Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Time is the most ruthless force; it never halts for anyone.

Only a few days had passed since the night of the great fire, yet the flames, riots, and assaults already felt like shattered bubbles—everyone who had witnessed them could recount their emergence and demise but could not recall their exact forms.

Here, memory began to diverge. People started narrating their own versions of events: tales of cavalry shattering frozen rivers, fiery tornadoes devouring cathedrals, and conspiracies swirling above the city.

Regardless, life had to go on—even if life itself was merely a journey of suffering. Steelburg had already begun to look ahead.

The bloodstains at the municipal square had been washed clean, and the furniture and carriages clogging up the river were being salvaged.

With the assistance of the garrison, a temporary rationing system was implemented, and the shops and markets on the less-affected North Shore resumed business.

Artillery officers from the garrison were urgently reassigned to assist municipal employees in surveying the burned ruins of the Old Town.

The city council urgently passed a mandatory decree: prohibiting any citizen from rebuilding homes without authorization. "Violators will be severely punished," it decreed, declaring, "no reconstruction may begin until property rights have been clarified."

As order gradually returned, the garrison began to transfer administrative control of Steelburg back to the municipal government.

The Municipal Palace once again became Steelburg's center of governance, bustling with people delivering messages, issuing orders, or filing petitions and lawsuits.

In stark contrast, the District Guild Headquarters, directly across the square from the Municipal Palace, was eerily quiet. The grand and austere four-story brick building kept its doors tightly shut, with no sign of carts or foot traffic entering or leaving.

Steelburg's citizens used to say: the Erwin Great Cathedral, the Municipal Palace, and the District Guild Headquarters symbolized the city's three pillars—faith, power, and wealth.

Now, faith had collapsed amid the flames and storms, and wealth had been reduced to ashes during the riots and fires.

Power—once the weakest of the three—had risen through the might of the military and transformed the Municipal Palace into the true ruler of Steelburg.

However, at this very moment, within the thick, cold stone walls of the Guild Headquarters, smoldering lava was brewing—a force that might yet change Steelburg's fate.

"It's already this goddamn late!" Gaisberg the Iron-Hand roared, his voice nearly bursting through the doors of the arbitration chamber. "What the hell are we still debating?! Why the hell can't I make you all understand?!"

His outburst ended with a thunderous slam of his fist on the table and a roar of frustration.

Next came the raspy voice of an elder: "Whatever their motives, that… that lady makes a valid point. As long as the war in Paratu isn't over, the embargo will remain. If this war drags on for ten years, are we supposed to halt production for ten years as well?"

"It won't come to a halt," a sullen voice retorted. "Even if the waterways in Paratu aren't accessible, we can still sell goods to the Empire or transport them via Varn."

Gaisberg leapt up as if from a red-hot iron plate. "Varn? Who can afford that? Selling exclusively to the damned Imperials—are you asking us to undercut and cannibalize each other? [Iron-Hand's furious profanity]!"

The insulted Forge Master slammed his hand on the table and retaliated in kind with vitriolic Monta invective. Were it not for the Helvetian disdain for the practice of dueling, the two might already have spilled blood in the arbitration chamber.

Even so, Iron-Hand's grief-stricken plea echoed off the stone walls: "Why don't you understand? How can you not understand? This is our opportunity! Our chance to rise again!"

At the other end of the corridor, Winters and Anna were exploring the Guild Headquarters' archives.

The "Baron and Baroness" were supposed to be waiting in the reception room for the Executive Committee's final response, where the fireplace burned warm and the hosts thoughtfully provided mulled wine and pastries.

But Winters, intrigued by everything tied to Steelburg's District Guild, had taken the initiative to request a tour of the Guild Headquarters. Their hosts, obliging, granted permission.

The Forge Master assigned to guide the baron and baroness stood outside the archives, proudly introducing, "Your Excellency, what you are about to see is the entire history of Steelburg."

As the heavy oak doors were pushed open, a sharp mix of insect-repelling herbs and the musty scent of moldy parchment wafted out.

The guide sneezed, left the lantern at the door, and, covering his nose, strode to a wall to open a sealed window. Fresh air and sunlight flooded the room, allowing Winters to take in the full view of the archives:

Wooden shelves stretching nearly two people high ran from the floor to the vaulted ceiling, lined with identical compartments that filled the hall-like archive room.

The guide gestured with his hand from where they stood to the room's far edge. "From the original charter issued by Archbishop Erwin to the Swords Smiths Guild, to the contract commemorating the merger of the Swords Smiths Guild with the Polishing Guild, to the declaration founding the Central Guild. Every critical document of the Forge Guild and Central Guild is preserved here according to chronological order—original copies."

Winters nodded attentively as he listened.

From the baron's focused demeanor, the guide almost believed that Winters' primary purpose at the Guild Headquarters today was to tour, while negotiations with the Executive Committee were merely a secondary errand.

…

About an hour earlier, Baron Granashi and his wife had arrived together at Steelburg's Guild Headquarters, where they were received by the full Executive Committee of the Forge Guild, assembled well in advance.

What followed, however, was beyond the committee members' expectations: the one who truly articulated the plans and fielded their questions was not the "renowned" Baron Granashi, but the even more enigmatic Baroness.