Iron Powder and Spellcasters Chapter 220

   Chapter 220 Blood Wolf

  July 1st, an ordinary and unusual day.

  A strange officer has come to the workshop of Albert, the goldsmith in the castles of the kings.

   The unfamiliar officer's left leg seemed to be inflexible, and he was walking with a cane with a horse's head.

   Another gendarme with a bad-looking face accompanied him with a knife.

   Seeing the military uniform on the visitor, goldsmith Albert groaned in his heart.

   In these years, the sky and the earth are big, and the one with the knife is the biggest. Soldiers are now the existences walking sideways in the castles of the kings.

The siege of the    rebels was lifted only two weeks ago, and the bones outside the city have not yet been collected.

   Speaking of this siege, the citizens of the castles were left with lingering fears.

   As soon as the city was locked down, the price of flour went up like crazy. There is often one price when weighing, and another when paying.

  Even if you can buy flour, you can't buy firewood. Trees in the city were quickly cut down, and many families had to tear down their furniture and set fire to it.

  The streets and alleys are going crazy: the rebel leader Arpad has ordered, "On the day the city is broken, the rebels can loot at will."

  Fortunately, in the end, General Sackler won.

   On the day the rebels withdrew, the citizens of the castles took to the streets to cheer: "Long live General Sackler!"

   But then, the troops chasing the rebels suffered a big defeat in Jiangbei Province.

   The war is not over, and it is not known when it will be the end.

   But life goes on.

   "Is there anything I can help you with?" Albert entertained the officer diligently, thinking to himself, "It's bad, isn't it here to blackmail me?"

   Actually, Albert doesn't know much about the subtle differences in military uniforms, but from the fabric, shape and temperament of the visitor, he dares to conclude that this is an officer.

   "I'm Lieutenant Moritz of the gendarmerie." Although the strange officer was young, his voice was involuntarily heard.

   He looked at Albert coldly and went straight to the point: "The Gendarmerie has received a reliable report that you are selling stolen goods for the robbers."

   "No! No! No! Absolutely not!" Albert thumped his chest and shouted injustice. He shouted in his heart: "It's over, you really came to blackmail me!"

  Albert was so afraid because he was really selling money for the robbers.

  The thieves and robbers get gold and silver ornaments and usually find goldsmiths to cast new coins.

   Once melted and cast, no one can trace it anymore.

   Some simply exchange stolen goods for ready-made coins or jewelry.

  The conversion ratio is a little lower, which is better than convenience.

  Albert often does this kind of business, he never asks where it comes from, as long as it is cheap.

   The unfamiliar officer smiled half-smile: "No?"

   "No! Seriously not! How dare I?" Albert shook his head desperately.

   He tentatively asked: "Or...you say a 'no' way?"

   "Last September, a robber came to find you. Black and thin, with a coastal accent and a mouth full of gold teeth." The strange officer leaned back on his chair and played with a pocket knife in his spare time: "You helped him sell off the stolen goods, right?"

  The knife is only the size of a palm, and the workmanship is very simple. The handle is wrapped with a leather rope, but the blade is sharp.

Every time the   knife knocked on the table, Albert's knee couldn't help shaking.

   Hearing the strange officer mentioned the characteristics of black, thin and golden teeth, he immediately recalled who the other party was talking about.

   He secretly rejoiced and replied happily: "Sir, I remember who you are talking about. I really didn't help him sell the stolen goods, I reported him! That person is still in prison!"

  In September last year, a gold-toothed robber with a provincial accent came to Albert with a promissory note, which he would exchange for a thousand ducats.

   The promissory note represents the gold deposited by the customer in advance, and in theory the goldsmith just keeps it for him. Seeing the votes and redeeming the money, the votes are not recognized.

   But all goldsmiths will embezzle customer deposits, or invest, or lend money to make money.

  Albert was no exception.

   The business may make or lose money, and the loan may not be recovered. A big gamble early last year, Albert unfortunately lost the bottom.

  When the gold-toothed robber found him, there were only a thousand ducats with zeros left in his vault.

   to the robber, and he will go bankrupt on the spot.

   As for why Albert can be sure that the other party is a robber?

   The answer is simple: Albert has seen many people like robbers. The other party opened his mouth, and he could smell the smell of the robber.

   Hearing that the robber had a provincial accent, he saw that the other party came alone. Unconsciously, Albert had a bold idea - black eat black.

