Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 534 Calming the Raging Spirit (The End)

After leaving the side tent, Winters led Pierre straight to the stables, where they prepared two unassuming riding horses and exchanged clothes with the stable master.

Afterwards, he took Pierre and quietly left the wooden stockade of the Wendoer tribe's old camp through the back door.

Once out of his men's sight, Winters became bolder, openly moving among the tents around the old camp, listening to the music and watching the dancing around the campfire.

The yurts were like a maze, with people occasionally emerging from blind spots, so Winters carefully controlled his horse, making it walk slowly.

Pierre followed Winters, trailing by only half a horse's length.

"Are you getting a little annoyed?" Winters, who was walking ahead, asked without turning his head.

"What? Your Excellency?" It was too noisy around him, and Pierre didn't hear him clearly.

Winters simply pulled on the reins, stopping the horse and standing alongside Pierre.

"Aren't you getting a little annoyed, at the banquet just now, when you were entertaining your followers?" Winters asked with a smile.

“That’s true,” Pierre answered honestly. “They’re all trivial matters that are a waste of your time. You can just assign someone to handle them.”

“That’s right,” Winters laughed heartily, “so from now on, these things will be your responsibility.”

He then changed the subject: "But I must correct you on one point. In the vast wilderness, there are no trivial matters. Even a dispute over a horse or an arrowhead can be a matter of life and death."

“Please enlighten me.” Pierre bowed his head humbly to allow the conversation to continue.

Just then, Winters, engrossed in conversation, pointed with his riding whip at the surrounding felt tents and said to Pierre:
"Many Parat people genuinely consider the Hed people to be 'barbarians,' and find it ridiculous to talk about law with a bunch of barbarians who are constantly killing each other."

"However, the reality is quite the opposite; 'savages' need the judiciary more than 'civilized people.' Because if there is no higher authority to resolve their disputes, they have no choice but to resolve them themselves. And when they resolve disputes themselves, they create more disputes."

Pierre nodded repeatedly, as was his habit.

“Take that dispute about the foal, for example,” Winters said, noticing that Pierre hadn’t quite grasped the point, so he patiently explained with an example, “If no one had adjudicated the dispute for them, do you think it would have ended up like this?”

Pierre knew without a doubt: "There will be bloodshed."

Winters nodded slightly: "That's right, bloodshed. If the conflict occurs between two families or tribes that are already at odds, it can even lead to rivers of blood."

"Whether in a 'savage world' or a 'civilized nation,' if people have no way to communicate, they will find other ways to solve the problem. But on the Great Wilderness, 'other ways' means speaking with arrows and shedding blood."

“Just as no animal likes to be injured, no one likes to bleed,” Winters said, emphasizing his words, “not even the savages in some people’s eyes.”

Pierre understood Blood Wolf's warning. This time, instead of nodding as usual, he slowly nodded.

Winters disliked being repeatedly instructed and also hated giving others countless instructions. Seeing that Pierre had already taken it to heart, he didn't ramble on and brought up another incident that the two of them had witnessed.

"The White Lion gave the Red River tribe a set of laws engraved on a golden tablet, which was a remarkable step forward. From then on, those laws became the authority of the White Lion. He only needed to—as you said—appoint an archer to judge cases according to his laws to satisfy the Red River tribe's need for justice."

Winters chuckled to himself, “Unlike me, I have to go out in person, otherwise I can’t convince the Hed people who have submitted to us.”

Pierre tried to offer advice: "You can also give the Vendors a law, and I will defend their authority in the newly reclaimed lands."

“No, we can’t impose a set of laws on newly reclaimed lands, we can’t.” Winters’s lips curled into a smile that was a mixture of helplessness and mockery. “Guess why?”

This really stumped Pierre, but fortunately Winters hadn't intended to test him in the first place.

He answered his own question: "Because we already have a set of laws!"

"Is it the law of the newly reclaimed lands or the law of Palatine..." Pierre asked tentatively.

“No, the laws of the newly reclaimed lands and Palatine only apply to the above-ground parts of the building. I’m talking about rammed earth, stone foundations, and…” Winters paused for a moment, then uttered a single word, “The Charter of the Alliance.”

