Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 376 The Whirlpool (Part 3)

Without White Eagle's lavish praise, Winters probably wouldn't have associated Paul Wooper with the renowned mayor of Steelburg.

Because His Excellency the Mayor has a face that is one of indulgence and debauchery: his skin is sallow, his eyes are bloodshot, and dark purple pimples are spreading around his nose and lips.

Paul Wuppert looks to be in his early forties, but he is probably much younger than he actually is—the effects of alcohol and sex have taken their toll on his health, causing him to age prematurely.

However, it's not surprising at all that White Eagle could form such a deep personal relationship with this kind of person.

After Mayor Paul Wooper entered, he first walked around with White Eagle, exchanging pleasantries with the other guests.

After exchanging greetings with everyone, Paul Wupper approached the corner where Colonel Berne, Winters, and the old blacksmiths were.

Paul Wuppert walked cautiously, as if afraid of tripping at any moment. Beneath his stately velvet coat, his two chubby legs, encased in fashionable light-colored stockings, moved reluctantly.

"Your Excellency Mayor," Colonel Bern greeted him.

“Oh, Colonel, you’ve come too.” Paul Wupper forced a smile and mumbled indistinctly, “That’s great.”

After a moment, the elderly Schmidt extended his hand, his tone neither warm nor cold: "Mayor Wooder."

Paul Wuppert's face was plastered with a fawning smile, and he quickly extended his hand as well: "Why don't you call me Paul like you used to, Papa Schmidt?"

Winters saw the rough, dark, scarred hand briefly shake hands with the fair, clean hand before quickly separating.

Now that Schmidt had made his stance clear, the other old blacksmiths didn't embarrass Mayor Woopper. Some greeted him, some shook hands, and some—like the one-eyed blacksmith—simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Paul Woodper wanted to chat a bit more, but Schmid didn't give him a chance to beat around the bush and went straight to the question everyone was most concerned about: "So, how exactly do you plan to resolve the trade ban, Your Excellency Mayor?"

Paul Wuppert's expression stiffened, and he stammered, "Didn't you and I talk about this before?"

“We talked, but you didn’t make any promises, not any promises I could trust, Your Excellency Mayor!” Schmid said mercilessly.

“As you know, non-interference in the Paratul civil war is a formal resolution of the Upper House.” Paul Wupper’s eyes darted around. “Although Solingen is called an autonomous state and Steelburg is called an autonomous city, we are ultimately part of Monta and must obey the laws of the Republic.”

"[Indignant Monta curses]! When will those spineless cowards of Hornburg be able to control Solingen?" the one-eyed old blacksmith roared. "The Upper Parliament? The provincial circus! What are their laws worth? Did the Lower Parliament pass them? Did the Grand Parliament pass them?"

The one-eyed blacksmith used a very vulgar Montaan slang term, which literally means "[a servant who holds the master's eggs behind him as he walks]." Winters didn't understand at first, but considering the context, he felt that the one-eyed blacksmith was probably cursing the people of Hornburg for being spineless.

Another old blacksmith also said sarcastically, "In the end, the halberd is in someone else's hands, so of course they can take whatever they want."

Paul Wupper kept wiping the sweat from his brow, casting a pleading look at Colonel Bern:

"Gentlemen, the Republic's legions are not for fighting against our own people." Colonel Bern cleared his throat. "In any case, the states have enjoyed two generations of peace, haven't they? No more conscription, no more exorbitant taxes. It really saddens me to think that some of you are comparing the army to a weapon in the hands of bandits."

The one-eyed old blacksmith snorted and stopped cursing.

"The ban is only on weapons," Paul Wupper quickly added, seeing the atmosphere ease. "The export of other goods is not restricted, and business can still be done normally."

Paul Wuppert's silence only fueled the anger of the old blacksmiths once more.

"Does a piece of iron count as a weapon? Does a steel disc count as a weapon? Aren't iron materials also prohibited?" The old man with a hoarse voice slammed his wine glass heavily on the table. "I'll put this down—if we don't sell weapons to the Paratus, we won't be able to smuggle any other goods out! Or have the Paratus become unusually lenient without my knowledge?"