   The rest is simple - Albert has a cousin who is a clerk under the sheriff.

  The golden-toothed robber was caught and thrown into prison.

   At the very beginning, Albert was apprehensive. So he begged his cousin to save the robber's life, in case the robber's accomplice came over, he would have a bargaining chip.

   As time went on, he also forgot about it, until today it was brought up by a strange officer.

   "How did this happen?" Albert scolded inwardly, "Which **** reported me! Uglaoy? Or Kovasiko?"

  The unfamiliar officer didn't answer, instead he seized the loophole in Albert's words: "If that person doesn't exist, the others have, right? Search and look to prove your innocence."

  Albert swore again.

  This turmoil ended in bankruptcy, and Albert needed to "donate" a sum of money to the gendarmerie of the Kings Castle.

   Finally, Albert quietly passed a small bag of gold coins to the strange officer.

The behavior of the unfamiliar officer gave him a big jump. He shook the leather bag and heard a crisp sound inside. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "Bribery the military police? Do I still want to write you a receipt?"

  Albert was taken aback, and when he was at a loss, he thought sadly: "Ming grab this is it."

   He just handed over the biggest handle to the other party, but fortunately the other party didn't embarrass him anymore.

   "Okay, that's it." The unfamiliar officer snorted softly, put away the gold coins, and asked casually, "Where is the gold-toothed robber?"

  Under the western city wall, in a remote corner, the City Guard Prison of the Kings Castle stood silently.

   It is said to be a prison, but it is actually a few dilapidated bungalows.

   It is customary for felons such as murderers to be taken to the gendarmerie prison, which has stone cells and iron bars.

   City Guard prisons are filled with inmates such as thieves, debtors and tax evaders.

  Shortly after the turmoil in the goldsmith Albert's workshop, an uninvited guest came to the City Guard Prison.

   An officer walked into the prison with a gendarmerie, holding a warrant from Lieutenant Colonel Robert, deputy director of the "Department of Public Security Administration and Supervision", to take a prisoner away.

   The head of the cell didn't even know what department the “Department of Public Security Administration and Supervision” was, and he couldn't even read the words.

   However, the lacquer seal was well covered on the warrant, and the prison head of Prato's eagle badge still recognized it - although he did not recognize the small print below the eagle.

   "Sir." The head of the cell led the officer into the cell and explained carefully: "In the war some time ago, all the prisoners were conscripted into hard labor. I don't know if the person you are mentioning is still alive."

The    officer gave a lukewarm "um".

   "During the war, a lot of prisoners were killed and injured. I really can't blame me, I too..."

   "Stop talking nonsense." The officer frowned, his voice as cold as a thousand years of snow: "Lead the way."

   "Hey, good, good." The prisoner nodded and walked in front of him.

  The lighting in the prison is very poor, and many people should have been locked up because there is an unresolved stench in the air.

   But now many of the cells are empty, and the prisoners who apparently disappeared all died in the previous siege.

   In the deepest part of the prison, the officer found the prisoner who was imprisoned for "theft".

   The already black and thin gold-toothed "captain" became thinner, and the skin was wrapped around the bones like tarpaulins. The gold teeth in his mouth were gone - all were pulled out by the prisoner, and he became Captain Ragtooth again.

   "That's him." The officer nodded.

   The head of the cell hurriedly led someone to open the shackles, and the gendarmerie, who followed the officer, walked into the cell and lifted the prisoner up.

   "Yes, it's you... Cough! Cough!" The prisoner raised his head with difficulty and looked at the approacher through the dim light. Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly coughed violently.

   "Take it away." The officer leaned on a cane and walked out of the prison without looking back.

   The skinny prisoner murmured in a barely audible voice, "I...I knew...you would come..."

   The head of the cell said good things, sent the officers all the way out of the prison, and borrowed a prison cart for the other party.

  In the night, the goldsmith Albert's workshop - also his home.

   A revenge is underway.

   "Don't! Don't! Don't kill me, I'll give you the money, I'll give you everything..." Albert scrambling to flee to the vault: "Help!"

   The two guards he hired were brought down by the intruders before they even drew their weapons.

   Vault, hide in the vault to be safe!

   Before Albert could run a few steps, his knee suddenly hurt and his body fell to the ground uncontrollably.

