Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 931 - 26: Lieutenant Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel_3

Chapter 931: Chapter 26: Lieutenant Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel_3

Before Winters could speak, old Sergei, who was sharpening his knife by the campfire, huffed loudly.

Having interacted with Colonel Alec for a long time, old Sergei realized that the colonel was a good-tempered man. Thus, his inherent desire to mock everything overwhelmed his fear of the military uniform.

Sergei—Vashka’s father—deliberately made the knife sharpening sound loud, venting all his grievances on the sharpening stone: “Colonel, sir, have you considered how many times a bandit must be kicked in the head by a horse to dare attack military carriages?”

“Hmm.”

“After all, as long as they don’t take the military carriages,” old Sergei pretended to be relaxed, “do the bandits simply not exist?”

Colonel Alec didn’t lose his temper, but his service soldier could not swallow his pride.

The service soldier jumped up, kicking over the sharpening stone beside old Sergei: “Insolence! You are speaking to a colonel!”

Old Sergei also burst into fury, picking up his saber, baring his teeth like a wolf, his face turning livid: “Watch your tone, boy!”

The standoff didn’t last long, and Winters lightly coughed: “Mr. Morozov, please go and check tonight’s sentries.”

Old Sergei’s tense body relaxed.

Winters gave old Sergei a look and nodded.

Old Dusack obediently left, but not without throwing a fierce glare at the service soldier.

Colonel Alec also gestured for the service soldier to sit down, and after old Dusack had walked some distance, he said with a wry smile: “Did you see his gaze just now? Truly like a wolf. Alas, the untamed free men (Dusack), I wonder how the old marshal managed to tame them back then.”

Winters thought for a moment: “I actually feel that Dusack, though seemingly rebellious, deep down actually admires authority even more.”

Colonel Alec pondered.

Shadows fell on the carriage as someone approached Winters’ campfire. It was hard to see who it was until the person came closer; Winters recognized it was Gerard Mitchell.

Mr. Mitchell’s steps were a bit heavy, his expression tired.

“How is Pierre?” Winters asked directly.

“Still has a slight fever,” Gerard replied quietly. “I’ve let him rest.”

Pierre’s condition had not yet improved, so Winters did not allow him to ride a horse, and had specifically arranged a carriage for him.

Mr. Mitchell could finally slack off openly without getting beaten by his father, though not in the way everyone hoped to see.

“The person who went to fetch the doctor from the next town should be back soon, don’t worry,” Winters could only try to comfort Mr. Mitchell: “Father Kaman is also waiting; he surely has a solution.”

The tired Gerard nodded, sat for a while, then excused himself to rest.

Only Winters, Colonel Alec, and Colonel Alec’s service soldier remained by the fire.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Colonel Alec handed his empty cup to the service soldier and stood up: “It’s getting late, I should rest too.”

“Colonel?”

“Yes?”

Winters took out a small notebook from his pocket: “There’s something I need to explain to you.”

“What is it?” Colonel Alec slightly raised an eyebrow.

Winters opened the notebook, smiling: “Tomorrow we head west.”

“West?” Colonel Alec’s eyebrows furrowed: “West? To where?”

“To Matou Slope town.”

Heading west to Matou Slope town was the route to the Great Wilderness.

“What are you doing in Matou Slope town?” Colonel Alec became suspicious: “If we continue south through Mirror Lake County and cross Ashen Stream River, wouldn’t we reach Newly Reclaimed Land? Why skip the nearest route and head west instead?”

Of course, it was because someone was waiting in the west—Winters couldn’t possibly disclose that truth.

So, Winters chose to explain another part of the truth.

He pulled Colonel Alec to sit down, showing him the notebook: “As you can see… Mirror Lake County is currently occupied by the troops from Kingsfort. After repelling the raiding Herders, that troop hasn’t withdrawn. As for other crossings… they are firmly controlled by the New Reclamation Legion. In other words, I genuinely have no way to take the shortcut across Ashen Stream River; we must head west and cross the river upstream.”

Every word Winters said was the truth: “To tell you the truth, when I came here, I took the route from the west, from Matou Slope town.”

