Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 321: Chapter 16 Compensation_2

Sergei again presented the bear’s head to the Mitchell Family. Gerard was grateful for his old friend’s generosity but did not display the giant bear’s head as a trophy. However, Pierre clamored to hang the bear’s head on the wall and was scolded by Mrs. Mitchell before he fell silent.

Most of the bear’s offal was also distributed as meat, except for the bear’s gall which was taken away by the elderly begging monk Reed. It was unclear what use he had for such a bitter thing.

A small incident then occurred: the drunken old widower Rostov, whose son had unfortunately perished in the beast plague, began to sob uncontrollably when he saw others eating the bear meat. He cried out, “My son’s flesh and blood is in this bear meat too.”

The people of Dusa Village, feeling sorry for the old widower, buried the bear meat they received.

However, when Hunter Ralph’s son Bell saw this, he asked Rostov, puzzled, “The bear ate your son, and you eat the bear. Isn’t that the rule of the Great Wilderness? Isn’t wasting food the greatest disrespect?”

Winters overheard this but the tearful Rostov did not hear clearly. Ralph’s expression changed drastically, and he hastily dragged his son away.

The news quickly spread to the neighboring towns, and when Andre heard that the man-eating bear had been killed and the Garrison Officer of Wolf Town had been injured, he immediately borrowed a horse and rushed to Wolfton. Seeing Winters still lively and kicking, he breathed a sigh of relief.

To witness the only remaining head of the giant bear, Lieutenant Chelini made a special visit to the Mitchell’s.

Looking at the bear’s head that was nearly big enough for two people to hug together, Andre smacked his lips and exclaimed, “Goodness, that must weigh about two thousand pounds, right?”

“About that, maybe a bit heavier,” Winters replied offhandedly. “There’s no scale here that can measure the weight of this thing.”

“Amazing,” Andre said with envy. “I dream of hunting such a big game.”

“If you were knocked down by this thing once, you wouldn’t think so,” Winters thought for a moment and then asked, “How about it, do you want to take the bear’s head? Mayor Mitchell is troubled about how to deal with it.”

Andre snorted, “What would I do with it if I didn’t hunt it myself?”

“Right, I broke the gun I borrowed from you. Can I compensate you with money? Can we settle it that way?”

“How did you break it?” Andre’s focus was obviously not on the money.

Winters answered calmly, “The barrel burst.”

“The barrel burst?” Andre was astounded, took a careful look at Winters to make sure his old schoolmate wasn’t missing any parts. “You’ve got one hell of a luck! Was it worth risking your life for those shepherds? They’ve never treated us as one of their own!”

Winters sighed, at a loss for words.

Seeing his old friend’s negative reaction, Andre said angrily, “I’m serious! You need to value your life, you know? I don’t want to have to come to such a godforsaken place to visit your grave in the future. We all have to return to Sea Blue together, and it wouldn’t be the same without any of us.”

“I got it, I got it.”

Andre was helpless, but then something came to mind, and he slapped his forehead, “Right, Bard sent me a message for you.”

“What did he say?” Winters perked up at the news of Bard.

“He wants you to come to my place on the Sunday of the first week next month. He’ll be there too. From Blackwater Town, we’ll follow him to meet a senior.”

“Which senior?”

“He didn’t specify, and I don’t know either. Just a message, but it’s always good to meet someone familiar.”

“Okay, I’ll remember.”

After confirming his old classmate was alright and without staying the night, Andre returned directly to Blackwater Town, taking with him the several muskets he had lent to Winters.

After Andre left the Mitchell’s, the hunter and his son were also preparing to leave.

Now that the fierce beast had been slain, Ralph could take his son back to their cabin in the woods.

Ralph’s son Bell, the young stable boy Anglu, and Gerard’s son Pierre, these three lads, all around fifteen or sixteen years of age, had grown close over these days, becoming good friends.

The departure of Bell from Dusa Village was hard for the other two boys to accept.

When the old hunter came with his son to say farewell, Winters was at the town hall writing documents and beckoned the young hunter to his side.

The young hunter approached the desk, puzzled, as Winters opened a drawer, took out something wrapped in black cloth, and handed it to the young hunter.

It was a dagger, a replica of Sofia’s, previously commissioned by Winters from the blacksmith Misha.

The young Hunter’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve canceled the archery competition this weekend, but you were likely to win anyway. Here’s your prize in advance,” said Winters with a smile.

The young Hunter looked at his father with pleading eyes.

“Since the lieutenant is giving it to you, take it,” the elder Hunter nodded to his son and then looked at Winters with respect, “Thank you, sir.”

Elated, the young Hunter ran out of the town office to find something to test the blade on.

“Why such a hurry to get back?” Winters watched the young Hunter run off and said to the elder Hunter, “I always feel somewhat restless.”

“I share that feeling, sir,” the elder Hunter said slowly, “Which is why I need to return home quickly.”

“Alright then, come to me if anything arises.”

The elder Hunter bowed and left the town office.

It seemed that everything truly had come to an end.

…

With the menace of the bear taken care of, the farmers could sleep without fear at night, the Hunter father and son returned to their cabin in the woods, and village life returned to its usual pace. It seemed the turmoil caused by the animal attacks had indeed come to an end.

The only remaining issue was how to compensate the victims and the injured.

On the fifth afternoon following the slaying of the bear, Mayor Mitchell, Garrison Officer Montaigne, and Priest Caman held a serious meeting in the town office to discuss compensation for the casualties.

Despite his wariness, Winters had to admit the considerable influence religious figures held among the villagers. The farmers always feared hell more than the gallows, and salvation seemed insignificant compared to all the world’s temptations.

Religion had penetrated deep into all facets of society, and the spellcasters, a distinct minority, were powerless to change this reality.

An old mendicant monk once told Winters that just three roles held all the power in Wolfton – a county official, a military officer, and a clergyman. They had authority over everything from taxation to conscription, from the land they walked on to the graves they lay in.

If the mayor, the garrison officer, and the church’s priest worked together in Wolfton, anything could be accomplished.@@novelbin@@

So, although Winters was very displeased with the clergy meddling in public affairs, he ultimately held his nose and accepted it, ensuring nothing went awry.

After discussing with Mayor Mitchell and Priest Caman, all three agreed not only to provide a one-time compensation for the militiamen who died or were disabled, but also to extend long-term assistance to them.

Knowing he wouldn’t stay much longer, Winters knew he must enlist the help of the mayor and the church to maintain this method of compensation.

For clarity, he used terms the farmers would easily understand: families who lost their labor force due to the bear hunt would have their land cultivated by the entire village, like the lands of the past nobility, until their children came of age.

The system essentially meant that the land of the militiamen’s families would be prioritized for plowing with communal farm equipment and harvested first by other villagers, with each farmer spending a few days a year working those fields.

The farmers were all too familiar with these practices, which continue to operate as “commons” in the villages even today.

The system obviously had many flaws and loopholes, but since the nobles had managed to maintain it for centuries, Winters figured Gerard and Caman could maintain it for a decade or two with no issue.

“The rest is up to both of you,” Winters said, standing up and bowing sincerely to Mayor Mitchell and Priest Caman after they had settled on a compensation plan for the casualties.

Priest Caman smiled and nodded his head.

Gerard found it strange but comforted the lieutenant, “Don’t worry, the bear-hunting militiamen died for us all. The villagers will take good care of their families.”

Just as Winters was about to say something, a tempestuous knock interrupted him.

Young Hunter Bell was banging on the door of the town office frantically; he had run there, looking as though he had been fished out of the water.

“Help!”

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