"The Paratul people will always need our iron tools; they can't blockade the Jinliu River forever. If all else fails, we can still travel by land..."

"By land? Where to?" The one-eyed old blacksmith rudely interrupted Mayor Woodpecker. "East? To Vane? North? To the Empire? Or west? To do business with the barbarians of the wasteland?"

Paul Wooper's tone was almost pleading, and even Winters could tell he was already exhausted: "There are also moral considerations for not getting involved in the Paratul Civil War. Making blood money off our allies would damage Steel Castle's reputation and harm our long-term interests."

"Morality?" The questioning voice was as grating as shards of glass in one's throat, sharper than a dagger: "The United Provinces forbid us from selling weapons, so what are they doing? Our forges are as cold as iceboxes, while the chimneys of the Victory Arsenal are spewing black clouds. They're forging weapons day and night, preparing to make a fortune!"

Winters' memories were triggered by "Victory Arsenal," recalling the towering fire in the Guido Port area that night: the United Province rebuilt Victory Arsenal.

Paul Wuppert had nothing to say. He glanced furtively at the audience, who were only surrounded by a few old blacksmiths, Colonel Bern, and his adjutant—his gaze barely lingering on Winters.

Seeing that there were no outsiders present, the mayor of Steel Castle, with a bitter face, defended himself in a humble tone: "A decree directly signed by the Upper Council cannot be lifted just like that. I have already sent people to Horn Castle to protest against Father Schmid... Gentlemen, the most important thing right now is the election. Only if I am still the mayor of Steel Castle can I continue to negotiate with the Grand Council to protect the interests of Steel Castle."

“So, gentlemen,” Paul Wupper looked expectantly at the old blacksmiths, “can I get your support?”

The old blacksmiths all looked at Schmidt at the same time.

Old man Schmid, with a stern face, gave an ambiguous answer: "Every forge master will ultimately support the person they deem most suitable."

"Let the forge continue to shut down," the one-eyed old blacksmith continued, his voice filled with both grief and sarcasm. "Who knows if our forge will still be ours in the future?"

Paul Wuppert could hardly hide his disappointment. He licked his lips and whispered words of comfort to the old blacksmiths: "There's always a way. We'll solve this for everyone..."

After saying that, Paul Wupper realized the atmosphere was too awkward and there was no point in continuing the conversation. So he made an excuse and decided to leave the old blacksmiths' small circle.

Colonel Bern also needed to discuss winter training with Mayor Wupper, so he accompanied Paul Wupper on his departure.

Winters memorized the faces and information of the old blacksmiths one last time, politely greeted the elders, and then naturally made his exit.

Colonel Berne clearly had serious business to discuss with Mayor Woopper, so Winters didn't want to follow. He had originally planned to go find Kaman and Anna, but unexpectedly discovered Carlo Ed waving at him.

"Do you know Colonel Bern?" Mr. Ed asked, somewhat surprised.

Winters replied, "I only learned the name today."

"What is that...?"

“It’s a long story,” Winters explained succinctly. “Colonel Bern mistook me for an envoy of the Plattau military government. But who is he?”

"Colonel Bern?"

"Correct."

"The highest military commander of Solingen, a war hero, served in overseas colonies. It is said that with his seniority and merits, he should have been promoted to general long ago, but for some reason he is still a colonel. He commands two infantry battalions of the Eighth Army Corps, stationed just outside Steel Castle." The old partner of Navarre Trading Company added, "The Monta Army has a complicated relationship with the United Provinces, so we generally do not approach Monta officers on our own initiative."

Winters recalled the colonel's undisguised hostility toward the United Provinces and Vineta: "I can probably guess why Colonel Bern isn't General Bern yet."

"why?"

"He hates the Venetians."

Mr. Ed said calmly, "The general attitude."

He also hated the people of the United Provinces.

Mr. Ed glanced sideways at the guests in the hall: "These are pretty much all the Monta people you can see right now."

