Iron Powder and Spellcasters - Chapter 476

Chapter 476 Rekindling the Spark (End)

Captain Morrow’s visit breathed a little fresh air into the stuffy office, but Bud still spent most of his day in the wind.

It is no exaggeration to say that Bud saved the logistics system of the Tiefeng County Army that was about to fall into chaos.

As the Tiefeng County Army successively established formal cavalry, artillery, and engineering units on the basis of infantry, the old system of “six people will directly manage everything” is becoming increasingly inadequate.

Mason had to continue to expand the size of the “General Command” and increase administrative personnel to maintain the daily operations of this army that also manages civil affairs.

As a result, the general headquarters of the Tiefeng Army is more and more like a messy study room, and all the items in it are arranged according to the principle of “the user can pick it up most easily”.

When the user [Richard Mason] sits in person, the messy study in the eyes of outsiders has a kind of familiarity to him, and the headquarters can naturally run efficiently and smoothly.

But once Mason’s supervision is removed—as it is now—Winters and Mason respectively lead troops to garrison Maplestone City and Artemis, the bottles and jars in the study cannot escape the fate of being broken.

As far as management is concerned, Winters is a decisive leader—any request placed on his desk is quickly approved—but only if there is actually a desk in front of Winters. .

Namely, Winters will only work if he wants to. And Winters has always had a deep distaste for paperwork.

Supplemented with the inertia of the bureaucratic system’s natural aversion to asking questions, the civil servants who were brought to Wargne County chose to send all the documents that needed to be reviewed to Maplestone City, and then waited for the Mason tribunes to send back the documents with the approval.

The administrative efficiency of the headquarters plummeted to an unbearable level.

Fortunately, Bud’s timely arrival changed everything. Now even if Winters doesn’t want to work, Bud forces him to sit behind his desk.

Bills, calculations, and requests for instructions no longer need to be sent to Maplestone City, and then wait for the approval from the Mason Tribune. Bard’s endless discussions with Winters exhausted the Montagne tribunes.

Unlike Winters, Bud is a hard-working manager. And sometimes, “decisiveness” just needs the spur of “diligence”.

…

After sending Captain Morrow away, Bud returned to the office non-stop.

He took away the parchment covered on the desk, and continued to draft a plan on “stripping off the civilian power of the military resolution council”.

There was a short knock on the door, and after getting permission, Anglo walked into the room carrying a woven basket full of papers.

The two have been working together for a long time, so there is no need to say anything. Angelo sorted the documents and put them on Bud’s desk, and Bud tacitly began to read from the stack closest to the right.

But Anglo took out three letters from his pocket: “You need to read this first.”

Bud rubbed his sore eyes, and motioned for the stable boy to sit down: “Whose letter? What’s the matter? Just tell me.”

“These two letters are from old Mr. Priskin and Mr. Shao Sha.” Anglo put the three letters on the table one by one: “This letter is sent in the name of the Revaudan Headquarters.”

Bard frowned slightly when he heard this.

Anglo stated succinctly: “The content of the three letters is roughly the same. They all ask whether they can exchange our ‘golden ticket’ in Artemis and Maplestone City.”

Bud reached out to pick up the letterhead, and read ten lines at a glance.

…

The industries under the name of Tiefeng County Army, whether they are mines, workshops or refugee farms, can only provide physical resources at present and cannot create profits.

Because of the war, the tax base of the newly reclaimed provinces has shrunk significantly compared to the past. The Tiefeng County Army had to take the initiative to reduce or exempt taxes to give the people some breathing space.

So as of now, the main source of income for the Tiefeng Army is still “taking spoils” and “selling spoils”.

Among them, the largest income comes from the “contribution” of the Turton Ministry.

As a result, although the Tiefeng County Army has a huge sum of money on its books, its holdings are in the form of gold, not silver for daily use.

