Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 344: Chapter 24 Lieutenant Mason_2@@novelbin@@

The man had a large dark red birthmark around his left eye that nearly covered half of his face, making it quite conspicuous.

“We’re here to see Lieutenant Mason,” Bard asked the man, “Is Lieutenant Mason the person in charge here?”

The man answered listlessly, “The lieutenant took some people to oversee the mowing. Please wait here, gentlemen, I will find someone to call the lieutenant back.”

Speaking with a thick Parlatu accent, he shouted loudly, and a short man by the side of the log cabin responded before running toward a dirt slope not too far away.

“What’s your role here?” Andre asked the man, furrowing his brows as he stared.

“Me?” The other man chuckled, “Well, to answer you, sir, I’m the one in charge of watching over the others.”

Winters sensed something amiss, “Wait, is this a prison?”

“Of course not, sir,” the bored guard answered without even lifting his eyelids, “This is a ranch, a labor farm.”

…

…

“Ha ha, what a rare visit, it’s been ages since a fellow alumnus came to see me.” Lieutenant Mason pushed open the door and warmly invited the three juniors inside, “Recently been busy cutting the grass for winter, and if I don’t keep an eye out, everyone slacks off… ah, why am I mentioning this! Come in, make yourselves at home.”

The furnishings inside Lieutenant Mason’s room were extremely simple: a bed, a cabinet, two tables large and small, a few stools, a rack for hanging clothes, nothing more.

In the labor farm, other cabins were shared among several people, only the lieutenant had a cabin all to himself—This was perhaps the only luxury in this dwelling.

The plain wooden bed was in the corner of the room, its bedding left in the same state it had been when its user last left it, carelessly rolled into a heap.

The remains of breakfast were still on the plates on the small table, and two flies buzzed away as the lieutenant walked past.

The whole room well reflected the typical state of a single, solitary young man without anyone to care for him.

What piqued Winters’ curiosity was the stack of books and the manuscript papers full of writing on the big table.

“It’s a bit of a mess.” The lieutenant casually tossed the plate from the small table into a wooden bucket outside the door, “Don’t mind it, please sit down.”

He rummaged through the armoire, pulled out a few cups. He dove under the bed and found a bottle of liquor, half-empty—followed by finding an unopened one.

“I haven’t had a guest for months,” Lieutenant Mason said cheerfully as he busied himself pouring drinks for his juniors, “It’s really rare for someone to visit me. Next time, send me a message in advance so I can prepare properly. The beef here is especially delicious.”

As soon as he heard that there were visitors, Lieutenant Mason rushed back. Upon discovering that the guests were his fellow alumni, his enthusiasm soared even higher.

Without waiting for Winters and the others to ask, Lieutenant Mason started talking. Once he began, it was like a dam bursting, unstoppable.

After gulping down a full glass of strong liquor, Lieutenant Mason began to slam the table and curse like a sailor. Interspersed with his profanities were phrases like “me, a proper artillery officer by training,” “those maggots who made me raise pigs,” “I’d rather head overseas.”

When his emotions reached their peak, Lieutenant Mason, with tears welling up in his eyes, grabbed Winters’ hand and said, “Listen to some advice, leave early if you can. If you can get out of your uniform, hurry back to The Federated Provinces. Us United Provincials in this place shouldn’t even dream of making a career…”

“That…senior, I’m not from The Federated Provinces, I’m Venetian,” Winters said with an embarrassed expression, trying to withdraw his hand but not quite feeling right about it.

“Ah?” Mason was taken aback, then looked toward Andre, “Then are you from The Federated Provinces?”

“I’m not, I’m also Venetian,” Andre quickly shook his head, pointing toward Bard, “But he is.”

Mason’s mood gradually cooled, and he asked in confusion, “What are you two Venetians doing over here? Shouldn’t you be returning to your homeland?”

Winters recounted in detail the unwarranted disaster that befell this year’s Venetian graduates.

When the tale reached the point where a mustachioed officer had locked the Venetian graduates in a wagon, and when they emerged they found themselves at Kingsfort, Lieutenant Mason let out a contemptuous snort, “Sounds like something the Provincial Army bastards would do.”

When it came to the part about the Parlatu Army forcibly scattering the junior Venetian officers and assigning them to different posts, Lieutenant Mason’s look of disdain intensified, “I wouldn’t put it past those goat-f***ers to do something like that.”

Wounded by a sense of shared misfortune upon hearing Winters’ story, Lieutenant Mason gazed at the three juniors with profound sympathy, “The Federated Provinces sending you here isn’t just a provocation to Vineta; it’s a provocation to Parlatu as well. Those goat-f***ers certainly won’t be nice to you either. We always end up being sacrificial pawns in the battles of the big shots, cough!”

The lieutenant sighed, then offered reassurance, “But don’t worry, you’re better off than I am. The highlanders won’t keep you here forever. Just hold on until they send you back. As for me, I can only spend a lifetime here. Feeding pigs, horses, and prisoners, day in and day out, helplessly watching the days go by, the mere thought is despairing…”

The topic was too heavy, and Mason’s face grew increasingly somber.

Andre quickly interrupted, “Senior, are all the people under your command prisoners?”

Mason paused for a moment, then answered, “Except for the guards… but most of my guards were prisoners before.”

“But aren’t your security measures a bit… lax?” Winters joined the new topic at once, “It seems it wouldn’t be too hard to escape?”

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