I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution Chapter 65

‘Tap tap...’

The soldiers in dress uniforms outside the carriage stepped in line into the train car, standing at attention beside their comrades and saluting, the sound of boots colliding crisp and orderly.

After exchanging salutes, the handover ceremony began.

“Captain... let go.”

Seeing his comrade already reaching out to receive it, Harlin still clutched the wooden box tightly without loosening his grip.

The sergeant who had come with him urged in a low voice.

“Mm... alright.”

Watching the figures walk away, Harlin muttered softly: “When he left with me, he was still a tall, strong lad. How is it that he came back as such a tiny box...”

Mitia withdrew her gaze from the window and, with some apology, said to Miwei beside her: “I’m sorry, I have matters to attend to now. I’ll arrange for someone to take you to rest properly first.”

Miwei nodded obediently: “Mm...”

The four women followed the crowd out of the platform and exited the train station.

Two small cars, shaped like iron boxes, had already been waiting outside for some time.

Only after watching the car carrying Miwei drive away did Mitia signal the driver to start the journey to the manor.

Once the eight-cylinder diesel engine had been widely applied in military industry, the manufacture of the four-cylinder gasoline engine was no longer a problem.

They had already made armored cars, so building civilian cars was hardly an issue.

Of course, these only counted as vehicles one could drive and sit in.

As for suspension, interiors, and the like—those were out of the question.

When the engine started, the driveshaft rattled loudly, and Mitia felt the whole thing shake everywhere...

But since rubber supply was tight, even this kind of boxy jeep model was not produced in large numbers.

For now, it was only allocated to frontline commanding officers.

Aside from those reserved for possible guests, only Mitia herself could have one.

Most of the remaining rubber went into making buses.

After returning home and exchanging a few words of warmth with her mother, Mitia and Anna changed into formal dress and headed toward Astal’s central square.

At this moment, the main avenue was already crowded with civilians.

As Mitia’s core territory, Astal had the most soldiers—and also suffered the greatest losses.

Ceremonies like today’s martyrs’ handover were held several times a month.

After passing the guards’ inspection at the square, Mitia’s car was allowed inside.

When she stepped out in her black military uniform, the Chief of Staff, who had brought officials upon hearing the news, hurried to her side and saluted.

After returning the salute, Mitia said: “Today... let me do it.”

“This... yes, ma’am!”

After this brief exchange, everyone stood behind Mitia, walking together to the monument to await the convoy’s arrival.

The ashes of martyrs sent back from the front would first go to the barracks for a final verification of personal information and honors.

The military would allocate flags, medals, certificates, and a metal plaque of honor.

Usually, all of this was prepared beforehand.

Once the martyr returned, the process would be checked again.

After confirmation, the coffin would be sent to the square to receive the national flag, and the name would be engraved upon the monument.

What Mitia wished to do was personally carry out the flag-presenting process.

As the old saying went: A general’s success is built upon ten thousand bones.

When Mitia truly stood before the wooden box, reading the soldier’s name and unit engraved upon it, and then personally laid the national flag flat across it, the feeling was indescribable.

The person inside might have met her, or might not.

At her call, they had gone to fight in unfamiliar lands, and then stayed there forever.

She regretted deeply that she could not even leave behind a single photograph for their families as a keepsake.

When it came time for the final eulogy, Mitia stood on the platform, looking down at the officers, soldiers, and gathered people, and spoke:

“In this war to liberate the people, we have paid dearly. From the beginning of Astal’s independence until today, around fifty thousand brave warriors have given their lives for this country that had never before existed.”

“They used their blood to tell the world that what Astal raises is not merely a red cloth.”

“Their existence will not be erased. Their great deeds will be remembered by the nation, known and passed down by future children. The heroic spirits shall live on.”

Two days later

Magic Calendar Year 3248, December 25th, the Birth Festival of the Magic Goddess

Mitia formally announced to the Kingdom of Ovinia that all territories under Astal’s banner were independent from the Kingdom of Ovinia.

Ovinia III flew into a rage upon receiving the news, roaring that he would personally lead the army to crush this traitor.

Yet by this time, he no longer had the strength to deal with Mitia.

For Mitia’s subordinate forces had displayed overwhelming combat capability, thrashing every neighboring country they had crossed blades with.

After Mitia dispatched envoys to explain the situation and negotiate peace, those countries all shifted their gaze from her toward the Kingdom of Ovinia, whose weakness had now been exposed.

Ovinia III soon found himself beset on all sides.

Both the hinterlands and the border regions erupted in small-scale clashes.

They all claimed the borders were “unclear” and such excuses, leaving the Pontiff with no ground to mediate.

Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Paria, which had always been quiet, was plunged into an intense succession struggle and had no time to worry about Astal.

Most fatally, repeated food shortages within Ovinia triggered wave after wave of riots, forcing Ovinia III to withdraw troops from the front lines to suppress rebellion.

The Church’s army, due to supply difficulties, resorted to foraging on the spot, sparking constant disputes with the local nobility of various countries.

Not only was the march delayed again and again, but countless civilian believers within the army, starving and unable to endure, deserted in great numbers.

The scale of the Church’s Eastern Expedition Army quickly shrank.

Meanwhile, Mitia and Miwei finalized the division of affairs.

Mitia formally proclaimed to all the people that the founding of the nation would be on January 1st, Year 3249.

The city formerly known as Hendak, now renamed Sera, was designated the capital of the national federation.

Mitia did not hold a grand celebration.

Instead, on the afternoon of the 1st, she conducted the enthronement and coronation ceremony in the still-rebuilding Sera City.

The large numbers of people who wished to attend in person simply had no time to arrive, and could only regretfully watch the ceremony broadcast via Mirror Technique.

When the carriage drawn by two snow-white steeds stopped at the recently-cleared square, the fortunate civilians and officials present craned their necks to glimpse inside.

The side door opened, and a glimmer of red reflected by torchlight drew everyone’s gaze.

It was a five-pointed star encrusted with rubies.

Beneath it were golden wheat ears, hollow-carved in a circle, head to tail; at the very bottom, a silver cog-shaped base clasped firmly upon her crown.

This was a crown fashioned in the likeness of the national emblem.

Compared with the crowns of emperors throughout history, this one was extremely simple—not luxurious, not precious, made of common materials.

Yet Mitia liked it very much.

Her small hands, clad in white lace gloves, extended outward.

With Anna and Miwei’s support, she stepped down from the carriage.

Beneath her vermilion coat was a silver-and-white gown.

She bent slightly at the waist as Miwei tiptoed to clasp a necklace upon her—a pendant of blood-red cross, resting obediently between her collarbones.

This holy relic necklace signified Mitia as the Honorary Pontiff of the Holy Light Church.

Mitia playfully winked at her.

There was no gilded palace, no splendidly dressed guard.

Only swirling snow and a red carpet laid across the square.

【She raised the people’s living standards, instead of bringing them suffering. She is the Creator’s messenger upon this earth. Long live Her Majesty the Empress!!!】

As she advanced, cries of “long live” grew louder and louder, resounding across the square.

“Long live!!!”