It should be noted that in the market in the new land, not to mention gold, even large silver coins of sufficient value are not used much. Most of the transactions between farmers are barter, even if they want to buy big things, they are paid with small silver coins and silver dimes they have accumulated.

The one-kilogram gold bars in Tiefeng County’s military warehouse, although each one is worth a lot of money, are not usable at all.

In order to turn the gold bars into “money” that can be spent, the Tiefeng Army conducted a large-scale exchange of gold and silver with the merchants, manor owners, and various guilds in Jewodan—exchanging gold bars for the silver coins they held.

After arriving in Vogne County, the Army of Iron Peak County conducted another round of forced gold and silver exchanges with the merchants of Artemis.

However, compared to the Artemis merchant who was panicked and took the gold bars as soon as the transaction was completed, the people of Iron Peak County showed a high degree of trust in “Mr. Montagne”.

Obviously the transaction has been completed, as long as the tickets are exchanged for gold bars, many merchants in Tiefeng County have not taken the gold from the warehouse of the Tiefeng County Army for a long time.

Now, Bud finally understood why they did it.

…

“It will take advantage!” Bud put the letterhead back on the table firmly, and asked with interest: “Is this a bank that treats us as a vault that does not charge storage fees and does not withdraw money?”

“Not only that.” Anglo handed over several bills that had been cashed: “This has happened more than once—the ‘golden ticket’ that was clearly issued to a certain firm was exchanged by another firm. Some people come to ask, can the large amount of ‘golden tickets’ be divided into some smaller ‘golden tickets’ like cutting meat.”

Bud listened intently and encouraged the stableboy to speak out his ideas boldly with his eyes.

Angelo scratched his chin, and concluded hesitantly: “I think…they seem to be using the golden ticket as a head ticket.”

Bud checked the signature on the cashed ticket, propped his forehead and sank into thought. Angore sat aside, fiddling with the hem of his clothes a little uneasily.

“It’s very interesting.” After a while, Bud smiled and nodded slightly: “If this is the case, we may be able to take advantage of it.”

Angelo finally grinned in relief.

Bud put the letterhead and gold ticket that Anglo brought into a paper bag, carefully cut out a piece of paper, wrote a few lines concisely, sprinkled fine sand, waited patiently for the ink to be absorbed, and then put the The piece of paper was also put into the bag: “This matter needs to be discussed with Ms. Navarre. A separate group of messengers will be sent to send this letter back to Gervaudin.”

He handed the paper bag to Anglo: “The sooner the better.”

“Yes.” Angore smiled and raised his hand in salute, then turned and left.

The door was closed by Anglo, and Bud was the only one left in the office.

He stared at the bill he was drafting on the splitting of the military administration and the civil administration, and inadvertently glanced at the place where the gold note and letterhead had just been placed on the table, then picked up the paper knife, shook his head and cut out the written part Come down and put it in a drawer.

After he had done everything, there was another knock on the office door.

After getting permission, Anglo poked his head in: “Tribune, there are family members of prisoners of war asking for an interview—this time, Mr. Anwar Fayeka from Yenigan’s firm made a guarantee.”

Bad heard the words and took out a roster from another drawer. The engraved on the hard cover of the roster is not the winged lion of the Iron Peak Army, but the logo of the New Reclamation Legion, with the abbreviation of the Warney County Garrison under the logo.

“What’s your last name?” Bud opened the roster.

“My surname is Matia.” Anglo replied with a smile, “Matia Parr.”

…

Climbing up the cramped stairs and squeezing through the corridor filled with desks, old Matiya and his youngest son came to the office that originally belonged to Major Sander.

None of the passing clerks looked at them. Everyone was busy with the matter at hand, turning a blind eye to the two people who were out of place.

Whether it was contempt or pity hidden behind this indifference, old Maziya didn’t know, maybe there was both.

“Come in.”

The “rebel” officer who was about the same age as Raul opened the door for them, and the office of the “Bad Tribune” appeared in front of old Matiya.

