Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 403 Echoes Through the Mountains (The End)

If Servetus had previously struggled to understand why the "Baron" always kept his "Madam" by his side, then when he saw Anna with her hair tied up, wearing a short jacket, breeches, and boots, he at least realized that the Baron's unusual behavior was not some kind of pretense.

In fact, Anna was busier than Winters as the departure date approached.

Although Carlo Ed generously lent Winters all his reliable companions, it was still far from enough for a large caravan hastily assembled.

There are always bills to be settled, documents waiting to be archived, and trucks yet to be inspected... In a "caravan" where most core personnel only know how to ride horses, wield swords, and fire guns, Anna is almost always the one who handles important functions such as documentation, auditing, and logistics.

While Charles went to fetch Anna, Ms. Navarre was still confirming the supply and procurement list for the next camp with the advance trading company employees.

Entering the tent, Anna curtsied somewhat awkwardly, unsure of where to place her hands. According to tradition, she should place her hands on her skirt—and, equally according to tradition, wearing trousers was considered extremely inappropriate for a well-mannered lady.

Winters walked over to Anna, leaning on his cane, and calmly took her hand. He then turned to Servet and said, "Your Excellency, you may speak now."

Servetus, always straightforward, didn't waste time on diplomatic rhetoric. He nodded slightly.

With a hint of guilt, he said, "I regret to inform you both that the vote of all the forge masters is... no. The majority of forge masters do not want to change the precious virtues and way of life that have been passed down through generations in this land. But we appreciate your help, and you will always be a friend of Steelburg."

“Hmm.” Winters nodded.

John Servit keenly observed the subtle changes in the expressions of the young couple before him—the Baron's emotions barely fluctuated, even appearing indifferent, with a hint of contempt inadvertently showing in his eyes; the Baroness, who was not much older than her granddaughter, showed a little disappointment, but did not seem surprised.

"You knew the result all along?" Servet frowned, because even he didn't know what the final answer would be until the vote count was over.

The two sides were deadlocked, and most forge owners were undecided. The event was rushed, and no one was outside counting the votes. Servet felt as if he had been swept into a fog-shrouded valley by a runaway carriage, a situation that unusually instilled a sense of crisis and fear in the usually meticulous senator.

“Of course not, Your Excellency.” Anna felt a slight touch on her palm; it was clearly Winters drawing circles in her hand in celebration. She replied politely, “You told us the result.”

Servetus retorted, "But you don't seem surprised."

Winters glanced at the clothes rack: "If a share of the profit is divided among ten people, half of them will be dissatisfied, let alone if it's divided among four hundred people?"

Anna walked helplessly to the clothes rack and, with a faint smile, fetched a cashmere robe for Winters.

Servetus still wouldn't give up: "What are you trying to say? Four hundred people are too many; can't you choose the answer that's most advantageous to yourself?"

“No, quite the opposite, they chose the answer that was most advantageous to themselves,” Winters said sincerely as he dressed. “If it were a vote by all the registered blacksmiths, I think the result would be quite different.”

Servetus was speechless.

With Anna's help, Winters put on his last coat, fastened his belt, and hung his silver-sheathed sword.

He extended his arm to the weary congressman: "Until we meet again, Your Excellency Servet."

The two shook hands, and Winters lifted the tent flap, stepping over the thick leather covering that shielded him from the cold wind and noise, and strode confidently into a muddy, cold, noisy, yet vibrant world:
Forests, snow lines, and rolling mountains; everywhere in the valleys, there are tents being dismantled, neighing and trotting draft animals, wagons covered with tarpaulins, expressionless men, hurried boys, and families rushing to say goodbye...

When Winters first saw Steel Castle, he was a traveler battered by wind and rain, with only a gold bar worth 140,000 Ducatiers.

When he takes his last look at Steel Castle, he will take with him 173 cartloads of guns, swords, armor, iron, books, tools and instruments... as well as unspent gold bars and silver coins.

The actual number of carriages controlled by his "caravan" was more than 173.

Since 173 were merely freight wagons, the 64 supply wagons, the crew barely managing to keep the convoy running, and all the draft horses and mules that could be bought in Solingen also left with Winters.

If so many carriages were to depart on the same day, the last carriage would not be able to leave Steel Castle even by nightfall. Therefore, the leading convoy had already set off three days earlier.

