Iron Powder and Spellcasters

  Cold sweat ran down his back, and Mikhail suddenly sobered up.

   "Brother..." The lumber merchant desperately tried to squeeze a smile on his fat face, but his expression became as ugly as if his finger was bitten by a dog. He murmured and defended: "...I didn't know you were..."

   Hearing this, Old Dusak was even more displeased.

   "What?" Girard raised his eyebrows, but the tone of the question was kind and friendly: "I'm not from Iron Peak County, so you scold me even worse?"

"no…"

   "What isn't?"

"do not mean that…"

   "And what does that mean?"

  The fat lumber merchant from Vagne County was forced into a corner, and he didn't dare to say another word, for fear of being caught again. He grabbed the hem of old Matiya's clothes under the table in fear, and asked the latter for help with tears in his eyes.

  Little Ma Jiya, who is gloating, is surprised to find that her father, who is usually cautious and never gets involved in other people's disputes, chooses to stand up for a fellow countryman who is not close.

   "He's drunk, don't worry about what he said." Old Maziya bowed and apologized, and blocked the mournful timber dealer behind: "Girard Fleininovich."

"That's right, what he said was drinking, but it's also the truth." Girard didn't buy it, and said aggressively: "My brother, you and I should talk about it. A year ago, you people from Vorgne County still took We were rebels and rebels, and we looked down on us. Now, seeing that our boys in Iron Peak County have developed, you are starting to be jealous again, and blame us for riding on your heads—is there anything wrong with what I said?"

   "Don't frighten him." Old Mathias begged earnestly: "Girard Fleininovich."

  Gillard stared at the two free men in Vorgne County with wolf-like eyes;

  The timber merchant curled up, trying to hide behind the back of his fellow countrymen;

  Old Matia looked as usual, like a big tree facing the storm.

  Little Ma Jiya couldn't help holding her breath, and Siegfried was also silently observing the confrontation.

  Only the pianist is still concentrating on reading "Escape from the Tiger's Mouth", as if he has been pulled out of the world, and everything around him has nothing to do with it.

  Suddenly, Girard slapped the table and burst out laughing.

  The suffocating tension before disappeared without a trace in an instant.

  Both Matiya and the wood dealer Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief.

   "Thirty years ago." Girard seemed to be joking, and said to the timber dealer hiding behind his fellow countrymen: "You will be beaten, and you will be beaten hard."

"Back then, when I beat you, I lost only my own face." Old Dussac said with nostalgia, and he sighed: "Now when I beat you, what I lost is Monsignor Montagne's face. "

  The lumber merchant wiped off his sweat, thankful that he escaped unharmed.

  Old Matiya bowed again, this time deeper than before.

  Seeing this, the lumber merchant hastily followed suit and bowed.

   "Wait, don't bow down yet, I still haven't finished talking." Girard's face changed, and he put away his smile.

He put down his wine glass, stood up too, straightened his waist, and asked the two free men from Vergne in a sharp voice: "You say we ride on your heads, and you envy us as officials under the blood wolf, but you know, How did this 'good day' come about?"

   "Do you know how many responsible farmers in Xiatiefeng County burned down their own houses in order to hold back the barbarian Hurd?"

   "Do you know how many good young men were buried on both sides of the Pengtuo River?"

"If it hadn't been for the people of Iron Peak County to block the Terton tribe, you would be the ones who were looted, enslaved, and massacred!" Girard clenched his fists and slammed them on the table, letting the knives, forks, cups and saucers And the hearts of others trembled: "I don't expect you to be grateful to me! But you should at least pay respect to those who died in battle! Every one!"

"The Battle of the Styx, the Battle of Blood and Mud, the Battle of the Wailing Valley..." Girard's eyes were red, and his hands trembled slightly: "You take them as stories from the mouths of storytellers, but to the people of Iron Peak County Say, this story is written with blood! Do you know how many people were injured in Iron Peak County? How many people died? How many pillars were disabled? How many women became widows? How many children became orphans ?”

  The dining table was silent.

  A quiet small space, surrounded by the noisy and messy environment of the tavern, like a piece of ice in a hot iron pan.

  Gillard fell back to his seat in despair, lowered his head, and sang Dusac's desolate elegy in a low voice:

   "Our land shall not be turned with a plow,

   "Our land is tilled with horseshoes,

   "The land is filled with Dusak's heads,

   "The shield river is dotted with young widows,

   "Rolling waves are the tears of parents..."

