluctantly accepted the horn.

"We have to finish this in one go," old Sergei whispered to Winters from behind.

"Drink, drink..." The crowd surrounding Winters sang Dussac's toasting song: "Honored guest..."

Anna hid in the crowd, covering her mouth and chuckling softly. Bard, standing beside her, was clapping enthusiastically, unusually displaying both a desire to stir up trouble and a sense of schadenfreude.

Feeling the burning gazes, Winters looked at the overflowing wine in his glass, thought for a moment, then looked up at the people who had gone through all kinds of hardships and finally had the opportunity to laugh heartily.

“I only know one Dussac proverb, but it’s most fitting for today.” Winters smiled sincerely and slowly began, “True gold is refined by fire, good people are refined by true gold, and men—are refined by women.”

He looked at Pierre and the bride: "Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, blessings to you both! Blessings to everyone! May we one day have lasting peace, prosperity, and tranquility!"

After saying that, he took a deep breath, picked up the horn cup, and poured it down his throat.

The musician's fingertips flowed with cheerful melodies, and with astonishing willpower, Winters managed to down an entire horn-sized glass of strong liquor.

Then, he stood on the bench, raised his arm high, and showed the empty horn cup to the crowd.

The crowd surrounding Winters, regardless of gender, cheered in unison.

"Alright, alright! Let the bailiff rest for a while." Old Sergei dismissed the gathered crowd, restoring the wedding to its original atmosphere: "Anyone else want to toast the bailiff? Come at me!"

The crowd dispersed like a school of fish, continuing to drink, dance, and flirt.

Winters sat back down, hands on his knees, head bowed—his stomach was churning.

Anna pushed through the crowd, walked to Winters' side, put her hand on his shoulder, and asked worriedly, "What's wrong?"

Ms. Navarre was fine until she touched Winters. The moment her fingers touched Winters' shoulder, Winters, who was on the verge of collapse, vomited.

"Have some water, have some water." Old Sergei ran over with a water bottle and patted Winters on the back. Old Dusak kept praising, "You're a real tough guy, you actually drank it all in one go."

Finally, old Dussac added in a guilty whisper, "Actually, if you have the right technique, you can spill half of it."

Bud, who was holding Winters' shoulder, laughed heartily.

Winters rinsed his mouth, drank the last of the water in the bottle, let out a long breath, stood up with his knees on his hands, and looked at the people around him: "I should get going."

Bard's smile faded, and he nodded solemnly: "Leave this to me."

Fully armed Vahika approached, carrying Winters's sword.

Winters took the saber from Vahika and was about to tie it to his belt when a pair of slender, soft hands took his place.

Anna silently tied Winters's waistband and carefully tucked in his clothes: "Come back safely."

Winters nodded and waved: "Let's go."

Having said that, he led his guards toward the manor gate. As they passed a row of long tables at the wedding venue, he casually patted a thin, military-clad man sitting alone at the end of one table, silently drinking: "It's time to go."

"Fine." The gaunt man stood up, spat as if no one else was there, looked at Winters provocatively, and sneered, "You looked terrible after throwing up like that. Are you alright?"

“I have no problem,” Winters retorted sharply. “It’s you who’s been drinking the whole time. Are you alright, Major Seber?”

Major Seiber Carrington, known in the Paratul army for his fearlessness bordering on madness, grinned menacingly, revealing two rows of sharp, wolf-like teeth: "Even if I drank two more of your amount, I wouldn't be in any trouble."

"Let's go then."

After saying that, Winters took the lead and walked towards the manor gate.

He left Mitchell Estate and rode along the main road toward the center of Wolftown. Then he crossed the river from the center, took a side road through the forest, and continued riding northwest until he reached the banks of the Great Horn River.

A campsite nestled between the forest and the riverbank suddenly appeared before him, next to which was a newly built pontoon bridge.

Outside the camp, a lightly armed cavalry force of a thousand men was ready to set off.

This cavalry unit included veteran Dussac, young men forged in the crucible of war, and a small group of officers recruited from the rescued prisoners.

Faced with the best of the best, Winters didn't need to explain anything further.

He spurred his horse and rode up to the high platform beside the camp, his gaze sweeping over his quietly waiting subordinates, before cracking his whip and pointing towards the vast wilderness across the river:
"Warriors! You already know why I have summoned you—there, in the west, deep in the wasteland, the remnants of the Fire-Burning People are stirring!"

"They refused my request to exchange prisoners, and even subjected our comrades to inhumane torture because of it. They gouged out the prisoners' eyes, cut out their tongues, and then sent our comrades back, just to humiliate us!"

"They are still plotting another raid—the crushing defeat in the Battle of Bloodstains wasn't enough for them; they roar and howl for more blood!"

“Since they want more blood!” Winters put on his helmet and coldly announced the enemy’s fate: “Then we’ll give them more blood!”

The soldiers shouted in unison in response, and the forest trembled, startling countless birds into flight.

“Major.” Winters turned to Sabre Seiber and said coldly, “No matter what you think, you owe me nothing, so you don’t need to repay me anything. However… I can’t give you anything or make any promises either. Do you still want to come with me?”

"Why not go?" Saber licked his teeth, his eyes filled with madness: "I'll do any job for free as long as I can kill those barbarians."

“Then let’s go.” Winters didn’t waste any more words, raising his hand to point directly at the western horizon, sounding the horn of war:

"The enemy is in the vast wilderness!"

"set off!"

[The toasting speech is from the movie "Going Vertical," and the speech is very insightful; the movie is excellent.]
[Didn't expect that, did you? The first shot fired on the newly reclaimed land was fired by my brother-in-law.jpg]
[The first batch of souvenirs was supposed to be packed and shipped out today, but updating is a priority.]
[I'll pack the souvenirs now, but I probably won't be able to finish today, so they might not be mailed out until tomorrow.]
[For those who won the prize and are on the list, if you haven't provided your shipping information yet, please do so as soon as possible (づ￣ 3￣)づ]
[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)