I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

“Achoo!”

“Damn! It was freezing.”

On the wall of a garrison town belonging to the Astal family, near Hendak’s domain, two sentries had huddled together inside a wooden watchtower, warming themselves around a small bonfire.

Watching the snow that had not stopped falling for days, one of them sneezed and complained, tightening the bulky iron armor he wore.

He had two layers of clothing underneath, had stuffed straw into them, then put on a coat and, finally, the armor — but even wrapped up like that he could not keep the wind, which found its way through every crack, from biting him.

“Tell me about it. Damn — having to stand here in this cold. It’s killer.”

The other man, leaning on his spear, answered boredly; his gear was much better, the thick padded jerkin both kept out the cold and gave a bit of protection.

“Blame the damn Astal! Back in the day we’d be in our quilts by now — now I’ll freeze to death.”

The man in the padded armor looked at him with pity.

“Who told you to be such a gambling fool, selling even your cotton? You’re something else.”

“How was I to know this winter would be like this? You don’t know how well cotton was selling — the caravans from Astal went crazy grabbing it!”

The padded soldier shook his head helplessly and said no more.

He knew that once this man got into gambling he’d sell anything; maybe freezing a bit would teach him a lesson.

“Huh? I think I heard something outside?”

The padded soldier’s ears twitched — he thought he heard a strange sound from the sky and had just stood up to go check

“Boom! Boom! Boom...”

A series of violent explosions and heavy tremors threw him to the ground; blood trickled from his ears and his mind went blank.

After a long while, a shrill shout of “Enemy attack!” was barely out when a second, even fiercer round of bombardment drowned it out.

Outside the city, under the falling snow, sparks of fire winked and then burst into dazzling flames atop the wall, illuminating dense ranks of people beneath the night sky.

“Company commander, the bombardment stopped — our superiors ordered an immediate assault!”

Harlin, who had shed his youthful timidity, heard the order.

A smile crept across his face, muffled by his winter cap, and he raised his spear.

“Sound the horn! Flag-bearer, up! Whole company forward! For the people! For Mitia! Victory forever!!!”

“Victory forever!!!”

Torches were lit one by one; firelight and a roar of yells and trumpets seized the gate and swept up onto the walls.

The padded soldier, dazed for a while, swayed to his feet and shook his head to clear it.

Seeing his comrade curled up and trembling at the foot of the wall, he spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm in anger.

“Get up and fight! If you stay there you’re a dead man!”

A flash in his peripheral vision made him turn; the enemy had already come up.

He instinctively raised his spear, aimed, and pulled the trigger hard.

There was a faint click, and then nothing...

“WTF!!!”

The padded soldier did not hear the gunshot he expected.

The enemy saw him raise his weapon and, terrified, pulled their triggers desperately.

“Clink! Bang!”

“Pft—”

After a single shot, he felt searing pain in his chest.

Before he could react, the enemy behind the frontman raised their guns; after a volley he fell to the ground.

He watched, bewildered, as the rushing soldiers shot dead the comrade who had been cowering in the corner; blood streamed from his mouth as he wondered why his own gun had not fired.

“You blind, Little Ger? Charging like that — you want to die?”

“I... I was blinded by the glare of the flames, otherwise I would’ve fired before him!”

“Bullshit! If it weren’t for his damp powder, you’d be dead just now! I’ll report this to the platoon sergeant — you’re carrying ammo boxes for punishment!”

“Ah?!!!”

While they argued they noticed the padded soldier on the ground hadn’t yet stopped breathing.

They exchanged looks and one said, “Forget it — let’s finish him off.”

“Mm...”

“......”

A series of tremors woke Baros from his sleep. He opened his eyes and glanced at the companions huddled together, still fast asleep.

He forced his sore arms, pressed off the ground for leverage, and braced himself against the wall until he could sit up. Pressing his ear to the wall to listen closely, the coal-streaked face registered surprise.

“This is…”

The shaking came closer and the noise grew louder; he could hear the guards watching them running about in disarray.

