Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Kovyrian hurriedly bowed as well, maintaining his composure as he scrutinized the Baron's expression, trying to find something more familiar to him, though his efforts were largely in vain.

After taking some time to digest the Baron's words, Kovyrian cautiously responded, "Your generosity and mercy, I cannot repay. Rest assured, Your Excellency, I will do my utmost to gather all the information you require."

"No, that's precisely what I don't need you to do." Winters solemnly reiterated, "I don't need you to actively gather any sensitive information. Just as I said before, I only need you to collect public, everyday information—the prices of wheat and flour, ordinary people's wages, municipal announcements, and the state of the weather.

Moreover, under no circumstances should you jeopardize your own safety. I have no intention of waging war against the Monta Republic. I merely wish to have a pair of eyes and ears in Solingen State to observe all that transpires in the land of mountains on my behalf. That's all."

The old foreman fell silent. After a moment, he looked up, his face no longer filled with flattery and submission, but uncertainty and doubt: "May I ask a question, Your Excellency?"

"Please do."

"Why me?"

Winters answered matter-of-factly, "Because you are the most suitable candidate."

"If all you need is a pair of eyes and ears, Mr. Carlo Aide is far more suitable than I am. He can see more than I can, hear more than I do." Kovyrian pointedly revealed the Baron's connection to Navarre Commerce: "Why me?"

"Precisely because you're not him, you are the most suitable candidate." Leaning on his cane, Winters calmly explained, "Carlo Aide is, first and foremost, a partner in Navarre Commerce, secondly a Venetian, and only lastly my friend. Whether intentionally or not, the information he provides would inevitably be filtered through his own interests. I require Montan eyes to observe for me—eyes that are sharp, experienced, and untouched by competing interests. After careful deliberation, I determined you're the most appropriate choice."

Kovyrian sank back into silence. After a long pause, he finally asked bitterly, "So I've been chained to your chariot and will never have the opportunity to leave, right?"

Winters responded earnestly, "I've considered that possibility. Why don't we agree on a timeframe? How about five years?"

Kovyrian remained unconvinced: "Five years? I serve you for five years, and then you'll release Roger?"

"If, after five years, Mr. Roger still wishes to return to Monta, he will be free to act as he pleases," Winters assured, though he withheld an unspoken thought—if, by then, Koch still only had one operative, it wouldn't be anyone's fault but his own.

Kovyrian took a long, pained inhalation, then exhaled heavily, clutching his chest as he bowed deeply. "I only ask that you do not forget the promise you made today, for it is the only thing Roger and I have left."

Winters extended his hand.

…

Kovyrian was the first guest invited into the tent, but he wouldn't be the last to leave via its side entrance.

The second guest to meet Winters in the tent was a tall, lean middle-aged man dressed modestly, his beard clean-shaven. He didn't state his full name but carried the surname "Da Este."

The middle-aged man removed his hat, holding it in his hands, and bowed meticulously but with an air of detached coldness.

Winters leaned on his cane and nodded faintly.

"[Old Tongue] Your Excellency Montane," the middle-aged man spoke first, "[Old Tongue] on behalf of Flora's patron, I express our sincerest gratitude for your assistance and your testimony. You will forever be our friend."

"I merely testified truthfully," Winters replied in Common Tongue.

"[Old Tongue] The White Eagle always repays its debts."

Winters cooperated with a faint smile: "As long as you keep your promise, that will suffice."

The middle-aged man bowed once more, replaced his hat, and left with the characteristic arrogance unique to the White Eagles.

Once the middle-aged man stepped out, Xial pulled back the tent's curtain and entered, sneering: "White Eagle, huh? The way he walks, he's more like a goose. A traitor, yet so arrogant?"

Winters seated himself, propping his cane against his knee, massaging his stiff and sore left leg as he chuckled, "If they were truly proud, they wouldn't break their promises. Isn't that a good thing?"

Xial fell silent.

Thanks solely to Winters' timely rescue, Borso da Este had managed to survive to this day—though rescuing him hadn't been Winters' original intent that night.

As for how Borso managed to evade Monta's subsequent repercussions? That would depend on the Este family's political acumen.

At the very least, after negotiations with the Este family's emissary, Winters provided the following testimony: There was no evidence to suggest Borso da Este had directly participated in the Empire spies' actions that night; nor was there evidence to suggest he had prior knowledge of the Empire spies' plans. However, there was evidence indicating that he was one of the targets of the Empire assassins that night.

"Who else is outside?" Winters asked Xial.

"Mayor Paulo Wuper sent someone over, and a few other bigwigs sent their servants with gifts, which I've had delivered to Miss Navarre," Xial thought for a moment and said seriously, "Mr. Fuller and young Mr. Schmid came in person. They said they wanted to thank you face-to-face. Should I invite them in?"

"No need." Winters waved his hand dismissively, "I'll step outside and greet them in a bit."