Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 55 Reunion with Benwei

The man, wearing a large hat, walked with his head down into the stable where the officers' horses were tied up. He inquired about the name Winters Montagne and was led to Winters' side.

Winters didn't recognize the face, but the person called out his surname correctly.

"You must be Mr. Montagne?"

"Do I know you?" Winters became wary.

“I am a friend of Ben Vinuto, and I am here to deliver a message for him.”

Upon hearing Benvinuto's name, Winters quickly led the visitor to a secluded spot outside the stables.

According to the lame man, a group of Monta were digging deep into the ground looking for Benwei, but this friend directly named Benwei in front of everyone else.

“What message? Speak,” Winters couldn’t help but remind the other person, “Someone is looking for your friend. Don’t mention his name casually. If someone with ulterior motives hears this name, they can find him by following him.”

"No way, the Monta people aren't that capable. I've delivered countless letters for them and never made a mistake." This Benvenuto messenger, confident in his experience, dismissed Winters's warning.

Seeing the messenger's dismissive smile, Winters roared inwardly, "The Varn people have absolutely no sense of secrecy!"

Countless military operations in this world have fooled enemy spies and scouts, only to fail because of tips from shepherds and woodcutters.

Never underestimate the intelligence capabilities of the masses; this was an important lesson Winters learned in his war history class.

But there was no point in talking to this messenger, so Winters asked directly, "What message did he ask you to deliver to me?"

"Benwei said he's fine and safe now, and that you don't need to worry about him. He'll contact you again once things have calmed down."

"Where does he live now?" Winters wondered.

The messenger answered without hesitation, "They live in my house."

……

Two hours later, in a small courtyard on the edge of a small village on the outskirts of town, Benvinuto was chopping wood.

His shirt hung to the side, his upper body bare, his skin tanned dark from years of working at the docks. He wasn't fat, nor did he have any particularly muscular build; he looked lean and wiry. But when he swung his axe, only then could one discern the power hidden within his body from the gnarled, twisted muscles that revealed his physique.

Benwei was in charge of swinging the axe, his hand swift and decisive, splitting the wood in two with a single stroke. Another little boy was responsible for placing the sawn logs on the stakes. The two men had a clear division of labor and worked together skillfully, and the chopped firewood was already neatly stacked into a wall under the eaves.

"Benwei, look who I've brought you!" The courtyard gate creaked open, and the owner of the small courtyard's cheerful voice rang out.

Winters led his horse in, following behind the messenger.

"Why are you here?" Benwei's surprise was beyond words.

Winters strode up and gave him a bear hug: "It's a long story."

Benway's messenger and owner of the courtyard warmly invited the women of the house to prepare food and drink for Winters. Although the Varnes were not good at plotting, they were generous, hospitable, and loyal to their families and friends.

Most of the residents of this small village are Waan people who fled to Vineta more than 20 years ago to escape war, so it's no wonder that Ben Vinutto would hide here.

"Are you all alone here?" Winters asked. This small yard didn't look like it could possibly accommodate Benway's entire family.

“My brother and I live here.” Benway pulled up a stool for Winters and said calmly, “The old folks have all been sent to live with relatives in other places.”

The two sat under the shade of a tree in the corner of the courtyard. The owner of the courtyard called his son into the house to politely leave, leaving only Winters and Benway in the courtyard in front of the house.

It had rained last night, and after the sun came out, the puddles dried up little by little, making the outside as humid and hot as a steamer. Under the dappled shadows of the trees, Benway was holding a large jug and pouring water for Winters to drink.

“It’s not safe for you at all here. This friend is a good person, but also a terrible messenger. He’s too careless, and your enemies can easily find you by following the trail,” Winters said bluntly.

There was no time for pleasantries. Winters, from an officer's perspective, inspected the defenses of the small courtyard: "The walls of this courtyard are too low, it's on the edge of the village, and there isn't even a dog. What will you and your brother do if someone sneaks in at night?"

Benway handed the water glass to Winters: "It's alright. All the Varnes in this village are related to my family. I can get the news immediately if any unfamiliar faces appear in the village. With them protecting me, I'm safe. Don't worry."

“The safer you feel, the more dangerous you actually are.” Winters was most afraid that Benway would be numbed by this false sense of security: “This little courtyard is not in the village, but on the edge of the village. If I bring people here, we can come and go quickly, and the villagers won’t have time to react.”

