Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 374 The Whirlpool (Part 1)

A simple signet ring lay quietly on the windowsill.

Upon seeing the ring, Winters immediately stood at attention and gave a meticulous salute.

The ring band was severely deformed, and the ring face looked as if it had been forcibly cleaved open, leaving only a shocking broken edge.

But Winters knew what design was originally engraved on the ring face, because he was supposed to have one too.

That was the "Great Alliance Ring," a gift from the Union Army Academy to its graduates, both as a congratulatory gesture and as a reminder of Field Marshal Ned's original intention in establishing the Army Academy.

The middle-aged man raised his hand and touched his eyebrow as a gesture of respect: "Relax, kid, don't be so tense."

When returning the greeting, the middle-aged man switched the wine glass to his left hand. Winters noticed that the middle-aged man's left hand was missing his little finger and ring finger—if the ring had met such a terrible fate, the person wearing it must have suffered even more.

"The twenty-first issue," Winters answered truthfully.

"Twenty-oneth issue? Ha, time is such a bitch. Twenty-oneth issue, twenty-one..." The middle-aged man stroked the rim of his cup, lost in thought. As the wrinkles between his brows deepened, his eyes gradually sharpened.

When he spoke again, the middle-aged man's tone was tinged with suspicion. He asked unfriendly, "The 21st class? So you graduated the year before last?"

"Yes."

"I heard that the Paratine graduates from the year before last were all sent overseas?" The middle-aged man scrutinized Winters, his gaze seemingly trying to dissect the latter: "When did they come back?"

Winters answered fluently: "I only returned to Palatour last May."

The middle-aged man paid close attention to the most subtle changes in Winters' expression. His intuition and experience told him that the little guy in front of him was not lying—Winters was indeed not lying.

"Pretty quick, huh?" the middle-aged man muttered, tilting his head back to finish the strong liquor in his glass. He picked up the bottle, poured himself another drink, and asked, "Did you suffer?"

"Eat a little."

"It's definitely more than a little. But it's good luck to come back alive. Suffering a bit isn't a bad thing." The middle-aged man poured himself half a glass of wine and was about to pour one for Winters.

Seeing that not a drop of liquid had been lost from Winters' glass, the middle-aged man joked, "Drink up, it's not poisoned. Everything in the Esther family mansion is tainted with money, but the cleanest thing is the wine."

Winters took a sip, and the overly pungent smell made him want to cough.

"Not drinking?" The middle-aged man poured Winters a little more wine.

I don't drink it often.

"Hmph, it was bound to happen sooner or later." The middle-aged man scoffed, his tone shifting from interrogation to inquiry: "Why did you come to Steel Fortress?"

Winters answered readily: "To purchase armaments."

"Who sent you?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I cannot disclose that information."

"You've already revealed your hand, why are you still covering it up?" The middle-aged man chuckled, feigning anger as he rebuked, "The Monta Republic is right next to the territory of the Palatour military government, who could you be? Do you want to pretend to be envoys from the Fortress of Kings?"

The other party clearly knows some information, but clearly does not know all of it.

Winters then smiled subtly, neither admitting nor denying it.

"Did you come alone?" the middle-aged man asked again.

Winters realized that the other party might not have investigated him beforehand, so he decided to test the waters: "I'm sorry, I can't reveal that either. How did you figure out my identity?"

"Just look at you standing there like a wooden stake, completely at a loss. Anyone with eyes can tell who you are. You've worn uniforms for so many years, and now that you're in formal attire, you don't even know where to put your hands—that's you."

"Is it that obvious?" Winters touched the tip of his nose guiltily.

"Otherwise, why are you here?" the middle-aged man retorted, sizing up Winters. "And no matter how well you disguise yourself, you'll be exposed sooner or later once you open your mouth. An accent can't be hidden, especially for a recent graduate like you. So I'm wondering, have those guys under Alpad lost their minds? Sending you here? Or are you just a scout?"

“Me too…” Winters carefully chose his words: “It was against my will.”

"And who can be absolutely free?" The middle-aged man chuckled dryly, tilting his head back to down his drink. After a long exhale, he casually asked, "Who helped you get the job when you came to Steel Fortress?"

Before Winters could answer, the middle-aged man sarcastically interrupted, "I know, but I can't say, right?"

After confirming that the other party did not intend to make things difficult for him, Winters nodded apologetically: "Actually, I don't know much about it either."

The middle-aged man poured himself a drink, ignoring Winters.

Winters stood quietly for a while, and as the atmosphere began to become somewhat awkward, he cautiously asked, "And then, sir?"

"And then?" The middle-aged man glanced at Winters.

"That's it?" Winters asked, mustering his courage.

"Then what else do you want?" The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow and retorted, "Wait until I arrest you and torture you severely?"

Winters understood, and he immediately raised his hand in salute: "I am deeply grateful for your kindness."

“Since Monta and Palatour are not at war, you are not within my jurisdiction. Behave yourself and don’t cause trouble.” The middle-aged man waved his hand, signaling Winters to leave.

Separated by a wall, the atmosphere in the hall was lively, while the corridor was cold and deserted. Winters took a few steps away and then turned back.

