Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 945 - 31: The Hunt (Part 2)_2

Chapter 945: Chapter 31: The Hunt (Part 2)_2

“No hostility?” Winters asked.

“No.” Little Lion replied with a smile.

“What kind of people are they?”

“Hunters, the hunting hunters from the Wicked Soil Department.” Little Lion said with deep meaning: “Actually, they are more afraid of you.”

A quarter of an hour later, Winters met the leader of the Wicked Soil Department.

“Batu, you don’t know me.” As soon as they met, the burly, dark-skinned leader of the Wicked Soil Department labored in his stiff common language to make an unconventional self-introduction: “But I have seen you, I am Koshach, your defeated subordinate.”

…

[Day 10 after leaving the Flying Feather Tribe’s overwintering pasture]

[Wilderness, an unknown small river valley]

Although identities had been confirmed, and they were “on the way,” the delegation from Iron Peak County and the hunters from the Wicked Soil Department still tacitly maintained a certain distance from each other.

Leader of the Wicked Soil Department, Koshach, was quite unique, visiting the delegation from Iron Peak County every day.

Koshach had a strong curiosity about the world outside the wilderness.

What Winters found interesting was that Koshach did not hide his curiosity about the outside world.

He was always asking questions: astronomy and geography, local customs, religion, science, systems, technologies… Anything that came to mind, he would ask. Some questions were naively hilarious, while others were so profound that they were unanswerable.

When asking questions, Winters saw no embarrassment in Koshach’s eyes; when not getting answers, Koshach never showed any signs of discouragement or irritation.

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When Koshach wasn’t asking questions, he would take great interest in observing every move the Paratu people made, from dressing to dining, from setting camp to traveling… He even closely watched the delegation members dig a latrine.

Winters’ subordinates watched this “barbarian” with expressions of surprise, disgust, or wariness, while the “barbarian” seemed unaffected, continuing to go his own way.

“…Leaving the Inner Sea, sailing southward, until leaving the Jinding Mountains behind, you will reach the [Broken Lands].” Winters narrated the geography of the continent by the campfire: “There, only barren hills exist, dotted with a dozen small principalities, from nobles to commoners all dirt-poor…”

The campfire was crowded with members of the delegation, some of whom enjoyed the bustle, while others listened mesmerized. Naturally, Koshach was also present, sitting unconcernedly amongst the Paratu people, leaning on his knees listening.

As Winters was talking, he noticed his cup was empty and got up to fetch water.

When Winters fell silent, the area around the campfire immediately became somewhat noisy.

“Hurd old man!” someone mockingly asked Koshach: “Can you understand?”

“I don’t understand!” Koshach grinned, replying in his half-baked common language: “But I understood a bit, the more I listen, the more I understand.”

In a few moments, Winters had already brought back a kettle.

“Batu.” Koshach bluntly said: “In the tribes, tasks like pouring wine, milking are not even done by the leaders of tribes as small as Horse Palm! Doing women’s chores, your subordinates will only look down on you.”

“[Emotional vulgar language] Nonsense!” Xial snapped back as if bitten by a dog, immediately grabbing the kettle from his brother and retorted sharply: “Does Blood Wolf need your respect or disdain?”

Koshach thoughtfully nodded: “Makes sense! Warriors like Batu, even if they play with needles and threads daily, would still have a large number of followers competing to be first.”

Winters: “Let me clarify, I neither like these needles nor the thread.”

A faint laughter came from a carriage five steps away.

Koshach seemed unconcerned about the personal preferences of the Paratu champion; he eagerly asked: “Batu, what about further south from the ‘Very Broken Land’? What lies further south?”

“Desert.” Winters recalled the content of “Geography”: “A desert like the sea, endless.”

Koshach scratched his head: “What kind of desert?”

“Have you seen the sand on riverbanks?”

“I have.”

“A desert is a place where there is nothing but sand. That’s what the books say, and I haven’t seen the sea of sand myself.”

“Only sand, no grass? No water?”

“Right.”

“How then do you raise horses? Cattle and sheep? How do you farm?”

“You can’t raise anything, you can’t grow anything.” Winters added: “It is said that there are some very small oases in the desert, but who knows if that’s true.”

Knowing that the sea of sand could not support grazing, Koshach was quite disappointed, continuing to inquire: “What about further south of the sea of sand?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“Because it’s impassable.” Winters smiled bitterly as he spread his hands: “It’s said that someone once walked south for a hundred days, and all they saw was still just sand.

Ancient scholar Tosaini believed that the sea of sand was infinite, extending to the ends of the earth, eventually merging with the perpetual ice caps of the poles; some say that further south of the sea of sand is another sea; others say it is the World’s Pit, where all seas eventually flow. But the truth, no one knows.”

A collective sigh emerged from the crowd.

“What is an ice cap?” Koshach persistently asked.

“Ice cap is endless ice.” Winters couldn’t help laughing: “Ancient Empire people kept heading north, reaching the extreme north only to find endless ice, so they believe the extreme south is likewise endless ice.”