Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Still inside." The guard raised his hand in salute, took the reins, shrank his neck, and answered softly, "But he's already started cursing. It's loud!"

Mason's breath caught. He waved his hand dismissively. The guard looked at the captain sympathetically, saluted again, and led the warhorse toward the stable.

After the Maplestone City incident, Iron Peak County's position within the Newly Reclaimed Lands Province grew increasingly delicate.

On one hand, judging by the practical actions of the "Montaigne gang," they were undoubtedly rebellious traitors;

But on the other hand, Winters Montagne had never openly raised a rebel flag, and several "rebel officers" were still not officially dismissed from the New Reclamation Legion. Technically speaking, the Legion was still supposed to pay them their monthly salaries.

In the shadowy intrigues of the Newly Reclaimed Lands Province, an independent force unaligned with any faction naturally became a target both sides would strive to win over—or perhaps eliminate entirely.

Thus, two delegations arrived in Revodan instead of one.

How to host both delegations simultaneously without allowing them to become aware of each other's presence or make contact left Captain Mason at his wit's end.

Standing before the darkened front door of the mansion, Mason carefully adjusted his appearance, took a deep breath, forced himself to rally, and plastered on his most polished smile—one bearing both warmth and apology—before gently knocking on the door knocker.

The door creaked open slightly, revealing half the face of a fully armed junior officer. Upon seeing Mason's identity, the officer lowered his pistol, silently raised his hand in salute, and opened the door fully.

Even through the long corridor and an additional closed door, Mason could clearly hear the heavy thumps of military boots striking the floor, echoing from the reception hall at the far end of the hallway.

Swallowing hard, Mason reluctantly advanced toward the reception hall. Stopping in front of the door, he softly knocked three times: "Reporting!"

The sound of boots inside came to an abrupt halt, followed by a stern command: "Enter!"

Mason cautiously pushed open the door, locking gazes with a one-armed veteran.

"Why is it you?" The one-armed veteran's sharp gaze was like a blade. His tone was aggressive as he asked, "Where's that little bastard Winters?"

Aside from the one-armed veteran, several accompanying junior officers and guards were present in the reception hall. Seeing Mason finally arrive, the group, who had been holding their breaths, visibly exhaled in relief.

"Apologies, Colonel." Mason stepped into the reception hall, carefully shut the door behind him, raised his hand in a solemn salute, and said, "Captain Montaigne is currently not in the city—he's gone out of town!"

"Out of town? Out of town?!" Colonel Bod's roar nearly tore the roof off. He raged, "What does he mean by hiding from me? What's he trying to do? If he plans to pledge allegiance to the Red Rose, or Magnus, that Viper, then he can come before me! Say it to my face! Drag him out here!"

Mason's face was sprayed with saliva but dared not wipe it away. He could only respond meekly with appeasing words: "Captain Montaigne is not trying to evade you, Colonel... How could he possibly avoid you? He genuinely left the city... I assure you, had he known you'd be coming, he would have waited two more days no matter what... We hold you in the highest regard—how could we intentionally avoid you?"

Colonel Bod's fury did not diminish with Mason's placations. Instead, he sneered and asked sarcastically, "Oh? Not deliberately hiding, eh? Then tell me, what exactly is he doing out of town?"

Mason's throat bobbed as he forced a bitter smile, "He's attending a wedding."

…

[Iron Peak County]

[Wolf Town·Dusa Village]

One drunken, bleary-eyed Dusan after another staggered toward Winters, intending to toast "Blood of the Wolf," only to be intercepted by the grinning old Sergei.

As he observed the similarly muddled old Sergei, Winters turned and beckoned to Vashka, casually asking, "Your father won't overdo it, right?"

"Relax, sir!" Vashka hiccupped loudly, laughing, "This is nothing!"

Winters caught the scent of alcohol on Vashka and sternly asked, "You drank too?"

"Just one glass," Vashka replied softly.

Winters didn't know what to say.

Seeing Winters' expression, Vashka slapped himself on the cheek without hesitation and emphatically promised, "No more! Don't worry, from now on, I'll refuse anyone who offers me drinks."

Winters nodded, turned to watch the crowd singing and dancing at the wedding, clapping in time to the rhythm. Vashka wiped his mouth and stepped aside.

"I think Vashka has gotten a bit smarter." Bard, seated next to Winters, commented with a smile.

"Has he?" Winters replied dryly, before pondering for a moment. "That kid did hit his head hard once; maybe that's related."

Bard burst out laughing and signaled for another pint of beer.

"Thank you, Bard." Winters gazed at the wedding crowd and murmured softly.

"You never need to thank me." Bard took a swig of beer and said seriously, "But you do owe thanks to Senior Mason."

A pang of pain flared deep inside Winters' skull. Pushing Bard aside, he deflected, "That pie looks good. Bring me a slice."

You could never truly fathom how much hidden treasure lay in a Dusan household. Troubled times and their shrewd survival instincts had turned every Dusan family into something akin to a burrowing field mouse, tirelessly stockpiling.

Even after enduring a bout of warfare and a wave of famine, Wolf Town's Dusa Village seemed far from exhausting its reserves.