Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Pierre took off his hat and tossed it forcefully toward the Big Horn River. The black hat turned several bends along the winding river and vanished behind the reeds. The others did the same, shouting at the top of their lungs, "Dad! Mom! I'm home!" Pierre walked to the riverbank, wanting to wash off the dust on his body. Gazing at the reflection in the water, Pierre could hardly recognize the person staring back at him. That person had a melancholy look, brows furrowed tightly, eye sockets sunken in, cheekbones gaunt and protruding. Pierre touched his own face; he could barely remember what he originally looked like. After witnessing the death of comrades several times, not a trace of compassion could fit in his heart anymore. He became hard-hearted, ruthless towards the enemy. But he could no longer laugh as he used to, and found it hard to look into the innocent eyes of children. Before this, he staunchly defended the glory of the Dusacks, displaying selfless bravery at every opportunity. With an indifferent, contemptuous heart, he treated his own life and the lives of others as a game. For his courageous fighting, he was awarded commendations four times and received three medals. And now, he had become a deserter. But none of that mattered anymore, because he was home. Pierre leaped onto the saddle and galloped toward the Michel estate. The brilliant sunlight swept away the gloom of winter, the sky blue and clear as washed. The mountains and rivers had already thawed, with the freshness of sprouting grass wafting from the soil. The swallows had returned from Vineta and The Federated Provinces, building new nests in pairs in the old places. The formation of geese skimmed over this land, flying toward the wilderness. As Pierre remembered, by this time of year, the household would be bustling: Dad and the coachmen would crack their whips loudly, driving the draught horses to plow furrows into the ground. The other hired hands followed closely behind, carefully sowing the tobacco seeds. Mom would fence off a small vegetable garden, scattering seeds of sponge gourds, pumpkins, black beans, and persimmons; To the northwest of the house were the wheat fields, where the wheat seedlings had already turned green, ready for weeding and fertilizing. Lost in memories, Pierre suddenly realized, behind the oak tree, the Michel estate was eerily silent. There were no whinnies of horses, no chants from the laborers at work, no smoke from chimneys. The level fertile land was now desolate, overgrown with weeds in disarray. A terrible fear gripped Pierre's heart, and he whipped the warhorse madly, jumping the fence and heading straight for the mansion. "Dad! Mom!" Pierre shouted, "I'm back!" Young Dusack dismounted and hurried up the steps, bursting through the front door, crying out as he searched, "Dad! Mom! I'm back!" With a crash, a plate fell to the ground and shattered. In the hallway, Scarlett threw herself into his arms, crying inconsolably. "It's alright! Don't be afraid!" Pierre hugged his sister tightly, "Your brother is back." Pierre saw his mother—his noble and elegant mother, wrapped her hair in a kerchief like an ordinary farmer's wife, wearing coarse clothes meant for labor, crying as she ran toward him. The knot in Pierre's heart loosened, the thing he feared most had not happened. He swore he had never seen his mother run with her skirt lifted like that. Ellen Michel cradled her son's face as if holding the most fragile glass, murmuring, "It's good you're back, it's good you're back." Mother, son, and sister embraced tightly, sobbing uncontrollably. That night, Ellen cooked eggs for her son, warmed some milk, and baked some bread. Pierre finally learned about his family's situation. When the news of the Herdman invasion spread, the first to be conscripted were the Dusacks. All the Dusacks listed in the Wolf Town were conscripted, including his father. The Dusacks armed with weapons and riding warhorses assembled and set out. In Dusa Village, apart from the old men and underage children, all the adult men were gone. To prepare against the Herdmen, they also conscripted tenant farmers, requisitioned food, and levied livestock. Workers fled one after another; farmers hid their animals in the forests and buried the grain in cellars. When no tenant farmers could be conscripted, many independent farmers were taken. Many of the hidden animals and buried grains were discovered, with peasants hiding supplies receiving lashings. Revodan desperately collected resources and conscripted troops for self-preservation, but no one cared about the peripheral villages like Wolf Town in the turmoil. Amidst the chaos, bands of Herd Raiders came to Wolf Town. Perhaps the Herders thought it was just another undefended small village they could loot and rest in. But Wolf Town had militia left by Winters Montagne, and the scattered Herd raiders did not gain an advantage. It was like trapping beasts: Six or seven Herd Raiders burst into a village, and with the sound of gongs from all around, they were all speared to death or captured. In contrast, the greatest damage to Wolf Town was not caused by the Herders, but by the Paratu People. Not long ago, another order came down. The Michel estate needed to pay the wartime real estate tax—taxes levied based on the value of the land owned. During grace before the meal, Pierre held his mother's hand with his left and his sister's hand with his right, and he sadly found scars on both of their hands. "I'm back," Mr. Michel said softly, "Leave it all to me." ... Meanwhile, in Sea Blue, Navarre Manor. The tension was so thick it seemed it might ignite at any second, and the servants scattered, fearing getting burned. Anna sat in front of the dressing table, her head hanging low. "To the Monastery?" The Lady of Navarre clutched her chest, her breasts heaving violently, "What madness has possessed you?"