Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 944 - 31: The Hunt (Part 2)
Chapter 944: Chapter 31: The Hunt (Part 2)
The caravan halted on a slightly elevated mound, ensuring a tactical height advantage.
The horses, sensing the pervasive smell of sulfur and saltpeter in the air, snorted restlessly.
The Iron Peak County Delegation had entered a pre-battle state, with warriors quickly unloading crates of armor and helping each other don their gear.
“I… I’ve become a burden to everyone…” Anna gripped Winters’s hand tightly, biting her lip, and blamed herself with a mixture of panic and anxiety.
“Don’t spout nonsense, it’s just a small situation,” Winters reassured Anna while deftly helping her into a breastplate: “Stay on the wagon when it starts, try not to get down.”
Anna nodded forcefully.
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“All set.” After Winters ensured all the straps were tied, he habitually patted the back plate of Anna’s armor and, uncontrollably and inexplicably, began to chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” Anna turned her head and asked suspiciously.
“I… I just remembered a… dirty joke.”
A lady of breeding shouldn’t be curious, but Anna couldn’t help but ask, “What is it?”
Winters leaned to Anna’s ear and whispered it to her.
“You… you know what? The armor doesn’t even touch the body!” Anna’s cheeks flushed to her ears, and angry, she reached for the short pistol at Winters’s waist.
“Careful! The gun is loaded!”
“Is that so? Then all the better!”
The short pistol still ended up in Anna’s hands—in part because Winters had indeed intended to leave it with her.
After finally helping Anna with her helmet, Winters squeezed the little she-wolf’s hand and turned to get off the wagon.
The Translator, the Accountant, the Precious Metals Craftsman, and the Cook were indispensable members, so they were all sheltered in the center of the formation.
Father Kaman was also left in the “safe zone.”
As Winters got down, Kaman was in prayer, holding a prayer book in his hands, with a mallet tucked under his arm, muttering words to himself.
Seeing Winters approach, Kaman just nodded coldly, while Winters bowed solemnly in return.
Stepping out of the temporary circular formation formed by the large vehicles, Winters took the reins from Xial and leaped onto his Warhorse.
In an instant, it was as if an invisible wave radiated out from him, sweeping across the entire hill.
A subtle change happened to the riders; from an observer’s point of view, it was hard to say exactly what had changed, but something was definitely different.
Was it the involuntary secretion of saliva? The hastened breathing? The slightly sweaty palms? Or the dilated pupils… It was unclear whether it was the physical condition affecting the spirit or the psychological state being reflected in the body.
If they were like blades hidden in their sheathes before, now they were ready to strike.
“My lord,” Heinrich asked gravely, “shall we reveal your banner?”
“No need,” Winters looked towards the smoke and dust raised by hooves in the distance, “don’t scare them away.”
As early as the night before last, the Scouts had discovered a group of Herders two hours’ ride away.
After receiving the report, Winters ordered not to alarm the others.
He didn’t plan on making contact because a “chance meeting” in the wilderness only meant danger, especially since he was an outsider.
The wilderness had its hospitable lords, but it was not short of greedy, cruel, hungry beasts. The law of the jungle here was not a metaphor, but a blood-soaked way of life.
Whenever a strong leader was lost, the Herder tribes inevitably fell into this costly infighting until the next person who could forge order out of chaos emerged.
Although Winters actively avoided them, a day passed and not only the distance between the two parties had not widened but had, in fact, decreased.
Until the Herders also discovered the caravan’s trail, and actively and swiftly pounced towards them.
The smoke and dust approached, the sound of hooves grew louder, and silhouettes of Herder riders flickered on the undulating ridge lines.
Just as the actions of the incoming riders were fully exposed, the sound of hooves abruptly stopped. The figures of the Herders vanished as if they plunged into the earth.
“What’s going on? Where are the savages?” Vashka looked around bewildered, muttering under his breath.
Winters whipped his hand to a hillside a kilometer away, saying with interest, “They’re hiding behind that slope, probably not wanting us to see their strength and weaknesses… Interesting fellows.”
Old Sergei glared at his son, clearly unhappy with Vashka’s show of fear.
The old man spurred his horse forward, volunteering enthusiastically: “My lord, let me take a few sabers over for a look! Humph, no matter their tricks, get at them first!”
“No rush, just wait a bit longer,” Winters replied unhurriedly, “However, if we really do come to blows, don’t charge too far ahead, Mr. Morozov, I’m worried the others won’t be able to keep up with you.”
“Hehe.” Old Sergei was quite pleased with the remark, grinned from ear to ear, and proudly returned to his place.
As Winters had said, the silence was only temporary.
Shortly after, three riders crested over the hill from where the dust cloud had disappeared, racing towards Winters’s position.
The distance of a kilometer was covered in a blink of an eye; as the three riders reached the bottom of the slope, they heard the leading rider shouting at the top of his lungs—the voice of Little Lion: “Not enemies! Not enemies…”
Little Lion, panting heavily, climbed the hill and saw Winters and his party waiting in battle formation; he paused, and then laughed loudly: “Don’t be so tense! They have no hostility.”
The subordinates all looked towards Winters, but Winters did not order them to stand down.