Benway laughed and said, "Don't think too highly of those Monta people. Whether they are Monta or Paratul, they are just like us Varn people, a group of dockworkers with some strength."

“The more you think like that, the more dangerous it becomes,” Winters said worriedly.

"Okay, okay, then my brother and I will move to the house at the very back of the village." Benwei didn't seem to care much.

Winters sighed. There was no point in worrying if the person involved wasn't in a hurry, but moving to a different place would at least make things safer. He added, "It's best to change places every day so that people can't figure out where you are."

"Okay, okay," Benway replied helplessly to Winters.

The two were silent for a short while, the only sound being the incessant croaking of the frogs in the small pond outside the yard.
"I've heard about what happened at the docks," Winters spoke first. "Since when have you had to form cliques to work at the docks?"

Benwei leaned gently against the tree trunk, gazing into the distance, and said, "It hasn't been many years. Anyway, it wasn't like this when my dad was working at the docks... Ultimately, it's all about grabbing jobs. In recent years, more and more people have flocked to Hailan. Although the work at the docks is tough, anyone with strength can do it, so the competition is getting fiercer. Maliciously undercutting prices is the least of it; beating people up in the alleys is common. If you don't stick together, you'll be bullied by those who do, forcing people to stick together."

“You are creating an oppressor for yourselves, this kind of…” Winters bit his lip, unsure which word to use: “…gang, organization, society, call it whatever you want. Although you’re banding together now just to avoid being bullied, you’ll definitely turn into monsters that use violence to suck your blood in the future.”

“That’s right, it’s starting to show signs of that,” Benwei said with a self-deprecating laugh. “But after the docks were divided into several sections, the malicious undercutting among the dockworkers finally ended. Outsiders weren’t allowed to come to the docks and steal jobs, so the dockworkers earned more money. Even a rogue order is better than no order at all.”

"Forget it, why are we talking about such distant matters? This is a matter for customs to worry about, it has nothing to do with me." Winters' smile faded, and he asked Benway seriously, "How do you Varne people plan to clean up this mess? Are you going to keep hiding? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Benway laughed and patted Winters on the shoulder: "It's alright, you're making a big deal out of this. This isn't a war between two countries. The Monta are all bark and no bite; they're just making a lot of noise to grab more territory. Once this calms down, I won't have to hide anymore."

Winters frowned and said, "As far as I know, the Monta people have bought quite a few real weapons, including more than a dozen matchlock guns. They're serious about getting revenge."

According to the cripple, fights at the docks usually only involved sticks, not sharpened weapons, let alone firearms.

Dockworkers aren't soldiers; their fights are just about getting jobs, not about killing anyone, and they certainly don't want to escalate things. The cripple believed the Monta were serious this time, and their motives weren't simple. They probably wanted to pull off a major operation to crush the other two groups and take control of the docks. "Don't worry, we have guns too. Actually, carrying guns is just for show; they're not even loaded with lead." Benwei angrily punched his thigh: "These Monta people are all out of their minds! They blame us Vane for their own people dying, and they insist my family killed their people, it's really..."

"Uh, really it wasn't you and your brother who did it?" Winters suddenly realized the blind spot.

Although the Varn people do not admit it, the cripple, Field, Moritz, and Winters all believe that Benway and his brothers killed the Monta leader.

Because... it makes perfect sense. Nearly two hundred murders occur in this city every year, with revenge killings accounting for a third of them.

Enemies meeting and drawing their swords to stab each other is a very common occurrence in Hailan City.

Revenge is one of the most basic human emotions, and the culture of revenge is a shared culture of all humankind. Although the law has centralized the power of revenge in the hands of the ruling class, in the "wilderness" south of the Shade Mountains, blood revenge is still revered by the majority.

Ben Vinutto killed someone to avenge his uncle, breaking the law, but the citizens of Aquamarine still cheered for him.

But just a few seconds ago, Benway's words didn't mean that.

“Of course not!” Benway’s tone was extremely helpless: “I did plan with my brothers to avenge Uncle, but Big Scar’s death really had nothing to do with us. Sigh.”

"Not you?"

"of course."

"Not your brother either?"

“The night Da Ba died, my whole family was keeping vigil for my uncle. It definitely wasn’t my younger brothers who did it.”

"Then how..."

Benway sighed: "That's the biggest problem. Everyone thinks my family killed Big Scar to get revenge. Not only the Monta people, but the Varn people also firmly believe it, even my distant relatives think so, and no matter how I explain, it's no use."

