Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

His profits still come from monopoly! Not competition!

His instincts still cling to stagnation! Not ambition!

His soul still restricts production! Not encourages it!

As rivers inevitably flow into the sea, Steelburg shall be buried by sandstorms, overturned by waves, abandoned by time!"

Fuller was nearly suffocating with faintness, while the others who came to see them off exchanged confused looks. Only John Servette suddenly let out a long sigh.

Meanwhile, in the center of the crowd.

Winters slammed his fist onto the wagon board, forcefully punctuating his declaration: "Follow me to the Newly Reclaimed Land! There, the only thing you lose is your chains, and I will give you a new world!"

After speaking, he leapt off the carriage without so much as a glance at the others present, strode out of the crowd in large steps, mounted Longwind, and finally glanced back toward the direction of Steelburg.

"Let's go!"

...

...

Half a month later.

In Lucerne, the Monta border city separated from Paratu by just a river.

"This inventory..." Major Alec frowned deeply as he reviewed the scroll in his hands, his left hand unconsciously gripping the beard on his chin, asking with a peculiar tone: "Is it true?"

Inside the tent, across from the small table, Winters leisurely shaved his beard: "Of course it's true."

Major Alec, known within the state government as the officer with the best private ties to Iron Peak County—though only in the eyes of other officers—was inevitably assigned to negotiate with Winters.

The middleman business of a certain unnamed individual practically fell into place, as the military government was in desperate need of weaponry, and this batch of resources sent from Monta was a lifeline in difficult times.

"What I mean is," Major Alec pondered a moment, worried his words weren't clear, and chose to be blunt: "The more you write on the list, the more I'll take away. Don't think inflating numbers will give you an edge in bargaining. Likewise, underreporting won't work either. I advise you to speak honestly; the amount is what it is."

"How much do you plan to take?" Winters paused his motions.

Major Alec raised four fingers, then lowered three.

Winters resumed shaving: "A quarter? Then stick to this inventory."

Major Alec sneered a few times.

Winters snorted angrily as he scraped away: "No wonder they say the best military government still makes for the worst government."

"Be content." Major Alec scoffed at what he saw as the whining of a defeated faction: "At the ministers' meetings, there were quite a few arguing that not even one share should be given to you. You're part of the New Reclamation Legion, rebels nonetheless, giving you anything equates to twice aiding the enemy."

Winters maintained a light tone, though his threat remained evident: "Then I'll dump all the armor and firearms straight into the river."

"Feel free." Major Alec poured himself a bit of wine, rested his boot on his knee: "The boats are in our hands anyway."

Cooperation benefits both sides; conflict ruins both. After rounds of haggling, the military government's share was finalized at three-fifths.

Winters begrudgingly signed the transfer documents: "Let me warn you, Montans are only turning a blind eye because you're willing to provide grain."

"No problem." Major Alec was already prepared: "One ship of weaponry to the South Bank, three ships of grain to the North Shore."

Major Alec remarked regretfully: "It's a shame Montans still guard against us—if they allowed us to set up a floating bridge, we wouldn't have all this hassle."

Now it was Winters' turn to sneer.

"Don't be stingy. General Alpad won't leave you short-changed." Major Alec rolled up the documents and stuffed them into a copper tube: "We're not robbing you; we're buying. Once the military supplies are itemized and appraised, you'll be paid accordingly."

"Right." Winters put down his razor and snorted: "With treasury notes."

"Three-quarters treasury notes, one-quarter silver." Major Alec joked: "All in gold—would you dare accept that?"

"Forget it, I don't need you to pay me. Your treasury notes in my hands are as good as scrap paper." Winters solemnly requested: "I don't want silver coins either. I just have one request—if you agree, I'll count three-fifths of the weaponry as a gift to you."

"State it." Major Alec raised his eyebrows.

"On my trek through Monta, my draft horses lost weight severely, your government has to replace them for us." Winters continued: "Also, find us some ships to transport us to Mirror Lake—land travel is too slow; water routes are better."

Major Alec squinted: "From the moment you first sent me a letter, were you already plotting to sail back to Iron Peak County?"

"Adapting to circumstances—using water routes when available is only practical."

"But you need to know, Mirror Lake County is controlled by the New Reclamation Legion now, and Kingsfort's puppet government has stationed troops there." Major Alec kindly reminded: "Our ships can't enter Big Horn River's mouth, so they can't directly take you to Iron Peak County."

"I already knew something about Mirror Lake County's situation before departing." Winters wiped the razor: "Just get my people to Mirror Lake, that's enough."

Seeing Winters' confidence, Major Alec didn't say more, pausing for thought: "I can't decide this matter. I'll give you an answer within two days."

Winters packed up his shaving gear while casually commenting: "I've got some scrap iron I'd like to take back to Iron Peak County. Can you waive the taxes?"

Major Alec was immediately suspicious: "Not just scrap iron, is it?"