What's wrong with the Alliance Charter?

“The Charter of the Alliance is fine, the Charter of the Alliance is good, the problem is that it’s too good,” Winters sighed, “too good for us to implement in the current new settlements.”

Pierre frowned slightly.

The two had already emerged from the felt tents, but Winters didn't rush to start the horse; instead, he continued walking slowly so he could explain to Pierre:
"In the past, the Paratul could abduct the Heds without any scruples and sell them into slavery, because the Heds were neither citizens of the Alliance nor heretics."

"But if we formally accept the newly reclaimed lands as part of the Plato, then slavery is an unacceptable crime."

"Moreover, those minor leaders who have submitted to us keep slaves, which is also a violation of the Charter."

Winters whistled: "Imagine what would happen if I returned to the palace now and announced to everyone that all the slaves of the Vendor tribe would immediately be granted the status of commoners?"

Pierre thought for a moment and calmly replied, "They dare not disobey you, so they will pretend to obey. But once they are out of your sight, those petty leaders will immediately harbor rebellious thoughts."

Winters tapped Pierre on the forehead approvingly with his riding crop and concluded: "Therefore, we cannot give the Outer New Territories a suitable law, because that would violate the basic principles of the Charter of the Union; nor can we implement the Charter of the Union in the Outer New Territories, because the Charter is not suitable for the actual situation in the Outer New Territories."

After saying that, Winters smiled and then joked, "Besides, we haven't even fulfilled the promises of the Alliance Charter ourselves, so what right do we have to boast to the Hed people?"

The topic was clearly serious, but Winters' tone was light and humorous, as if he were talking about an amusing incident from a neighbor's house.

However, it was precisely because of Blood Wolf's open-minded and optimistic attitude that Pierre, despite being aware of the irreconcilable nature of the conflict, still remained confident in resolving the problem.

Therefore, Pierre boldly asked: "So that's why you're taking 'hostages' from the newly reclaimed lands? To ensure their loyalty?"

“Hostages?” Winters raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he quickly understood what Pierre was talking about and burst out laughing: “You mean ‘Drewflower’? ‘Drewflower’ isn’t a hostage, it’s a vassal, servant, attendant, bodyguard, slave… Big White and Little White are ‘Drewflower’, do you think they’re hostages?”

After arriving at the newly reclaimed land, Pierre suddenly consulted with Bell about many of the local customs of Hart.

However, at this moment, Mr. Little Cher's brain, which was filled with all sorts of Hectorian words, was once again disturbed by 'Herstus'.

“Sir, aren’t Big White and Little White ‘Hah’?” Pierre tried not to show his confusion. “If they are ‘Dru’ flowers… then what is ‘Hah’?”

Winters was momentarily speechless, having fallen into the same predicament Bell had encountered—unable to find a word in Imperial that accurately corresponds to the Hede vocabulary.

However, Blood Wolf was ultimately superior to his bastards, Winters thought of a brilliant analogy.

"Do you know Houdl?" Winters asked, starting with a name that seemed completely unrelated.

Pierre paused for a moment, "That lucky 'monkey' who became your bodyguard?"

“Yes, that’s him.” Winters smiled and patted Pierre on the shoulder with his riding crop. “You are my ‘Hah’, while Houdl is my ‘Dru’. Do you understand the subtle difference between the two?”

Pierre didn't understand at all, yet he felt a sudden enlightenment. He still couldn't explain 'Hah' and 'Druhua' in rational terms, but he completely grasped the emotional difference between the two words.

“Furthermore, it’s not that I’m asking them for things, but rather that they’re giving them to me,” Winters continued to explain. “Eight- or nine-year-old Hurd children are already herding sheep. Fourteen- or fifteen-year-old Hurd boys are already capable of working as adults. People who can work are invaluable assets to every family on the wasteland.”

Winters gave Pierre a meaningful look: "Not to mention the Hed shepherds, even for the farmers of Palatour, labor is a precious asset. So, the one who gave is not me, but them. And the one who should be grateful is not them, but me."

"I'm sorry, I was wrong." Pierre was hesitant to meet Blood Wolf's gaze.

