Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 889 - 12 The Dog Marching

Chapter 889: Chapter 12 The Dog Marching Chapter 889: Chapter 12 The Dog Marching Revodan, the stables of the bachelor officers’ quarters.

Father Emmond from the Revodan parish walked into the stables and found that, apart from Civil Guard Officer Montaigne, there was another man wearing an iron mask present. The two were engaged in a conversation.

“…Building a stone bridge is much more troublesome than a wooden one,” the man in the iron mask spoke in a deep voice, “But then again… what you have plenty of right now is manpower, so it wouldn’t be difficult to build if you really want to…”

Accompanying the continuous strange noises, Father Emmond heard the voice of Civil Guard Officer Montaigne from the innermost part of the stables:

“What was before is before, now is now, things have changed… Previously, people reluctantly accepted working without pay. Now it’s different, no one wants to work for free… Ah, I do miss the people of Terdun… Could I entrust this matter to you…”

The masked man snickered sarcastically, “I eat your food, drink your drinks, and stay in your accommodations, do I have the right to refuse?”

“Of course, you do.”

The masked man obviously lacked the awe towards Blood Wolf that people of Iron Peak County had; he just snorted indifferently.

“Then I’ll take that as your agreement. How long will the construction take?”

The masked man casually responded, “Two or three years, perhaps.”

...

The strange noise stopped, and Civil Guard Officer Montaigne came out of the stable with a shovel, “Two or three years?!”

But this pause allowed Father Emmond, who had been awkwardly standing there undetected, to finally be noticed.

“Good day, gentlemen.” Father Emmond made a cross over his chest, greeting them promptly: “Good day.”

“Good day.” Winters recognized the man as the current acting manager of the Revodan Cathedral and nodded back.

“Should I leave first?” Father Emmond asked awkwardly.

“No need,” Winters waved his hand, “Captain Moro and I were discussing the bridge construction. Please, stay and listen.”

Then, Winters addressed the masked man, “Two to three years is too long.”

“What you want is a stone bridge, not a wooden one.” Moro’s impatience was palpable even behind the mask, “Given the span of the St. George River, two to three years is actually short. Four to five years could also be possible. It mainly depends on how much manpower and money you can provide.”

Winters immediately countered, “How many people do you need and how much money? And how long will it take?”

With others present, Moro preferred not to speak much. He sighed deeply, “You wait… Tomorrow, I will submit a written plan to you.”

With that, Moro was about to leave.

Winters wouldn’t let his senior off so easily: “I have another question, it’s so cold in winter, wouldn’t underwater construction be dangerous?”

“There’s no safe underwater construction,” Moro replied disdainfully, “Wait until summer, the rainy season, and you won’t even be able to build then!”

Moro then bowed slightly to Father Emmond, ignoring Winters’ continued concerns, and left the stables without looking back.

Watching his senior leave, Winters politely explained to Father Emmond, “During the previous siege, the bridge was demolished. Since it needs to be rebuilt, I thought it might be better to just build a stone bridge.”

Father Emmond’s expression turned awkward because the old wooden bridge was actually the property of the Revodan Monastery, and outsiders had to pay the monastery to cross it.

“It’s truly a blessing from the Lord for Revodan to have such a wise and kind Civil Guard Officer.” Father Emmond positioned himself properly, generously offering praises.

Winters, holding a shovel, walked back into the stable, “Did you come to visit me for any specific reason?”

Father Emmond’s gaze wandered inside the stable, past a door where a pure black little pony and two puppies were.

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The little pony stood in a corner of the stable, looking aggrieved.

The two puppies were running frantically by Civil Guard Officer Montaigne’s side, their running style odd— all high-stepping. Not like dogs… more like a horse’s dance steps.

Father Emmond finally realized the source of the strange noise: it turns out, Civil Guard Officer Montaigne was shoveling horse manure.

“You truly have a knack for raising hunting dogs.” Father Emmond strained his brain for a compliment, “They even march properly.”

Winters, who was shoveling, stiffened up, his face darkening a bit.

“This little black horse is quite spirited too!”

The dog timely barked.

“Father, what is it you need.” Winters paused, leaning on his shovel, “Please, speak frankly.”

Father Emmond forced a pleasing smile, “I heard your wife rides horses?”

“Yes.”

“It’s inconvenient for ladies to ride big horses.” Father Emmond warmly suggested, “I have brought two small horses that the nuns ride; I hope you’ll accept them.”

Winters was both amused and befuddled.

After the former bishop of the Revodan district died in a fall, the Revodan Monastery and the cathedral were temporarily managed by Father Emmond.

Unlike the slick, accident-prone former bishop, Father Emmond was naive, stiff, and extremely devout.

From Winters’ observation, Father Emmond was likely selected because other monks feared Blood Wolf, putting this honest man in the front.

Luckily, Father Emmond was agreeable, cooperating well with Winters’ arrangements.

However, to the extent that gifting made the recipient quite uncomfortable, Revodan probably only had him.

Seeing his hesitance in addressing the main issue, Winters cut to the chase, “If what you seek is the position of the bishop of Revodan—I must speak frankly, that is an internal affair of your church, and I have no intention to interfere. You better take the small horses back.”