Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 914 - 20 Qamp;A_3

Chapter 914: Chapter 20 Q&A_3 Chapter 914: Chapter 20 Q&A_3 Winters rested his forehand in his hands: “To be honest, I don’t know what to do either. Bard, I really envy you; you’re always so resolute while I…”

“You’re wrong.” Bard’s hand rested on Winters’ shoulder: “No one knows which path to take, no one knows what will be engraved on our tombstones after we die. It’s only because you are here that others don’t have to fret over these unanswerable questions. Tamas, Bart Xialing… and all those soldiers, known and unknown, they don’t need to ponder the future; they survive on their trust in you.”

Winters did not respond.

“I often wonder if the former Federated Provinces militia truly comprehended the disparity in strength between them and the Empire.” Bard seemed somewhat melancholic: “Would they still have the courage to raise the ‘Flag of Freedom’?”

“I don’t know about others.” Winters sniffed: “The old Marshal comes from the Empire’s army; he certainly understood.”

“Then where does his courage come from? An ant challenging a lion is simply overestimating oneself.”

Winters leaned back with a subtle expression: “Although it’s not mentioned in official records, I saw a letter in the Land Academy’s archive stating that the old Marshal joined the militia through… abduction.”

...

“Who knows?” Now it was Bard’s turn to laugh heartily: “Who knows?”

“Right. Regardless of the original intentions, actions cannot be faked.” Winters felt slightly moved.

“Speaking of history, I’ve broadly discerned this pattern.” Bard pondered: “No matter what we do, we start with unity and total commitment; there’s no task taken lightly, no individual slacking. It’s not that difficulties don’t exist at the beginning, rather, people actively ignore them.”

Winters listened silently.

“Once some achievements are obtained, people instead feel lost. With the achievements, setbacks also follow. As circumstances slightly improve, the spirit slackens. More critically, blind confidence gradually fades, and people start to realistically assess difficulties. Mountains are so high, one glance is enough to understand they cannot be crossed. Whether it’s an individual, a family, an organization, or a country, it seems no one can escape this cyclical rule.”

“Are you here to lecture me?” Winters smiled lightly: “Then tell me, how do you think we can break this so-called cyclical rule?”

“I don’t know either.” Bard responded cheerily: “But what I think isn’t important, nor is it important whether you feel fear or confusion; what matters is to keep moving forward. Perhaps Marshal Ned is the most frightened among us, but he would still be gritting his teeth and leading from the front.”

“Bard.” Winters spoke with difficulty: “I’m not scared; I just…”

“Look.” Bard tapped on the carriage window: “We’ve arrived at the St. George River.”

Two Floating Bridges spanned the river during the dry season, with people and vehicles constantly crossing back and forth between the two banks.

Beyond the bridges, there were six pile-driving boats actively working, driving stakes into the riverbed.

“Are those the pile-driving boats for building the big bridge?” Bard pointed at the river: “I heard down in Iron Peak County too, Revodan is constructing a grand stone bridge.”

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Winters glanced: “Yes.”

“What are those boats doing?” Bard asked with interest.

“Senior Moro’s plan.” Winters strove to explain: “Simply put, they drive two rings of wooden piles into the water, fill the space between the two rings with sand and stones to form an enclosure similar to a [cofferdam]. Then they use a water pump to drain the water from the cofferdam, remove the riverbed’s silt, and start pouring limestone mortar from the rock layer to form the bridge piers.”

“When will it be completed?”

“If all goes well, the bridge piers should be ready before next spring. Senior Moro plans to first lay a temporary wooden deck, and during the next agricultural off-season, replace the wooden deck with a stone arch. If the plan goes without a hitch, it should be completed the year after next.”

As the carriage drove onto the Floating Bridge, Bard got a close view of the bridge pier construction process.

He saw two sets of water wheels, one on each side, installed on a completed cofferdam, continuously extracting water from the cofferdam.

Several other small boats carrying sand and stones moved towards a cofferdam under construction.

