I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

Miwei looked up at those big machines with a somewhat dazed expression — if he had had these back then, perhaps he would not have come to that end...

In the end Miwei still agreed to Mitia’s request; they truly had no bargaining chips left.

Even if they had broken out just then, it would have been hard to outrun those things across the wide plains on foot.

As a bargaining chip for the peace talks between the two sides, Marquis Hendak had been dragged up like a dead dog, his arms bound with red strips of cloth.

The fifty-something Marquis Hendak knelt on the ground with a rag stuffed into his mouth, but he still glared at the two damned women before him with furious eyes.

That furious glare did nothing; instead a soldier from the Church army beside him slapped Hendak hard across the face twice, and his cheek quickly swelled.

Mitia watched the scene and lightly clapped her hands in satisfaction.

After so long a struggle, most people now clearly understood what Astal cherished most.

Nobles — the better off the living were, the more they liked them; those with estates were even better.

Since the other side had accepted her terms, Mitia had the mood to listen.

Miwei suddenly spoke to Sherria, who stood to the side and had used her psychic power to dim her presence: “Miss, eavesdropping on other people’s conversations is very impolite.”

Sherria was a little surprised.

“Oh, you improved so quickly? Tsk, what a terrifying talent.”

Mitia bent down and looped her arms around Sherria’s legs.

“Miss, shrink a little more and I’ll hold you while you listen — no need to be sneaky.”

A ring on Sherria’s hand flashed and she drew out a wooden stick.

“Get lost!!!”

“......”

Miwei returned to the execution platform, cradled that severed head in her arms and murmured, “Did he die as a rebel? No! He died as a hero!”

After hearing Miwei’s account, Mitia signaled the soldiers to lower the headless corpse.

They then hoisted Marquis Hendak up and, after staring at her for a moment, Mitia said, “This city will have statues for them; they will remain with this city.”

“....”

“Eh, what did this little fellow do? Why is he hung up there?”

A soldier of the Astal force pointed at the half-body of a child on the south gate and asked the nearby civilians; if someone had been treated like Marquis Hendak, they must have done something notable.

Through the rotting skin, they could faintly see the savage scars left on the body.

The civilians who were questioned looked frightened: ‘N-no idea, sir...’

“Oh, never mind — don’t call me ‘sir’. We Astal don’t do that; everyone is equal. My family all farm, hehe.”

‘Ah? You really mean it...’

“What, real or not? We’re not lying! I estimate that in a little while you’ll be allotted land and grain. The war is over.”

He pointed to Fast on a stretcher who had lost both legs.

“We’ll talk later; I have to hang that beast up.”

‘Sir, can we beat him? That man is so hateful!’

‘Yes yes! He took my two sons to serve — I never saw them again, wahhh.’

“You may! Just don’t kill him.

Oh, and don’t dig at the wounds below; others already tore them on the road...”

“Please accept our condolences.

Commander Mitia said the soldiers who fought us were brave but were deceived and coerced by imperialists. We should not hate one another; we should concentrate our hatred on the real culprits!”

“Although we cannot grant them Astal martyr status and the subsidies that come with it, we will not pursue war crimes against the fallen soldiers; the land allotted to their families for rent-farming will be tax-exempt for ten years.”

‘Really! That’s wonderful!’

One of the soldiers set up a ladder, climbed up, pinched his nose and released the little half-corpse.

The desiccated body hit the ground and kicked up a thin dust.

A bold onlooker stuck his head in to look at the face and thought: ‘I feel like I’ve seen this face before...’

A soldier on the ground heard him and turned to ask, “Oh? Can you remember his name? Why was he hung there? Where’s his lower half?”

‘I can’t recall the name, but I was nearby the day he was cut in half at the waist.

I heard a soldier ask whether he would talk; he said he’d die before he’d tell, and then he was cut...’

‘That scene — it was terrifying. His upper body crawled for a long while before he stopped breathing. I heard the lower half was taken by the lord’s household to feed dogs.’

‘Oh! I remember now, his name was Grey!’

The soldier pressed on, “Grey? The reason — you don’t know? Waist-severing is usually not employed without cause.”

The civilian glanced again at the tiny corpse and shook his head.

‘I really don’t know. That child was stubborn; if he’d said anything, he probably still wouldn’t have died.’

The soldier sighed.

“He really held firm — no one knows what he was protecting.”

They looped a rope around Fast’s neck.

The soldier above them hauled hard.

Fast, his mouth gagged, clawed wildly at the rope around his neck and thrashed in midair.

His originally emerald, beautiful eyes quickly filled with blood red.

Ignoring the man about to die, the soldiers picked up the severed torso from the ground, loaded it into a cart and headed for the newly built crematorium.

Passing along the city’s central avenue, they went by the hero statue under construction.

Although the statue was only a rough model, the stone slab beneath it already had an enchanted inscription, now emitting a faint, warm white light:

【The reason winter could be crossed was that someone burned their soul to melt the ice and snow.】

【Though that flame was thin and fragile, it... was enough to ignite the fuse of hope.】

【Using their soul as fuel, holding aloft the torch of life, only to melt this impassable winter.】

【Yet on the day the ice and snow melted, you were not among the warm spring.】

“......”

In the following days, Astal’s army began liberating the entire region.

The trapped nobles had nowhere to flee; they were forced to surrender or simply hide in the deep mountains and forests.

Many remote villages reacted to the arrival of Astal’s forces with great fear.

Aside from prior pillaging by the field army and Church troops, there were also lingering effects from Marquis Hendak’s deliberate smear campaigns.

However, Mitia had placed a large number of non-commissioned officers throughout Astal’s army from top to bottom; they tightly controlled the army’s conduct, and there were no incidents of harassment.

After a few days of getting to know each other, Mitia and Miwei had also learned about Mitia’s somewhat — well, more idealistic — beliefs than Miwei’s own.

Although some of those notions were impractical, Mitia keenly perceived their benefits.

If handled properly, the Goddess Church could possibly be disbanded; then they would have no time to bother Miwei.

So she decided to cooperate with Miwei.

If Mitia’s Holy Light Church doctrine did not undergo major changes, cooperation between the two would be all gain and no harm — after all, it was a matter of faith and appeared harmless.

It was not that she could not accept a church as an institution.

What she could not accept was a church that functioned as its own system — with its own armed forces, governing cadre, independent population, money and material channels.

She could not accept such a state within a state!

But if there were a nascent church whose aims were uncontroversial, whose doctrine was peaceful and willing to accept supervision and reporting, and which developed under state guidance, then both could naturally coexist.

After all, if she didn’t occupy that ground, someone else would.

Mitia needed something to hedge influence with.

Miwei was also well aware of her own situation: once the Church regained its senses it would certainly strike hard to destroy her; she needed a substantial rear-base and backing.

The two were, so to speak, an instantaneous match.