Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Caman incredulously rolled his eyes and supported Fuller as they walked towards the inner room.

After tidying up the cups and benches, and waiting for the drunken smell in the living room to dissipate, Winters closed the windows and had Koch invite the visitor inside.

Soon, Koch led a man in a black cloak and hood into the room.

Koch respectfully exited the living room. The mysterious guest removed his cloak and hood, revealing a shrewd, rugged face. He laughed and extended his hand to Winters: "My lord Baron."

Winters also smiled and grasped the rough palm known as "Iron Hand": "Mr. Gaisberg."

After shaking hands in the tradition of the Brotherhood of Blacksmiths, they took seats by the fireplace.

"Your personal visit suggests an important matter?" Winters asked.

Iron Hand Gaisberg showed a row of strong teeth: "I never feel at ease letting others speak for me. When matters are significant, it's best to discuss them face to face."

"I feel the same," Winters replied, picking up the wine bottle to pour drinks for both himself and Iron Hand.

Iron Hand Gaisberg lifted his glass and asked with interest: "And your wife? Don't you want her to be present?"

"Since you have come yourself, there's no need for others to speak on my behalf," Winters said with a light smile. "It's better to talk directly with me."

Iron Hand Gaisberg laughed heartily: "I knew it, in the end, you're the one in charge!"

Iron Hand's visit was not only to reconfirm the previous "agreement" but also to discuss the future prices and procedures for Winters' procurement of military gear.

The major workshop owners of Steel Fort had discarded the smaller workshop owners and those with differing political views, forming a new alliance.

The new alliance had fewer members, more direct tie of interests, and stronger bargaining power. Iron Hand Gaisberg, considering the new circumstances, proposed new terms.

He suggested that there was no need to wait for bankruptcy liquidation processes; the Baron could directly purchase the inventory from the major workshop owners now.

This would save Winters time—no one knew how long the full bankruptcy liquidation process would take.

The major workshop owners would have more funds for acquisitions—removing the unstable factors in this merger wave.

Of course, the price of the military gear would also be adjusted, from "cheap as free" to "slightly below the price offered by the Baron."

Winters listened intently, nodding politely in agreement, but finally suggested, "I still hope to consider it a bit more."

Gaisberg agreed readily, redonned his cloak and hood, and left with satisfaction.

Winters poured the remainder of the wine into the fireplace, pushed open the door to the inner room, and asked with a smile: "Well, you all heard that."

In the room adjacent to the small living room, there were not only the bored Caman and the dumbstruck Ernest Fuller—the latter pressed against the wall, trying to overhear the conversation in the small living room.

There was also Lady Anna Navarre and the livid-faced old Schmid.

...

When Winters and Caman were seeing off old Schmid and Fuller, the night had already fallen completely.

Old Schmid and Fuller had come discreetly, so the carriage was parked far away, leading Winters and Caman to accompany them a few extra steps.

"Thus, my stance remains unchanged. I respect you," Winters said with his cane, tightening his coat, as they walked. "But if you want me on your side, you must offer better terms than Iron Hand— or at least the same."

"I understand," old Schmid nodded expressionlessly.

Rotund Ernest Fuller, his head spinning from the alcohol, was supported by Caman as they walked behind. Two Dusack guards, one ahead and one behind, escorted the four of them.

The biting cold wind howled, and the night sky was bleak as they all walked to where old Schmid's carriage was waiting.

"I won't see you off any further," Winters extended his hand to old Schmid. "Take care."

Old Schmid grasped Winters' hand and gave it a slight shake: "Take care."

A lamp-bearing guard walked up to the coachman's seat and gently tapped the coachman's leg. The coachman seemed asleep; despite several taps, there was no response.

Suddenly, the Dusack guard trying to wake the coachman shuddered and fell stiffly to the ground, the lantern dropping as well.

Like a cat sensing danger, Winters' whole body tingled with alarm.

The door of old Schmid's carriage creaked open, and four masked figures emerged from the darkness, surrounding Winters and the others from different directions.

"Quite interesting. According to the records of the Empire's House of Nobles, the last baronet from the Mountain Front Territory of Granashi died twelve years ago, and his title was Earl. If he were still alive, he would be... fifty years old now, right?" The man lightly stepping out of the carriage spoke: "Isn't that interesting, 'Mr. Granashi'?"

In the dim light, Winters saw the man's face—handsome features, blond hair, and a pair of green eyes.

In the dim light, the green-eyed man also saw Winters' face, his body tensed slightly, his pupils uncontrollably dilating as he abruptly changed his tone, asking: "Who are you? You..."

The green-eyed man's words were cut short as Caman pounced on him like a leopard.