Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 304 – 9: The Unbeliever
“Where is that thing?” Winters stopped a villager at the entrance of the village, asking anxiously, “Who lit the smoke signal?”

Seeing a thick plume of smoke rising from the direction of the Nanxin Protestant Village, Winters immediately rushed over with two borrowed fire guns.

All the way there, he harshly spurred his red-maned horse, fearing he was too late. The horse broke into a frantic gallop, swiftly arriving at Nanxin Village.

The frightened farm girl he stopped meekly led the way and took Winters to a yard at the south side of the village. A group of villagers had already gathered inside and outside the yard, whispering and discussing among themselves.

Winters’s heart tightened: Had someone already fallen victim?

He rode his horse closer to the yard with quick steps, and the villagers around moved aside. Winters asked the village head straight away, “Are there any casualties? Where is that thing? Which way did it run?”

“It didn’t run, sir,” the head of Nanxin Village pointed toward the yard, “We’ve trapped it inside the warehouse!”

What?

Warehouse?

At first Winters was puzzled, then he became a bit irritated, a surge of nameless anger rising within him.

The warehouse in the yard that wasn’t even two meters tall? That dilapidated boardroom could hold a beast from the forest? What a joke!

“Mr. Balbi.” Montaigne, the lieutenant mounted on his horse, looked down at the village head with a chilling voice, making the air turn suddenly cold, “Are you trying to make fun of me?”

…

The air inside the warehouse was damp and stuffy.

Sunlight came through the holes in the roof and landed on the floor, revealing bright paths through the dancing dust, barely lighting up the low boardroom.

Wheat husks, straw, and some farm tools were scattered around the warehouse, with low growls emanating from the deepest part of the clutter.

A large, disheveled brown wolf leaned against the corner wall, bracing itself with its front legs. It bared its sharp teeth, its eyes filled with ferocity, growling warnings to keep the enemy at bay.

There were several bloodstains on the wolf’s body, the injury on its left hind leg was the most severe; the broken bone piercing through the skin could be seen, inflicted by the blows of the farmers’ sticks.

This wild creature was now at the end of its tether, Winters gave it one last look, then threw the spear in his hand.

The short spear, thrown with tremendous force, hit the wolf with the severely injured hind leg, the tip entering from one side, piercing through the rib and sticking into the ground from the other side.

The pinned-down wolf whimpered like an injured puppy. Winters pulled out a short blade and put an end to its suffering.

After dragging the brown wolf’s carcass out of the warehouse, Winters asked the village head, “Is this the only one? Are there more?”

Surrounded by the yard, the villagers of Nanxin erupted into cheers at the sight of the dead wolf.

“No more, your lordship,” the shaken village head Balbi swallowed his saliva and said with cautious care, “Just this one that got trapped in the board warehouse.”

A dog, three chickens and ducks, half a dozen eggs, and several villagers bitten on the legs, that’s all the loss Nanxin Village suffered.

About five or six wolves broke into Nanxin Village in search of food, and one was killed on the spot by the gathered militia. Except for one wolf that frantically hid in a farmer’s barn, the rest ran back into the forest.

The barn was narrow and no villager dared to enter, so that brown wolf was eventually dealt with by Winters himself.

The villagers of Nanxin Village were very exhilarated. In their view, although the wolf invasion was real, not only had they driven the wolves away but had also killed two, so the wolf invasion wasn’t a big deal at all.

After getting Winters’s permission, the jubilant Protestants had already begun preparing to divvy up the wolf meat.

Gerard and Winters rode side by side on their horses, watching from afar as the villagers sharpened knives and boiled water. Gerard expressed his satisfaction, “Lieutenant, it seems that the militia of Nanxin Village has been well trained by you.”

Winters shook his head, not sounding pleased, “I only practiced javelin throwing a few times, there’s hardly any training to speak of. It’s just wolves, something that a few farmers with clubs can handle.”

Hunter Ralph left the villagers who were dealing with the dead wolves and approached the two men.

“Is there something special?” Winters asked the hunter.

“Sir, except for some gastric acid and a bit of squirrel remains, there were only grass roots in the wolf’s stomach,” Ralph reported his findings. “Overall, this pack of wolves still fears humans, and they probably only dared to enter the village because they were starving.”

Winters asked the hunter, “The people of Nanxin Village say the wolves ran west. Do you think we can catch up with them?”

“We can try to follow them. Although two of their companions are dead, the pack knows there’s food here, and in desperation, they might come back. But we’ve arrived late, and the chances of catching up to them are slim,” Ralph replied cautiously.

Winters nodded and ordered, “Go get Dusack assembled, you lead the way, and we’ll give it a try. Killing one more now means less trouble in the future.”

Ralph accepted the order and left to call those Dusack who were watching the spectacle.

As the riders were regrouping, Sergei came over with two bundles smeared with blood, showing them to Winters with high spirits, “Commander! Look! I got the wolf pelts from the heretics for you.”

The hunter’s skinning skills were very adept; the wolf pelts from claw to tail to head were peeled off completely, even without getting too much blood on them.

“What do I need this for?” Winters felt uncomfortable at the sight of the stripped wolf pelts.

“It’s the wolf you slaughtered, of course the pelt belongs to you,” the old man said matter-of-factly. “We can’t let the heretics get it cheap. Tomorrow, we’ll have Ralph tan it, and make a few sets of gloves, wrist guards and such, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Gerard also chimed in with a smile, “Wolf pelts are good, more breathable than cowhide or sheepskin.”

“Exactly! The best part of a wolf is its hide, better than two layers of cowhide put together!” Sergei asserted confidently.

The old man glanced disdainfully at the lively scene of the Nanxin villagers dividing the meat, “Heretics don’t know what’s good. What’s so tasty about wolf meat? It’s sour and stinky; I wouldn’t eat it even if it were given to me for free.”

