Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

TL: Etude

Duke Dodge and his two companions walked silently along the corridor, their expressions grave.

“Duke!” exclaimed Lester.

“I request to personally patrol outside the fortress, to verify the scout’s report. According to his description, regular soldiers can’t handle that situation.”

After pondering for a while, Duke Dodge replied, “Let’s wait for reports from other scouts first.”

Throughout the next day, the Duke gathered reports from several batches of scouts who had gone out for reconnaissance. However, he didn’t find anything unusual. Some had encountered the rebel scouts but didn’t experience what happened last night.

Could it be that the injured scout’s encounter was just an isolated incident? Or was he lying?

After much consideration, the Duke agreed to Viscount Lester’s request, allowing him to lead his elite cavalry scouts on a patrol mission.

Before this, there was an unspoken ‘truce’ between them and the rebels, where neither side entered the other’s warning zone. The incident last night, where the rebels clearly broke this ‘truce’, might indicate that they were planning to change the status quo.

…

Not far south of Thorn Fortress lay a small town, now unrecognizable from its original form.

A high and thick stone wall, topped with various defensive fortifications, encircled the outskirts of the town. A deep moat surrounded the wall, its bottom filled with densely packed wooden spikes, ensuring a fatal fall for anyone unlucky enough to tumble in.

Fully armed patrol guards could be seen walking on the wall, vigilantly watching the north, daring not to slack off.

This place had been transformed by the rebels into a small fortress.

Originally, their base was further north, closer to Thorn Fortress. This faction of rebels had no intention of attacking Thorn Fortress, as Duke Jars had only tasked them with keeping an eye on the kingdom’s army there, preventing them from mobilizing.

However, one night, a small force suddenly emerged from the fortress. After stealthily eliminating the sentries at one corner of the camp, they infiltrated and began setting fires everywhere, causing massive chaos.

Fortunately, the intruders were few in number and were quickly repelled by the spontaneous counterattack of the soldiers. Still, the resulting fire and panic disrupted the camp for the entire night.

After such an embarrassing incident, which reached the ears of ‘The Greedy Wolf’ Duke Jars, he was furiously enraged and immediately appointed a new leader for this troop.

Taking command of this rebel force, now self-titled the ‘Southern Army’, was General Samar, one of Duke Jars’ formidable subordinates.

When Samar received this appointment, many colleagues pitied him, thinking he lost opportunities for glory as the Southern Army was then busy dealing with lords who refused to submit to Duke Jars. Being assigned to a ‘guarding’ role meant fewer chances for Samar to earn military honors.

However, Samar was secretly pleased. He had foreseen that sooner or later Duke Jars would march northward. Even if the Duke didn’t, the royal army would surely advance southward, placing Samar, overseeing Thorn Fortress, at the forefront of the battle. He would then face not the minor forces of the south but a formidable enemy, naturally presenting endless opportunities to distinguish himself in battle.

Upon assuming his new role, Samar, considering the original base too close to the fortress and the troops’ morale weakened by the recent attack, ordered a southern relocation to the current town. He conscripted local labor to transform the town into a makeshift, semi-permanent fortress.contemporary romance

Since their current mission was defensive, not offensive, extra efforts were put into fortifications.

At the moment, in a dungeon within this fortress, a brutal interrogation was underway…

“Will you talk?”

Accompanied by threatening roars, the loud sound of a whip echoed repeatedly in the dungeon.

A prisoner, suspended in mid-air and tied up, was relentlessly whipped with a saltwater-soaked whip.

If the severely injured scout from Thorn Fortress were here, he would have recognized the man being whipped as one of his own comrades, one of the few who had been captured by the rebels that night.

Clearly, the Southern Army wanted to extract information from these few ‘tongues’ through relentless torture. It seemed that fabricating false information was not fooling them.

Enduring enemy torture with sheer willpower is a scenario usually found in s and dramas. In reality, such resilience is exceedingly rare.

Even those prepared to sacrifice their lives and resolved to die can’t withstand various interrogation methods. The techniques that make one long for death but unable to achieve it are too numerous.

Regardless of whether a person has undergone resistance to interrogation training, as long as they are of flesh and blood, they will fear pain.

Besides physical torture, there are various infamous methods of psychological torment. These are what truly break a person’s will, and not even the most rigorously trained spies or soldiers can withstand them.

Thus, once captured, almost everyone confesses.

To cope with torture after capture, prisoners provide false or partially true information, hoping to be believed. The true part of such information is often either irrelevant or outdated, and its disclosure no longer significant.

The captured scout, barely clinging to life, opened his eyes weakly and said in a hoarse voice, “I have already confessed everything I know. I truly don’t know anything else… Ah!”

The loud crack of the whip sounded again, clearly indicating the interrogator’s disbelief.

As a scout, with a high likelihood of capture, he was naturally prepared with information to deal with this situation. So, at the start of the interrogation, he pretended to resist staunchly, enduring several lashings before gradually revealing the information he had prepared.

Then, he could only pray for the mercy of the interrogator. Generally, once an interrogator believes they have extracted all useful information from a prisoner, they either grant a quick end or send them for hard labor. The chances of encountering a sadistic torturer who delights in inflicting pain are relatively low.

Of course, a competent interrogator never fully trusts the information given by prisoners. Separating truth from the mixture of truth and lies is a skill in itself.

At this point, the interrogator, a towering figure with an intimidating presence, did not believe the scout had told everything. He gripped the prisoner’s chin, lifting his head slightly to meet his gaze.

“I’ll ask you one more time! Tell me what you haven’t yet confessed!”

“Sir… I… truly… don’t know anything else…”

The prisoner inwardly lamented: This was the fifth confirmation; surely, the interrogation would end soon?

He dared not reveal critical information like the depleted garrison strength of the fortress. If the rebels learned of it, they might immediately organize an attack. Not only were his comrades-in-arms at risk, but his own family also lived in Duke Dodge’s territory.

In this era, the passage of bandits was like a comb passing through hair, especially with the longstanding enmity between the Dodge and Jars families. The fate of the common people under Dodge’s rule was predictable, and Jars’ troops were notoriously bad. While all crows are black, some are blacker than others.

The interrogator cast a questioning glance toward another figure in the room, cloaked in a cloak, his face hidden under the hood.

“Hmm hmm!”

The cloaked man chuckled ominously.

“He’s lying!”

“He must be hiding something!”

The spine-chilling words came from the cloaked man, leaving the prisoner wondering how he was detected. He had thought the information he provided was flawless, and his limited knowledge as a low-ranking scout was reasonable.

Sensing the prisoner’s confusion, the cloaked man stood up and slowly approached him.

“You must be wondering why I’m so certain you’re lying, time after time,” he said.

The cloaked man slowly raised his head, revealing his face. His appearance was unremarkable, but his eyes…

His pupils were glowing, actually emitting light!

Not reflecting the light of the nearby torches, but shining from within!

“Because…”

As he spoke, the light in his eyes seemed to grow brighter.

“I can see the color of your soul…”

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