Faced with the middle-aged man's displeased gaze, Winters explained with a wry smile, "I'm more comfortable in places with fewer people. Would you mind having another person to drink with?"

The middle-aged man pushed the wine glass, which slid across the marble windowsill and stopped in front of Winters.

Winters made up his mind that he would neither ask for help nor inquire about the other party's identity unless the other party told him on his own initiative.

There's no need to ask. There are only so many officers from the Army Academy, and even fewer who could appear in Steel Fortress. Combined with their age and physical characteristics, you can simply ask Carlo Ed afterward to find out who they are.

The middle-aged man asked sarcastically, "The matchmaker went to great lengths to get you tickets to the Esther family's reception, aren't you going to go and network with the sellers and get acquainted with them?"

“Actually, I don’t know who to do business with right now,” Winters answered honestly.

The middle-aged man glared at Winters: "Then do you know where this place is?"

"The residence of Borso da Este".

"That's all you know?"

"...Please enlighten me."

"Whose people are Esther?" the middle-aged man asked casually.

Winters gave a cautious answer: "The Venetians."

The middle-aged man sneered.

“Uh…” Winters answered tentatively, “Mayor Wupper’s friend?”

“No, it’s ‘ally,’” the middle-aged man corrected, then continued, “And who is Paul Wupper?”

"Mayor of Steelburg, the Woodpecker Canal is named after his family."

"No, it's 'the outgoing mayor.' Whether he'll get the position of chief executive in the next council is anyone's guess."

The middle-aged man leaned against the windowsill, looking towards the wall at the end of the corridor. On the other side of the wall, out of the sight of Winters and the middle-aged man, the most powerful and wealthy people in Steel Castle were clinking glasses, laughing and talking noisily. "So," the middle-aged man looked at Winters, "what is White Eagle trying to do with these people?"

The sudden trade ban, the extinguished steel forges, the upcoming guild elections... a jumble of information gathered in Winters' mind, and he quickly concluded: "Campaign for votes."

"Bullshit." The middle-aged man scoffed. "It's bribery!"

Winters remained silent.

"Look! This is how the United Provinces and the Venetians corrupt us!" the middle-aged man cynicistically declared. "Your Plato is being corrupted, while our Monta has been corrupted for years. The tentacles of the United Provinces and the Venetians reach out like this, spreading and growing in every shadow beneath the mountains. They tear each other apart for control of Monta, but no one cares about the lives of the Monta people. A free republic forever united? Ha, do tyrants and slaves even deserve to talk about freedom and unity?"

The middle-aged man tilted his head back and drank the remaining liquor in his glass, leaving only a small portion of the bottle empty.

The Republic of Monta and the Republic of Vane have been under – to put it nicely, “supervision”; to be honest, “control” – since their inception. And Platu, torn in two, will likely suffer a similar fate, no longer able to exist as an independent political entity within the alliance.

Winters guessed that the other party mistook him for a Platonic soldier, which was why he felt some sympathy and that led to the conversation.

Winters, holding his wine glass, asked boldly and calmly, "So, sir, what is the attitude of the predecessors of the Monta Army?"

The middle-aged man instantly became alert, the drunkenness in his eyes vanished, and his gaze sharpened again, becoming as firm as needles: "What attitude?"

"Regarding your stance on war," Winters asked bluntly, without mincing words, "If the United Provinces demand it, will you take sides? Will you declare war or even send troops?"

"What, are you scared?" the middle-aged man asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Winterstan replied readily. “The Third Republic might still have a fighting chance against the puppet government of the Kingsburg alone. But if it is besieged on three sides by the Kingsburg, the United Provinces, and Monta, then defeat is only a matter of time. Even if the Monta Republic does not send troops directly, but only deploys a legion on the border as a diversion, the Third Republic cannot withstand it. So I hope to know the attitude of the Monta army’s decision-makers.”

"So what if I know?" the middle-aged man asked casually, sipping his strong liquor. "Surrendering in advance?"

Winters pondered for a moment: "I don't know what can be done either. In the end, we'll just have to take it one step at a time."

The middle-aged man glanced at Winters with a hint of surprise, then clicked his tongue and sighed, "When I was your age, if someone had asked me the same question, I would have blushed and sworn an oath of 'I'd rather die than surrender.' You're not exaggerating, that's good. Going to your death is difficult; until the very last moment, no one knows whether they are a hero or a coward."

Winters did not accept the praise, so he did nothing.

“Listen, son, not a single Monta wants to fight the Paratus. We’ve already shed too much blood; we don’t want to be buried far from our homeland. But sometimes…” The middle-aged man gazed out the window, quoting Winters, “we can also be ‘helpless.’ Do you understand?”

Winters nodded: "Understood."

"You don't know anything!" The middle-aged man slapped Winters on the forehead, then waved him away listlessly. "Get lost. Go toast with the gentlemen in the hall. Beg them to sell you more weapons so that you Palatine people can bleed even more."

Winters took the bottle, poured half a glass of wine for the middle-aged man, and poured some for himself: "But I really don't know anyone inside, sir. It's more comfortable here."