Benway had no reason to lie to Winters, especially about this matter. Although Winters initially believed Benway was behind it, he still sided with Benway, and Benway understood this.

So since Ben Vinutto said he didn't kill the Monta man, Winters believes he really didn't do it.

"Won't this matter become a mess?"

Benwei grunted, "Actually, it doesn't matter. Even if Big Scar doesn't die, I still want to avenge my uncle. It makes no difference in the end, and it saves me trouble."

“The difference is huge!” Winters exclaimed anxiously. “If this were pinned on you, you would at least be sentenced to exile.”

“This can’t be pinned on me,” Benway grinned. “My neighbors are all my witnesses. It’s precisely because the sheriff can’t get me arrested and put on trial that Monta is so eager to get revenge on me. Besides, I didn’t do it in the first place, and I will never admit to it.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Winters asked. “Anything.”

"It's okay, I have everything I need right now, and I don't even have to work. I'm doing great."

Winters looked into Benway's eyes and said earnestly, "If you hadn't saved me at the dock that day, I would have drowned. I owe you my life. Anything...anything I can do, just say the word, my friend."

Winters emphasized the word "any".

Benway understood Winters' meaning, and he laughed, playfully punching Winters' knee: "Do we need to talk about repaying favors between us? You should just stick to being an officer and not get involved in my petty affairs. Speaking of which, I actually have something I'd like to ask you for a favor."

"You said."

Is your family's workshop still there?

"It's still there; my uncle is managing it now."

"Could you help me get an apprenticeship?" Benwei asked somewhat awkwardly.

“Of course! I guarantee it, my uncle will definitely agree,” Winters said, patting his chest.

“It’s not that I want to be an apprentice, it’s that I want my third brother to be an apprentice.” Benwei quickly explained, “He also studied at Luyou and graduated this year, but unfortunately he can’t go to Guitu City. I don’t want him to work at the docks. It would be best if you could sponsor him to be an apprentice.”

Craftspeople with specialized skills belong to the middle-income class in this society. They earn money through their skills, unlike farmers who are at the mercy of the weather, or businesspeople who are criticized and despised. They are the envy of most manual laborers.

But becoming a craftsman isn't something anyone can just decide to do. In Venetia, trade associations have historically monopolized entry into all industries by paying hefty taxes.

A person who only knows carpentry cannot be a carpenter; at most, they can only make furniture for their own home. Only formal members of the carpenters' guild can openly sell woodworking products and provide carpentry services to others.

The same applies to other industries.

In this way, artisans limited the number of people entering the market, avoiding excessive competition. In fact, not only artisans, but merchants also did the same through trade guilds.

To become a full member of a guild, one must first become an apprentice of a full member. After a five- to seven-year apprenticeship, upon graduation, one can automatically become a full member of the guild with the tools given to them by their master.

The apprenticeship period was extremely arduous because many craftsmen had terrible tempers, favored corporal punishment, and were prone to beatings and verbal abuse. Moreover, apprentices received no wages. However, this was the necessary path to entering a lucrative industry, and many people longed for it.

“Why don’t you come work in my family’s workshop? Dock work is very physically demanding, and you can’t do it for the rest of your life.” Winters was genuinely thinking of Benway’s best interests. Benway was the same age as him, nineteen this year, which wasn’t too late to become an apprentice.

“I won’t go,” Benwei said with a faint smile. “Apprentices don’t get paid, and I have a whole family to support. My younger brother can be the apprentice, that’s enough. I’m just worried that he won’t be able to handle the hardship of being an apprentice.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Giovanni to take care of your brother.” Winters remembered something important: “By the way, there’s something I want to ask you. You were there the day the pier was bombed and sank, right?”

"Present."

"The people who blew up the pier weren't the ones in black robes, but rather dressed like dockworkers. Do you remember them?"

Benway nodded with a cold smile: "Of course I remember, it was that group of Monta."

According to the archives of the Bologna Criminal Court, there were nearly 150 murders in Bologna in 1660, resulting in deaths. Furthermore, the social atmosphere of the 16th century was more inclined towards swift retribution than that of the 17th century… Thank you to the readers who voted for the book previously, thank you to reader 20181013204343295 for your vote, thank you to reader 烟云散 for your vote, thank you to reader 20200306210032266 for your vote, thank you everyone. It's late tonight; I've only written a little over 4,000 words since I sat here at 7 pm.
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(End of this chapter)