Iron Powder and Spellcaster

It's already night.

A bonfire was lit in the open space in front of the main house of Red Pine Manor, and figures flashed around the fire. By the light of the fire, one could see several goats hanging under the oak trees at the edge of the clearing, waiting to be slaughtered.

In a room on the second floor of the main house, Winters sat by the window, playing with the steel cone and looking at the busy people in the yard.

After several knocks on the door, Kalman walked in.

"Did you bring the sniffing bottle?" Winters asked calmly. His eyes stayed on the campfire, not making eye contact with Kalman at all.

"Bring it." Kalman stood awkwardly in front of Winters and swallowed hard: "But I don't recommend waking up the injured. Although the lead bullet has been taken out, his condition is still very dangerous. Forcibly remove the injured person. It is not... wise for a patient to wake up from a coma, and it may worsen his injuries."

"You don't have to worry about that. Just wake him up. I have my own reasons." Winters' eyes stayed at the bonfire, not making eye contact with Kalman at all.

Kalman touched the soft nail and murmured as if to comfort himself: "I have no right to interfere with how you deal with your people, but I have fulfilled my responsibility as a doctor."

On the small bed in this guest room, Lieutenant Colonel Contel was lying unconscious.

Kalman walked to the bed and took out a small glass bottle. He uncorked the bottle, placed the mouth of the bottle under Lieutenant Colonel Contel's nostrils and shook it.

The stench escaped from the bottle, and Lieutenant Colonel Contel, who had inhaled the irritating gas, reacted immediately. The lieutenant colonel's nostrils dilated, his chest heaved, and with an instinctive cough, Contel opened his eyes with difficulty.

Kalman looked at Winters, who turned his head slightly toward the door, signaling Kalman to leave.

Contel and Winters were the only two people left in the room.

Contel, who had recovered from a coma, was still unconscious and made several painful dull sounds in his throat.

Picking up the water glass on the table, Winters slowly fed Contel some water.

After his dry lips and throat were moistened with clean water, Lieutenant Colonel Contel regained some consciousness. He looked at the person in front of him and asked with difficulty: "Warrant Officer Mont...Ta...Nie?"

"Yes, it's me."

"I...where am I?"

"Red Sulfur Island."

"Are we... captured?"

"No, neither you nor I have been captured. It's safe here for now."

Lieutenant Colonel Contel's consciousness became more and more clear. He groaned and reached out to touch his abdomen.

Winters stopped Contel: "Don't touch it, it's a wound. Do you remember? You were shot, and the doctor here took out the lead for you. It was very clean. The rest is up to you." ”

Contel couldn't stop shaking because of the severe pain.

"The doctor said that coma is a kind of self-protection for you. I asked him to wake you up."

"Why...why?" It took a lot of effort for Contel to utter one word.

"Because I have something I must ask you." There was no emotion in Winters' tone: "I will leave here in a few hours. If I don't ask you clearly, I'm afraid I won't have another chance in the future. ”

"What are you asking...what are you asking?"

Winters, who was standing by the bed, leaned down and got close to Contel's ear. His voice was not loud, but it was clear and without any emotion: "Why did you (we) want to assassinate the special envoy of the Secretary of State of the United Provinces?"

Contel felt as if he had been struck by lightning, and the shock even outweighed the pain of the wound. He took a breath of air and his eyes widened involuntarily.

After being silent for a while, the lieutenant colonel closed his eyes and replied slowly: "I didn't kill him."

[In Mainland Chinese, the second person singular and the second person plural are the same word]

As if he had heard the funniest words, Winters burst into laughter and beat his chest with laughter. After laughing, he wiped his tears and said: "Both of us may not survive tomorrow. Is it necessary to play this kind of word game? What difference does it make whether you do it or your comrades do it?"

"No...I have been opposed to the assassination from beginning to end." Contel looked at Winters and asked with difficulty: "What about you...how did you know?"

"Me?" Winters sighed: "It's better to ask me why I figured it out so late."

…

Kalman stood anxiously at the top of the stairs. After an unknown amount of time, the sound of a door closing was heard from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching Kalman.