The middle-aged man glanced at the empty bottle, downed the last bit of liquor in his glass, and nonchalantly wiped his hands with the curtains: "Come on, I'll show you the rotten flesh beneath Steel Castle's glamorous exterior."

After saying that, he put down his wine glass and walked towards the banquet hall.

Winters paused for a moment, then quickly followed.

……

Meanwhile, in another residence in the northern part of the city.

A dark-faced man from the Lacey Brothers Trading Company, an agent of the Imperial Security Council, is reporting to another man wearing an iron mask.

The dark-faced man stood respectfully in front of the table, not daring to slack off in the slightest.

The man wearing the iron mask asked in a muffled voice, "Da Granah?"

“Yes.” The dark-faced man nodded emphatically. “I got the register and confirmed that it is this surname.”

"It seems to be a surname from the foothills of the mountains," the masked man mused. "Is it a family in exile?"

The dark-faced man looked troubled: "This... I'm afraid I don't know."

Following the Sovereignty War, a large number of provincial nobles fled to the Empire and Venetia to escape the purges.

Some of the provincial nobles who fled to the empire scattered among the common people, while others were rescued, selected, and appointed by the emperor, becoming [court nobles] who had titles but no actual fiefdoms and were completely dependent on imperial power.

With the help of exiled nobles, the emperor gradually consolidated power and suppressed the empire's former powerful lords. In this process, the "southern exiles" also became a significant political force within the empire.

“Granahsi…that seems to be a family name from the foothills.” The masked man chewed on the unfamiliar surname repeatedly, then asked, “What coat of arms does that baron use?”

“Golden Shield Lion.” The dark-faced man hurriedly took out a folded piece of white paper from his pocket, presented it with both hands, and said as if to claim credit, “I made a special trip to the South District to copy it exactly as Baron Granah’s carriage.”

The masked man unfolded the white paper and commented, "Hmm... quite simple, kite-shaped shield, no crown. Winged lion? Then it might really be an exile. What's that on this side? A whip? Serrated edges?"

"It looks like ears of wheat," the dark-faced man answered cautiously.

The masked man chuckled and put down the white paper with the emblem drawn on it: "What is the meaning of drawing ears of wheat in the emblem? It's getting more and more absurd."

The dark-faced man wiped the sweat from his forehead: "Yeah, who knows what those adults are thinking."

The evolution of heraldry is undoubtedly the best testament to the growing extravagance of the empire.

In the early days when nobles, both high and low, were extremely poor, there were no clear distinctions between coats of arms and shields; they were merely symbols to differentiate friend from foe, so their structures were very simple and straightforward. Three circles or a cross could both be used as emblems.

But now, with the imperial nobility accumulating ever greater wealth, coats of arms have become a competitive commodity. The coats of arms of various families are becoming increasingly elaborate and luxurious, with each family wanting to include every symbol that can elevate their status.

Not only nobles, but also merchants, guilds and cities began to create their own coats of arms, and the call for "standardization of coat of arms" grew louder and louder.

So neither the masked man nor the black-faced man knew whether "wheat ears" were a recently popular new element.

After a moment of contemplation, the masked man asked, "Did Baron Granahy come with his wife?"

"Yes," the dark-faced man replied, "There are also a few Dusak guards. I personally confirmed that they are indeed Dusak."

"What is their purpose in coming to Steel Fortress?"

"I don't know." The dark-faced man asked tentatively, "Shall we go and pay them a visit, sir?"

The masked man waved his hand: "What's the point of a mere baron visiting them? Just keep an eye on them. Your priority right now is to keep a close eye on White Eagle; White Eagle is the key. As for the Baron and Baron... remind them to leave Steel Castle if necessary. As for their lives, don't worry about them."

“That’s what I’m worried about too.” The dark-faced man cleared his throat and said cautiously, “According to my investigation, the Baron and his wife went to White Eagle’s mansion tonight.”

The masked man paused for a moment, his expression hidden beneath the mask, revealing no change: "What are you going to do?"

"I...I don't know..." The dark-faced man suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. He bent over with all his might: "I will go and find out right away."

The masked man nodded slightly, and the dark-faced man turned and hurriedly left.

After the dark-faced man left, the masked man took off his mask, stood up, and pushed open the hidden door behind him.

Behind the masked man's seat was a spacious cubicle. The entire conversation between the masked man and the black-faced man could be clearly heard inside the cubicle.

Inside the cubicle, a blond, green-eyed man reclined on a chaise lounge.

The dark-faced man thought the masked man was the legendary "messenger," but in the blink of an eye, the masked man stood respectfully before the real messenger.

"Baron Granah went to see the White Eagle?" The blond, green-eyed man fiddled with a small, prairie-style knife, a smile playing on his lips. "Interesting."

[Comrades, after repeated testing, I've finally figured out why I was getting a reply, but it wasn't showing up in the notification messages.]
Because I use the Qidian author client to reply to everyone. Messages sent from the author client don't show up in the "Qidian Reading APP". But only by using the author client can I read every comment (not just the latest chapter, but also new comments from previous chapters), so I still need to continue using the author client.
[My current solution: try to view comments in the author's app, and then reply in the reader's app T_T]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, rewards, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)