Compared to the cumbersome process of checking the identity of visitors, the furnishings of the “Tribune” office are surprisingly simple.

The office was filled with the unique smell of fresh pine wood. Except for the beautiful mahogany desk, all the decorations of Major Sander’s reign were removed and replaced by filing cabinets covering all four walls.

The temporary filing cabinets are not even painted, and the nail heads are exposed on the surface, which has no aesthetics at all. But it’s practical, solid, and there’s a rough sense of power in the ordinary.

Old Majiya’s heart unconsciously picked up.

The “Tribune” invited Matiya and his son to sit down. Before the atmosphere became heavy, he took the initiative to ask: “You are here because you hope I can release Matiya Pal?”

In a conversation, the person who speaks first is often the more passive party. Old Ma Jiya originally thought that the other party would give him a note of Ma Wei, but the attitude of the “tribune” was exceptionally approachable.

However, hearing the other party’s straight-to-the-point question, the last hope in old Majiya’s heart was shattered. He leaned on his knees and replied humbly: “Your Excellency, I hope to redeem Majya Pal.”

Sure enough, the other party rejected old Majiya’s request neatly: “I can’t promise you.”

Old Matiya nodded respectfully.

“The gentlemen of Artemis say that we detain the commissioned officers of Vergne County as hostages. Since you have come to see me in person, I should also explain to you…” The tribune said surprisingly: ” Yes, they are hostages. Hold them hostage so you will come; hold them hostage so others will not run.”

Old Majiya lost his mind for a moment, and the disguise of obedience also fell off. He subconsciously frowned and looked at the tribune in puzzlement.

Raul, who was sitting next to old Matia, could no longer hold back his anger, clenched his fists, and asked sarcastically, “The government and army also take civilians as hostages?”

The tribune looked at Ma Jiya with interest: “Not the rebels?”

Raul’s language is blocked.

“Mr. Matiya, little Mr. Matiya, of course we know how you think of us.” The tribune got up and went to the filing cabinet on the right, and picked out a thick tome from the middle grid: “You Think of us like floods, storms, droughts, and you think of us as some kind of natural disaster that you can’t fight against, but it will pass. When things return to normal, you can go back to living the way you used to.”

Raul was speechless, and so was old Matiya.

“That’s why.” The tribune gently put the book on the table, carefully opened the seal, turned the pages over and over again, and asked: “Mr. Matiya, how many acres of land do you have?”

“We…” Old Majiya considered his words carefully: “It’s just that we live a relatively rich life.”

The tribune found the answer in the book: “Mr. Maziya, the land registered under your name is 422 hectares, of which two thirds are cultivated land, and the remaining third is mountainous land—including the land above. forest. You are the richest manor in Oaktown.”

“It’s nothing.” Old Mathias replied humbly: “In the face of your authority.”

“Compared with the vast new land, four hundred hectares is nothing; compared with the land that has been cultivated, your manor is nothing.” , your neighbors, your friends—put all your lands together, and you have more than 70% of all the arable land in Vergne County.”

The tribune returned the tome to the file shelf, as if asking casually: “Don’t you think it’s interesting? Mr. Matthias, Iron Peak County is much poorer than Vergne County. The owner farmers and tenant farmers in Vergne County The wealth is less than that of Iron Peak County.”

Old Maziya asked with difficulty: “I don’t understand what you are talking about, sir.”

“Don’t think about what I’m talking about, let’s talk about you.” The tribune returned to his seat and opened another register: “Why did you donate to your son? Mr. Majiya.”

“Of course it is to become an official.” Raul yelled in his heart. After being exposed face to face, Matthias Raul was angry and embarrassed, and old Matthias was speechless.

The tribune didn’t seem to want to waste time. He gave the answer directly, and the answer was more profound than Matiya and his son thought: “Because you are all political pariahs.”