"The wounded fell asleep again." Winters walked to Kalman and whispered softly. He took out a small oil paper bag from his pocket and put it in Kalman's hand: "If the wounded wakes up again, soak it in warm water. Grow some medicine for him to drink, just mix it a little at a time."

"What's this?"

"Sleeping aids can make people enter a deep sleep state." Winters explained patiently. He smiled and said, "Maybe I won't need them after today, so I might as well keep them all for you."

Kalman opened the three-layered oil paper package, carefully picked up a piece of cooked herbal medicine and observed it carefully: "It's quite fresh. I've never heard of medicines that can help you sleep."

Kalman's eyes were almost glued to the herbs, as if he had discovered a new world.

"They are not plants here. These are specialties of the New World and come from the colonies of the empire." Winters looked at Dr. Kalman with a smile. After the other party put away the herbs, he said sincerely: "Mr. Kalman, I'm sorry to give you this." It’s causing trouble.”

Kalman was shocked when he heard this and waved his hands repeatedly: "It's okay, it's okay."

"Don't worry, I'm not trying to silence you." Winters laughed loudly: "Since you have kept your promise, I will also fulfill my promise. This is an apology from the bottom of my heart."

Kalman let out a sigh of relief.

"But for your own benefit, I still don't recommend that you report us immediately." Winters added.

"No, no, no...how could I report you? I won't say anything." Kalman blushed and shook his head.

"Don't be afraid, Mr. Kalman. This is not a threat, but what I say from the bottom of my heart. Even if you report us, I will not retaliate against you, nor will I even be angry at you. We broke into your home, and you did Nothing is too much." Winters looked into Kalman's eyes and said sincerely: "But I suggest you wait and see and be prepared. If I fail, you should immediately hand over these seriously injured people and join us. Draw a clear line. But if I succeed... keep these seriously wounded, you will have the gratitude of the Veneta people."

Regardless of Kalman's complicated expression, Winters left the main house and walked towards the bonfire.

Kalman was stunned for a while and then hurriedly followed.

The old servant Bok ran over to Kalman with a sad face and complained: "Master... our family is ruined... I can't stop them..."

"Don't worry, Mr. Pork." Winters said politely: "I will compensate you according to the price for what the Hurds took away."

Hearing Winters speak, Pork shuddered subconsciously. He didn't dare to speak, but whispered softly: "What about the slave? A strong slave is worth more than ten sheep..."

"Hahaha." Winters laughed and said, "Mr. Polk, since ancient times, when slaves purchased their freedom, they paid with the blood of slave owners. So I think free freedom is better, isn't it?"

…

A Hurd man and a small knife can peel off a complete sheepskin in less than ten minutes.

"Nothing is wasted" is the principle of Hud people.

The sheep's blood was well packed in wooden barrels, and the internal organs were not discarded. The Hurd women washed the sheep's offal, boiled away the blood, and cut it into thin strips to make a white and thick mutton soup.

Not a bit of other parts are wasted, either boiled or roasted, each has its own place.

The Hed people who had taken off their shackles were busy. At this moment, they seemed to have returned to their hometown thousands of miles away.

The low tables were connected to form a long table next to the bonfire. The table was filled with large and small dishes, and newly made ones were constantly being served.

Winters saw his soldiers sitting on the ground like Hurds, feasting. It was not until Winters approached that the soldiers realized that the centurion was coming, and they quickly stood up and saluted.

Winters called the sergeant to him: "Let everyone eat more meat and no alcohol."

The captain nodded and returned to the table.

Not far away, at the end of the long table, Andre waved to Winters.

Sitting with Andre were Bud and the old man Hurd.

As soon as Winters walked over and sat down, the Hurd woman immediately brought a bowl of white soup and a plate of creepy sheep heads - to be precise, they were split in half and put back together. Cooked sheep head.

"Eat quickly, I'm waiting for you to sit down at the table." Andre winked at Winters: "This is something the Hud people give to their most distinguished guests."

"ah?"

At the position of the sheep's head, two holes stared directly at Winters, doubling Winters' pressure. He tasted the mutton soup and it was very delicious. It seemed to have some pepper in it, and I felt warm all over after taking a sip.