Winters' guards were also assigned to various posts within the convoy, assuming the duties of junior officers. The Monta's military traditions made them naturally organized, disciplined, and obedient, saving Winters considerable effort.

“Mr. Neufield,” Winters walked straight to a carriage by the roadside and asked the white-haired old man holding the reins, “Are they ready?”

“I have done my best to repair them, sir.” The white-haired old man took off his hat, swallowed hard, and swore as if to say, “They will not have any problems.”

The white-haired old man's carriage was empty of goods, containing only two equally uneasy brown-haired young men and various tools; it was practically a mobile carriage shop.

……

Winters's "caravan" did not include any registered Steelburg blacksmiths—he did not exploit any loopholes or play word games in this matter—but rather several craftsmen from other trades who had lost everything in the fire and were in debt, such as the white-haired old man Neufield and his two apprentices.

Faced with an advance payment sufficient to pay off his debts and even buy another workshop, old man Neufield signed a five-year contract without hesitation. The other craftsmen did the same; Winters welcomed anyone willing to work on the newly cultivated land.

Of course, what he wanted most was a blacksmith. But he had tried to bribe the registered blacksmiths, only to never receive a positive response.

Perhaps everyone has a price, but through hundreds of years of institutional accumulation, the Steel Fortress Blacksmith Guild has raised the price of blacksmiths to a level that other buyers cannot afford.

Blood ties, family, status, guarantors, apprenticeship period, sense of honor, bounty system, internal relief system... too many things bind the steel fortress blacksmiths, making buying them an extremely unprofitable business activity.

Upon realizing this, Winters re-examined the plan and turned his attention to the group outside the guild system, below the blacksmith class—the laborers.

He recruited laborers who had worked in blacksmith workshops for many years and possessed a skill.

Although there were still very few applicants.

……

The camp was divided into inner and outer rings, with supply wagons inside and freight wagons outside, guarded in the middle.

Ernst Fuller, waiting on the outer perimeter, spotted the Baron from afar and immediately wanted to approach him. The guards, however, refused to let him pass, forcing Fuller to shout, "My lord! My lord! Oh! I know you! Let me through!"

Charles waved his hand, and the guards let him pass.

Fuller jogged to the Baron's side, finally catching his breath. He was about to offer some polite farewell when he suddenly recalled the tumultuous events of the past few days. Overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes welled up with tears: "I...you..."

Winters looked at Fuller with some emotion, then smiled and extended his hand.

Without saying a word, Fuller immediately shook hands with him.

He gathered his emotions again, ready to speak, but was interrupted once more. The Baron said gently, "Mr. Fuller, do you remember our conversation at the Lakeside Inn last time?"

Fuller nodded vigorously.

“During that conversation, you talked about how your father and grandfather had managed to build two forges, and how you had squandered them. You blamed yourself, berated yourself, and regretted borrowing money to do business.”

Fuller's cheeks gradually flushed red.

"You may have forgotten what you said that day, but I remember it all. Because I think you're right. The way of accumulating wealth generation by generation and expanding slowly is too slow! It takes decades to build a family business, how can that be enough? Your 'lending business' is a brilliant strategy! It allows people who start from scratch to skip the long road of the initial stage, what a bold offensive! It's just..." Winters revealed his true thoughts to the Steel Castle people for the first time: "It's just that I don't think it's suitable for a place like Steel Castle."

Fuller, his eyes blurry with tears, didn't hear what the baron was saying at first. By the time he caught the words, the young baron had already left.

After making his final inspection of the camp, Winters took the reins of Longwind from Charles, nodded, and mounted his horse.

Charles pulled on the bridle of the long wind, took a deep breath, glared, and let out a thunderous roar that pierced the clouds and shattered rocks: "Quiet! His Excellency the Tribunal has something to say!"

The campsite instantly became solemn, and people scattered throughout the camp quickly gathered in the central open space.

The men and women nurtured by the mountains stood silently, sizing up the young officer on the white horse, while Winters sized up the Monta people before him.

There were at least a thousand people standing in twos and threes on the open ground, organized by family units.

However, fewer than 500 of them would actually leave Solingen with the convoy; the rest were women and children who came to see them off.

Of the fewer than 500 members of the caravan, half only went to the border town of Lucerne—they were mainly drivers—while the other half were the actual laborers who were going to the newly cultivated land.