  The blond-haired mercenary sitting opposite Old Dusak was also touched, staring at the wine in the glass, and humming softly:

   "Oh, Dunhe, our parents, why is your water so muddy.

   "Ah, boy, how can my water not be muddy?

   "Cold springs run out from under me,

   "Silver fish have muddied my still waters."

   At the end of the song, Girard wiped the wet corners of his eyes, drank the wine in a muffled voice, and seemed unwilling to say a word.

   Siegfried drank with old Dusack silently.

  For a while, the wine table fell into an uneasy silence again.

  Old Majiya stopped the younger son who wanted to say something to resolve the embarrassing situation with his eyes, and shook his head at the fellow countryman who wanted to slip away on the spot, leaving the precious silence to old Dusak.

   "Wow!"

  Unfortunately, an abrupt voice sounded from the table.

  The pianist slapped his thigh excitedly, as if he had just returned from another new world, and exclaimed at the other people at the wine table: "The writing is too good!"

"The words are vivid, the sentences are easy to understand, the plot is ups and downs, and the characters are vivid and vivid-the most commendable thing is that it can also be rhymed?" Man knows the power of rhythm?"

  He feverishly flipped through every corner of the booklet, and finally found the author's name on the edge of the last page: "Jacob Kling?"

   "Jacob Green?" The pianist chewed on the name, slapped his thigh again, and said heavily: "This man is worth seeing!"

  Until now, the pianist realized that something was wrong with the atmosphere on the wine table.

   "What happened?" The pianist asked a little embarrassedly, he glanced at the faces of the people at the same table, and suddenly realized: "Are you going to fight again?"

   Without waiting for his companion to explain to him, the pianist had already snatched back the lute, kicked the bench away, jumped onto the table.

  The whole set of movements was smooth and smooth, which made Ma Jiya dumbfounded.

   On this side, the pianist cheered endlessly: "What are you waiting for? Let's start now!"

  On the other side, Siegfried dragged the pianist off the table in disgust, and at the same time awkwardly nodded to the others to apologize, then whispered into the pianist's ear, and briefly explained a few words.

   "What?" The pianist was very disappointed: "Just for this?"

He picked up the bench as if nothing had happened, sat down obediently again, then reached out and patted the table, and asked the timber dealer on the other side of the wine table: "Hey, are you dissatisfied just because someone else rides on your head? There must be someone Did it ride on your head? What are you dissatisfied with?"

   Mikhail was embarrassed and didn't know how to answer.

"Oh! That's how it is." The pianist tilted his head and glanced at the sullen old Dusak, and then looked at the wood dealer: "I'm not afraid that I have less, but I'm afraid that others have more than myself—because I was originally ridden together. You are not satisfied when the person on your head replaces the person who was riding on your head."

  As soon as these words came out, the lumber dealer was not only embarrassed, but also ashamed to the point where he wanted to get into the cracks in the ground. At the same time, the lumber merchant was very annoyed—because the person who accused him was an insignificant fiddle player.

"Mortal, your name is stupid." The pianist shook his head and sang a passage, then smiled and said to the timber merchant: "Sir, if I were you, I would obediently follow the orders of 'Blood Wolf' and never There is a little doubt."

   "Don't talk big, pianist." Mikhail finally couldn't hold back, showing sullen expression, and reprimanded the ignorant boy opposite: "You are just a pianist, what do you know?"

"Time, ruthless girl, you take away people's years, but you refuse to leave a trace of wisdom." The piano player plucked the strings, sang another paragraph, looked at the fat wood merchant with pity, and asked: "If you If you think you know better than I do, you might as well tell me, you, your countrymen by your side, this old Dussack, and other free men from the new settlement—why were you summoned here?"

   "Of course it's for the freemen's meeting." Mikhail was puzzled: "Everyone in the new land knows about it."

"No, no, no." The violinist shook his fingers, with a smile that annoyed the timber merchant, "What I'm asking is, what is the purpose of holding a 'free men's meeting' for those who are riding on your heads? "

  The timber merchant couldn't answer, but still choked: "I don't know, do you know?"

   "You finally got it right once." The pianist replied complacently: "Not only do I know, I also know the cause and effect."

   "Stop bragging here!" The timber merchant slapped the table angrily.

