Iron Powder and Spellcasters

   Chapter 346 Hunting (Part 1)

   537 years of the imperial calendar [Note: 23 years ago, the war of succession to the imperial throne started from this year]

  Castile Peninsula, limestone city, inside the Great Arena.

  A young man in his twenties was checking his armor and weapons. The two attendants beside the young man were sweating profusely, but they couldn't get in.

   "Message" has no wings or four legs, but nothing can fly farther and run faster.

   Richard [madman] III is dead.

  Some people say that he died peacefully in his sleep; some people say that he died of falling from a horse and experienced a long torment before his eyes... But the way the old emperor died is not really important, people just use it as a talk after dinner.

  The emperor is dead, and a new emperor should stand.

From the Empire's easternmost Bay of Kotan to the Empire's westernmost Castile Peninsula, from the Empire's southernmost Shady Mountains to the northernmost icy sea, everyone is waiting with bated breath for the new emperor's coronation...especially at the same time three heirs.

The door was pushed open, and a man dressed like a peacock strode into the room.

  The man looks to be in his early thirties. His appearance and height are three points similar to those of young men, but he is seven points more handsome and four points more dashing.

   Seeing the man entering the door, the two attendants seemed to grab a life-saving straw and pleaded with tears: "Lord Duke Lotaire! We really can't stop Your Majesty, please! Please persuade Your Majesty!"

  The handsome man known as the [Duke Lotaire] motioned for the attendants to leave the room, and the two attendants bowed and walked backwards, as if they had been granted amnesty.

  The handsome man closed the door, glanced at the lance leaning against the young man's side, then looked at the well-organized protective gear on the young man's body, and asked jokingly, "Are you going to play in person? Your Majesty?"

   "I'm not Your Majesty." Only when talking to the handsome man did the young man show a slight smile and deliberately dragged a long voice: "Sir Duke."

   The handsome man shrugged and asked happily, "I'm not a duke? Your grandfather is a solid old man."

  The identity of the young man is self-evident - the eldest son of the late Emperor, and one of the heirs entitled to claim the throne, Henry of Sunshine.

  The handsome man is Henry's uncle, Louis, Duke of Lotaire, known as [Beautiful Man Louis]. In private, though, people prefer to call him [Slutty Louie].

   After a moment's pause, Louis Lotaire put away his casual attitude and asked, "Are you really going to play in person?

  Henry stood up silently and started a simple warm-up.

   His body is slender and well-proportioned, with powerful and elastic limbs. It's a body that rivals that of a top gladiator, and it's the reward of years and months of exercise.

   "Are you really sure?" Duke Lotaire asked earnestly, "Once you step into the arena, there is no room for regrets. I don't want to see your mother and my sister sad."

  Louis and Henry were less than ten years apart in age and grew up together. The two are nominally uncle and nephew, but their actual relationship is closer to friends and brothers.

  For Henry, even a sibling is no closer than a little uncle. Therefore, only Louis can ask these outrageous words, and only Louis's words are not outrageous.

   "I don't know." Henry answered truthfully: "Because I haven't tried it either."

   "If that's the case, why risk it? Assign a knight! There are many people willing to play in your name."

   Henry was about to answer when suddenly, a thunderous cheer came from above the two of them.

  The tsunami-like cry of the mountain even shook the walls, and fine dust drifted down from the stone dome.

   Little Duke Lothair brushed off the dust on his shoulders, and sighed with contempt and helplessness: "Hmph, Castile barbarian..."

   The magnificent building above the two of them is the heritage of the ancient empire. The original name is unverifiable. Today, people generally call it [Grand Arena] or [Limestone Arena].

  Roughly speaking, the Great Arena has been standing for thousands of years. It has been well maintained and repaired because it has been used all the time.

   As the only "ring theater" that can accommodate tens of thousands of people, this arena almost undertakes all major public events in the Duchy of Tarlac and even the Castile Peninsula.

  Every festival, mass, execution, competition, duel... The nobles and commoners of Limestone City, the Duchy of Tarlac and even the entire Castile Peninsula will flock here.

   If the Basilica of the Sacred Heart is the faith center of Castile Peninsula, and the Palace of the Regent is the political center of Castile Peninsula, then the Colosseum is the glorious center of Castile Peninsula.

   Win here and win Castile.

   However, the thunderous cheers that sounded in the arena at the moment were not dedicated to the royal family, let alone Henry - it was dedicated to the Duke of Tarlac.

   To celebrate the birth of the eldest son, the Duke of Tarlac held this grand celebration at great expense.

   It is no doubt a serious offense to make a big deal during the emperor's mourning. But the Castilian nobles have always been known for their unruly empires, and the face of the royal family is worthless to them.

   It can even be considered that the Duke of Tarlac deliberately chose this occasion to celebrate the eldest son's birthday, just to show his contempt for the authority of the Royal Family of the Sun.

   "How many people are in the arena now?" Henry asked thoughtfully.