“Quick! Grab your rifles! Astar’s army is coming through any minute!”

“Sir, we only have a few dozen men in total — it’s not enough! Can we even beat them…?”

“Do you think I told you to win? I told you to hold the line! If you can’t hold, we’re all dead! I’m nobility — I’m not dying down in this filthy mine, understand?!”

“No one? Then round up those low slaves! Send them out as meat shields to take the bullets for me! Move! If they can’t break through, then I’ll consider surrender terms — got it?”

“Yes, yes, sir…”

“Bang!”

A violent explosion reverberated through the mine.

Baros only heard a staccato of gunfire and screams; his companions were all jolted awake and crowded together in confusion and fear.

Amid the screams came a steady clatter of footfalls drawing closer.

Baros stared at the iron door and swallowed.

A gunshot rang out on the door; the huddled crowd cried out as a boot kicked the iron door open and a group rushed in, pointing guns at them.

The prisoners immediately began crying and pushing, trying to hide as far back as they could.

“No! Don’t!”

“Don’t kill us! We’ll work! We won’t eat!”

In the chaos Baros looked at the unfamiliar emblem on the intruders’ heads and thought to himself: was this the “Astal army” the nobleman had just mentioned?

Harlin fired a warning shot skyward after re-loading and then smiled.

“Congratulations — you are free!”

“?”

The slaves, covered in black soot and with a single filthy rag hiding their shame, all looked at one another in confusion; they did not understand Harlin’s words.

Harlin sighed inwardly and ordered his men to lead them out of the damp, dark prison into a bright, roomy guard rest area.

The slave laborers obeyed as they were led past corpses strewn about; they grew even more silent.

They dragged the mine owner who had only been shot in the leg but was lying on the ground playing dead to his feet, beat him until his face was swollen, then bound him and forced him to kneel.

“Do to him whatever he did to you — speak his crimes aloud and the victims may beat him! If he dies, Astal will take responsibility!”

“This place has been taken by Astal — it’s ours now. You will become our people. Equality, fairness, justice — these are the core principles of Astal.”

“......”

“I! I have been wronged!”

After a time of silence someone finally stepped forward.

Baros stared with hatred at the mine owner’s piggish, swollen face.

“He raped my wife who brought me food to the mine. I went to the city to report it, but the soldiers beat me unconscious and sent me back here. They beat me half to death and forced a slave contract on me. I haven’t left since; I don’t know if it’s been a month or two.”

“Damn him! I have a little daughter waiting for me — how will she survive? He deserves to die!!!”

He rushed the mine owner and beat him with fists and kicks; it took two soldiers a long while to pull him off.

Baros would not let go and bit the mine owner’s ear hard.

A piercing howl rang out.

The two soldiers ignored it and dragged Baros away; his heart-wrenching screams, spitting blood from his mouth, echoed through the mine.

This stirred other slaves; faces lit with expression.

One by one people came forward to tell their stories, and then helped themselves to some small belongings off the mine owner.

More and more stood up, and the mine filled with cries and curses.

Looking at the mangled mine owner on the ground, Harlin’s thoughts drifted back to a class he had once heard at the military academy under Mitia’s command.

“Many slaves don’t understand the meaning of freedom; they might even think the greatest freedom is being able to own slaves themselves.”

“So freedom was not absolute; equality and justice were more precious.

Justice was the goal they strove for.

Equality was the will that could let those enslaved to the point of mental numbness accept it from their hearts — it could not be twisted at its root.”

“It was a word both gentle and powerful: our status equal, our rights equal, our dignity equal. What I may do you may do; what I may not do you may not do.”

“So, when you faced intractable situations, make the perpetrators kneel before them! Make the privileged appear in their ugliest form to break the chains in their hearts.”

“Make them stand in the sunlight and conduct a public trial with everyone on equal footing! Cry, hate, vent! Bid farewell completely to your former self.”

“Afterwards, I suggested you hang that damned bastard on a stake — that would be his proper end.”