The vast majority of the laborers who went to the newly reclaimed land were adult men who had received resettlement allowances, and very few Monta people actually brought their families and intended to "relocate".

Two hundred laborers and a few skilled craftsmen—less than half a brigade in total—that was all Winters could recruit. Far fewer than expected, but the result was not surprising.

For many Monta people living in the mountains, the newly reclaimed land is not a real place name, but a concept that exists only in stories and legends.

This perception magnified the distance between the newly reclaimed lands and Monta, making Iron Peak County seem like an unreachable land.

Therefore, the vast majority of the recruited Monta were men with wives and children or younger brothers in large families. They did not see themselves as migrants, but rather as recruits with the same self-sacrificing determination as soldiers in the imperial era, receiving their blood money—a resettlement allowance—from Winters.

Those who truly have nothing are more willing to try their luck in other free states than to go to the rumored, war-torn lands of Runaway Horse.

Winters rode the long wind slowly past the front of the crowd, his gaze sweeping over them.

What did he see?

Anxious gazes, somber faces, a husband and wife bidding farewell, a mother biting her lip to hold back tears…

The hardships of life and the tradition of blood money have led the Monta people to silently endure everything in a habitual manner. They may have been prepared to be buried far from home, but Winters did not want them to die.

Guiding Changfeng back to the open space, Winters once again surveyed the crowd and slowly spoke: "From today onwards, you will embark on your journey to the Land of Galloping Horses. You have signed a contract to serve me, and in return, I promise to be forever honest with you. Therefore, I must honestly tell you, you—are not the people I originally wanted."

“What I need are blacksmiths. From the beginning to the end, my goal has been to hire blacksmiths. Some of you have worked in the workshop for more than ten years, some are apprentices who have not completed their apprenticeships, and some are blacksmiths from other towns who are not recognized by the Steel Fortress Guild. But you are just laborers—or, as blacksmiths would say, mule drivers. You are not blacksmiths; you are just human-shaped animals.”

On the hillside, the dark spruce trees stood leaning against each other, silently listening to the white horseman's speech. The earth in the valley was still, only numb and cold.

At the edge of the open space, Servetus, Fuller, and the others who had come to see them off frowned, not understanding why the Baron would humiliate the workers present in such a way.

Winters took in every face, and remained silent until the vast earth was utterly still.

"Why don't you refute this?" he asked.

“Why aren’t you angry?” he asked.

“Why aren’t you talking?” he asked.

Winters spurred his horse forward, and the dark mass of people instinctively parted to make way. A vacuum formed between the warhorses and the ragged people.

Winters pointed his riding crop at a lean Monta man in front of him: "Why don't you speak?"

The lean Monta man pursed his lips.

“Do you think I’m right?” Winters asked.

“Do you think you’re a mule?” Winters asked.

“Do you think you deserve to be humiliated?” Winters asked.

The lean Monta man stared intently at the white horseman.

Winters pulled hard on the reins. The wind whistled and lifted its forelegs, bringing Winters back to the crowd.

The dense crowd remained standing silently, like a mountain forest, while Winters was already enraged. He lashed out with his riding whip, the tip cracking as he yelled, "Foolish! Foolish!! How utterly foolish!!!"

"Have you never worked in front of a scorching furnace?"

"Have you never bent red-hot iron bars on a cutting board?"

"Don't you have any scars from being burned by molten iron?"

Winters walked past the silent crowd, looking each person straight in the eye: "Why did I choose you? Because you also know how to use a hammer and anvil! But why are they blacksmiths! And you are mule drivers?"

“Let me tell you why! The Blacksmiths’ Guild—the true masters of Steel Fortress! From the very beginning of the apprentice selection process, they intentionally choose those who ‘have no choice but to obey them’! During the training of apprentices, they also screen out those who ‘might not obey them’!”

“Obedience is the only consideration. Disobedient apprentices are eliminated one by one, while talent and ability become irrelevant! How many of you were once apprentices? How many of you possess skills that rival those of blacksmiths? How many of you have spent more time working beside the forge than the forge's owner?”

"Where was the blacksmith's guild when Adam and Eve first smelted iron ore with fire, after God created iron ore?"

The thunderous shouts echoed through the valley, one after another. Ernst Fuller turned pale with fright, stealing trembling glances at Senator John Servit. John Servit remained expressionless, though his eyes trembled slightly.