“There’s no right or wrong,” Winters said with a smile, trying to reassure Pierre. “Whether someone is a hostage or a personal guard depends entirely on how you look at it.”

"Moreover, in many cases, hostages and personal guards are the front and back of the same breastplate."

“Those minor leaders who have submitted to us probably think that they can only be safe by handing over hostages, which is why they are rushing to ‘offer’ Dru flowers.”

Winters said to Pierre earnestly, "They've handed over their own sons as hostages, but we can't treat their sons as hostages, understand?"

"Understood." Pierre nodded vigorously.

“I plan to take these children to the new settlements, but the time is not right yet—so let’s teach them in the old camp for now.”

An ominous premonition crept into Pierre's heart.

On the other side, Winters' smile grew wider: "I will send you teachers, but until I find suitable candidates... you will have to take on the heavy responsibility of educating them."

Pierre's worst fears came true.

“It’s your turn to experience what I went through back then.” Winters patted Pierre on the shoulder with his riding crop.

“I…I don’t understand Hetrian, Your Excellency…” Pierre’s mouth was dry. “Bell…yes! Bell is more suitable…”

“Bell will certainly help you,” Winters said sternly, “but if anything goes wrong, I’ll only come to you—I’m entrusting them to you.”

Before Pierre could react, Winters squeezed his knees together, thrust his horse's ribs, and shot off like an arrow.

Pierre stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then chased after him, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

The two sped along the "path" left by the wheels, one in front of the other.

Winters ran ahead, with a clear purpose; Pierre followed behind, clueless and bewildered.

The two rode northeast until sunset, then climbed a small hill, where a lake suddenly appeared before them.

The afterglow of the setting sun turned into golden threads, weaving fine stitches on the water's surface.

Flocks of geese fly over the lake, sometimes gathering and sometimes dispersing, as if they are dancing a never-ending dance.

As the sun sets, lights begin to twinkle on the opposite shore of the lake.

A lighthouse stands alone amidst the flickering lights, calling for the departing fishing boats to return home.

Upon seeing the lighthouse, Pierre immediately realized, "Shovel Harbor is on the other side?!"

He looked around at the vast lake: "This is Shovel Lake?!"

“That’s right, Shovel Harbor is across the way.” Winters pointed with his riding crop to the lakeshore below, deliberately testing Pierre, and asked with a beaming smile, “So, where is this place?”

Pierre couldn't answer.

As everyone knows, the west bank of Shovel Harbor is a "no man's land," so what place name could there be? Winters rephrased the question: "What did you see?"

“I saw nothing, sir,” Pierre replied truthfully.

"Then let me tell you what I saw."

Winters laughed loudly, startling flocks of waterbirds into flight, which soared into the sky.

"I saw docks, warehouses, rows of shops, granite-paved roads, and crowds of pedestrians..."

Wolf Blood pointed his long whip at the lake shore, sketching out the future with high spirits: "That rocky beach is five fathoms deep enough to dock barges of a hundred tons. If we build two boardwalks, we can unload eight ships at a time..."

“Pave a wide road along the pebble beach that can accommodate four cars side by side, and then pave another equally wide road along the pebble beach. The southern block is reserved for shops, and the northern block is set up as warehouses…”

“From that promontory all the way to the foot of the mountain, dig a moat, build a city wall, add a fort every two hundred meters, divert lake water to flood the moat, and then build a gun emplacement on this mound we are standing on now. Even if a thousand troops come to attack, they will be smashed to pieces…”

"Don't worry about that awkward title of 'military governor'. It's just to keep you out of the limelight and avoid arousing jealousy."

Winters, sitting confidently on his saddle, told Pierre with great enthusiasm:

"You are now the true 'Governor' of the newly reclaimed lands! This will be your seat of government, and your rule will begin here!"

Pierre, however, was not excited at all. He lowered his head, fiddling with the reins in his hands for a long time, before finally mustering up the courage to ask the question that the little lion had asked him but which he could not answer.

“Sir,” Pierre said earnestly, “why do you want to obtain the newly reclaimed land?”

Winters looked at Pierre again with slight surprise. He was pleased that Pierre had asked the question, but he didn't want to reveal his true thoughts easily.