   Immediately afterwards, someone grabbed his hair from behind and pulled him up.

   The person who picked up Albert was a punch to his Adam's apple.

  Albert's body shrank into a ball, clutching his throat and retching, unable to say anything.

   "Tee, Tee, Tee." It was the sound of a cane hitting the ground.

   "It's you!" Albert suddenly recalled the voice and the cane with the horse's head, and he made a broken voice with difficulty: "It's you..."

   Another thin figure came out from behind the cane officer, he walked tremblingly in front of Albert, and it took a lot of effort to squat down.

   The thin figure tore off the mask, revealing his black teeth, put his face close to Albert's, and asked with a cheerful smile, "Hello... Do you remember me?"

   The light was dim, and Albert couldn't see the face of the other party, nor could he recognize who the other party was. He shook his head desperately, trying to dodge back.

   "My name is Gold, good luck... Gold." Gold coughed violently and said word by word: "You don't remember me... It doesn't matter, I never... Forgot you..."

   After saying that, Gold slowly stabbed a dagger into the heart of the goldsmith.

   His movements are slow, both because he has no energy and because he is enjoying the process.

The   goldsmith twitched a few times, but stopped moving.

   After doing all this, Gold seemed to have his soul taken away.

   He slumped on the ground, gasping for breath, two tears streaming from his dry eyes. He looked at Winters. "Thank you, my lord..."

   Winters shook his head and helped Gold stand up. The latter is still very weak, and is striving for revenge.

   "There is a woman and a few children upstairs." Ciel walked back and said in a low voice, "It's under control."

   Winters looked at Gold.

   "Enough." Gold suddenly laughed a few times: "I'm not dead, it's enough for him to die."

  Ciel took out another printed parchment: "Miss Navarre's promissory note, found in this guy's counter."

  Gold took the promissory note and said persistently, "I'm going to cash this promissory note."

   "Okay." Winters nodded.

   So he opened the vault with the key he found from the goldsmith.

  Gold counted the ducats one by one without taking a single silver chip.

   Pointing out a thousand ducats, Gold placed the promissory note on the goldsmith's corpse, and pressed fifty gold coins on it—this was the custodial fee that should be paid.

   Then he spat at the goldsmith's corpse.

   "Let's go." Winters helped Gold leave.

   "If I was still in the business of licking blood, I would have no complaints if I was beaten or killed." The former pirate chief was sad and sad: "Why...why..."

   Winters couldn't answer, he helped Gold all the way out of the house.

  Because of the noise problem, the workshops are all single-family houses, far away from other residences.

   Winters and Ciel moved quickly, and no one noticed the vendetta in the goldsmith's workshop, and the night watchman hadn't come yet.

   Winters supported Gold on his saddle and told Gold softly: "Alpad blew up the southwest corner of the city wall, and the Ciel will take you out of the city from there."

   "What about you? Your lord." Gold realized Winters wouldn't come with him.

   "Me?" Winters in the dark seemed to laugh: "I still have things to do."

  Gold gripped Winters' hand tightly and shook his head desperately.

   "If I haven't found you at dawn, I don't have to wait for me, and take Gold back to Hailan." Winters said to Ciel.

  Ciel wiped his tears, nodded heavily, and rode away with Gold.

   Winters watched the backs of the two disappear into the night.

   He put the stick in the saddlebag, hung the saber around his waist, and took out the one hundred and sixty-four wooden awls from the saddlebag.

   Then he mounted his horse and walked north of the city.

   On the streets of the castles of the kings late at night, he walked alone.

  The further you go north of the city, the more often you encounter the night patrol.

  The kings and castles have a curfew, and citizens are not allowed to go to the streets at night, but soldiers are not included in the restrictions.

   Winters, in his officer uniform, made his way unobstructed. The Night Watch just raised their hands in salute, without questioning him to stop him.

   He went straight to the gate of a beautiful two-story stone building.

  This two-story stone building is the office of the Palato Army Military Committee, which is the former Army Headquarters.

  Winters tethered his horse without haste outside the gate.

The    guard looked at the officer curiously, not understanding why the other party didn't send the warhorse to the stables in the courtyard.

   Chained the warhorse well, Winters picked up his saber and dragged his injured leg straight to the main gate.

   His leg injury is not completely healed and his pace is a little limp, but he walks very firmly.

   "Sir, please show your identification." The guard stepped forward and asked the strange officer in an old uniform.

