Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters
Chapter 1053: 76: The Storm (Part 5)

Chapter 1053: Chapter 76: The Storm (Part 5)

Old foreman Kovyrian and white-haired Roger hid in the pine forest along the lake shore, watching the firelight in the city grow increasingly blinding.

Although the Baron had repeatedly instructed them to keep an eye on the sled dogs and the ice sled, anyone with a brain could see through it: What dogs? What sled? Did the Baron really plan to go back to the hotel for a nap?

The truth was that the Baron couldn’t spare any men to watch over the two of them, and he had hastily concocted a reason to stabilize Kovyrian and Roger.

The lake was dead silent, and there was not a soul on the shore – there was no better opportunity to escape than now.

White-haired Roger had thought about escaping several times, but each time he glimpsed the hunched silhouette and the slight trembling of his uncle’s fingers, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Hesitating, time ticked away by the second.

The sled dogs suddenly started barking furiously, and a rider burst out of the embankment, galloping toward the hiding spot of the uncle and nephew.

It was the Baron’s Attendant; based on his appearance, he seemed to have just been through a tough fight: his breastplate had been dented inward, with lead shot still embedded in the indentation. The once clean cloak was covered in bloodstains and mud, and the edges of the cloak were burned black.

Seeing that the foreman and the white-haired thin man hadn’t fled, Xial was a bit surprised. He stopped at the edge of the woods and called out to white-haired Roger, “Come with me!”

Kovyrian hurried forward and asked lowly, “May I know where we are headed?”

“It’s a long story; just follow me for now,” Xial thought for a moment, “And bring the dogs along, might be useful.”

“Uncle, don’t worry about it; I’ll go with him,” Roger said resolutely, emerging from the forest and boldly stated, “But you have to find my uncle someplace warm; is this a place fit for people? It’s freezing to death here!”

“Easy done. Sir, do you know where Schmid’s house is? Just go there,” Xial gestured toward white-haired Roger, “But you have to follow me obediently, no funny business.”

“Okay, how do we go?”

“Do you know how to ride a horse?”

“No.”

Xial grinned, baring his white teeth, “Then I’ll have to put you to some inconvenience.”

A moment later, white-haired Roger, like a bag of flour, was bound in a very humiliating position upon the horse’s rear.

Xial blew a whistle, and the sled dogs became restless.

“Keep still, if you fall, I’m not responsible,” Xial lifted his whip as if to strike, then suddenly thought of another pressing matter and reminded with a smile, “When you get there, remember to call me Captain Berny, don’t give us away.”

With that, he rode off into the distance, the sled dogs following behind.

Kovyrian watched the two depart, silently giving a salute, and tiredly walked toward Schmid’s residence.

…

After Xial picked up white-haired Roger, Winters immediately had white-haired Roger lead the way to where he had encountered the man with green eyes and the man with the black face.

Roger was cooperative, taking Winters and his men to the intersection of Mana Street and Omer Street.

“Is this the place?” Winters asked.

Roger nodded and pointed to the side of the road, “Right there, I saw the man with the black face putting the blond kid onto the carriage.”

Winters looked around; nothing special about the place, just a typical street scene:

A stone road wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side, bordered by fences and walls. There are few shops and workshops in the northern district, so most of the buildings along the road are residences.

Apart from Winters’ men, more than twenty militiamen from the northern district were confusedly brought over as well.

At the moment, they stood in groups behind Winters, whispering amongst themselves while waiting cluelessly for orders.

After reflecting for a moment, Winters suddenly turned to face the militia, “Who has been a Centurion? A Sergeant?”

The militiamen looked at each other, and two older men stepped forward.

Seeing this, Winters also appointed another mature and reliable-looking militiaman, “You’re a Centurion now, too.”

Then, Winters took a lance from his gear, walked straight to the center of the intersection, and issued an order with dread, “The rioters who robbed Este’s house have escaped into the nearby homes. Starting from this intersection, search every house! Better to err by arresting than let anyone go! Act boldly! I will bear all responsibility.”

The militiamen didn’t know if there truly were any rioters, but with Captain Berny taking all the responsibility, placing them on safe moral high ground, their doubts were momentarily put aside.

More than twenty militiamen were swiftly divided into three groups by Winters, each led by one of Winters’ men and a “Centurion,” and they set off to search separately.

When the executors of a task believe they are not responsible, they will be three parts less cautious and three parts more ferocious.

Barking dogs, cries of alarm, banging on doors, and cursing. Light shone through the darkness in quick succession, and the residential area, which was already sleepless due to the disturbance, was suddenly thrown into chaos with chickens flying and dogs jumping.

“Open up! Open up!”

“Who…who are you?”

“Didn’t you hear the alarm bell? There are rioters in the Northern City! By order of Captain Berny, we are searching for rioters!”

“Captain Berny? What? Hold on! What are you doing?! Go upstairs, my dear! Take the children back upstairs! You—there are no rioters in my house!”

“How do we know if we don’t search? We must err on the side of caution. Search!”

“What are you doing?! I’m going to…”

“Hey! Wait! Don’t hit people! I know this man—Mr. Rudolf!”

“Detrich? Is that you? What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I’m also following the sounds of military boots. Don’t be scared; we’re not robbing, these gentlemen all have the rights of free citizens, they are not bandits. We really are here looking for rioters.”

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