So he thought for a moment and said, "Let me ask you two questions first, Pierre Gerardnovich."

"Please feel free to ask."

"What do you consider to be your primary task as the Governor-General of the Outer New Lands?"

Pierre answered without hesitation: “Collect blood taxes, recruit enough cavalry as soon as possible, arm and train them, so that the Outer New Territories can defend themselves and become your new source of strength.”

"Wrong!" Winters exclaimed, "Completely wrong!"

Pierre shuddered involuntarily.

“Listen up, Pierre Mitchell!” Winters warned sternly. “Your primary task is to ensure the people of this land live in peace and prosperity! You must govern fairly and wisely! You must designate pastures for them! You must resolve their disputes! You must defend them as you would your own people! You must treat them as you would your own people! Your primary task is to ensure that they live on this land willingly, not out of fear and coercion!”

"Your secondary task is to stop the Red River tribe from infiltrating the tribes on the south bank and to guard against the resurgence of the Terdun tribe."

"Your final task is to collect blood taxes."

"These three tasks are interconnected. If you cannot protect the territory and its people, you will not be able to stop the White Lion from spreading his influence to the south bank of the Ash River. The Teldon tribe will then rise from the ashes. At that time, the newly reclaimed lands will be unable to support themselves. Instead of becoming a source of strength for the Republic, they will become a wound that the Republic cannot stop bleeding from."

Winters's gaze was sharp as he scrutinized the young man before him: "Did you understand? Governor Pierre Gerardovich Mitchell."

Pierre's face burned as if it were being scorched by the blazing sun.

"Yes!" he answered decisively.

Winters' expression softened, and his tone became gentler: "Now, I'll ask you a second question—where do you think the Paratul and the Hed will end if they continue down the same path of mutual destruction?"

"Our victory!" Pierre answered again without hesitation.

Winters smiled. "Why are you so confident?"

"The decline of the Hart tribes was inevitable. Their advantage of swift bows and horses is gradually disappearing, while our muskets and cannons are becoming increasingly sophisticated," Pierre said with unwavering conviction. "The defeat in the Battle of the Great Wilderness is merely a bump on the road to the end. Victory will ultimately be ours!"

Winters shook his head and then nodded: "Your conclusion is correct, but your argument is flawed. Are the Hurds' advantages in riding horses and drawing bows? The Paratus can ride horses and use bows just as well; are the Paratus' advantages in muskets and cannons? The Hurds can use guns and cannons just as well."

"What truly gave the Paratists the upper hand over the past thirty years was not guns and spears, but a standing army and a state capable of supporting it."

"Currently, I have not observed any signs of the collapse of the standing army system of the Paratul or even the Alliance, so your conclusion is correct: the Paratul—or rather, the Alliance—will ultimately win."

Winters then changed the subject: "But when I ask you 'where is the finish line,' I'm not asking who will win, but rather 'what will the Paratists' victory look like?'"

Pierre looked up and met the Blood Wolf's eyes, which were as deep and dark as a bottomless pool.

In an instant, he recalled the stories his elders had told him since childhood, the expulsion, plunder, and slaughter of the Hed tribes by the Parat people over the past thirty years, and everything he had witnessed in the Great Wilderness Campaign.

Where will this road end?

Pierre felt a little thirsty, but still gave his answer: "The Hed people will be wiped out."

A slight smile flickered across Winters' lips: "Pierre, it's impossible to 'eliminate' everything through killing. It's not a moral issue, but a matter of capability."

"However, I generally agree with your view. Even if the Hud people are not completely wiped out, there won't be many left. At least most of the Hud people we see today, and their descendants, will not survive—do you think that's a good ending?"

Pierre hardened his heart and replied, "Solving the problem once and for all should be a good outcome."

Winters remained noncommittal, simply turning away to gaze at the lake under the setting sun, and remained silent for a long time.

Pierre stood silently behind Blood Wolf, letting the howling wind rage on.

In the vast wilderness, only two people and two horses stood silently.

The world is so vast, and humans are so insignificant; there is no feeling more lonely than this.

“Pierre,” Winters suddenly spoke, “now I will tell you why I am establishing new reclamation areas.”