   Winters raised his hand.

   With a series of crackles, blood poured out of the guard's helmet, and the guard fell softly.

   The other three guards were stunned, they didn't know what the other party did or what the other party was going to do.

   As soon as the other party raised his hand, the person in front of the other party died violently.

   Winters continued towards the stone building and looked at the three remaining guards: "Don't court death."

   First a little spark, followed by a few inches of flame, the fire rose in the cold hearth, and the fiery anger was burning in his chest.

   He had waited too long for this moment.

  A guard recovers from his panic and reaches out to ring the bell. Before his hand touched the clock rope, he was already killed by a knife.

   "Don't! Look! Die!"

   The will of the remaining two guards, who were only militias not long ago, was completely defeated. The two of them rolled and crawled back, stumbled and fled to the door.

   But the movement of the door still alerted the others, and the guards with disheveled clothes poured out from the duty room, and they looked at the scene in surprise.

   "Enemy attack!" Someone shouted like waking up from a dream.

The    guards were thrown into confusion, some turned back to the house to get their weapons, and some came out with swords.

   There are also people who want to take down this alone attacker directly, relying on the strength of the crowd.

   "I only want Sackler!" Winters drew his knife and rushed into the crowd: "Whoever stops me will die!!"

   In the office on the second floor of the old army headquarters, Brigadier General Sackler - no, now he is Major General Sackler and Grand Commander - also noticed the strangeness outside.

During the    siege battle, Sackler ate and lodged in the barracks. After the rebels were defeated, Sackler moved his family to the old army headquarters.

  He lives here, in the heart of the Army of the Second Republic of Palato.

   He heard a strange noise outside and opened the window.

   A thunderous roar spread from the darkness to all directions, like a furious beast devouring people:

   "Sackler!"

"Do you think!"

"this matter!"

   "Will it end like this!"

   "I only want Sackler! Whoever stands in my way will die!!"

   Major General Sackler was stunned for a moment. When he remembered who this voice belonged to, he couldn't help shaking his head and smiling bitterly: "The Veneta..."

   Sackler got out of bed, lit the lamp, groomed himself, and put on his military uniform meticulously.

   He stroked his uniform lightly, trying to smooth out every wrinkle on it. But no matter how hard he tried, there were always a few folds that remained stubbornly there.

   Sackler gave up his efforts. He sat on the chair and waited quietly for the arrival of the other party.

The sound of    killing and the collision of weapons was getting closer and closer, first the main entrance on the first floor, then the stairs, and then the corridor.

   In the end, Sackler's door was kicked open, and a **** Veneta walked into the room with a curling saber.

   His uniform was covered in blood, it was not known whether it was his or someone else's. The crimson liquid ticked down from his saber, leaving a blood line all the way from outside the house.

   Winters spat **** saliva and coughed violently.

   "You're here." Sackler gestured, "Please sit down."

   Winters threw away the rolling blade weapon, and the golden sword sat down in front of Sackler.

   With the faint candlelight, the two looked at each other.

"This is Mihaly, less than twenty years old, the grenade fell beside me, and he pressed the grenade with his body. I lived, he died..." Winters took out a wooden cone and put it on Sek. in front of Le.

   He took out another wooden cone: "This is Tao Marsh, a native of Shengke Town, whose skull was smashed by a hammer. He didn't die immediately, he struggled painfully for more than ten minutes before dying."

   Winters had a total of 164 wooden awls in his rucksack, which were his 164 warriors.

  They trusted him, followed him, and protected him. They fought bravely all the way, leaving their lives in the unnamed corners of the great wasteland, and were finally abandoned on the west bank of the Styx.

   "You don't care about them." There was no sadness or anger in Winters' voice, as if he was judging from the point of view of the unrelated: "You don't care about them."

   Sackler sighed: "If I had to do it again, I would still make the same decision, because..."

   "No need to say more." Winters interrupted Sackler with a startling voice: "I can understand you."

   Sackler's eyebrows were raised slightly.

   "If I were you, would I make the same decision? I don't know." Winters asked himself calmly: "Who knows?"

   Sackler smiled wryly and shook his head, with a gleam in his eyes: "This country..."

   In the next second, his head was suddenly torn apart by an invisible force, and red and white were thrown onto the wall and ceiling of the room.

