Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 1014 - 59: Vortex (Part 2)
Chapter 1014 -59: Vortex (Part 2)
The middle-aged man nudged his glass, which slid across the marble windowsill and stopped in front of Winters.
Winters made up his mind to neither seek nor inquire about the other’s identity unless offered voluntarily.
After all, there was no need to ask. There were only so many military officers from the Land Academy, and even fewer could appear in Forge. Combining age and physical characteristics, it would be easy to find out who it was after a brief consultation with Carlo Aide.
The middle-aged man sharply asked, “The broker has gone to great lengths to get you an invitation to the Este family’s reception, and you aren’t going to network with the sellers, make some acquaintances?”
“Actually, I don’t even know who to deal with right now,” Winters answered truthfully.
The middle-aged man gave Winters a sidelong glance: “Do you know where you are?”
“Borso da Este’s residence.”
“Is that all you know?”
“…Please enlighten me.”
“Whose man is Este?” the middle-aged man asked indifferently.
Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freewebnσvel.cøm.
Winters gave a cautious answer: “A Venetian.”
The middle-aged man sneered.
“Uh…” Winters tentatively replied: “A friend of Mayor Wooper?”
“Wrong, it’s ‘ally’,” the middle-aged man corrected, then continued asking: “And who is Paulo Wuper?”
“Mayor of Forge, the Wuper Canal is named after his family.”
“Wrong, he is the ‘soon-to-be ex-mayor’. It’s uncertain whether he will get a seat as the next head of the guild or not,” the man said.
The middle-aged man leaned against the windowsill, looking towards the wall on the side of the corridor. On the other side of the wall, out of sight of Winters and the middle-aged man, the most powerful and wealthy people of Forge were toasting and laughing.
“So.” The middle-aged man looked at Winters: “What does White Eagle intend to do by inviting these people?”
The sudden trade embargo, the extinguished forges of Forge, the upcoming guild election… Winters quickly concluded amidst the complex information swirling in his mind: “Campaigning for votes.”
“Bullshit,” the middle-aged man scoffed: “It’s bribery!”
Winters remained silent.
“Look at this! This is how the United Provincials and Venetians corrupt us!” The middle-aged man cynically remarked, “Your Paratu is being corrupted, and our Monta has been corrupted for many years. The tendrils of the Federated Provinces and Venetians reach out just like this, spreading and thriving in every shadow beneath the mountains. They tear at each other for control over Monta, but none care for the lives of the Montans. An ever-unified Republic of freedom? Heh, tyrants and slaves dare to talk of freedom and unity?”
The middle-aged man tilted his head back, downing the strong drink in his glass. The bottle was quickly becoming only half-full.
Since their inception, the Monta Republic and the Van Republic were brought under supervision – to put it nicely or control – to be honest. And the bisected Paratu, predictably, will face a similar fate, no longer able to exist as an independent and sovereign political entity within the Alliance.
Winters guessed that the other considered him a soldier from Paratu, which stirred some sympathy, leading to this conversation.
Winters held his glass, calmly and boldly asked: “Then may I ask, sir, what is the attitude of the veterans of the Monta army?”
The middle-aged man instantly became vigilant, the drunkenness in his eyes vanishing, and his gaze refocused sharp as needles: “What attitude?”
“Regarding war,” Winters answered directly, “If the Federated Provinces demand it, would you pick a side to stand on? Would you declare war or even deploy troops?”
“What, you’re scared?” the middle-aged man asked, smiling.
“Yes,” Winters replied frankly, “The Third Republic alone against the pretender government in Kingsfort might still have a fighting chance. But if encircled by Kingsfort, the Federated Provinces, and Monta, failure is just a matter of time. Even if the Monta Republic doesn’t send troops and just deploys a legion at the border as a distraction, the Third Republic cannot cope. So I hope to understand the attitude of Monta’s military decision-makers.”
“What good will it do you to know?” the middle-aged man sipped his strong drink, casually asking: “Surrender in advance?”
Winters pondered a moment: “I don’t really know what can be done, we must take it one step at a time.”
The middle-aged man cast Winters a surprised glance, smacking his lips in admiration: “At your age, had someone asked me the same question, I would’ve turned red with vehemence, swearing ‘I’d rather die than surrender’. You didn’t boast extravagantly, that’s good. Facing death is difficult, until the final moment, no one knows whether they are a hero or a coward.”
Winters, not accepting praise, made no move.
“Listen, kid, not a single Montan wants to face the Paratu People in battle. We’ve shed too much blood, not wishing to be buried far from our homeland. But sometimes…” The middle-aged man looking out the window, borrowed Winters’ words: “we are ‘helpless’. Understand?”
Winters nodded, “I understand.”
“You don’t understand a damn thing!” the middle-aged man hit Winters on the forehead, waved his hand dismissively as if to dismiss him: “Get out of here, go mingle with the gentlemen in the hall. Beg them to sell you more arms, so your Paratu People can shed more blood.”
Winters took the bottle, poured the middle-aged man half a glass, and a little for himself: “But I truly don’t recognize anyone inside, sir, it’s more comfortable here.”
