Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 939: Chapter 29 Non-Existent Record_2

The young Attendant chuckled and nodded: “Thank you.”

“A small matter, a small matter.” Captain Lorenzo stood up to see off his guests and called for the sergeant to gather the troops.

“There is no need to escort us.” The young Attendant politely but firmly declined.

Seeing that the other party was not merely being polite, Lorenzo immediately recalled the sergeant.

He insisted on personally seeing the two guests off the premises, repeatedly assuring them that he could help with whatever they might need along the way.

The young Attendant courteously declined, and the officer paid no attention to Lorenzo.

The officer and the young Attendant had already left the patrol cavalry’s station, only to see Lorenzo rushing out after them.

“Are you two planning to cross the river via Matou Slope town?” Lorenzo asked breathlessly.

Already mounted on his horse, the young Attendant dismounted upon hearing this: “Yes,

Lorenzo slapped his thigh, annoyed: “Matou Slope town is no longer passable! The town is destroyed, and the bridge is gone too. Now, to cross the Border River, you’ll have to go through Scabbard Bay.”

Upon hearing that Matou Slope town had been destroyed in the war, the young Attendant fell silent for a moment. After a while, he thanked Lorenzo and reached out his hand: “Captain Lorenzo, I hope we meet again someday.”

Lorenzo, smiling widely, grasped his arm: “Of course, we’ll definitely meet again… If you have the chance when you return to Oak Forest Fortress, could you put in a good word for me…”

Lorenzo stood at the entrance of the station, warmly watching the two guests leave.

Only when their figures disappeared from view did his face, stiff and sore from smiling too much and too long, finally relax.

“[Crude language for emphasis]! Dammit!” Lorenzo spat, turning away in a huff.

…

Republic of Palatu

Jiangbei Province

Scabbard Bay Crossing

Two ropes spanned the Border River, with only a wooden raft for transport.

It took a whole day for the merchant caravan and their horses to move from the East Bank to the West Bank.

“I’ll only escort you this far.” Colonel Alec said somewhat sadly as he bid farewell to his junior: “Going further, I can’t help you anymore.”

Winters felt a bit reluctant too, but he cheered up, joking: “Do you want to bid farewell to Colonel Jeska?”

Colonel Alec swung his whip listlessly: “Forget it, just seeing his face irritates me, and seeing me probably makes him even angrier… Just take good care of him. Also, once you cross the Border River, you’re in Herdman territory. Are you sure you can safely return?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just retrace my route.” Winters extended his hand—a handshake or embracing arms, a far more intimate, equal, and even sacred gesture than a military salute or tipping one’s hat—he smiled heartily as he bid farewell: “Well, I hope we have the chance to meet again, Colonel Alec.”

Colonel Alec also tightly grasped Winters’ hand, but he was both angry and amused: “No! I hope I never see you again in my life!”

Searching for Pierre, it took Winters less than seven days; but to lead his subordinates out of Jiangbei Province, Winters took over a month.

On the last day of the first month in the year 560 of the Empire.

Winters Montagne crossed the Border River once again.

…

…

Wilderness

According to the agreement between the three major Herder tribes and the Republic of Palatu, a roughly 100-kilometer area between them should serve as a no-man’s land, “Herders shall not herd, Palatu People shall not till.”

However, after the Palatu People suffered a crushing defeat in the battle against the Red River Tribe, the “no herding, no tilling” agreement immediately lost its enforceability.

Starting in autumn, many small tribes successively moved into the uninhabited area. Some tribes had dozens of households, others just a few, not interfering with each other, each heading to the winter pastures they had explored before.

Among them was a tribe, consisting of about sixty households, neither big nor small. The tribal chief was named Flying Feather, belonging to the Stone Mountain clan.

Flying Feather, the eldest son, according to Herder customs, was given a share of cattle, sheep, and tents by his father after reaching adulthood, and then he set up his own household.

Because Flying Feather was skilled at archery and was fair in distributing meat and making judgments, friends and herders naturally gathered around him, eventually coming together to form a small tribe.

Flying Feather was independent, thus other Herder tribes called his small group “Flying Feather Tribe.”

The winter pasture chosen by the Flying Feather Tribe was about sixty kilometers from the Palatu Border River, in a north-south valley.

If nothing unexpected happened, the Flying Feather Tribe would stay in this wind-sheltered valley for the entire winter.

They would only leave after the cattle and sheep had consumed the withered grass and the first spring rain fell, heading to the high mountain summer pastures.

But this year was unusual—the Flying Feather Tribe had some guests.

Flying Feather strictly forbade his people to step half a foot out of the valley because his guests were not ordinary tribespeople, and any leaked information could lead to a catastrophic disaster.

Flying Feather’s guests came from the east, they were from Palatu.

Among the guests was a young man who, since arriving at the Flying Feather Tribe’s winter pasture, did only one thing every day: he stood at the highest point of the valley, looking eastward, eagerly waiting.

He did not know how many sunsets and sunrises he had watched, but finally, he saw the silhouette of a rider on the horizon.

He excitedly shouted, jumped onto his horse, and galloped down the slope, rushing towards the approaching figure, racing all the way to the man.

The young man embraced the man, crying uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong?” The man—Winters Montagne—was surprisingly and politely reciprocated with a gentle embrace, asking with shame and concern: “Little Lion?”