“The Victory Bridge in Ménène Province took a full five years to build, and its span wasn’t even as large as the St. George River.” Bard commented: “Although I know your ability, the idea that you could actually finish building the Revodan Bridge still seems incredible to me.”

“It’s not my ability.” Winters corrected: “It’s Senior Moro’s ability.”

He sighed: “Moreover, what Revodan currently has in abundance is labor.”

The carriage crossed the Floating Bridge and entered the south bank’s “New Town.”

Rows of low shanties spread out like furrowed fields, lying flat on the ground enclosed by three-sided city walls.

“Ha.” A hint of a smile appeared on Bard’s face: “Mason House.”

Winters couldn’t help but laugh as well: “Yes, I genuinely worry that one day Senior Mason will run to the south bank and set a fire.”

To save living space, the interior of Mason House had no separate kitchen. Instead, like an apartment for single officers, several shanties shared one stove.

Once inside New Town, the road was not very good.

The constant clattering of broken stones filled the air, as brawny men dug and paved the roads, forcing the carriage to take a detour.

Approaching the shanty area, faint cooking smoke mixed with appetizing fragrances drifted into the carriage.

A group of snotty-nosed children chased and frolicked in the open space between two rows of shanties. Women with kerchiefs tied around their heads gathered in the wind-sheltered corners, each with a wooden basin on her lap, pounding clothes with wooden sticks.

Winters silently watched outside the window, Bard too remained silent.

Exiting New Town, the carriage took the main road towards Forging Village. For several kilometers, labor teams working on the road were visible.

In Winters’ memory, Forging Village should have become a dead town. Because the forge workshops had been relocated to Revodan’s New Town, the residents had fled, and even the houses were burnt clean.

However, as the carriage crossed the hill, the scene that appeared before Winters surprised him.

Five two-story high smelting furnaces stood erected on the original site of Forging Village, belching out billowing dense smoke.

A rammed earth road began from the smelting site, extending towards Tie Feng Mountain.

Many people were busy around the smelting furnace.

Middle-aged blacksmith Soria and young blacksmith Carlos were greatly surprised by Winters’ arrival.

“His Excellency Montaigne.” Soria was the first to rush up to Winters, sweating profusely as he greeted, “How is your old wound?”

Winters didn’t know how to explain: “Rest assured, it’s no longer an issue.”

Carlos babbled: “Mr. Soria and I have always wanted to invite you to have a look at the smelting site, but hearing that your old injury was troubling you, we didn’t dare to disturb you. Thank the Lord for His blessings, you now seem so healthy, I can finally be at ease…”

“This place?” Winters frowned slightly: “When did so many smelting furnaces get added?”

Seeing Blood Wolf’s displeasure, Soria inwardly panicked and hurriedly explained: “Recently, the County Government has been building bridges and roads, requiring lots of ironware. So Mr. Soria and I hired some refugees, and we resumed operations of Iron Peak Mine. Your Excellency, we didn’t act on our own… we consulted with the County Government…”

“I’m not blaming you.”

“Dare not,” Soria wiped the sweat from his forehead: “Dare not.”

“But… how come I wasn’t aware of the Iron Peak Mine situation?” Winters looked towards Bard, asking with a light smile: “Was it arranged by Senior Mason? Did you come to show me this?”

“How could you possibly know everything?” Bard countered, “This entity—it’s hard to describe—it’s not your puppet; it’s a amalgamation of many people’s wills. It is both thousands of scattered consciousnesses and a being with instincts and desires. You are an important part of it, but you do not own it. You feel it has strayed from the path you envisioned, but have you considered that perhaps there was never a path to begin with?”

What tormented Winters wasn’t what Bard thought, for he never believed he had absolute control over “her.” But Bard’s words still struck a chord, from another perspective.

“Bard.” Winters fell silent for a long time, sounding slightly choked up as he asked, “We did do some good things, right? Those people didn’t die in vain, right?”

“I don’t know.” Bard turned to look at the vast expanses of the world: “You should ask them—I think, they have already answered you.”