Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 381 The Whirlpool (Part 8)

As he stepped off the carriage, the cold wind from the lake blew on [Ernst Fuller]'s face, causing him to instinctively shrink his neck.

Fuller was full of hope when he was invited to meet Baron Granahy at his hotel.

However, when Fuller saw the rows of carriages parked in the hotel's open space and the coachmen gathered in the sheltered corner waiting, his enthusiasm gradually cooled.

The guards, carrying sabers, checked the invitation, opened the door for Fuller without a word, and gestured for him to enter.

"No need for a body search?" Fuller asked, trying to sound relaxed and humorous.

The guard sized Fuller up and down, gave a disdainful smile, and replied curtly, "Within five steps, no one is a match for you, sir."

Fuller nodded politely, not taking it too seriously.

As Fuller entered the reception room, his mood grew even heavier.

Everyone is here.

From Mayor Wooder's staunch supporter, Schmidt Sr., to Servet's loyal ally, "Iron Hand" Geisberg;

From a large workshop owner with eleven furnaces to a small business owner like Fuller who only inherited one workshop;

All the sellers who had participated in the negotiation alliance were now in Baron Granah's drawing room.

Fuller suppressed his unease and first approached several elders and large workshop owners to greet them one by one. Then he went to a few of his peers whom he knew well.

"What happened?" Fuller asked in a low voice.

“I have no idea what’s going on!” A small workshop owner who was familiar with Fuller frowned. “I’m completely clueless too.”

"Could it be that the young baron wants to lay all his cards on the table?"

"Showdown? Showdown of what? As long as we stand firm and don't give an inch, what can he possibly show? If we don't procure from Steel Fortress, where else can we sell to him?"

"That's true, that's true..."

The firewood crackled in the fireplace, the fire burned brightly, and the living room was as hot as an ironworks, but Fuller's heart was as cold as his own forge.

"Hey, those imperialists are so damn stingy," a small workshop owner complained angrily, unbuttoning his collar. "They invited us over, but they won't even give us anything to quench our thirst."

The door was pushed open, and the Baron's private priest and interpreter, Kaman, entered the living room.

Iron Hand Geisberg, who had been waiting impatiently, stood defiantly in front of Father Kaman and asked in a gruff voice, "Where is the Baron?"

Kaman replied politely, "The Baron is unwell and unable to receive guests."

A chorus of discontent immediately erupted in the living room.

"What disease?"

Kaman coughed softly: "A headache."

"Then why did he even invite us?" Iron Hand Gasberger's face turned from black to purple, almost dripping blood: "Are you playing us?"

"I invited you all here, of course, to discuss business." Kaman's expression was as calm as a still lake, showing no fear or hesitation.

Iron Hand roared like thunder: "We can't even see the person, what's there to talk about!"

“The Baron has suddenly fallen seriously ill, and all matters, large and small, are now decided by the Lady.” Kaman raised his voice slightly, but his tone remained gentle and refined: “From now on, the Baron’s business dealings with you will also be decided by the Lady.”

While the masters of the forges were still trying to understand what the priest meant, the door to the inner chamber opened again.

A graceful and radiant young woman, whose beauty was so striking that it took one's breath away, entered the living room with poise and elegance.

……

[The night before]
"You really want...you want me to make the decision?" Anna leaned against Winters' chest, her face showing no joy, but rather a hint of fear.

Winters sniffed Anna's hair with relish, then asked in bewilderment, "Haven't you always been the one in charge?"

“But that’s different!” Anna became unusually anxious. She sat up in bed, looked at Winters, and asked somewhat angrily, “I shouldn’t show my face in public so casually, let alone associate with strange men. People will gossip about you, and they will gossip about me. They will say very nasty things…” Winters didn’t hear what Anna was saying at all. His eyes were fixed on Anna’s beautiful body curves.

Ms. Navarre was so shy that she never dared to be honest with Winters in well-lit conditions, and Winters had never had the chance to see the scenery. Now that such a golden opportunity had presented itself, how could Winters be blinded by a few words?

Anna noticed something was wrong and immediately pulled up her robe. She then grabbed a pillow and threw it at Winters, but Winters caught it easily.

Then Winters was kicked off the bed.

The intimate contact between the buttocks and the floor, and the friendly collision between the forehead and the dresser, resulted in two loud thuds.

Then, like dominoes falling, a series of heavy footsteps quickly approached Winters' bedroom along the route through the living room, hallway, and stairs.

Finally, Koch's voice, who was on night watch, rang out from outside the door.

Koch could not hide his panic: "Are you alright? What happened, Your Excellency?"

“It’s nothing!” Winters replied, enduring the pain.

"Are you really alright?" Koch asked, still somewhat doubtful.

Winters struggled to climb into bed: "I'm really okay."

Koch muttered a few words and left, somewhat uneasy.

Having finally gotten rid of his overly dutiful subordinate, Winters turned to look at Anna, only to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching a blanket, with tears in her eyes.

The blanket stood like a barrier between the two of them.

Winters carefully lifted the covers: "I know you're scared. But I'm not worried about you at all, do you know why?"

Anna gave a soft hum, wiped away her tears, and ignored Winters.

“Because I completely understand how you feel right now.” Winters moved closer to Anna. “You feel nervous, scared, and helpless, just like I did the first time I went to war. But when you actually step onto the battlefield, all the unease and anxiety will disappear in an instant. Because what you are about to do is something you are fully capable of.”

Anna let Winters pull her into his arms.

“Rather than keeping you behind the scenes devising strategies, I would rather have you step onto the stage. I trust you as much as I trust my own eyes and hands. Not only do I believe in your abilities, but even my father said, ‘Miss Navarre will achieve more than her mother.’”

Winters slightly altered his adoptive father's original words and kindly cut out the latter half.

"Did General Serbiati really say that?" Anna asked skeptically.

“Of course.” Winters’ face flushed slightly, though the dim lighting made it barely noticeable. “He also said you could hold up half of Veneta!”

Anna burst into laughter through her tears: "You're lying."

"Okay, it's good that you're smiling." Winters breathed a sigh of relief and hugged Anna. "Seeing you cry made my heart ache. Don't worry about what people say; they'll eventually be amazed by your wisdom more than your beauty."

Anna sighed softly.

“Actually, there’s a little ulterior motive behind my wish for you to deal with those workshop owners.” Winters changed the subject, offering another perspective to Anna: “After all this trouble, it turns out the Steel Fortress people are going to team up to raise prices, so you’ll have to clean up the mess for me. Besides, I absolutely hate the hypocritical socializing with those workshop owners. I’d rather jump into Rose Lake three times over than have to fake smile at those guys anymore.”

Anna lightly bit Winters' arm and said angrily, "Are you saying I enjoy insincere social interactions?"

“I mean you’re better at it.” Winters was making matters worse by trying to explain himself.

“Fine, I’ll let you off this time.” Anna nestled against Winters, her breath sweet as orchids. “But you’ve never told me about your first time on the battlefield.”

Anna's warm breath brushed against Winters' chest, making him feel a little itchy. But he still carefully corrected his previous mistake: "To be precise, that battle could only be called a battle; it wasn't large enough to be called a battlefield. It was just a small-scale boarding action against a group of pirates."

Tell me about it.

"It's getting late..."

"The night is still long."

“Alright then.” Winters shifted to a more comfortable position and asked with a smile, “Do you still remember Lucky Gold?”

[This chapter was updated on December 22nd.]
[Only 2265 words, sorry orz][Tentatively, I'll prioritize one update per day, then focus on increasing the word count]
[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)