Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

In the Mitchell's living room, Winters changed into his tattered lumberjack outfit and asked earnestly, "What do you think? Do I look like a refugee escaping famine?"

Anna shook her head with a smile.

"How long has it been since this outfit was washed?" Catherine evaluated while reclining on a chaise, wrinkling her nose.

Mrs. Mitchell came into the living room, carrying a set of sparkling, translucent teacups.

Seeing Mrs. Mitchell approach, Catherine immediately let go of her casual posture, sat up properly, and politely accepted the teacup—as if a mouse had seen a cat.

It was the same with Lieutenant Juan.

Accepting the teacup with both hands, Juan sneered at his younger comrade, "Come on! If refugees escaping famine had your physique, I'd pack my bags and flee right now."

Juan's mouth was as venomous as it was slick, and both Anna and Catherine covered their lips to laugh lightly, even Mrs. Mitchell couldn't help but reveal a hint of a smile.

Winters was neither fat nor thin, his long-term physical labor had made his body well-proportioned and sturdy—he hardly looked like a refugee who missed meals.

"Then should I disguise myself as a mercenary? A guard? A bodyguard?" Winters frowned slightly, "Caman said the inspection in Revodan is very strict; besides soldiers, there are only disaster victims. Any other identity might be easily suspected."

"You are yourself," Anna reminded softly.

Winters appeared thoughtful.

"Right, what else?" Juan scolded as if berating the less experienced, "You are an officer to begin with, so why pretend to be a refugee? Just put on your uniform, mount a tall steed, and enter the city with confidence—who would dare to suspect you?"

Winters had used this tactic before, entering Kingsfort through the main gate in uniform.

But it was a bit risky in Revodan. At Kingsfort, many officers came and went, but in Revodan, there were only a few genuine officers, all with familiar faces.

"However, I'll have to adapt to the circumstances when the time comes," thought Winters, and his furrowed brow relaxed, "I'll take the uniform with me."

The garrison in Revodan wouldn't be unaware of where their gendarmes were going.

From the moment the Wolf Town militia intercepted the gendarmerie scouts, it was only a matter of time before they were exposed to the eyes of Revodan.

So he had to make a trip to Revodan as soon as possible.

The time for gathering was always too brief; Winters had only reunited with Anna in the morning and had to depart again in the afternoon.

When seeing him off, Juan sighed and asked, "Do you want me to accompany you?"

"Don't worry, I brought a guard," Winters replied with a smile, shaking his head.

"Sure," Juan snorted lightly, "You're so skilled, what need do you have for me?"

Winters was too weary to parry, "Senior... I didn't mean that."

Patting Winters's horse, Juan unusually serious, cautioned, "Listen, be careful in everything. Don't capsize in a ditch and die in Revodan. I went to great lengths to find you alive; I don't want to bring a corpse back to Sea Blue."

"Rest assured."

"Get going, don't waste time."

Winters looked toward Anna, Pierre, Mrs. Mitchell, and all the others who had come to see him off... Scarlett was there too, with swollen eyes.

He nodded to each in turn, then gently spurring his mount, rode away.

His figure grew smaller and smaller until he crested a hill and disappeared from sight.

…

For the Navarre sisters, the novelty of arriving in Wolf Town faded in less than three days—much like it had for Winters.

The vast and majestic scenery quickly grew tiresome, leaving nothing but endless horizons and the monotony of day after day.

Rural life was hard and busy, with women from farming families working like men, and underage girls gathering wood, fetching water, weeding—doing whatever they were able to.

Life was equally tedious and dull for families of estate owners because all the hired workers had left, so the women of Mitchell's also had to work the fields like men.

Hence, Mitchell's estate now had only two forms of entertainment: one was housework, and the other was needlework.

Even in the "good old days," life in the Newly Reclaimed Land plantations was far less vibrant compared to the colorful Sea Blue.

For the estate owners of Wolf Town, the only respite in their day-to-day life was social gatherings.

In the past, the estates would host parties in turn—fine dining, free-flowing drinks, gossip exchange, and unrestrained dancing.

This was also the only chance for the ladies and misses, aside from going to church, to leave their estates.

At all other times, an estate owner's wife and daughter were expected to go beyond neither the main gate nor the secondary gate.

But now, no one hosted parties anymore because everyone was struggling.

Estate owners with connections in Revodan had already fled Wolf Town to seek refuge with relatives and friends.

Several estates lay abandoned, inhabited now by foxes and birds.

The owners who stayed in Wolf Town did so because they had nowhere else to go or because they had a deep attachment to the land and didn't want to leave their homes behind.

In comparison, the average self-subsistent farming family might have had it a bit easier than the estate owners—but that was only relatively speaking.

Despite this, Eileen didn't hesitate to offer the best her house had to host the two Miss Navarres.

But for the two delicately nurtured ladies, it was still too crude.

"How can I eat these things?" Catherine complained to her sister every night in bed, "I just can't swallow them. I know we're not at home, and there's no dedicated chef. But can't they at least sift the grass seeds out of the flour?"

Compared to Scarlett, who always cleaned her plate, Catherine would leave quite a bit uneaten each meal.