Raul raised his head suddenly, and the roar of “who do you call a pariah” almost blurted out. But his wrist was grabbed by his father, stopping his outburst.

Old Majiya looked at his son and shook his head slightly.

“Don’t get me wrong, everyone is a pariah in front of the only power in the New Reclamation Province – the New Reclamation Legion.” The tribune bloodyly cut open the New Reclamation Province and showed it to old Matiya:

“The provincial government is the servant of the legion; the autonomous town is the purse of the legion; the grand council, which nominally represents all the free men in the province, is used as a rubber stamp by the legion and will only be held when it needs to be stamped.”

Old Maziya listened in silence.

“As for you, ‘gentlemen’.” The tribune’s tone was very calm, so it sounded more ironic: “On the one hand, the Legion has drawn you in, and conspired with you to extract the wealth of the new land, and use your power to rule the new land. Cultivate land; on the other hand, it suppresses you and does not share any political power with you.”

The tribune knocked on the roster on the table and glanced at little Ma Jiya: “The legion itself is a highly closed and self-sufficient political entity. It only accepts members with the same identity, and will never easily recruit outsiders.”

Although Raul was dissatisfied in his heart, he had to admit that what the other party said had some truth.

The tribune continued: “You have land, fame, and knowledge. For the majority of owner farmers and tenant farmers, you are natural leaders. If it is in the federal province, the National Assembly will definitely have your seats; Neta, the Directory has to listen patiently to your opinions.”

The tribune stood up and pointed to his nose: “But in the new land, the legion will accept me—the son of a church serf, and will not accept your son—even if you are the owner of a large manor of four hundred hectares.”

The tribune looked down at Matiya and young Matiya, and asked, “So, you are not political pariahs, so what are you?”

“You…” Old Maziya raised his head with difficulty: “Forgive me for being stupid, what are you trying to tell us by telling us this?”

“I’m making a bid for you.” The tribune sat back in his seat: “You should know what we did in Iron Peak County.”

Raul doesn’t know why.

Old Matiya’s Adam’s apple twitched, obviously knowing the answer: “I heard it a little bit.”

The Tribune interlocked his fingers and said sincerely: “Please listen carefully. Personally, I prefer to keep large farms. Because only large farms can produce as much food as possible and provide food. Self-cultivated farmers will always give priority to satisfying What we need, the payback cycle is too long, we can’t afford to wait.”

Old Majiya nodded slightly.

“But.” The tribune’s eyes were as calm as water: “We don’t necessarily need to keep the manor class. Instead of keeping you as manor owners, we prefer to be manor owners ourselves.”

The office fell into deathly silence.

“Don’t get me wrong, this is not a personal grievance, and you have done nothing wrong.” The tribune picked up the upside-down cup and poured a glass of clear water for the two people in front of him: “The war is about to begin. The wealth and population owned by the enemy We have far more resources and land than we do. If we cannot mobilize our strength to the maximum, then we will be doomed to the end you envisioned.”

His voice is very soft, but very clear, as if reciting a poem: “This is a life-and-death war, there is no middleman, and everyone must choose sides. So we will not tolerate those who do not cooperate, let alone secretly Destroyers. We will use all means to survive because that is the only way we can survive.”

Even the inexperienced Raul felt the invisible pressure on his shoulders and back.

“Mr. Majiya, I hope you can make the right choice, and I hope you can set an example.” The tribune sincerely invited: “In exchange, you will get political equality…and the protection of property .”

What the other party said was too vague, and Raul was at a loss.

Old Maziya pursed his lips, stared into the other person’s eyes, and did not reply for a long time.

Until this moment, Matthias Milok really realized how wrong his old friend was.

Piety? Kind? Easy to talk?

Fayeka’s eyes were simply blind. This “son of a church serf” named Bud was clearly the most determined and least likely to be shaken among the rebels he had ever seen.

“There is no need to rush to answer. You will know when you need to make a choice.” The tribune glanced at the sky outside the window: “It’s getting late.”