  The blond mercenary beside him frowned, and put his hand on the hilt for the third time.

  The pianist patted the blond mercenary's arm, signaling his companions to stay calm.

  He stood up, took a deep breath, and yelled.

  The shout pierced the clouds and cracked the rocks, and the sound suppressed the clouds, instantly covering up all the noise.

   This time, not only the table where the pianist was sitting, but also the attention of the drinkers in the entire side hall were attracted.

  The pianist stepped on the bench with one foot, picked up the lute, and played a short piece of melody, as if he was playing for himself.

  After finishing playing with a pull-off, the pianist looked around and asked like singing: "People of the alliance, do you know why the alliance is the alliance?"

  The drinkers who came back to their senses booed one after another, unable to understand what the pianist with the funny hat was trying to say.

   Facing the tide of booing, the pianist not only did not suffer from stage fright, but instead fought back sharply: "Although the customs and people's customs of the various republics are different, at least you are surprisingly consistent in the matter of ignorance."

   The boos became louder, with a few ugly insults mixed in.

  A cup flew out of the corner and viciously hit the fiddler on the back of the head.

   Just as the wine glass was about to hit the target, Siegfried caught it in mid-air.

  The blond mercenary turned the cup upside down on the table, glanced at his friend who didn't know about it, and sighed helplessly.

   "Take your son and go quickly." The blond mercenary kindly reminded the middle-aged veteran across the table: "It won't be safe here anytime soon."

   "No!" Little Ma Jiya still wanted to watch the fun, so how could she agree. He begged his father: "Listen, listen to what he has to say."

  Old Maziya did not answer his son, but he did not leave the table either.

   "Ignorant people, let me speak to you."

  The pianist picked up the lute and chanted while playing:

  "Half a century ago, Emperor Richard Sun ruled the land, empowered by a bloodline that stretched back hundreds of years, going all the way back to the ancient gods.

   "However, two poisonous snakes entrenched at the emperor's feet, one said: 'Your golden crown is given by my lord', and the other said: 'Your throne comes from the consent of the people'.

  "The poisonous snake bit the emperor's body, Richard fought them bravely, the poisonous snake with the holy emblem was stepped on by Richard, and another poisonous snake bit Richard's arm.

  "In order not to be poisoned to death, the brave man severed his wrist and chopped off his arm, and threw it, together with the poisonous snake on it, into two mountains."

   "This!" The pianist dialed out an accent and ended the singing simply: "This is the origin of the alliance!"

   After singing, before the drinkers could fully understand, he quickly squatted down, got under the table, and disappeared from the sight of others.

   "Hey, hello." The pianist climbed out from the other side of the table, hugged the table legs, and asked the dumbfounded three people in Warney County: "Do you understand?"

   "Understand what?" Little Ma Jiya blurted out.

"Hey, it seems that you have no chance to be loved by a muse." The pianist showed that pitiful expression again, and explained quickly: "In a way you can understand, it is the foundation of your Southern League, which comes from The revivalists fifty years ago all admired the stuff of the ancient republic. So you are the ones..."

   "Wait a minute" Ma Jiya shook her head blankly: "I don't understand what you said."

   "Do you know what revivalism is?" the fiddler asked.

"have no idea."

   "Then do you know what the ancient republic is?" the piano player asked again.

"have no idea."

   "Then do you understand what the 'foundation of a country' is?"

  Little Mazia shook her head like a bell.

  The torment finally appeared in the eyes of the pianist, and he moaned: "It is the foundation! The foundation! The pillar! What country, government, parliament...all are built on top of it. Without it, everything else will collapse."

  Little Ma Jiya nodded hesitantly, as if she understood, but also as if she didn't understand.

   "This 'foundation of a country' is simply a sentence." The piano player put away his cynical smile and said solemnly: "All power comes from the people!"

   Immediately afterwards, he said sarcastically: "But it seems that this sentence was finally distorted into 'all power comes from citizens'."

   "'Citizen'?" The more Ma Jiya listened, the more she felt that her brain was not enough: "'People'?"

   "He's a citizen." The violinist pointed to old Matia and then to the wood merchant: "He's also a citizen."

   "You mean citizens, you mean 'free people'?" Little Majiya asked tentatively.

"Citizens, knights, property owners, freemen... are just different names for one thing. Those who have political power are 'citizens'." The piano player shrugged: "Now you understand why 'riding on your The men on the head, are you going to gather all the free men from the new clearing?"

