Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Twenty-nine years ago, an ordinary day in spring.

A tired young man entered a nameless settlement in the Newly Reclaimed Land.

The young man was tall and thin, with a sallow complexion, dressed in old clothes sewn from burlap sacks.

He wore no shoes, but that was no problem. The soles of his feet had developed thick calluses, so that even sharp stones did not cause him pain.

Two pairs of pincers and a hammer were his only possessions, now slung in a knapsack across his shoulder.

Along the way, the young man made his living by using these few tools to repair things in exchange for food and lodging.

Though he could twist steel with his arms and shape metal, he was not yet a blacksmith, for he had not completed his apprenticeship.

And because he disagreed with extending the period of his apprenticeship, he had fallen out with his master and feared he would never become a licensed smith.

Without completing his apprenticeship, he was not a certified blacksmith; not being a certified blacksmith, he could not practice the trade; unable to practice the trade, he would starve to death, no matter how much better his skills were than his master's.

The young man's master was certain of this, waiting for him to come back, cap in hand, to apologize, admit his mistake, and continue as an unpaid apprentice for another four years.

But the young man chose to leave his hometown, traveling across the whole of Paratu to the unknown Newly Reclaimed Land, where he heard that no blacksmith's guild had yet been formed.

For this, he journeyed far, braving the elements, enduring countless hardships until finally, he arrived in the Newly Reclaimed Land.

Unfortunately, he was a little late—every settlement he went to already had the figure of a blacksmith at work.

The young man continued walking further and further into more remote and desolate areas. At last, in this remote and desolate settlement, he found no sign of his peers.

The young man spent his first night under the eaves with his knapsack as his pillow. The next day, he traded one of his pincers for a hot meal and a piece of wood.

After drinking the last drop of soup from the plate, he solemnly carved onto the wood:

[Blacksmith Poltan Mejery - repair, forging, and smelting]

…

Twenty-seven years ago, an ordinary day in summer.

Poltan and his two assistants were busy in the backyard of the smithy.

The three, each with their tools, worked together to dismantle a half-person-tall clay smelting furnace.

This was the third year since [Poltan Mejery] came to the Newly Reclaimed Land.

The once nameless settlement now had a resonant name—Revodan.

The once young apprentice blacksmith who had only a wooden board, a pair of pincers, and a hammer now owned a small shop; the residents of Revodan respectfully referred to him as "Blacksmith Poltan."

After breaking apart the furnace, Poltan carefully extracted a lump of sponge iron from the hearth as though handling a precious piece of porcelain.

"It's done!" Paulo Vinius—Poltan's assistant—was ecstatic, laughing and flailing at the air: "We've done it!"

The other assistant, the silent Peter Ganchalov, although not vocal, could not hide the joy in his eyes.

"It's not done yet!" said Poltan, although a smile was already spreading across his face.

The three quickly moved the sponge iron onto the anvil; Poltan held the tongs while the other two wielded hammers, starting to forge the sponge iron.

Accompanied by the rhythmic hammer blows, the porous sponge iron gradually became compact and dense, beginning to take on the appearance of "iron."

Working from noon until night, repeatedly reheating the iron in the furnace, the three finally forged the small piece of sponge iron into a mature iron ingot.

"It's done." Poltan wiped the sweat from his forehead and announced to his companions with a smile.

Paulo Vinius, almost delirious with joy, clapped his friends on the shoulder and laughed: "With iron, we can now get down to business!"

Without iron, a blacksmith could not flex his muscles; without smelting iron, the three men of Poltan could only patch things up, making do with a little bit of scrap iron.

"We've used too much charcoal," Peter Ganchalov said, pursing his lips, the joy starting to fade: "The smelting furnace also needs to be moved; it's too far from Iron Peak Mine."

"Hey! Why do you always have to dampen the spirits? Let's celebrate first!" Paulo Vinius was exuberant: "Let's go! Drinks on me!"

The three didn't even bother to lock up, strolling out of the smithy with their crude jokes and arm-in-arm antics.

They bought beer from the young widow Airen across the street and sat comfortably under the eaves, drinking and dreaming of the future.

Meanwhile, three cavalrymen bearing green flags raced past, kicking up a trail of dust.

Paulo Vinius, caught off guard, got a mouthful of dust and cursed: "Damn beasts! What, trying to season my food for me?"

Peter Ganchalov watched the backs of the cavalrymen, silent for a long while.

The leading officer among the three cavalrymen headed straight into the town hall, rang the bell to gather the residents, and read aloud the proclamation:

"According to the resolution passed by the Great Council of Paratu... The Newly Reclaimed Lands Province is officially under military governance... by virtue of the 'Tord Agreement', all forests, rivers, land, and mining rights in the Newly Reclaimed Lands Province belong to the military government... The old pioneering policy is hereby null and void..."

The blacksmith trio arrived a bit late, and Paulo Vinius, being short, couldn't see anything from the back of the crowd, and anxiously asked his friends: "Hey? What did he say? Can't hear clearly!"

"What's it to us?" Poltan, with his arms crossed: "No matter how cheerfully the birds sing, we still have to earn our bread by our craftsmanship."

Peter Ganchalov remained silent. "Change is coming," he thought.

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away at Kingsfort.

Six somber-faced representatives from the Monta Republic strode into the first chamber of the Great Council Hall, where six representatives from Paratu were waiting, along with observers from The Federated Provinces, Vineta, and Varn.