Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 739 739 51 Beacon Fire_2

?Chapter 739: Chapter 51 Beacon Fire_2 Chapter 739: Chapter 51 Beacon Fire_2 Mason listened from the side, his heart pounding with fear. He gently tugged at Winters, gesturing for his junior brother to not be so aggressive.

Winters ignored Senior Mason and continued, “I have never betrayed the interests of Paratu to the Herders, nor have I betrayed the interests of the Paratu People. I am open and honest, with a clear conscience.

But if the Hurd tribes profit from my actions, even though it is against my wishes, I won’t just stand by and do nothing. If the New Reclamation Legion attacks me, surely I can’t just sit back and not fight back because the Herders might benefit?”

Colonel Bod was left speechless.

After sitting quietly for a while, he let out a deep sigh and asked, “The second question. Since you have contact with the Red River Tribe, those prisoners in the wasteland, do you have a way to bring them back?”

“There is a way! And I will do my utmost to rescue them—the slaves include my own men.” Winters produced a small knife, “I have a verbal agreement with White Lion, to exchange goods for prisoners. Just give me the chance, and I’ll open up trade routes to the Red River Tribe and bring our people back, little by little.”

“Exchange goods for prisoners?” Colonel Bod frowned and asked. For Paratu, maintaining a blockade on the wasteland and trading goods for prisoners was essentially smuggling.

“If not that, then what?” Winters retorted, “Exchange with gold or silver? Not only do I not have gold or silver, but what use is gold or silver in the wasteland? White Lion values tangible benefits and will never trade people for money.”

Colonel Bod was speechless again and, grinding his teeth, warned Winters, “White Lion and the Red River Tribe are more dangerous than all the other Hurd tribes combined.”

“I know, I am well aware. It’s like feeding meat to a lion,” Winters admitted frankly, “But exchanging our veterans to make us stronger is also important. In the end, ‘my’ survival is what matters most.”

The colonel pressed on, “And after you get them back? Continue to let them fight for you?”

“Indeed, that was my initial thought,” Winters sighed, “But after meeting you, I realized that they are living people, with families, with loved ones. They are not puppets, weapons, nor are they my tools. So… that’s it.”

Winters, with his mind made up, smiled at the colonel, “They are free to stay or leave. Those who wish to stay can continue to fight for me; those who are injured, I will allocate land to them; those who want to return home, I will provide them with travel expenses. How about that? Are you satisfied?”

“What could I possibly be unsatisfied with?” Colonel Bod snorted.

He straightened his uniform with his remaining right arm, stood up, and saluted Winters with great formality, “If you can accomplish this, on behalf of all the Paratu veterans lost in the wasteland, unable to return home, and my men, I thank you!”

Winters received the salute and returned it.

Senior Mason, who had been tensely listening up to this point, finally felt a huge weight lift from his heart. After somewhat understanding Colonel Bod’s motives, the senior felt somewhat less uneasy.

But then, his tension returned.

Because he heard the colonel say to Winters, “I want to ask you for something.”

“What do you want? Ask for anything you want,” Winters first agreed readily, then quickly clarified, “But not money, as finances are tight right now.”

“I want an official position.”

“Which position?”

“The highest official position,” Colonel Bod sneered, “Whichever is the biggest, just give it to me.”

The atmosphere suddenly turned cold, and Mason instinctively shrank his neck. He was mild-mannered and disliked struggle, especially disputes over power and internal fighting.

“You don’t have to do this,” Winters blinked.

“Don’t have to do what?” Colonel Bod feigned confusion, “I am a dignified colonel; what’s wrong with wanting a high official position?”

“You don’t have to consider our future for us. Since we have taken this path, we are ready to bear the risk of not getting out whole.”

The air was no longer scarily cold, but the meeting room remained very quiet.

“Are you naive or brave?” Colonel Bod heaved a deep sigh, “You few junior officers can’t handle this thunder. Use me as a shield, and when times become desperate, hand me over, and you might even manage to become higher-ranking officers, right? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“You’re too pessimistic,” Winters said with a smile, proposing his backup plan, “If all else fails, you can join us in Vineta. After all, one more partner in doing business doesn’t hurt.”

Colonel Bod’s anger surged again, “Foolish boy, when that day comes, do you really think Vineta will protect you?”

“Then we flee overseas, to the west,” Winters drew a circle in the air, “I’ve heard if you keep going west, you can reach the Far East.”

Colonel Bod, leaning on the table, was unable to speak for a long time.

“The official position is nothing but a seal. I can carve one out for you, can’t I?” Winters explained earnestly, “It’s your demand—for the highest position, that is a little…”

“You yourself said it’s just a seal.” Colonel Bod bristled and glared, “Are you even stingy with a seal?”

“The highest rank here is Marshal,” Winters asked tentatively, “Shall I carve out a Marshal’s seal for you?”

The colonel’s breath hitched for a beat. Senior Mason stared at his knees, desperately trying to hold back laughter.

Colonel Bod’s chest felt tight, and he struggled to speak, “A mere thousand men and a territory no bigger than a horseshoe, and you already have a marshal? Does that mean you must also have a legion commander?”

“We have those as well. They are placeholders in the organization,” Winters asked with a smile, “So… would you like to pick a favorite?”