  Little Ma Jiya looked at the expressionless father, then at the bewildered lumber dealer, and said flatly, "Please treat me as the stupidest person, and explain to me again."

"Admitting ignorance is the first step in acquiring knowledge." The piano player smiled gratifiedly: "The truth is actually very simple. Although a group of soldiers are now in power in the new land, no matter how many times the 'Republic' has been established, the foundation of the country is still the same." It’s the original one that hasn’t been changed. Call all the citizens of the new land, why else? Naturally, you are required to ‘stamp’ the new republic!”

  The three people in Vergne County were speechless.

   After a while, Mikhail spoke first. This time, his tone became more respectful, and he asked worriedly: "If we 'stamped', in the future...they will collapse in the future, will the officials of Kings Castle liquidate us?"

   "Of course you will be liquidated." The piano player said nonchalantly: "How can we establish the authority of the new ruler if we don't arrest a few unlucky ones to ransack their homes, hang them to death, and hang them on the roadside?"

  The lumber merchant's face instantly turned pale.

"However, except for a few unlucky people, there will be no major incident if the rest of the people bleed a little." The piano player spread his hands: "After all, if the next ruler kills you all, who will pay for him?" Pay the tax, who will be responsible for his apportionment, and who will maintain his rule?"

  The lumber merchant still hesitated. He fiddled with his fingers and rolled his eyes, wondering what he was thinking.

"Don't think about it." The violinist reminded the wood dealer with a smirk: "In my opinion, how to pass the current test is the most important thing compared to being liquidated in the future. Let's think about it, if someone doesn't cover it Poke, what will happen?"

  The lumber merchant swallowed subconsciously.

   "Yes, look, you also know that your arms can't twist other people's thighs." The piano player clapped his palms and laughed: "Why don't you want to be subdued?"

   "But, I heard..." The wood merchant hesitated: "Blood wolf is not a good person..."

  Hearing this, the pianist smiled even more. He stood up, put his arms around the timber merchant's neck, and asked sincerely: "Dear Mr. Mikhail, 'Blood Wolf' is not a good person, so are you a good person?"

   "You, you... what do you mean?" The timber merchant was stunned.

"Haven't you ever lied? Haven't you broken your oath? Haven't you done anything unconscionable? If you were to die here today, standing at the gates of heaven, you really thought you'd pass through the gatekeeper's door." Interrogation?" The pianist paused for a moment, then added with a smile: "If heaven really exists."

  The lumber merchant was sweating profusely when asked, unable to answer.

"Then, dear Mr. Mikhail." The violinist turned the wood dealer's head, forcing the latter to raise his head, and followed him to look around. He pointed to Matiya and his son, the blond swordsman, and the old Dusack: "What do you think of them? Are they good people?"

   "Who dares to say that this father and son have never thought of taking advantage of you?

   "Who dares to say that this blond guy with a sword has never thought of stealing your property?

   "Who dares to say that this old Dussac, the emperor's whip, just killed your mind without touching it?"

  The pianist points to the loud, vulgar drinkers in the tavern, puts his ears to the wood merchant's ear, and asks deeply into the latter's soul: "Do you think there are—are there really good people here?

   "Zoom in a bit, do you think there are really good people in this world?"

  The lumber merchant's mouth was so dry that he couldn't speak a word.

"Don't count on it, Mr. Mikhail." The violinist patted the lumber dealer's fat face, and said pitifully, "We are not good people. There are no good people in this world. If there is a hell, we are already living in it." .

   "What you have to worry about is not the 'Blood Wolf', but these bad guys living around you.

  “What prevents them from breaking into your house, **** your wife and daughter, enjoying your bread and wine, and sleeping in your big bed is precisely what the ‘Blood Wolf’ provides—order.

   "You don't want to support him because you think 'Blood Wolf' is not a good person, it just shows that you haven't seen the real evil yet.

   "The only thing standing between you and the 'true evil' is the protection of the 'Blood Wolf'."

   "As for whether the blood wolf is a good person." The piano player shrugged: "What does it have to do with you? As long as he provides you with protection, it's all right?"

   When he said the last sentence, the piano player's smile was already three points evil: "What's more, do you really think that a qualified ruler...can be a 'good person'?"

  The lumber merchant was sweating and trembling, and finally bowed his head.