“Enough already. It’s good just to have meat to eat, what’s there to dislike?” Gerard joked, giving his old pal a light tap with his whip, “If it were thirty years earlier, you’d be the one pushing to the front to grab the meat.”

Sergei didn’t continue the topic but happily asked Winters, “Commander, I heard you almost made the village chief of Nanxin wet his pants?”

Although running in vain made the old man quite irritated, evidently, the Protestant village chief’s humiliation delighted him more.

Winters smiled wryly and shook his head; he also hadn’t expected that a simple question could cause such a loss of composure in Chief Balbi.

“Heresy must be occasionally chastised!” the old man said buoyantly, “If you ask me, you’re just too kind to them; they aren’t afraid of you at all…”

Winters felt increasingly that something was amiss as he listened, but since he didn’t understand the grudges between the villages of Wolf Town, he just listened and didn’t speak.

“Enough!” Gerard immediately interrupted, “Will you ever learn to hold your tongue as you grow older?”

Soon after, the riders from Dusa Village assembled.

Under Hunter Ralph’s guidance, about twenty riders followed the wolf pack’s trail toward the woods west of Nanxin Village.

…

…

It wasn’t until sunset that Winters and Gerard returned to Mitchell’s.

The two had led the riders of Dusa Village in pursuit for hours, but they had nothing to show for it.@@novelbin@@

Montaigne, the weary lieutenant, hadn’t even caught his breath when an unexpected visitor came looking for him… to be precise, the visitor had been waiting at Mitchell’s. Explore more adventures at Novgo

Looking at the visitor’s clothes and accessories, Winters tried hard to recall the face in front of him.

He asked uncertainly, “Er, you are… you’re the priest who held the cup in the church, right?”

“Indeed, Garrison Officer,” the young man in front of him replied without a hint of annoyance, still smiling, “I am Priest Caman, Anthony’s assistant.”

A tiny church with two priests? Winters found it odd, but he asked in an indifferent manner, “What do you want with me?”

“Indeed, there is something I’d like to ask for your help with,” said the young priest with a smile tinged with embarrassment, “You haven’t employed a formal clerk yet, have you?”

Winters had been entrusting his written work to Gerard’s clerk, Panveche.

Hearing the priest’s question, Winters was both surprised and amused, “I haven’t, but I dare not employ an official priest as my scribe—you’re not here looking for a job, are you?”

“Yes, I am indeed here to seek employment with you,” Priest Caman’s smile grew more awkward, “but not for myself. Rather, it’s for another respected priest…”

“Just wait a second,” Winters interrupted Caman, asking with a smile, “You’re not talking about that Priest Anthony, are you? He must be at least sixty years old, right?”

Priest Caman hurried to explain, “Of course not, Brother Anthony is the main celebrant of our church; he certainly wouldn’t be a clerk. I am referring to another clergyman.”

“Mr. Caman,” seeing that the priest was serious, Winters asked earnestly, losing his smile, “You’re not joking with me, are you?”

“Certainly not! Absolutely not, I am sincerely here to seek a position for Brother Reed!”

Winters was already tired, and now he felt slightly annoyed, “A formal clergyman wants a position as a clerk? You’re not joking with me?”

“Not at all, please let me explain,” said Priest Caman earnestly, “Brother Reed is an Ascetic Monk who wanders and practices asceticism all year round, begging for alms. He only arrived at Wolf Town yesterday and plans to spend the winter here. So, I was hoping to find him a temporary haven.”

Ascetic Monks emphasize poverty and purity without a congregation, preaching through their “begging” journeys; they are a type of ascetic.

Winters was even more perplexed, “Is your church by any chance lacking a set of tableware? Even an Ascetic Monk doesn’t need to be a clerk for me, does he?”

“Well, Brother Reed’s theological views are somewhat…” Priest Caman’s face turned red, and he stammered in a nearly inaudible voice, “…quite unconventional, so he is somewhat at odds with Brother Anthony…”

The young priest asked with difficulty, “Lieutenant Montaigne, I really have no other options, hence my request for your help… You’re not a Catholic, right?”

Winters shook his head, replying with a sneer, “No.”

“Nor an Orthodox or a Protestant, correct?”

“Neither.”

“You are… an unbeliever, right?”

“Correct.”

Having confirmed that the officer before him wasn’t a believer, Priest Caman’s expression not only didn’t darken, but it also seemed to relax significantly, “That’s why I’m asking for your help, because you’re the only one in Wolf Town who could tolerate Brother Reed’s theological views.”

Winters was astounded, “Are you telling me you want to push a heretic on me?”

“Not at all,” Priest Caman said with an embarrassed laugh, “But since you’re an unbeliever, you wouldn’t mind heresy, would you?”

Trying to argue with a priest who had received a theological education was clearly masochistic. Winters, utterly exhausted, just wanted to rest and had no desire to waste more words with the cleric before him.

He yawned, resignedly saying, “Well then… bring the person to meet me first, will you?”

“Certainly!” Priest Caman stood up excitedly, “Then it’s settled.”

Having said that, Caman left without looking back, not even saying goodbye.

Winters tried to call him back but failed, Montaigne, the lieutenant, murmured with a wry smile, “How is that settled?”

…

The following day.

The town hall of Wolfton.

Both Gerard and Winters were dumbfounded.

“Mr. Caman, are you sure you’re not joking with me?” Winters managed to keep his composure, asking in as calm a tone as possible, “This… Brother Reed… he must be at least seventy years old, right?”

Gerard Mitchell couldn’t help but nod along.

Before them, an old monk with a flowing beard twirled his whiskers and smiled without a word.