   "At least 20,000." The Duke of Lothair replied: "In addition to the large and small lords of Castile, there are many, many civilians... The limestone city has almost become an empty city, and everyone is here."

   Henry heard the words and looked up at the dome.

   He had a wonderful feeling that although he could only see darkness, he was convinced that on the other side of the heavy stone slab, thousands of Castilians were waiting.

  Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

   Little Duke Lothair stared at his nephew who was ten years younger than him and held his breath involuntarily.

   "Let's go. Expect others to fight for me..." The future emperor opened his eyes and raised his lance: "It will never be possible to conquer the Castilians."

  …

  …

  Emperor calendar 560, early February [Note: now]

   Wasteland

When    set out from Iron Peak, Winters took only a small party of less than forty men.

   His original plan was to visit the White Lion, and by the way make a deposit to relieve the financial bankruptcy of Iron Peak County.

   But change is quicker than planned, and Vashka brings news from Pierre, Berrian and others.

   So Winters entrusted his subordinates to the little lion, and only sneaked into Jiangbei Province under the military government with Vashka.

   By the time Winters left Jiangbei Province, he had already had a huge convoy of more than 200 people under his command.

   It is of course a good thing to find the old part, but Washka's flattery that "the people around the centurion always gather more and more" is patted on the horse's hoof.

   After a brief discussion, Winters decided to divide the army into two ways:

  The main force brought the wounded with physical inconvenience - both the soldiers who were injured in the process of suppressing the bandits, and the veterans who were disabled in the Battle of the Great Wasteland last year - returned to Tiefeng County on the original road;

The    small force followed the original plan, accompanied by the little lion to the Chihe Department.

  The small force was led by Winters himself, but it was difficult for Winters to appoint who to command the large force.

   "Why are you looking at me?" Lieutenant Colonel Moritz said of course: "I won't lead troops... Besides, I've always wanted to taste the taste of kumiss."

   "You want to deceive me again." Anna pretended to be angry: "I knew it."

   After careful consideration, there is only one suitable candidate left - Pierre Mitchell. There is no doubt that Pierre is an excellent choice, regardless of status and ability.

   But here’s the thing: Pierre didn’t want to.

   "I want to go with you to the Chihe Department." Pierre requested firmly.

   Looking at Pierre's pale cheeks, Winters really couldn't bear to let Pierre sleep with him in the open air: "You're just recovering from a serious illness, so it's better to go back to Tiefeng County to take care of yourself first."

   "I won't hold back, I can already ride a horse." Pierre tried to straighten his body, and suddenly the conversation changed: "And who will command the homecoming team in my place, I have already thought about it."

   "Who?" Winters wondered.

   "My father." Pierre said sternly.

   After a brief consideration, Winters shook his head: "I don't doubt the ability and prestige of old Mr. Mitchell. But he won't be relieved to leave you alone."

   "I'll convince him," Pierre replied firmly.

   Then the dialogue unfolds between father and son.

  Equal conversation face to face, no other participants, Pierre finally confided his true thoughts to his father.

"Father, I know that you still see Winters-Montagne's troops as rebels and bandits in the deepest of your heart; I also know that you think that one day the castles of kings will destroy Winters-Montagne; I I also know that Winters Montagne has no money, no food, no soldiers, and the strength of Iron Peak is like a puppy and a lion compared to Plato..."

   Facing his father's surprised eyes, Pierre told many reasons why "the bandits of the Montagne tribe must be defeated". Listening to this part alone, it seems that Winters Montagne is about to fall, and Pierre Mitchell has no doubts about it.

   But in the end, Mr. Mitchell gave Mr. Mitchell an irrefutable conclusion: "But we have no turning back."

  Pierre stared into his father's eyes and repeated word for word: "There is no turning back for us."

"Do you still remember the story of Dussak, the hometown of the Shield River - you told me when I was a child. More than a hundred years ago, the Dussacs who smashed the shackles rowed in small boats, wandering in the upper reaches of the Shield River, robbing the emperor The official ship. In the end, the emperor was furious and sent troops to encircle and suppress it."

   "What happened to those Dussacs back then? Dussac who defeated the emperor was canonized as Ataman! What about Dussac who couldn't defeat the emperor? They were all killed!"

"If Brother Montagne can hold Iron Peak, we have a chance to surrender; if Brother Montagne can lay new ground, we have a chance to be re-accepted; but if Brother Montagne loses, loses , we don't even have a chance to surrender. What awaits us is only reckoning! All of our heads will be chopped off and replaced by military exploits."

   "So, Dad, whether you like it or not, no matter what you think." Pierre nailed the last nail with a miserable smile: "There is no turning back for us."

   After listening to his son's words, Girard Mitchell was silent for a long time. When he spoke again, he seemed ten years older.

  Old Mitchell said hoarsely: "Even so, you should go back to Wolf Town with me first. I've been away from home for so long, your mother must be expecting us to go back."

   "No." Pierre said firmly: "I can't go back now!"

   "You go home with me to take care of your health first, and other things can be discussed in the long run."

