Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 564 - 106 Blood Wolf_3

Chapter 564: Chapter 106 Blood Wolf_3 Chapter 564: Chapter 106 Blood Wolf_3 “`

Winters looked at Gold.

“Enough.” Gold suddenly laughed a few times, “I didn’t die, his life is enough.”

Xial took out another stamped parchment, “Miss Navarre’s promissory note, found on this fellow’s counter.”

Gold took the promissory note, insisting, “I want to cash this note.”

“Good,” Winters nodded.

Then he used the keys found on the goldsmith to open the vault.

Gold counted the Ducat Gold Coins one by one, not even taking an extra silver piece.

...

After counting out exactly one thousand Ducats, Gold placed the promissory note on the goldsmith’s corpse and put fifty gold coins on top of it—that was the storage fee due.

Then he spat on the body of the goldsmith.

“Let’s go,” Winters said, supporting Gold as they left.

“If I were still living by the knife and the blood, I’d have no complaints about being beaten or killed,” the former pirate leader expressed his sorrow and grief. “Why… Why…”

Winters had no answer, and he supported Gold all the way outside the house.

Because of the noise, the workshops were all standalone buildings, far from other residences.

Winters and Xial moved quickly, and no one had yet noticed the revenge killing in the goldsmith’s workshop, nor had the night patrol arrived.

Winters helped Gold mount the saddle and whispered to him, “Alpad has blown up the southwest corner of the wall, Xial will take you out of the city through there.”

“What about you, sir?” Gold realized Winters would not be accompanying him.

“Me?” Winters seemed to be smiling in the darkness, “I still have things to do.”

Gold gripped Winters’s hand tightly, shaking his head desperately.

“If by dawn I haven’t come to find you, don’t wait for me, take Gold back to Sea Blue,” Winters told Xial.

Xial wiped away a tear and nodded heavily, riding off into the distance with Gold.

Winters watched their figures disappear into the night.

He stuck his cane into the saddlebag, hung his sabre on his waist, and pulled out those one hundred and sixty-four wooden spikes from the saddlebag.

Then he mounted his horse and headed north.

On the streets of Kingsfort late at night, he walked alone.

The further north he went, the more frequent he encountered the night patrol.

Kingsfort enforced a curfew, with citizens strictly prohibited from being on the streets after dark, but the military was not subject to these restrictions.

Wearing his officer’s uniform, Winters passed without hindrance. The patrol simply saluted and did not question or stop him.

He walked until he reached the gates of a beautiful two-story stone building.

This two-story stone building was the office of the Military Commissioner of the Palatine Army, formerly known as the headquarters of the army.

Winters took his time tying up his horse at the gate.

The guard curiously watched this officer, wondering why he did not take his warhorse to the stables inside.

After securing the warhorse properly, Winters picked up his sabre and headed straight for the main entrance, dragging his injured leg.

His leg injury had not fully healed, and he limped somewhat, but his steps were resolute.

“Officer, please show your identification,” asked a guard, approaching the stranger in an old uniform.

Winters raised his hand.

As the sound of a series of explosions rang out, blood gushed from the guard’s helmet, and he collapsed limply.

The other three guards were stunned, not knowing what had happened or what was about to happen.

With just a raise of his hand, the attacker before them fell dead.

Winters continued toward the stone building, looking at the remaining three guards, “Don’t seek death.”

First a sparkle, then a few inches of flame, a fierce fire rose up in the cold hearth, and a blazing rage burned within his chest.

He had waited too long for this moment.

One guard snapped out of his shock and reached to ring the bell. Before his hand could touch the rope, he was cut down.

“Don’t! Seek! Death!”

The will of the remaining two guards completely crumbled, they had only been militiamen until recently. They retreated, tumbling over one another, and rushed towards the gate in a clumsy escape.

But the noise at the gate still alerted others, and disheveled guards swarmed out from the duty room, staring in astonishment at the scene before them.

“Enemy attack!” someone shouted as if waking from a dream.

The guards fell into chaos, some turning back to grab weapons, some coming out with swords in hand.

Some, confident in their numbers, intended to capture this lone attacker.

“I want only Sekler!” Winters shouted as he dove into the fray, “Anyone in my way dies!!!”

In the second-floor office of the former army headquarters, Brigadier General — no, now Major General and Corps Commander — Sekler, realized something was amiss outside.

During the siege, Sekler had eaten and slept in his barracks. Once the rebels had fled, he moved his home to the former army headquarters.

He lived there, right in the heart of the Palatine Republic’s army.

Hearing the disturbance, he opened his window.

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Thunderous roars spread in all directions from the darkness, like a furious beast devouring men:

“Sekler!”

“Did you think!”

“This would just end here!”

“I want only Sekler! Anyone in my way dies!!!”

Major General Sekler paused for a moment, and when he recognized to whom the voice belonged, he couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle bitterly, “The Venetian…”

Sekler got out of bed, lit a lamp, and meticulously dressed himself in his military uniform.

He gently ran his hands over his uniform, trying to smooth out every wrinkle. But no matter how hard he tried, a few stubborn creases remained.