Colonel Alec squinted his eyes, studying the small notebook in Winters’ hand carefully by the firelight.

The palm-sized, open notebook had two pages with a map drawn on them; although not large, coming from an artillery background, Colonel Alec could immediately see that the rivers on the map were accurately marked.

Lieutenant Colonel Alec’s attention was no longer on the route; pointing at the notebook, he asked sternly, “A map?”

“Yes.”

“Where did it come from?”

Winters replied indifferently, “I drew it myself… using some old maps as references.”

“Let me see it.” Lieutenant Colonel Alec reached out to take the notebook.

Winters hastily stashed it away, “Only these two pages have it.”

Lieutenant Colonel Alec slowly distanced himself from Winters, crossed his arms, and scrutinized “The Phantom of The Styx” — a nickname privately used by officers who had fought in the Great Wilderness Battle to refer to Winters Montagne, implying “one who crawled out from the river of the underworld.”

“Can you draw maps?” asked Lieutenant Colonel Alec.

“Don’t you know how as well?” Winters retorted, “Isn’t it a required course?”

“You’ve drawn more than one, haven’t you?”

Winters neither admitted nor denied.

“You’ve been walking through Jiangbei Province, drawing as you go,” Lieutenant Colonel Alec accused, “What are you planning?”

“Do you want to hear the truth?”

“Of course!”

Winters propped himself up with his hands, leaned back, and suddenly sighed, “It’s just a habit.”

“A habit?” Lieutenant Colonel Alec clearly didn’t believe him and mocked, “A fine habit.”

Winters said nonchalantly, “Come with me to meet someone, and you’ll understand.”

“Where? Who?”

“To Beacon Fort. I asked someone to check, and he should be at Beacon Fort.”

Lieutenant Colonel Alec furrowed his brow recalling the location of Beacon Fort; he sketched a map in his mind and quickly realized that Beacon Fort was situated slightly to the north between the current camp and Matou Slope Town.

“Going to Beacon Fort? Is it also part of your plan?”

“It wasn’t planned in advance.” Winters paused, “But even if it’s a detour, we must go there.”

…

Three days later, at Beacon Fort.

Beacon Fort was a desolate small town perched on a bald mountain.

Due to Beacon Fort’s high elevation, good visibility, ease of defense, and difficulty of attack, and because it’s situated at the inevitable pass-through of the Sandy River Valley during Herders’ invasions, the ninth Duke of Palatu built a stone fortress and a giant beacon tower here, from which Beacon Fort derived its name.

The bald mountain was strewn with large and small stones, offering limited arable land. In rural areas primarily reliant on agriculture, less farmland meant poverty.

Because Beacon Fort was too poor to support a knight and its geographical importance, it previously belonged directly to the Duke of Palatu.

On usual days, about sixty soldiers were permanently stationed at Beacon Fort. Come the autumn and winter, this number would rise to three hundred.

With the money and food slipping through the soldiers’ fingers, residents of Beacon Fort managed to scrape by.

Thirty years ago, with the death of Khan Queye, the Herders fell into decline, and the importance of Beacon Fort gradually faded.

The fortress no longer required maintenance, and the stationed troops stopped coming. Residents of Beacon Fort could only bury their heads in farming the barren land of the bald mountain, praying for favorable weather.

Thirty years later, Beacon Fort had thoroughly deteriorated. Many had moved away, leaving behind only the poor farmers who couldn’t leave.

Even Lieutenant Colonel Alec was shocked by the poverty of Beacon Fort.

“Unless the Creator intervenes with His might,” the Colonel said, “this barren land will never escape its fate of poverty.”

After asking around, Winters confirmed that the dark wooden cabin on the edge of Beacon Fort town — accurately, the size of a village — was his destination.

Winters and Lieutenant Colonel Alec had just reached the fence, not even having pushed open the courtyard gate, when the owner of the house already sensed their presence.

“Oh, we have visitors.” A detached male voice emanated from inside the house.

John Jeska, leaning on the doorframe, stood before Winters.