"His hatred was very explicit."

“I see.” Old Mr. Ed clapped his hands. “Then I’m not surprised that you, Colonel, couldn’t become a general.”

Winters wanted to laugh but couldn't. He sighed and said, "You summoned me here to introduce me to a seller?"

“No, it’s not an introduction.” Carlo Ed explained calmly, “White Eagle said he will bring the seller to you and he hopes you can close the deal, but you will need to negotiate the specific terms with the seller in person.”

"Deliver it to me? How do you mean 'deliver' it?"

Old Mr. Ed summoned a servant of the Esther family, gave him a few brief instructions, and then turned to Winters and said, "Please go with him, sir."

"Me alone?" A slight smile appeared on Carlo Ed's deeply lined face. "It's inconvenient for the lady to appear in this kind of setting."

"Please call Father Kaman over for me."

……

The servants of the Esther family led Winters and Carman out of the hall, through a fragrant corridor, to a small reception room on the north side of the mansion.

The servant asked Winters and Carman to wait in the small drawing room, then backed out of the room.

“[Old saying] The Flora always manage to shock me with their wastefulness.” Winters sniffed the fragrance in the air. “[Old saying] The corridors are scented too? Do they think spices are free?”

In winter, poor ventilation can easily lead to unpleasant odors in crowded places. To address this issue, incense burners were placed throughout the main hall of the Este Palace, continuously releasing a unique, subtle fragrance into the air.

To Winters' surprise, White Eagle even used incense in the corridors and small meeting rooms where there were few people.

"Weren't you having a great chat with them?" Kaman asked irritably. "Why did you call me here?"

“[Old saying] In fact, I didn’t say a word just now.” Winters said seriously, “[Old saying] The most important part of a play is the final act, so I am still the Baron, and you are still my private priest.”

Kaman didn't respond at all.

“[Old saying] So…” Winters kicked Kaman: “[Old saying] Get up and stand behind me. How can you sit while I’m sitting?”

Kaman was furious, but in the end he stood behind Winters.

“[Old saying] Don’t be angry, it’s just an act.” Winters picked up an apple from the small table and handed it to Kaman: “[Old saying] Here, this is for you.”

Kaman took the apple and threw it at Winters.

“[Old saying] If you don’t want to eat it, then don’t eat it. Why waste it?” Winters deftly caught the apple and put it back on the small table.

The wait always seemed long. Winters leaned back on the bench and casually asked Kaman, "Father, may I ask you a question?"

“[Old saying] No.” Kaman refused outright.

"[Old saying] Is there really a divine art that can detect lies?"

[Old saying] Guess.

“[Old saying] I guess not.” Winters analyzed seriously: “[Old saying] Your Catholic Church is the lackey of the oath-breakers. If the Catholic Church had divine magic to detect lies, then there would be no rebellions or conspiracies in the Empire.”

“[Old saying] You’re right, no.”

Winters suddenly stood up: "[Old saying] So what did you use on the mountain that day...?"

Kaman sneered: "[Old saying] I was lying to you."

Winters clutched his chest, speechless for a long time.

"How are you feeling?" Kaman continued to rub salt into the wound. "You must feel bad about being lied to, right?"

Winters leaned back in his chair and said quietly, "[Old saying] I can no longer distinguish between truth and falsehood."

After a moment of silence, Kaman asked, half curious and half puzzled, "[Old saying] Winters Montagne, haven't you thought about what you would do if we actually started fighting that day?"

"[Old saying] What else can I do?" Winters answered honestly, "[Old saying] I can only hope that you don't have any lethal magic, then at most I'll get beaten up by you, or... I'll beat you up."

Kaman chuckled dismissively.

Winters blinked and said in a deliberately light tone, "[Old saying] Now that I think about it, the scene from that day is still vivid in my mind. Seeing Father Kaman's outburst, I would have been willing to take a beating for it."

Kaman's smile froze at the corner of his mouth.