Winters dismounted and walked into the crowd, this time without flinching. He leaped onto a carriage, surrounded by men and women.

He paused for a moment, as if trying to suppress his anger. When he spoke again, his tone was no longer as aggressive as before, but one could still sense the magma suppressed beneath the ice:
"In Palatine, in Venetia, in every corner of the Alliance, people consider Steel Keep a city of wealth, a city of glory, a city of greatness, and so did I! Like a messenger seeking wisdom from King Solomon, I came to Steel Keep, hoping to learn how to break free from the shackles of the guilds, hoping to know how a city can prosper without guilds." "But what do I see? I see only the guilds! I see only the shackles! I see only you—blacksmiths, laborers, and craftsmen persecuted and exploited by the guilds!"

Am I wrong?

Am I wrong?

Am I wrong?

Winters asked the question three times in a row, each time more intense than the last.

Guided by the strong wind, the forest gradually emitted a long, resonant echo. The silent men and women of Monta began to respond with low murmurs of agreement.

Winters looked around, meeting the scorching, bright, and angry gazes without fear: "Now, I can tell you in the firmest voice that Steelfortress is nothing special! It was a guild in the past, it is a guild now, and it will be a guild in the future."

His profits still come from monopoly, not competition!

His instinct remains to remain stagnant rather than to be enterprising!

His soul still advocates limiting production, not encouraging it!

Just as rivers inevitably flow into the sea, steel fortresses will be buried by sandstorms, overturned by waves, and abandoned by the times!

Fuller had almost suffocated and fainted, and the others who came to see him off looked at each other in bewilderment, but John Servit suddenly let out a long breath.

Meanwhile, in the center of the crowd.

Winters slammed his fist on the truck floor, bringing his declaration to a resounding close: "Follow me to the new lands! There, you will lose only your shackles, and I will give you a new world!"

Having said that, he jumped off the carriage, not even glancing at the others present, strode out of the crowd, mounted Changfeng, and glanced back one last time in the direction of Steel Fortress.

"set off!"

……

……

Half a month later.

Lucerne is a border city in Monta that is separated from Palatine by only a river.

“This list of yours…” Lieutenant Colonel Elek frowned as he examined the scroll in his hand, his left hand unconsciously tugging at his beard, and asked in a strange tone, “Is it real?”

Inside the tent, on the other side of the small table, Winters slowly shaved: "Of course it's true."

Lieutenant Colonel Elek, who had the best personal relationship with Iron Peak County within the county government—at least in the eyes of other officers—was unsurprisingly assigned to negotiate with Winters.

The brokerage business of a certain unnamed gentleman was going smoothly, as the military government was in dire need of replenishing its armaments, and the supplies sent by Monta were a timely help.

“What I mean is,” Lieutenant Colonel Elek thought for a moment, then, fearing he hadn’t explained himself clearly, decided to be blunt: “The more you write on your list, the more I’ll take. Don’t think that exaggerating will increase your bargaining power. Similarly, underreporting won’t work. I suggest you tell the truth, whatever it is.”

"How much do you intend to take?" Winters stopped what he was doing.

Lieutenant Colonel Elek held up four fingers, then lowered three.

Winters continued shaving: "A quarter? Then just go with this list."

Lieutenant Colonel Elek chuckled coldly.

Winters shaves angrily: "No wonder some people say that even the best military government is the worst government."

"Be content." Lieutenant Colonel Elek scoffed at the barking of the defeated dogs: "At the ministerial meeting, quite a few people thought that you shouldn't get a single share. You are members of the New Reclamation Legion, and you're rebels. Giving you a share is like aiding the enemy twice."

Winters spoke casually, but the threat remained undiminished: "Then I'll sink all the armor and muskets into the river."

"Please." Lieutenant Colonel Elek poured himself some wine, his boots resting on his knees. "Anyway, the ship is in our hands."

Cooperation benefits both sides, while conflict harms both. After some bargaining, the military government's share was settled at three-fifths.

Winters reluctantly signed the handover documents: "I must also warn you, the Monta will only turn a blind eye if you are willing to provide food."

“No problem.” Lieutenant Colonel Elek was prepared: “One ship of arms to the south bank, and three ships of grain to the north bank.”