Pierre lowered his head toward the back of the Blood Wolf, listening intently.

"Because I'm going to rewrite what you believe to be the predetermined ending!"

“I want the Heds to be part of the alliance! Not the way we kill them or they rule us, but the way we rule ourselves!”

Winters turned around, beaming with confidence and high spirits, and made his vow:

“Wenduo’er tribe is just a starting point, and the newly reclaimed land outside is also just a starting point.”

"I want more than just newly reclaimed land."

"What I want is to completely quell the raging spirit that was born on this vast wasteland and has brought countless deaths and calamities to the Paratul and the Hed people!"
This is my purpose! My goal! My mission!

"I have never revealed my desires to anyone before. You are the first person in the world to hear my arrogant words."

Winters smiled and extended his hand to Pierre: "Would you like to join me?"

Since leaving Wolf Town for the second time, Pierre hadn't shed a tear. But at this moment, for some reason, Pierre's eyes were a little moist.

“I will go to the destination you have indicated.” Pierre put his hand to his chest and bowed, “even if it takes a hundred years.”

“A hundred years? I thought you were going to say two hundred years!” Winters laughed and patted Pierre on the shoulder: “That’s right, I didn’t choose the wrong person. We need this kind of optimism.”

Pierre pretended that sand and dust had gotten into his eyes and rubbed them vigorously.
"A hundred years may not be enough. You, me, our children, and even our children's children may not live to see that day come."

Winters sighed, then smiled and looked at Pierre: "So, shouldn't we set off as soon as possible?"

(The raging spirit has been quelled. The End)
……

……

[postscript]
"Is this the little guy?" Winters Blood Wolf Montagne, who remained unmoved even as thousands of troops charged towards him, was shocked.

Bell looked ashamed, his eyes fixed on the toes of his shoes: "Yes."

"Is this the little guy?" Winters looked at Pierre in disbelief.

Pierre looked helpless: "Well... it was already like this when I arrived..."

Bell was on the verge of tears: "It's all my fault, I didn't discipline the little guy well..."

"It's your responsibility that you didn't discipline it properly." Winters glared at the little hunter. "It's my responsibility that I didn't discipline you properly!"

In front of the three, the once agile and imposing little guy was struggling to move towards them.

Looking at its four legs and tail, the little guy doesn't seem to have changed much.

However, the body supported by four legs swelled up like a bladder.

This was no longer a "little lion"; what appeared before Winters was clearly an "old pig."

No! Even pigs aren't that big!

The little guy was already panting after walking only a few steps.

But it clearly remembered someone's scent. Excited yet struggling, it approached the person and gently rubbed its broad forehead against the back of that person's hand.

The little guy was very careful with his strength; otherwise, a slight nudge could have knocked someone over.

Even the hardest heart melted upon witnessing this scene.

Winters sighed, touched the little guy's forehead, turned to the "lion bearer" who was serving the little guy, and said fiercely, "[Herd's] starting today, its food will be halved... no, reduced by a quarter, and then reduced by another quarter in half a month! And so on. And when you have the chance, I'll replace the dead sheep with live ones!"

The Hedman responsible for feeding and caring for the little creature cried out in terror, "[Hedman] Batu! You mustn't! The sacred beast will get angry if it's not full!"

“[Herd] I’ll get angry when it’s full.” Winters gritted his teeth. “[Herd] You choose one!”

[Another example of barbarians (in quotes) who needed the law even more is the Vikings.]
Today, the image of Vikings in film and television is fixed as that of uncivilized people wearing horned helmets, drinking mead, rowing longships, and engaging in widespread burning, killing, and looting.
[However, the Vikings were actually quite reasonable among themselves. For example, the Icelandic Vikings, until 1262, did not have a recognized leader or a government, and relied entirely on a set of unwritten customary laws to maintain the operation of society.]
While Icelandic sagas (oral epics) are filled with vendettas, they also contain many instances of resolving conflicts through large assemblies and judicial trials. Perhaps because of the prevalence of vendettas and the frequent use of axes, people cherished methods that resolved issues without resorting to violence. Therefore, despite the lack of public authority in Viking courts, the Icelandic Vikings respected their rulings.
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]