"You don't understand! Dad!" Pierre's cheeks flushed with excitement: "I can't go back! Too much has happened in Iron Peak while I've been away! I can't take any credit! I I missed too much! When I left Iron Peak, I was Brother Montagne's adjutant. Now go back, I'm nothing! I can't go back, at least not now."

   "Captain Montagne will not forget you." Girard comforted his son: "He will take care of you."

   "You...still don't understand me..."

   Another moment of silence.

   "Then... what are you going to do?"

   "I want to stay with Brother Montagne." Pierre had already made up his mind: "Dad, please bring the others back to Iron Peak County."

  …

  The personnel arrangement of the two teams is gradually clear.

   Winters repeatedly simplified, and finally decided to keep only 60 capable subordinates; the rest of the troops were all under the command of Gillard and returned to Iron Peak County along the same route.

   What's more interesting is that, knowing that Mitchell is going to the Chihe Department, Father Kaman, who has never given Winters a good face, also lowered his body and asked to go to the Chihe Department together.

  Washka, old Sergey and his son also appeared in the team heading to the Chihe Department.

  Washka was reluctant to partake of his buddies, and old Sergey was reluctant to part with his son. Both father and son were good players in Dussack, and Winters was happy to bring them along.

  The taciturn Bellion was the last to find Winters.

   "Centurion." Berian was calm and calm as always: "Please bring me too."

"I also want you to go to the Chihe Department, but I'm worried that you will have an accident in the Chihe Department." Winters expressed his consideration: "And I promised Carlos that I will bring you back to Tiefeng safely. county."

"Since that's the case, you should take me with you. Carlos is safe in Revodan, so I have nothing to worry about. If you want to find out the iron ore that may exist in the Chihe Department, you need an expert." Leon paused for a while: "You have helped me and Carlos too much...and let me do something for you."

   So the list of sixty people was finalized.

   The disappointment of the team that went home was palpable when they learned that Belion was included in the 60-man list, and the morale of the team that went to the Chihe Department was boosted.

   "[The army relies on the stomach to fight]." Winters thought to himself: "The old marshal really didn't lie."

  …

  …

  The third day after leaving the Feabu Winter Pasture

   Wasteland

   At dusk, the convoy camped under a leeward hillside.

  As usual, everyone used the carts end to end to form a circle as a temporary fortification, and let the horses graze outside, and then they went to fetch water, make fire, and prepare food.

  The grassland has no lights, only a little campfire.

  There is no moon tonight, and the stars are surprisingly bright.

  Anna dressed in men's clothes, looked up at the stars until her neck became sore: "It's strange, I've never seen so many stars in the sea blue."

   For those who have never seen the vast Milky Way, seeing the sea of ​​stars for the first time is definitely an indescribable shocking experience.

   But since coming to Palatu, Winters has had countless experiences watching the stars.

   He coughed a few times, but in the end he did not suppress the desire to make inappropriate remarks: "If you can see it every day, it won't be strange."

  Although the light of the campfire was dim, Winters was sure to see Anna glance at him.

  Ana turned her head away, ignoring the spoiler.

   A few steps away, the little lion stood beside Berian's stewing pot, and began to talk about the "Hunting Sutra" with great interest.

"Hunting in the mountains is one method, and hunting in the meadows is another method. Falconry has the doorway of falconry, and dog-hunting has the skills of dog-hunting, but the most spectacular and most challenging thing is 'playing the fence'. . Hed called the hunting 'Aba', the most important thing of the year."

  The little lion said, while taking the first bowl of meat from Berian, he couldn't help but praise: "Blacksmith, your ability is wrong for the Khan to be an official!"

   Berian smiled and thanked him, and continued to serve soup to the others.

"We also hunt every year." Wasika hurried back to the camp following the aroma, and interjected: "In autumn, we collect crops and hunt rabbits and foxes in the field. Without straw and weeds, rabbits and foxes have no place to hide. A dozen A quasi."

  Washka looked at Winters curiously: "Centurion, do you Veneta hunt?"

   This stopped Winters. He thought about it and said with a smile: "I don't know the customs of Veneta, but the people of the United Province hunt waterfowl every year, and some people specially raise hounds who are good at swimming."

Just like Winters couldn't hold back his desire to make inappropriate remarks, when he mentioned hunting, the little lion couldn't control his desire to brag. It's a kid's game."

   "Blowing so hard!" Washka was not to be outdone: "When will we be able to see it?"

   "Ten more days!" The little lion wiped his mouth and motioned Berrian to have another bowl.

   He laughed heartily: "The final paddock has been set at the very beginning, just go there - keep it and surprise you!"

   Facts have proved that the estimate of the little lion is still conservative.

   did not take ten days, only three days, Winters and his party touched the edge of the hunting ground.

   [Chapter is not finished...so the first half of the chapter "The Oathbreaker in the Arena" and "Winters in the Wasteland" look a bit torn. But it's okay, just read it with the next chapter]

   (end of this chapter)