Old Majiya was stunned for a moment, then stood up and saluted wisely: “Then we will take our leave, Your Excellency.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already sent someone to invite Mr. Matia Parr.” The tribune smiled and stopped the two of them: “Although you can’t let him take him away, at least you can meet him once.”

…

[late night]

[Oak Town]

[Madiya Manor]

The horse’s hooves crushed the tranquility of midnight, and the tossing and turning Madame Matiya immediately wrapped her shawl and ran out of the mansion.

Looking over, there were only three people sitting on the backs of the five horses, and Mrs. Majiya suddenly felt cold in her hands and feet. She staggered to her husband’s horse and reached for the saddlebag—the gold was still in it.

“My…” Mrs. Machia’s voice trembled uncontrollably: “My…”

Old Ma Jiya got off his horse and hugged his old wife: “Don’t worry, your son is still alive, he is fine, and he is much stronger.”

Mrs. Maziya suddenly turned her grief into joy, wiped her tears, and asked impatiently: “Then why…”

Old Majiya shook his head, motioned for Tasso and his youngest son to lead the horses back to the stable, and led his wife to the mansion.

Madame Matiya sensed that her husband was preoccupied, and seemed unwilling to talk about his experience in Artemis.

Now that her husband had said that Parr was still alive, she forced herself not to ask any more questions. She prepared food and hot water for her husband, son and Tasso, and kept everyone settled before returning to the bedroom on the second floor.

When Madame Matiya opened the door with a lantern, her husband had already fallen on the bed.

“Sleep.” Old Maziya said in a low voice, “Tomorrow has something to do.”

Mrs. Maziya agreed in a low voice, blew out the lantern, walked back to the bed lightly, and lay down beside her husband.

After an unknown period of time, Madame Matiya timidly asked in the darkness:

“Have you… seen the blood wolf… Your Excellency the blood wolf?”

After a brief silence, old Matia sighed: “Blood wolf is not the only traitor among those people. Today, Raul and I met a person who is even more outstanding than blood wolf.”

Mrs. Majiya said “Oh” half-understanding, and after a while, she couldn’t help asking: “Then…then you haven’t seen the blood wolf?”

“Blood wolf? I see you.” Old Majiya stared at the dark roof, thinking of the heroic man who suddenly appeared in the office.

He said dumbfoundingly: “Blood Wolf…is really extraordinary, he…he is like a peddler walking down the street, pulling me and Raul, and selling his so-and-so…new plow truck for a long time.”

Mrs. Machia was speechless. She recalled the things her husband brought back and asked in surprise: “You…you didn’t buy it?”

“Of course I didn’t buy it, and there is no shortage of plow trucks at home.” Old Majiya said as a matter of course, and he coughed lightly: “But I still bought some things.”

“What did you buy?”

“Bought two packs of nails.”

…

On the night when the Matthias and his wife had a bed talk, two messengers rushed into Artemis one after another, waking up the dreams of countless people, and sent messages that made Mason moan in pain, Bud was silent, and Wen Tess was not surprised by the two news.

The first message comes from Jinghu County, where there has been no news for a long time:

The reason why the Great Council Army was able to march at a speed beyond everyone’s estimation and intercept the coalition forces in Hegu Village was found—Bazenauer did not fall;

After Sanel learned the information about the dispatch of the coalition forces, he would rather abandon Bazenauer, which was about to fall, and leave only a small force to monitor the defenders, and immediately set off to return;

However, those are old accounts—Colonel Gaisa Adonis had broken through Bazenauer the day before yesterday, and everyone from Colonel Gaspar down was captured.

The second message comes from Kings Castle:

United Eighteen Provinces Republic Interim Supreme Council passed a resolution to formally and openly intervene in the Plato civil war;

The vanguard has crossed the River Run.

[Bud: Winters is a blood wolf, then I am—Jin! Just! Wolf! ]

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(end of this chapter)