   "I understand you." Winters loosened his fist and said to where Sackler's head had once been: "But I'm still angry."

   Seck was dead, whether he was a great man or a pseudo-man, he was dead. No matter what kind of thoughts he harbored, they were all annihilated by the wind.

   Is this the end of things?

   Winters gave birth to a sense of unreality.

   With the most decisive hatred, he cut out one hundred and sixty-four wooden awls. He originally wanted to use these wooden awls to crucify the enemy, but he finally gave Sackler a good one.

   Is this the end?

  From the moment he was abandoned on the west bank of the Styx, from the moment he laughed and cried and scolded "fuck it", from the moment he regained consciousness, he was longing for revenge.

   This emotion took him away from Erron, took him away from the Heard wasteland, and took him all the way to the castles of kings.

What if    killed Sackler? The dead cannot be brought back to life—he knew that, but he had no option of forgiveness.

   "That's it," he thought.

   He didn't cry, nor did he feel the joy of getting revenge, only a little calm and endless tiredness.

   Winters suddenly had a kind of confusion: what am I going to do? Where am I going? Where else can I go?

go home!

   I still have a home to go back to!

   Someone at home is waiting for me!

   Hope rekindled in his icy chest, and Winters stumbled towards the door.

   He can still go home, he wants to go home.

   In the distance, there was the noise of human voices and the neighing of war horses. It seemed that someone had noticed the strangeness of the old army headquarters and sent reinforcements.

   But it doesn't matter, Winters Montagne wants to go home, and no one can stop him.

  The night gradually receded, and the sky turned dark blue little by little.

   Outside the Castle of the Kings, one kilometer to the southwest.

  Ciel stood on a large boulder and watched the road out of the city, waiting anxiously.

  The sky is getting brighter and brighter, and Charles can no longer bear the wait: "I'm going to find my brother."

   "I'll accompany you," Gold said weakly.

   "You're dying, how are you going? You stay here." Ciel stepped on the saddle: "If I can't come back, go to Wolf Town, recover from your injuries and return to Veneta."

  Gold also got on the horse: "I'm lucky, I'll go with you, it doesn't matter."

   "No need." Ciel burst into tears: "My brother is back."

   A rider galloped toward Ciel and Gold with his back to the rising sun.

  Ciel shouted, jumping up and waving vigorously.

   Even Gold secretly wiped away two tears.

   It wasn't until Winters came close that Ciel could see the blood and wounds on Winters' body.

   "Brother, what's wrong with you?" Ciel helped Winters to dismount, with a cry in his voice: "Why is there still a gunshot wound?"

   "There's no way." Since the **** battle on the banks of the Styx, Winters showed a smile for the first time. He smiled and said, "Who said that the deflection technique can't prevent the back. Stray bullets, flesh wounds."

   "Sit still and I'll treat your wound." Charles sobbed and dug out his sewing bag from his saddlebag.

   "Let's go home."

"it is good."

   "But." Winters gasped in pain: "Go to Wolf Town first."

   [Vengeance is the greatest happiness in the world - Veneta Proverbs, from Volume 2, Chapter 96, "The End (Part 2]

   [Venetta's folklore is "violent like fire, committing suicide, and taking revenge. In addition to the custom of wearing swords and masks, there is also the tradition of secret associations"—Volume 1, Chapter 28]

   [A book friend mentioned the part of Heard Wasteland, Winters fell into autism. It can't be autistic to be precise. On the one hand, he overreacted to the outside world, such as facing the old interpreter, if it was in the past, he would not have punched the other side's nose; on the other hand, he was thinking about revenge almost all the time. He couldn't really laugh when he saw the faces of dead warriors appear before his eyes as he was cutting wood awls, as he struggled to rehabilitate. ]

   [Plato's situation is like a balance, and no one cares about the anger and hatred of a gadget man before this. But this is the man who upset the balance of the situation and steered the future of Plato in an unknowable direction - Winters doesn't know this yet]

   [About Winters' personal combat power - Palatu cannot find a second spellcaster with stronger overall strength and more combat experience than him. Because spellcasters are given priority for promotion, most of them will soon leave the front-line positions, and spell training will be slack. It is rare for a spellcaster like Winters to spell it out on the battlefield.]

   [Thanks to book lovers for their collection, reading, subscription, recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, rewards and comments, thank you all]

   (end of this chapter)

Chapter end