The lieutenant colonel said with regret, "It's a pity that the Monta people are still wary of us. If they allowed us to build a pontoon bridge, we wouldn't have to go through all this trouble."

This time it was Winters' turn to sneer.

“Don’t be so stingy. General Alpad won’t let you suffer a loss.” Lieutenant Colonel Elek rolled up the documents and put them into a copper tube. “We’re not robbing you, we’re buying. After all the military supplies are inventoried and valued, we will pay you accordingly.”

“Yes.” Winters put down his razor and gave a soft hum: “With military scrip.”

"Three-quarters military scrip, a quarter of silver," Lieutenant Colonel Elek joked. "If I gave you gold too, would you dare take it?"

"Forget it, I don't need you to pay. Your military scrip is just worthless paper in my hands." Winters pleaded solemnly, "I don't want silver coins either. I only ask for one thing: if you agree, I'll give you three-fifths of the total armaments for free."

“Speak.” Lieutenant Colonel Elek raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been traveling all over Monta for miles, and the horses I’ve been pulling have lost a lot of weight. Your government should replace them with a new batch,” Winters continued. “Also, find us some boats to take us to Mirror Lake—land travel is too slow; it’s much better to go by boat.”

Lieutenant Colonel Elek narrowed his eyes: "From the very beginning when you sent me those letters, did you already have the intention of taking a ship back to Iron Peak County?"

"It's wrong to not use waterways when there are them, because we should adapt to local conditions."

“But you should know that Jinghu County is now in the hands of the New Reclamation Army, and the puppet government's troops are also stationed there.” Lieutenant Colonel Elek kindly reminded him, “Our ship can’t get into the mouth of the Dajiao River, so we can’t take you directly back to Tiefeng County.”

“I knew a little about Mirrorlake County before I set out,” Winters said, wiping his razor. “As long as they can get my men to Mirrorlake, that’s fine.”

Seeing Winters' confidence, Lieutenant Colonel Elek said nothing more. He pondered for a moment and said, "I can't make a decision on this matter. I'll give you an answer within two days."

As Winters packed up his knives, he casually remarked, "I have some scrap metal I'd like to haul back to Iron Peak County. Could you please waive the tax?"

Lieutenant Colonel Elek became alert: "It's not just scrap metal, is it?"

“Of course, you know me best.” Winters laughed. “Actually, they are some overburnt or burned swords that are no longer usable, but the iron is still good. I plan to take them back to Iron Peak County to make farm tools.”

“That depends on the situation.” Lieutenant Colonel Elek’s words were cautious, but Winters’ attitude had somewhat lulled him into a false sense of security. He thought for a moment: “I will tell the tax collector the truth. As for how much you have to pay, that’s between you and the tax collector.”

Winters nodded somewhat disappointedly, then pressed Lieutenant Colonel Elek for more information about the league and beyond. After chatting for a while, Lieutenant Colonel Elek prepared to return to the South Shore.

"Oh, right." Before leaving, Lieutenant Colonel Elek remembered something, took two gold bars from his baggage, and placed them on the table: "You asked me to help you with the arrangements. Here, this is what's left over."

Winters didn't say anything like "I'm giving this to you," but instead solemnly put away the two gold bars, stood up, and saluted Lieutenant Colonel Elek.

Lieutenant Colonel Elek gave a soft hum and walked away, satisfied.

……

The next day.

A secret handover officially began right under the noses of the Lucerne garrison. Ships carrying grain and military equipment ply the border river.

At first glance, it seems as if the border crossings, which had been quiet due to the embargo, have returned to their former glory.

“Mr. Fuller.” Winters stood on the dock, leaning on his cane with his left hand and with his right hand on the shoulder of a fat man, asking with a wry smile, “The money you made from me should be enough to pay off your debts, right? It wasn’t because of what I said to you that you got into speculative business again and lost both forges?”

A travel-worn Ernst Fuller grinned: "Actually, I sold him out."

"Isn't that your father's or your grandfather's forge?"

"So, is the price good?"

Winters was a little confused by Fuller: "You risked your life to save your father's and grandfather's forges just to sell them?"

"Actually, I still want to get involved in speculative business," Fuller said somewhat embarrassedly.

“Speculate on what?” Winters withdrew his hand from Fuller’s shoulder.

"Speculating on you."

"Oh?"

