Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Gold," Winters asked without turning his head, "why did you help me?"

"Me? I don't know either." Gold sat back down on the stump, pondered for quite some time, and then muttered resentfully, "I... I'm the youngest son at home, and my parents were tenant farmers. They couldn't afford to keep me, so they sent me to the ship to be a sailor. Life on the ship was tough; the captain and the sailors bullied people. On that ship, I was the lowest of the low.

"If the captain had treated me like a human, I would have followed him to the ends of the earth, even at the cost of my life. If the other sailors had been a little nicer to me, I would never have betrayed them. When our ship was seized, the pirates asked if anyone wanted to join them, and I agreed without any hesitation.

"Anyway, that's about it. I don't know why I ended up here. Maybe it's to return your water flask."

Winters silently chopped wood as Gold sighed and walked away.

After Winters returned to the Mitchell estate, word gradually spread among the villages that "the Garrison Officer from Montaigne had come back."

Many villagers came to see him.

It was from them that Winters learned about the hardships Wolf Town had endured over the past months.

When Gerard Mitchell was the town mayor, only the villages to the east and west of the river, along with Dusa Village, respected him; the two Protestant villages often clashed with Gerard.

But when Gerard was conscripted and replaced by Great Bunting, even the Protestants started to miss Mayor Mitchell.

First, there were the relentless demands for land payments and taxes, followed by one round of conscription and grain levies after another.

Landless laborers fled in droves. When not enough people were caught, the self-sufficient farmers were forcibly taken away.

The men dared not sleep at home; they hid in the forests at night.

In mid-May, an officer who came for conscription went missing; Great Bunting fled to Revodan overnight, and Wolf Town essentially lost all order.

The big shots were fighting at the edge of the sky, but deserters were running into the Newly Reclaimed Land.

Without a town mayor, Wolf Town had no more law and order; deserters and bandits came in waves. The villages barely managed to defend themselves, but not the town center, which was burnt to ash during that time.

April and May were the lean months; the remaining grains were seized, and the farmers were all waiting for the early June harvest of winter wheat.

They struggled through to June, only to face an even greater disaster.

Three groups arrived at the Newly Reclaimed Land, to levy grains and conscript people.

What was more terrifying than the grain levies and conscription was that they harvested the farmers' wheat fields before the farmers themselves could.

If any farmer dared to show up and resist, they would be conscripted on the spot.

The two groups even fought each other when they met, and many wheat fields were burned to the ground.

To the farmers, whether it was the Red Rose or the Blue Rose, they did not understand the difference.

To them, it was just one group after another taking their food.

Even the self-sufficient farmers could no longer survive; some of them boarded up their houses and fled.

Their shanties lay wide open and deserted, while their dilapidated homesites grew increasingly desolate and were a sorry sight.

The farmers who stayed did not wish to leave their land. They planted barley, prayed for a harvest in the fall, and struggled tenaciously.

The flames of war had not yet reached the Newly Reclaimed Land, but the devastation caused to its people had not lessened even slightly.

Because they belonged to no side, no one cared about them even more.

Hearing the fragmented accounts from the people of Wolf Town, Winters grew increasingly silent.

The people of Wolf Town had been wounded by round after round of levies, but when they heard that the Montaigne Garrison Officer had an injury on his leg, they still brought him valuable eggs, flour, and even the last small strip of cured meat from their homes.

Winters could only repeatedly persuade the villagers to take their things back home.

He still remembered, on the first night back at the Mitchell estate, Mrs. Mitchell had made chicken stew.

At the time, it just tasted good, but looking back, that was a laying hen from the Mitchell's.

Winters could only silently chop wood, tirelessly splitting it.

He dragged logs from the forest, sawed them into sections, and split them into firewood, which he piled up almost like a little mountain.

He fixed the broken fences around the Mitchell estate, one after the other.

He wanted to leave money for Mrs. Mitchell, but did the Mitchell's lack money? With the world turned upside down, what good was money?

…

Winters' new wounds had already scabbed and reduced in swelling, and Gold's body was rapidly recovering.

The day of parting finally arrived.

The Mitchell mother and daughter packed Winters' belongings and prepared provisions for him.

"I'm sorry," Winters said to Mrs. Mitchell.

"Don't speak of such things, Mr. Montaigne," Eileen said lovingly as she straightened Winters' collar, "Had it not been for you, Pierre would not have come back alive. You are a benefactor of the Mitchell family, forever and always."

Scarlett's eyes were slightly red with tears, as she stood behind her mother unwilling to part, yet she did not speak a word of entreaty.

"I'm sorry," Winters lowered his head.

Eileen, in a rare gesture, hugged the young Venetian man before turning to instruct her daughter, "My dear, please lead Botayun out."

Scarlett had already made preparations. She nodded and led out a steed white as clouds from behind the house.

"The steed of fate... I'm truly sorry." Eileen didn't need Winters to say anything, she understood everything after seeing that the steed had not returned, and upon seeing Winters's cane: "Please take this horse back to Vineta. Do not ride it on the way, nor tire it out. It was my husband's best stallion, and Gerard would have wanted to give it to you as well."

"No," Winters shook his head vehemently. "I can't accept it."

"You must take it," said Eileen softly. "It carries the bloodline of fate."

Winters was completely stunned, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Scarlett also gave Winters a hug, then wiped away her tears and thrust the reins into Winters's hands.

Winters mounted the horse and left the Mitchell estate. He didn't dare to look back, only continued forward.

Xial and Gold followed silently behind.

The three rode on without words, just like that.

They continued until they reached the crossroads to the village of Dusa and Wolf Town.

An elderly woman with disheveled hair stood at the crossroads, wrapped in dirty rags.

She leaned on a wooden stick, gazing fixedly down the road leading to Wolf Town.

"Let's go, my lord," Gold said in a low voice. "She's a madwoman."

Yet Winters recognized the old woman, who once sat by the threshing floor, carrying her little granddaughter on her back, laughing and washing clothes while watching the men practice javelin.

Winters took out all the money he had, dismounted, and walked to the old woman's side.

The old woman, who had been as still as a stone statue, suddenly seized Winters's arm, staring at his face as if she recognized the person before her.

A glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes.

"My lord," the old woman asked, "have you seen my son?"

Tears burst from Winters's eyes.

"Let's go, my lord," Gold said softly.

Winters thought of Sea Blue, Kasha, Antonio, Elizabeth, and the Great General and the lesser generals.

He recalled Brother Reed's words: "This is the easiest, the simplest path, I've shown you the way, why do you hesitate?"

He thought of Anna's smiling face and her flowing hair.

He remembered everything about his homeland.

...

...

"Thump."

"Thump."

"Thump."

Scarlett, who was sobbing, opened the door.

Winters stood outside.

"I'm not leaving," he said.

Scarlett burst into tears and hugged Winters tightly.

Above the plains, a rider sped towards Vineta, with two extra horses tied to his saddle.

This rider was "Good Fortune" Gold.

His backpack contained four letters.

The first three were addressed to Kasha Serviati, Antonio Serviati, and Elizabeth Serviati, respectively.

The recipient of the fourth letter was Anna Navarre.

It contained only one sentence.

"I am still alive, I'm sorry, don't wait for me anymore."

[End of Volume Two]