Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 358: Chapter 29 Return Journey_2

“Ah! Farmers hardly see many silver coins in a year, so once they have money in hand, they can’t control their purse strings,” Gerard complained angrily. “That’s why I repeatedly ordered not to distribute bonuses and salaries until we return to Wolf Town. Yet, some people still didn’t take my words seriously!”

Sergei, who had been dozing off in the saddle, suddenly perked up at these words, “Captain, you’ve got it wrong this time. They deliberately distributed the money in the county town! They’re up to no good!”

“What do you mean?” Winters pressed.

“How could landlords ever let the tenants save money?” Sergei scoffed with contempt, “If tenants save enough to buy land, won’t they become freeholders? Then who would work for the landlords? With a battle against the Herd Barbarians imminent and lots of cheap land up for grabs afterward, which farmer wouldn’t be tempted? You think they wouldn’t distribute the money in Revodan?”

Gerard’s expression turned grave: “Don’t think so badly of everyone.”

“Captain, you’re not like them. Even if Dusack’s land is scant, it’s still Dusack’s; no matter how much land a Bumpkin has, he’s still a Bumpkin. Can they compare to us?” Sergei scratched at his graying hair, speaking bluntly.

The old man glanced at Winters and quickly added, “Lieutenant, you’re different from them too. Your hands hold the hilt of a sword, theirs hold the plow.”

Winters smiled. If he took offense at everything this old Dusack said, he’d have been furious long ago.

Gerard, frowning, said, “I need to go see what’s going on in the back. How come we’ve seen so few Dusacks on patrol this morning?”

Having said his piece, he spurred his horse toward the rear of the convoy.

Winters also found it strange, squeezing his horse’s sides and tugging the reins: “I’ll go have a look too.”

Riding against the direction of the convoy, Mr. Michel nearly burst a lung with anger.

Many Dusacks weren’t patrolling at all but had tied their Warhorses to the backs of the wagons and lay snoring in the carts.

Gerard picked up a club thick as a small arm and began beating the lazy Dusacks without mercy.

Less than two months in Wolf Town, Winters had already dealt with several brawling incidents involving Dusans. As for Dusacks beating their wives or thrashing their sons, that was all too common.

Violence was not unusual among Dusacks, but it was his first time seeing Gerard strike someone, and so fiercely at that.

The Dusacks, reeking of alcohol, often only woke up screaming when the club hit them.

First shocked, then angry, their feelings turned to shame when they realized they were being beaten by Gerard Pleninovich Mitchell.

The beaten Dusacks would scramble to their feet, taking the blows in silence.

Gerard went from one Dusack to another, beating as he went, leaving the lieutenant no chance to intervene.

When he discovered Pierre also lying lazily asleep in a cart, Mr. Michel, enraged, swung his club at Mr. Mitchell’s head.

Winters rushed to grab the club in alarm, knowing a blow to the head could be lethal.

But in his rage, Gerard was terrifying; for a moment, Winters couldn’t restrain him, and Gerard let go of the club to throw punches at Pierre.@@novelbin@@

Winters saw clearly that the punch was solid, merciless, not at all held back because Pierre was his son, landing squarely on his face.

Mr. Mitchell woke up in an instant, blood spraying from his nose, having never seen his father in such a state.

Pierre, both shocked and scared, cried out, “Dad, what are you doing?”

“[Dusack curse]!” Old Dusack didn’t stop cursing, nor did his hands, as he grabbed his son by the collar and pounded his face, “You begged me to come along with the convoy! And this is how you do it? Do you have any backbone at all? Huh?!”

“Even mom hasn’t hit me!” young Dusack cried out in tears.

Winters and other Dusacks rushed to pull the two apart, and it took three strong Dusack men to barely hold back the furious Gerard, who kicked when his punches couldn’t reach.

Shock, grievance, fear – these emotions all appeared on Pierre’s face, as tears and blood streamed down together.

Pierre, holding his nose, cried out, “What gives you the right to hit me? I’ll tell mom!”

“I’ll beat you to death, you worthless brat!” Gerard, forcibly dragged away, was even more furious.

After the commotion, Gerard called all the Dusacks who had come with the convoy together for a meeting.

“Is this your first time with the convoy?” Old Dusack’s residual anger hadn’t subsided, “Don’t you know the rules? Don’t you know that returning home is even more dangerous than the journey here? We used to carry goods, now we carry money! Don’t you get it?”

The Dusacks, usually so arrogant, now hung their heads in shame, none daring to meet the gaze of Captain Michel.

“From now on, stay alert,” said Gerard Mitchell with a vicious stare, “Whoever dares slack off again, I’ll flay his skin!”

…

At night, when they rested, the large four-wheeled wagons formed a circular fortress on a flat stretch of ground.

Inside the wagon fortress, fires were lit, and the drivers and Dusacks sat around boiling water and warming food, chattering idly.

A swarm of tiny insects buzzed densely over the meadow, and a slap of the hand left them sticking to it, making one’s scalp tingle with discomfort.

Some couldn’t bear the insect bites and threw clumps of wet horse manure into the fire. As bluish smoke wafted through the wagon fortress, the irritating insects vanished in an instant.

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