“After listening to you that day, I couldn’t sleep all night.” Fuller’s eyes shone brightly. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized you were right. Steel Fortress is no longer a place where you can get rich just by working hard. No matter how much I try, I’ll only make a small splash, and I might even get swallowed by the big fish. So… I’m thinking of making a fortune in a ‘new world.’ Maybe I can build a great business!”

Fuller discreetly patted his round belly: "Besides the money I left for my mother and my sister's dowry, I hid all the money left over from selling the forge here—oh, I spent a little on the journey too."

Winters burst into laughter and put his arm around Fuller's shoulder: "What about your guild oath? Will Steelburg let you reveal the 'secret between the furnace and the anvil' just because you're the forge master?"

"Don't worry! There won't be any problems!" Fuller patted his chest proudly and said, "Because I don't know anything!"

Winters laughed even louder.

When the next grain ship docked, Lieutenant Colonel Elek disembarked.

The lieutenant colonel went straight to Winters, and after a brief greeting, he got straight to the point: "General Alpad has agreed to your request. After all the military supplies are handed over, we will escort you to the border river, where there are boats to take you to Mirror Lake. However, I must make it clear in advance that our fleet will not risk entering the mouth of the Big Horn River."

“No problem.” Winters nodded readily.

"I also brought you a copy of this." The lieutenant colonel took a thin booklet out of his baggage.

“The official gazette?” Winters’ eyes lit up, and he eagerly took it and flipped through it. “They say it’s published every three months, but I haven’t seen it since I came to Palatour.”

“It’s irregular now.” Lieutenant Colonel Elek said with a hint of melancholy, “Everything is in a mess right now, and nobody has the mind to compile the official gazette.”

Winters sighed and closed the official gazette: "Speaking of which, isn't the All-Union Congress about to convene? Will General Alpard attend?"

"Given the current situation, how could General Alpad possibly go in person?" Lieutenant Colonel Elek scoffed. "It's the same with the puppet government. Grove Magnus, that viper, is coiled up in his lair. He's only sent a few representatives."

Winters found a box to sit on, rubbing his aching left leg as he flipped through the official gazette. He said somewhat sadly, "This All-Union Conference might be our last chance. As for Palatul's matter… let Palatul handle it. The United Provinces and Veneta need to open their eyes and see what's on the other side of the mountain."

Lieutenant Colonel Elek sat down next to Winters, supporting his knees, and gazed at the quietly flowing river without saying a word.

At the dock, the dockworkers, who hadn't worked for a long time, were busy loading war supplies onto cargo ships bound for the land of galloping horses.

Just as a Venetta officer and a Palatour officer watched all this in silence, worried about the fate of the alliance.

Unable to see, to their east, all the way to the seashore, another provincial officer was giving a speech to his men.

"...My parents were farmers, devout and honest people. But what did they get in return? Tax collectors exploited them, city dwellers scorned them, landlords oppressed them, and the corrupt and incompetent government allowed all of this to happen!"

A tall, resolute young officer walked among the fully armed soldiers and delivered a passionate speech:

“You all come from peasant families, so you should know the peasants’ plight better than I do! The sovereign war was a war in which peasants shed the most blood and died the most, but what did they gain? Nothing! The bloated urban rich got everything! They overthrew the emperor and installed a new government, but the peasants still have to pay so much tax and perform so much corvée labor!”

These words need not be repeated, because the soldiers have heard them many times in the barracks, in the church, and on the parade ground, and they feel them more deeply than the officers.

The young officer stepped out of the ranks, mounted his warhorse, and drew his sword: "This persecution, which has lasted for thirty years, must end today!"

"Target: State Building in Guitou City! Forward!"

Having said that, the young officer took the lead, and the out-of-control war machine, spewing sulfur and flames, baring sharp fangs, roared as it charged out of the camp.

[I recommend a book, *The Roxelland Chronicles*. This isn't a recommendation requested from someone; it's genuinely well-written, meticulously sketching a world step by step. I'm not good at writing book reviews, so all I can do is—recommend!]
[Yesterday I promised to update a chapter on Valentine's Day as a glorious "proof of my single status." But my brain went blank in the latter half of the night, and I wrote slower and slower until dawn...]
[But! This chapter is a glorious, major chapter!]
[This should also count as proof of being single... right?]
[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)