Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Winters vaguely felt that if the former Alpad was a blazing flame, then the Cavalry Major General now is like boiling magma churning within a volcano.

He did not respond, because he did not consider himself close enough to Alpad to pass judgment on him.

However… perhaps it was precisely because Alpad had no direct interests tied with him, that Alpad was extraordinarily candid with him.

All the things he wanted to say had been said, all the questions he wanted to ask had been asked. Alpad took out his pipe, tamping down the tobacco leaf bit by bit, and bluntly asked, “So tell me, what do you want?”

Winters didn’t want to speak indirectly or play coy, a straightforward conversation suited his intentions well: “One of my subordinates has been arrested by your gendarmerie, currently detained in Xiaolu City.”

“What’s the charge?” Alpad frowned slightly.

“Deserter.”

“Anything else?”

“My other subordinates that I brought from Wolf Town.”

“Wolf Town?” Alpad frowned slightly.

“A very remote, very remote small town.” Winters said calmly: “I was the officer stationed there.”

Alpad looked at Winters deeply: “No problem, you can take them all away.”

Winters nodded in acknowledgment: “Thank you.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Alpad shook his head with a half-smile, took a pen, and wrote a safe conduct pass. Then he slowly heated the sealing wax, took off his ring, and sealed the pass with wax.

“This safe conduct pass will allow you to travel unobstructed north of the Ashen Stream River.” Alpad handed the folded safe conduct pass to Winters: “Stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll send someone to help you gather your former men.”

Winters took the safe conduct pass and carefully put it away—this was the real thing, he nodded again to express his thanks: “I have a place to stay.”

Alpad took a puff from his pipe, as if to say “suit yourself.”

Winters stood up, ready to leave.

“Are you really sure you don’t want anything else?” Watching the young man’s back, Alpad finally couldn’t resist reminding him: “Such an opportunity won’t come a second time.”

Winters touched the spot where he stored the safe conduct pass through his clothing: “This is enough.”

Alpad picked up the wine jug that the bullets had nearly pierced, gazing at every scratch and notch on it: “So close.”

“Yes.” Winters suddenly felt like laughing for no reason: “Without it, I probably would be dead.”

Alpad tossed the jug, and it arced through the air, with Winters easily catching it.

Since Winters had walked into the study, this seemed to be the first time Alpad smiled as he used to: “Though it’s no longer of use, keep it as a memento.”

“Thank you.”

Winters walked to the door, and without even reaching out to touch the handle, the old servant outside, as if foreseeing, opened the door.

His boots had just stepped out of the study when suddenly Alpad’s voice rang out from behind: “Wait a moment…”

Winters stopped in his tracks, Alpad got up and walked towards Winters: “Meeting again… no telling when that might be, or under what circumstances, let me walk you out.”

Even the puppet-like old servant could hardly disguise his shock to see the “master” escorting out a mere Captain from the reception room.

As Alpad saw Winters out the door, the atmosphere of the conversation became very relaxed.

Alpad casually asked: “Have you seen Grof Magnus’ open letter?”

“The one calling for negotiations?”

“Yes.”

“I saw it a few days ago.”

“What do you think about it?”

“Well written, it’s being discussed everywhere, in pubs, inns.”

“Good what? Flowery language, complete nonsense! Grof Magnus is a despicable and shameless little man who loves to play political tricks. Everyone can speak pretty words, but I wouldn’t believe a punctuation mark of his.”

Winters really wanted to ask for details, but doing so would seem like prying into Alpad’s intelligence, so he didn’t continue the conversation.

After venting his feelings, Alpad suddenly asked Winters: “Do you have a lawful wife?”

Winters answered without changing his expression: “I do.”

“Captain Montaigne.”

“General.”

“If you would legally marry Colonel Bod’s daughter, then you would be half a Paratu person.” Alpad sighed lightly: “You understand what I’m saying, right?”

“I understand, but I am already married.”

“Then you will forever only be a Venetian.”

Winters replied solemnly: “I thought I was a citizen of the Alliance.”

“I once thought so too, each of us did.” Alpad—the general fierce as fire—unexpectedly showed a tinge of melancholy emotion: “But reality is much more cruel; the Various Republics are incompatible like fire and water, the great Alliance is after all just a beautiful dream of Marshal Ned.”

Winters gave no explicit response, but his expression said it all.

Whether out of pity, admiration, guilt, or envy, Alpad said to Winters word by word: “Being a Venetian means that you can never take root in Paratu. Sooner or later, you have to return to Vineta, this decision you can make now or wait until it’s absolutely necessary. But the sooner you make this decision, the better it is for you.”

“Thank you for your advice.”

The conversation ended there, and they walked out of the room together.

Passing through the corridor riddled with arrow and bullet holes, Alpad who had been silent for a long time suddenly asked out of the blue: “Did you kill Sekler?”

For anyone else, Winters had never directly answered this question.

But to Alpad, he gave a straightforward answer: “Yes.”

“Did he die in pain?”

“No pain.”

“This is as far as I go.” Alpad stopped walking.

The night was dim, Winters could not see Alpad’s expression, but heard a calm “Thank you.”

Winters saluted with his hand and walked towards the door.

Suddenly, he remembered something: “Sorry, I have one more request.”

“Speak.”

“I have another subordinate who I brought from Wolf Town. But their identity is a bit special, I would like to request a guarantee from you, allowing me to take him away as well.”

“Special?” Alpad frowned: “What’s so special?”

Winters showed a hint of a smile: “He… is a cook.”