“[Old saying] I wonder if you still remember the details of that day.” Winters cleared his throat: “[Old saying] I remember it very clearly.”

Kaman suddenly fell silent.

"[Old saying] I don't know who it was, but he clenched his fists tightly, his eyes were as big as bells, and he looked like a mad bull."

Kaman fell into complete silence.

“[Old saying] I thought we were friends.” Winters mimicked Kaman’s tone in a serious manner: “[Old saying] Is this how you treat your friends?”

Kaman managed to utter, "[Old saying] Enough, stop talking..."

How could that be? Pressing the attack after a victory is the choice of a tactician.

Winters asked curiously, "[Old saying] How did you say those things back then? 'You really have no shame in saying those things, as expected of you.'"

Kaman's voice grew weaker and weaker: "[Old saying] I beg you, please stop..."

"[Old saying] If this were in a novel, you would be nailed to the pillar of shame for life if you said such a strange line."

"[Old saying] Stop talking!" Kaman suddenly erupted, grabbing Winters by the throat: "[Old saying] Stop talking! Stop talking!"

The priest's arm was unexpectedly strong, and Winters immediately found it hard to breathe. He struggled desperately, pleading for a stop: "Okay! I won't say anything more!"

It was too late. Kaman let go of his hand and searched aimlessly in the small living room.

Winters asked warily, "What are you going to do?"

“There’s no other way,” Kaman muttered. “We have to use memory erasure.”

Winters was taken aback: "Such divine magic exists?"

Kaman finally found his target. He grabbed the armrest of the bench and used his knees and arms to pull hard. With a "crack," the carved wooden armrest was snapped in two by Kaman.

Kaman picked up his newly acquired warhammer, turned and glared at Winters: "It's not divine magic."

Winters realized something was wrong: "Wait a minute..."

“It’s nothing.” Kaman slowly approached Winters. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

Winters also grabbed the armrest of the bench beside him, mimicking Kaman's method of applying force up and down.

The handrail remained completely still.

Just as Winters was about to use Disintegrate to blast open the armrest, heavy footsteps stopped the impending duel.

Kaman paused for a moment, then quickly walked to the side of the bench and stood there expressionlessly—his baton was hidden behind him.

Winters calmed his breathing and resumed a relaxed sitting posture.

The door opened, and a burly figure appeared in the doorway. The old blacksmith, Schmid, walked into the small reception room with a slightly reserved air.

Seeing the young man sitting on the bench, old man Schmid asked in confusion, "You...are...you..."

Winters was initially surprised, but he reacted quickly, stood up abruptly, strode to the old blacksmith, shook the old blacksmith's rough hand, and said with a smile, "That's right, Mr. Schmid, it's me."

[I'm late, sorry]
[Note 1: Under the trade embargo facing Steelburg, weapons and raw materials that can be made into weapons are not allowed to be sold to Palatul. That's why the old blacksmiths said, "We can't sell weapons, we can't sell steel ingots or bars of iron, so what can we sell?"]
[Note 2: Forms of Iron Trading: In general, the primary form of iron trading, besides manufactured goods, is iron ingots (various metal ingots in WoW). However, iron ingots were actually only the main form of trading during the "Breakout" era, because the product of the Breakout Forge is "blocks," which are easily forged into "ingots."]
[However, the form of "ingots" was not conducive to processing into commonly used utensils, so after the blast furnace era, when humans could obtain molten iron, the main form of iron trade was in bars (bar-shaped iron was easier to process) or iron plates (after the advent of rolling mills)]
[According to Volume II of the History of Technology, in ancient times, "steel" also took another form of trade—steel ingots. Steel ingots could be directly folded and forged into swords, making them easier to process than bars, granules, or fragments like tamahagane (steel steel).]
The Romans once imported steel discs from the East to forge weapons. Each disc was 5 inches in diameter, 0.5 inches thick, and weighed 2 pounds. They called it "Chinese iron"—it was actually produced in the Hyderabad region of India.
[There's also granular steel—a type of steel with prices comparable to precious metals.]
[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)