Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Winters was indeed smiling then, but at this moment, Winters fell into silence.

The atmosphere gradually grew colder, and Little Lion couldn't help but wrap his clothes more tightly around himself.

Bard waited patiently.

"Bard, why did you have to speak to me like this?" Winters's eyes were filled with pain, "Why did you have to tell me in such a manner?"

"Shouldn't you just punch me hard and say directly, 'You are going against the current now and nobody dares to correct you! Sooner or later you are going to be ruined'?" Winters felt genuinely upset, he even felt a sense of betrayal and anger.

This emotion had been building up in his heart for a long time: "Am I some kind of dictator or tyrant? Are you my vassal, my subordinate? You are my classmate, my friend, my brother in arms! Even you need to beat around the bush to say these things? What's going on? Don't you trust me anymore? Can a little power really change a person like this?"

It should have been just an advising between friends, only scratching the surface, not cutting deep. Bard never thought that Winters would split open the flesh to expose the bone,

His eyes shining with tears, he said with equal pain, "Winters Montagne, I tell you! You are a dictator now! And a dictator can easily become a tyrant! If you keep going like this, you'll end up being emperor in the Republic Valley! I won't stop you from being an emperor! But I don't want to see you become one! Not just for the sake of our cause, but for your own good! Do you understand? I'm really worried!"

Winters, gasping for breath, pushed Little Lion with force: "You! Stay away!"

Little Lion obediently walked away.

Winters and Bard looked at each other for a long time, then suddenly burst out laughing, their laughter mingled with tears.

Winters, wiping away his tears, asked helplessly, "So what should we do?"

"If I goddamn knew, wouldn't I have just done it?" Bard sniffed, swearing unusually, "I wouldn't need to tell you all this."

"Since we have military governors and civilian governors," Winters asked with a smile, "should we also set up a Senate? Always using the name of a garrison does indeed feel improper and awkward."

"Cut it out," Bard scoffed, speaking irritably, "A tiny, impoverished place that birds wouldn't even crap in, and you think it's fit for a Senate? Gathering old farmers from miles around to check you? Isn't that asking for trouble? Things are fine as they are now; only with you making unilateral decisions can anything get done.

Emperor, Senate, what's the use of pondering over these now? If one day the Legion's troops come, Iron Peak County might just turn into dust. When that day comes, I guess I'll have to flee with you to Vineta to do some small business!"

Bard settled it decisively: "Take it one step at a time. Who thinks about taking a dump before they've even eaten? It won't do. The New Reclamation Legion could kill us at any moment; let's survive first before anything else!"

"Agreed! If we ever truly reach the end of the road but somehow survive, let's run back to Sea Blue to do business!" Winters laughed heartily. Suddenly he remembered his little she-wolf and said with a bit of embarrassment, "Actually, even if we were to do some business, it wouldn't be up to us... Ah, my maternal grandfather was said to be a rather famous merchant..."

"As for the garrison's sign, I think we'd better keep using it for now." Bard interrupted Winters, having too much to say: "With this sign, people can at least make peace with it superficially. If we change it, it's like forcing others to re-swear their loyalty. I'm afraid many people–especially those from North Eight Towns–wouldn't like it."

"Then let's continue using it," Winters said, chuckling softly: "But some estate owners in North Eight Towns who are building fortresses and attracting refugees, I'm getting ready to deal with them."

Bard spoke slowly, "Estate owners want the refugees to return home, to continue working for them as hired hands or tenants. This fundamentally conflicts with our needs. They were willing to support you before because you brought order. Once they realize we are undercutting their basis, turning against us is only a matter of time. A confrontation is inevitable, but if we can pacify, it's best to do so."

"I'm also reluctant to fight; it would smash all our pots and pans," Winters said, jumping off the fence with a laugh: "What about that old man holding the plough, what if I invite him over to Revodan to be my agricultural advisor? If nobody dares teach me, then I'll just ask more questions."

"No problem," Bard said also laughing, "That's actually what I came to talk to you about today. Who made you drift onto tyrants and dictators?"

"This matter has actually been brewing in me for a long time." Winters sighed, but quickly, his smile returned: "It's getting late. Come on, let's head back to Mitchell Estate for dinner!"

"No... I'd better not go." Guilt flashed in Bard's eyes: "Mrs. Mitchell... she even helped me persuade the other estate owners to give up their land. She is genuinely a noble and good person; I dare not face her."

Not far away, Little Lion, growing impatient, shouted, "Are you done talking? Let's go! I'm starving!"

"Then let's not go," Winters said, pulling Bard down from the fence, "Let's just grab something to eat at the labor camp."

The other man gave a wry smile and nodded.

The three mounted their horses and soon rode off into the distance.

On the land of Harvest Farm, many more hungry people were still toiling, hoping for a bountiful harvest in the future.