Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 320: Chapter 16 Compensation and Care

Everyone’s heart was in their throats.@@novelbin@@

Since Lieutenant Montaigne had led people into the mountains, three consecutive batches of militia followed, but after that there was no news.

The families of the militia gathered at Rivereast Village, anxiously waiting for news at the edge of the woods, and all they could do was wait.

But what they got was bad news, first with Mayor Mitchell being rescued in a coma by his son, followed by one militia after another fleeing from the woods. Nearly every militia who escaped to Rivereast Village was injured.

In the descriptions of the shaken militia, what attacked them were the minions of the devil, terror werewolves as tall as mountains, and giant monsters with spikes on their backs… That thing charged into the crowd like a scythe sweeping over weeds, reaping souls away.

Some of the militia were seen dead, many more were missing in the woods. The families of the deceased were in utter despair, and the families of the missing could not help but break down in tears.

Rivereast Village was struck by sorrow, thankfully Father Caman and Brother Reed rushed to the scene. The two clergymen consoled the bereaved, led the families of the injured in prayer, treated the wounded, prepared medications, and steadied everyone’s spirits.

As the sun dipped low in the sky and darkness fell, the mood in Rivereast Village grew more anxious.

Just as Father Caman, Brother Reed, and several village elders were discussing whether to send another party into the woods for rescue, an excited child ran to the village to bring news.

“They’re back! They’re back!” After yelling several times impolitely at the adults, the child raced off to tell others.

Upon hearing this, Father Caman and the elderly mendicant monk rushed to the village entrance.

At the western entrance of Rivereast Village, they met the returning bear-hunting team.

Sergei led Lieutenant Montaigne’s Crimson Mane, walking ahead with a lofty stride, looking like a general returning from victory. Winters, on the back of Crimson Mane, showed no signs of pride or joy; his eyes were filled with deep fatigue.

In contrast, Sergei almost seemed to be the one riding the horse.

But neither of them were the main focus of this “victory parade”; the attention of everyone was captured by the huge bear carcass at the end of the procession.

The Dusacks had tied together a temporary sled of wood, placing the giant bear’s body on it, displaying it as a trophy and pulled by six horses all the way back to Rivereast Village.

The people of Wolfton finally had the chance to witness the true face of the man-eating beast. The bear’s size was shockingly massive, with adults standing beside it looking like children, and children appearing as infants.

The giant bear’s yellow-brown fur was almost dyed dark red with blood, and its body was covered in horrifying wounds. Several spears and javelins were still lodged in it—they couldn’t be pulled out because they were stuck too deep. The bear’s head was mangled and gruesome, and no one knew what kind of immense force could have caused such destruction.

Merely by seeing the wounds on the bear’s body, everyone understood how tough the fight had been for the hunting team to kill this ferocious beast.

Even as a carcass, the bear’s lingering ferocity still chilled the villagers. Ironically, the children were not afraid; they ran around the bear’s body, making noise, and threw stones at its head until they were taken away by their parents.

The Dusacks dragged the bear carcass through the crowd of villagers all the way to Rivereast Village’s threshing ground.

The atmosphere in Rivereast Village cleared, almost festive; villagers brought out their homemade wine and meat to entertain the warriors who had slain the beast. The Dusacks drank sweet wine and colorfully recounted their own versions of the thrilling tale.

Winters did not join the “celebration,” nor did he rest; for him, there were countless matters to attend to.

It was already confirmed that four militia had unfortunately encountered the bear in the valley and perished; they were pillars of their families, the main labor force. Their widows and orphans were now in inconsolable grief, facing an uncertain future; how would they be compensated? Winters needed to come up with a solution.

And there were many injured, the minor wounds were manageable. But what of the severely injured who, even if they were lucky to survive, would lose a significant portion of their labor capacity?

Compared to these issues, questions like “A part of the militia got scattered in the woods and are still missing—we need to send people to search and rescue them” seemed trifling.

The greater the power, the greater the responsibility, Winters deeply realized the truth of this saying.

When he was in the archipelago, all he had to do was fight, without worrying about other issues. But in Wolfton, he exercised authority far beyond that of a normal officer, and his responsibilities were greater. He had to take responsibility not just for the living, but also for the dead.

He could have easily shirked his duties, considering he could leave it all behind eventually. But Winters Montagne had gradually embraced his role as the garrison officer of Wolfton.

Although he was a Venetian, he genuinely wished to do something beneficial for this little town in the southwest corner of Paratu, at the very least, not to leave a mess behind.

…

“Is it over?” Winters, suddenly awake in the dead of night, felt a twinge of unreality.

The roaming beast in the woods had been hunted, and the people of the various villages of Wolfton were returning to their normal lives… perhaps that was the case.

Winters had Hunter Ralph lead a team into the mountains to search and rescue, bringing back all the missing militia—both the living and the dead.

The bear’s carcass was paraded around Wolfton by old Sergei and the Dusacks, shown off in each village, allowing the Dusacks to have their moment in the spotlight.

Afterward, the villagers divided up the bear meat. Its skin, a trophy full of battle scars, was kept by Sergei who respectfully handed it to Winters, who in turn gifted it to the hunter and his son.

COMMENT
0 comment

Vote
3 left

SEND GIFT