Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Pierre found his mother but discovered that she and his sister had already prepared provisions, clothes, and boots for him.

"Don't worry," Eileen gently kissed her son's forehead, took off the holy emblem, and hung it around his neck, "We will take care of ourselves."

Scarlett also softly comforted her brother, "Go, Pierre, I will hide the cows and horses well. They won't find them. When you come back, we'll have foals."

...

The deserters from Wolf Town gathered again to flee their homeland.

The soldiers who came to catch them found nothing, and it was only then that Bunting and the officers realized they had escaped.

At dusk, the officer set out from Wolf Town with six Cavalry, following the deserters' footsteps in pursuit.

Night mist rolled across the wasteland and circled the valleys, licking lowlands and cliffs.

Clouds of fog shrouding the hillocks made them appear much brighter, while birds competed in song among the tender grass.

The moon stirred in the puddles thick with reeds and hazel bushes, like a blooming water lily.

"They won't get far!" the officer looked back, urging his men, "Hurry! Move quick!"

Suddenly, a tripwire "whooshed" up from the middle of the road.

The officer's Warhorse tripped on the rope, tumbling forward fiercely, flinging its rider harshly to the ground.

The officer was thrown into disarray, tumbling three or four times in the dust before coming to a stop.

The other three Cavalry who couldn't react in time were also brought down, while the three behind them narrowly managed to rein in their horses.

About a dozen figures leaped out from the tall grass on both sides of the dirt road.

They didn't shout or curse; they just silently subdued the four who had fallen to the ground.

The other three Cavalry were pulled from their horses before they even had a chance to draw their swords.

With sabers at their throats, they dared not make a move.

The officer's shoulder drooped, clearly broken.

He had thought they were just a bunch of scarecrow deserters and had never anticipated that they would dare to strike back.

The officer was eerily calm as he tried to convince the deserters, "If you stop now, it's still not too late. If I die, your entire families will be implicated. I will speak in your favor."

Another soldier, however, raged furiously, "You bastards! What nerve!"

The deserters in the darkness remained silent.

On the deserted plains, only the officer's trembling voice and the soldier's curses could be heard.

"Did anyone get away?" Pierre asked.

"No," Vashka confirmed.

"Drag them into the woods," Pierre's tone was as flat as if he were drinking water, "Don't leave any blood on the road."

Realizing what the deserters intended, the officer struggled frantically, becoming uncontrollable, "Aren't you afraid for your families? I assure your safety! No! Don't kill me! I will..."

Vashka reversed the handle of his knife and smashed it hard against the officer's face, silencing him.

Dusa did the same, and the soldier was silenced in an instant.

The pursuers were horrified to discover that graves had already been dug beside the trees along the road.

"Bury them directly?" Vashka asked.

"No, make it quick," Pierre replied.

Vashka raised his hand and cut the officer's throat, being very careful not to let a single drop of blood fall outside the pit.

Then the soldier.

Then the others.

One Cavalryman was so terrified he wet his pants, begging piteously, "I'm a Dusack too, don't kill me."

"I am a Dusack too," Pierre responded expressionlessly, "Weren't you also coming to kill me? I just want to farm and provide for my family."

The bodies of the seven pursuers were placed in the pit.

The deserters refilled the hole, meticulously replaced the sod just like the surrounding area, and stacked it with twigs and fallen leaves.

Soon life would flourish here again, plants growing more vigorously with the nourishment from the fertilizer. Birds would sing here, and mice would nest.

"What about the reprisals he mentioned?" Vashka asked.

"No one will see them alive, no one will see their bodies, they'll just be considered missing," Pierre instructed, "Clean up any tracks on the road, lead the hoofprints far away."

Anglu came over, his voice filled with regret, "Those four horses are done for; we can only eat their meat. The other three are still usable."

"Take them with us," Pierre gestured, "Let's go."

The woods were silent as though no one had ever been there.

Only Anglu's mournful voice was faintly audible, "Such a pity for those four horses."