"Centurion Montagne, I have another unkind request." Old Man Hurd, who was chatting with Bud, looked at Winters.

"What?" Winters buried his head in his soup, his tone neither salty nor bland. For some reason, he just couldn't like this old man.

"Mustas wants to perform a 'Kurshitashi' ceremony with you." Bader explained helpfully: "He explained it to me for a long time. I heard it was probably an oath ceremony."

This ceremony is probably a kind of oath. "

"It's not an oath, it's not just an oath." Old Man Hed said stiffly in Common Mandarin with a weird accent: "'Kurshitashi' is a covenant witnessed by the gods, an unbreakable oath."

"Isn't that still an oath?" Winters said while drinking soup.

"No...it's different." Old Man Hed originally wanted to continue explaining, but after thinking about it, he gave up talking to the foreigners: "If you think it is an oath, then it is an oath."

"Do I have to cut my palms and bleed them? In fact, we don't need to engage in such formalism." Winters put down the soup bowl helplessly: "I am a spell caster, I don't believe in anything, and I am also disgusted with self-mutilation. No matter what kind of ceremony it is, it can't restrain a person's will, what I pledge to you is my honor."

"[Old language] I think it is still necessary." Bard suddenly changed to the old language and muttered: "[Old language] The other Hed people do not trust us and just follow Mustas' orders. If a ritual It’s worth it if you can win the trust of other Hedians.”

"[Old phrase] I don't want to take a knife and bleed myself." Winters said angrily: "[Old phrase] If you like it, you can go."

"[Old saying] But people recognize you." Bud said with a smile.

"[Old saying] Yes, yes." Andre was also overjoyed.

Old Man Hurd watched quietly as the three warrant officers conversed in the old tongue.

"Old man, I have something to ask you." Winters asked bravely: "What is the ritual you are talking about? Does it use your own blood?"

"Yes." Old man Hurd's face was full of smile lines: "But it's okay to use animal blood."

…

The firelight reflected Winters' face, as well as Old Man Hurd's.

The two stood facing each other.

Mustas, the old man of Hurd, cut his left hand and held Winters' left arm. Winters also grabbed the other man's left arm.

A Hurd man knelt and offered a bowl of blood.

Old Man Hurd dipped a little blood into his lips and smeared it on his lips, and Winters followed suit.

Old Man Hurd took some oil and applied it to their left arms.

When Winters wondered what the significance of this ritual was, he heard Old Man Hurd reciting some kind of song in a strange pronunciation method. The oil on their left arms suddenly spontaneously ignited, and in an instant, a wave of energy erupted. Flames rose between the two.

Winters was shocked and suddenly wanted to retreat, but Old Man Hurd's arm grabbed his arm like an iron pincer.

The next second, the flame went out, as if what just happened was an illusion.

But the burning sensation on his left arm told Winters that the fire was not fake.

Old Man Hurd picked up some more ashes and sprinkled them on their heads before letting go of his left hand.

The Hed, who had been surrounding the two men throughout the ceremony, suddenly picked up the horn and blew it.

"Who are you?" Winters grabbed Old Man Hurd's arm and asked in a deep voice.

"They are your soldiers now." Old Man Hurd would not answer, but said tiredly: "They will trust you just like they trust me. As long as you lead them, they will follow you even to hell. Please. You keep our promise and when your soldiers set foot on this island, send the women and children back to our homeland."

The old man, who looked exhausted, returned to the table with the help of other Hud people.

Bud and Andre, who were outside the crowd, squeezed in.

"Was it a fire just now? Where did the fire come from? Was it a fire?" Andre looked shocked.

Winters' eyelids were twitching: "It's a fire, it must be a fire. The oil will never spontaneously ignite for no reason, nor will it be extinguished for no reason... Are there spellcasters among the Hud people?"

The winner of the Rakhir Ceremony has been decided.jpg

Thank you to the book friends who have voted for recommendations before. Thank you for your votes for Justice and Purity is Koala, Smoke and Cloud Scattering, Social Justice Laowang, WritersBlock, Kekkkkk, Ami, Please Call Me Pleasant Goat, and Yuan Hongjian. Thank you all, sincerely. grateful.