   "Hey." The piano player patted the timber merchant's shoulder affectionately: "That's right, just figure it out."

  Besides, the old Matiya who was silent from the beginning to the end, but also heard the end from the beginning, stood up and asked solemnly: "I don't know your name yet."

   "Machiavelli." The pianist took off his hat and proudly stretched out his hand: "You can call me 'Mavi'."

   "Nice to meet you, Mr. Ma Wei." Old Ma Jiya held Ma Wei's hand.

   Ma Wei was flattered, this was the first time he received such courtesy.

  He shook hands with old Matiya in embarrassment, then returned to the side of his companion, drank the remaining wine in the large wine glass in one gulp, and licked the glass unsatisfied.

   "Okay." Ma Wei burped comfortably: "Today's wine is over, and today's **** is also over..."

  Hearing this, the blond mercenary at the side sighed, cleaned up the wine in his glass, then walked to the drunken old Dusak, and helped the latter up.

"...It's time to end today's performance with a grand tavern brawl!" Ma Wei happily announced, and he pretended to be sad: "Hey, I didn't want to do this today, but—who made the shop owner want to take my performance fee? "

   As soon as the voice fell, before the others could react, Ma Wei jumped onto the table with a wine glass in his hand.

  He took a deep breath and uttered a roar that could shatter windows: "Brothers! The country bumpkins from outside the county are beating us in Maplestone!"

   After roaring, Ma Wei slammed the glass in his hand to the corner of the hall where the wine glass just flew over.

  A scream and curse came back from the corner.

   A huge tavern brawl broke out immediately.

  The wine table was overturned, the bench was swung away, a fist was swung from one side, and a big foot was kicked from there.

  You hit me, I hit you, who hit me, and who did I hit again?

no one knows.

   Already drunken drinkers are like bundles of hay, and a single ember falls into it, immediately engulfing the tavern in flames.

  The proprietress ran over from the other side of the hall. Seeing the chaotic scene in front of her, she screamed loudly, but she couldn't do anything except scream.

  The smart back kitchen guy has already blocked the door leading to the hall, ensuring that the "fire of war" will not spread to himself.

   Laughing, Ma Wei knocked down a drunk man who was rushing towards him with a lute, and threw himself at the other person who booed the loudest just now.

  Siegfried was protecting Old Dusak, and while supporting the latter, he walked towards the door.

  …

   When Girard woke up, he was already in bed at home.

  As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw his wife in front of him.

   "You're awake." Ellen asked with concern, "Is there anything uncomfortable?"

   "No..." Girard was a little at a loss. He propped himself up and wanted to sit up, but his back felt sore: "It's just a little bit in the back..."

   "Your son is already married, why are you still messing around like you were when you were young?" Although Ellen said reproaches, there was a smile on the corner of her mouth: "I'll get you some water."

   After finishing speaking, Ellen walked out of the bedroom.

  Girard had no idea what his wife was talking about until he looked out the window—it was completely dark.

  At this time, old Mr. Mitchell remembered that he was still in the tavern a second ago!

   Ellen returned to the room with a glass of water.

   "I...I..." Girard slapped his forehead, and hurriedly asked his wife, "How did I get back?"

   "Two young men sent you back..."

   "One with blonde hair and one with a hat." Girard interrupted his wife, "Isn't it?"

  Ellen nodded, she put down the water glass, sat next to her husband, and asked patiently, "What's wrong?"

  Girard stabilized his mind and asked his wife, "Where are those two young men?"

   "They left after sending you to the gate." Ellen asked in confusion, "What's wrong?"

  Girard let out a long sigh of regret, and fell on the bed tiredly.

  …

   At the same time, Winters Montagne's residence was also brightly lit.

  Because an important guest is visiting.

   No, not a guest.

   is a far more intimate relationship than that identity.

  Classmates, comrades-in-arms, close friends, comrades...

   "You are finally here." Winters was full of joy: "You are here, we can start."

   "Yes." Bud smiled warmly.

[must! win! ]

  [The political views expressed by Ma Wei can only represent Ma Wei’s political views]

  [He firmly believes and wants others to accept his point of view, so there are those lines, which does not mean that the author supports Ma Wei’s views]

   [I'm very sorry Orz if I offend you in any way]

  [Thank you for your collection, reading, subscription, recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, rewards and comments, thank you all]