Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 898 - 15
Chapter 898: Chapter 15 Chapter 898: Chapter 15 Revodan, the stables of the officers’ quarters.
“I’m a bit confused.” Andre hangs up the grooming brush and leans on the horse stable fence to ask Winters: “Who is that old man? What monastic order?”
“Caman didn’t make it clear, but I have the feeling that old man is some sort of long-term undercover spy.”
Winters shovels the dung of two small ponies, one shovelful at a time. Despite their small stature, these ponies are formidable dung producers, having worked up quite a sweat on Winters.
“How long-term is long-term?”
“Caman inadvertently mentioned that the old man was about our age when he went into the wilderness, just over twenty, back when Paratu was still a duchy,” Winters explains as he wipes the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, “At least thirty-four years.”
“Thirty or forty years?” Andre can’t help but chuckle dryly: “What kind of secret is worth hiding for thirty or forty years? To stay in the wilderness for that long? Wouldn’t he have become a complete Herder by then?”
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“What else could it be? The Herders’ Shaman secrets! In my view, if the church dispatches a cleric to infiltrate that long, that old man must harbor the ambition to join the ranks of the Herders’ Shamans.”
“Can outsiders even become Herders’ Shamans?”
“You said it yourself, staying in the wilderness for thirty or forty years, do you consider him an Imperial or a Herder?”
“Let’s set aside church matters for now; I have more pressing issues at hand.” Mason comes over, carrying two bundles of straw and asks peevishly: “When did I become the stablemaster again?”
Andre’s attention is easily diverted: “Isn’t the stable always under your management?”
“No! T! All!”
Bard is down in Iron Peak County coordinating the return of refugees, the indulgent Tang Juan accompanies Antonio back to Vineta, and Colonel Moritz spends most of his time sleeping.
The already extremely flat structure of the military council has practically been paralyzed, and Iron Peak County’s administrative system has degenerated completely into a model where “everyone is responsible for their own pile of issues.”
On these freezing days, Winters and Andre are really not up for going to the barracks just to use the meeting room. The two, tacitly agreeing, corner Senior Mason in the stables every morning as their stand-in meeting—while also grooming the horses.
By the way, since Senior Mason diligently takes care of both the large and small matters, Winters usually doesn’t even attend roll call, making him arguably the number one shirker in the Iron Peak County Military.
“Actually, coming to us has already made your intentions clear,” Andre says lazily: “Does this thing really need thinking over? If the Revodan Church wants their spy back, just give him to them, right? Make a neat profit, what’s not to like?”
“That’s sound reasoning.” Winters, pushing a cart full of horse manure out of the stable, looks troubled: “But I’m quite reluctant to let go. A cleric, a living cleric! If it weren’t too awkward to ask, I’d really like to inquire with the old man, ‘Um… excuse me… after you’ve been enshrouded in the holy grace, are you willing to donate your body?'”
“Then just keep him.” Andre slaps the fence, “No matter how powerful the Revodan Church is, that’s within the Empire, with the Oath Breakers behind them. In the Alliance, they can’t turn the sky upside down.”
Mason sticks his head out: “It’s not really like that, Paratu is not Vineta, and even less The Federated Provinces. The majority of Paratu People are followers of the church, especially those born and bred there. The influence of the Revodan Church in Paratu runs very deep, in many places a priest’s word carries more weight than a mayor’s order.”
Andre snorts, then turns to Winters: “Do you really want to protect that old man?”
Winters, after considering for a while, marks a line: “If possible, I’d like to protect Brother Saul as much as I can. But it’s difficult, the Revodan Church won’t tolerate a cleric’s defection—not to mention the old man has no intent of defecting.”
“I have an idea.” Andre narrows his eyes, revealing that ferocious look familiar to Winters: “This will not only save the old man but also prevent the Revodan Church from causing us trouble down the line.”
Winters covers his face: “Stop, don’t say anymore.”
“Set a fire to the Revodan Cathedral, it’s winter after all, fires are common,” Andre grinds his teeth: “The old man is saved, and if we kill all the witnesses, we might even secure the money.”
Mason looks at Winters, and Winters looks back at Mason.
Andre continues to refine the plan: “…we should keep a few alive at first, interrogate them to find out if they have already sent the message out. If so, we’ll need to send someone to take care of the messenger…”
“Is he an Heretic Oath?” Mason asks, puzzled.
“I don’t know either.”
Andre drives in the final nail: “If we’re going to act, it’s best to do it quickly — to lock down both Iron Peak County and Revodan Cathedral. No, the cathedral side can be delayed, so as not to startle the snake. But we need to start blocking the roads out of the city and county now, the sooner the better.”
After listening to the entire plan, Mason steps up to Andre and Winters, looking intently at Winters: “In some ways… it might indeed be a good plan. What do you think?”
“Caman didn’t come to me directly, so by the time I got the news, it was already too late.” Winters doesn’t outright reject Andre’s idea but rather points out the flaw in the plan: “I reckon the message from Revodan Church has already reached the hands of the Bishop of Maplestone City. We can’t simply kill the entire diocese of Maplestone City.”
“Why not?” Andre shows a toothy grin.
“Following that logic.” Winters sighs: “You’d have to go all the way up to the Pope.”
“What do we do then?” Andre smacks his lips: “Fake death? Find a dead convict’s body to give to Edmund?”
