Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

“Please have a seat, sir.”

“Thank you, Count Grayman.”

The man in front of me bowed slightly, sitting gracefully on the sofa. He was a young man, slightly thin, wearing simple blue robes and thick glasses.

In him, I sensed a familiar air – pride without arrogance, a sense of superiority without impoliteness. It reminded me of the feeling I had when I first met Ladi Sertia and Cierra Dias, two scholars. They looked down from their heights, yet it was hard to pinpoint any specific fault. Their demeanor and words were impeccable, and their aura commanded respect.

I asked, “Scholar Landon, may I know the purpose of your visit to the Northwest Bay?”

He introduced himself as Mond Landon, also a scholar. What was crucial, however, was his origin from the Scholar’s Tower in the capital of the Gabella Empire, complete with valid identification.

His status as a scholar from the Scholar’s Tower was significantly more prestigious than ordinary scholars. The Tower, akin to Harvard in my previous life, was a top-tier academic institution in this world. In an era starved for knowledge, its status was even more unique.

Many renowned individuals studied there, and countless officials and nobility sent their offspring there, hoping to adorn them with its prestigious reputation.

Obtaining the title of ‘Scholar’ from the Tower was extraordinary. Whether born to nobility, commoners, or even slaves, possessing that title made you a guest of honor in courts worldwide.

The Tower’s selection criteria were stringent. For a remote lord like the Grayman family, securing a place there would have been challenging.

The name of the Scholar’s Tower was well-known even in the Northwest Bay. When a servant reported such a visitor, I was quite startled. Not wanting to offend, I welcomed this esteemed guest with utmost care.

“The count jests, I have yet to complete my studies and don’t qualify for the title of ‘Scholar’,” Mond replied, showing a rare hint of embarrassment to my address.

I complimented him, “Haha, it’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.”

I could tell from his receding hairline; it was already cheering for his future title of ‘Scholar.’

Mond’s face flushed slightly, tinged with shyness: “I’ve come to seek the count’s assistance in a matter.”

“Oh?” I was surprised. With the influence of his predecessors or ‘alumni,’ why would he need to seek my help? What could I do that they couldn’t?

“Please allow me to explain from the beginning.”

“Go ahead, I’m listening.”

Mond Landon began his tale.

“My mentor, during his travels to the Northwest Bay ten years ago, encountered a child in a coastal fishing village. He found the child extraordinarily intelligent and wanted to take him as a student.”

“However, the child’s parents were reluctant to let their young child go, so my mentor agreed to wait until the child was older to take him to Gabella for further studies.”

“Over these ten years, my mentor and I have visited the Northwest Bay several times to see him and have even sponsored his primary education. I’m here now to take him to the capital of Gabella for advanced studies.”

Paul was astonished upon hearing this. What luck for this child to have such a fortune fall into his lap! It was more than just good luck; it was like a firework show of fortune.

Though the Scholar’s Tower, like the Church, proclaimed indifference to one’s background, reality often differed from ideals. Scholarship required funding, and scholars needed sustenance. Beyond the regular subsidies from the Gabella royal family, the Tower received substantial social donations each year. Consequently, the institution was predominantly filled with children of the elite, with very few from common backgrounds.

Just the chance meeting with a scholar could open doors to the Tower – such fortune was unheard of. Paul thought, “Why couldn’t I have been this lucky?”

Paul feigned surprise: “So, our remote Northwest Bay had the honor of hosting someone as distinguished as your mentor. Do you need my help to find this child? Wait, that’s odd. Didn’t you visit him several times? Did they move?”

Mond Landon hesitated, “Well, it’s not that… It’s just…”

“Speak freely,” Paul encouraged.

Mond spoke softly, “Count, the child… he is currently in your prison.”

In my prison? What happened? Did the boy go astray? Such an opportunity wasted.

Paul’s surprised expression prompted Mond to elaborate: “His village has traditionally been engaged in salt production. Recently…”

Mond’s voice trailed off, but Paul understood the situation.

“What’s his name?”

“His name is Kevin. If I remember correctly, he should be almost 16 now.”

“Kevin…” Paul repeated, remembering.

He recalled the name from a list of 50, where Kevin was mentioned prominently. The report indicated that the unrest was directly caused by him.

Kevin was the first to see through Baden’s so-called “war tax” lies. He then urged the villagers to confront Baden and even tried to negotiate with him, proposing to keep Baden’s deceit secret in exchange for reduced taxes.

Paul had been skeptical at first – could a child of 15 possess such insight and courage? Now it made sense; the boy was indeed extraordinary.

Paul smiled sardonically, “Scholar, are you asking to take someone out of my prison?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Paul spread his hands, “Oh! That puts me in a difficult position. Do you know how much trouble this boy has caused me?”

His tone contrasted sharply with his earlier warmth.

Mond blushed, “I understand, and it’s an unfortunate request. But please consider his youth. Moreover, the root cause seems to stem from the tax collector’s greed. Initially, Kevin’s actions were not unreasonable, but the situation escalated beyond his control. I believe he was coerced by others later.”

Hmm, so you’ve done your research.

“Scholar, regardless of the reasons or whether he was coerced later, his actions violated my laws. After uncovering the tax collector’s lies, he could have reported to the lord’s manor. Because of your word, should I release him, making me appear lenient and undermining my authority as a lord? Baden has been severely punished already.”

“This…”

Paul subtly rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, hinting, “Think carefully about where the logic lies.”

“This…”

“Cough! If… if releasing him brings me more than I lose…”

Paul was blatantly hinting.

Mond seemed to catch on.

“Count, by releasing him, you would gain the friendship of the Scholar’s Tower.”