Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 1018 - 61: Vortex (Three)
Chapter 1018 -61: Vortex (Three)
If it weren’t for White Eagle’s unrestrained praise, Winters probably wouldn’t associate Paulo Wuper with the far-famed mayor of Steel Fortress.
Because the latter had a face of indulgence and excess: skin sallow, eyes rimmed red, dark purple pustules spreading around his nostrils and lips.
By appearances, His Honor the Mayor seemed to be just over forty, but his actual age was likely much younger – wine and pleasure had hollowed out his body, aging him prematurely.
However, on reflection, Winters wasn’t at all surprised that White Eagle had a deep private friendship with this kind of person.
Mayor Paulo Wuper, upon entering, first walked around under White Eagle’s accompaniment, exchanging pleasantries with other guests.
After making the rounds, Paulo Wuper finally approached the corner where Colonel Berny, Winters, and the old blacksmiths were.
Paulo Wuper moved with careful caution, as if he feared he might fall at any moment. Underneath his dignified velvet coat, two slightly plump legs wrapped in fashionable light-colored silk stockings moved unwillingly.
“Your Honor the Mayor.” Colonel Berny took the initiative to greet him.
“Oh, Colonel, you’re here too.” Paulo Wuper struggled to squeeze out a smile, and mumbled unclearly: “That’s really great.”
Old man Schmid waited a moment before extending his hand, his tone neither warm nor cold: “Mayor Wuper.”
Paulo Wuper’s face was filled with ingratiating smiles, as he quickly extended his hand too: “Why don’t you call me Paulo like you used to? Father Schmid.”
Winters watched as the rough, dark, scar-covered hand briefly clasped the white, plump, clean hand before swiftly separating.
Since Schmid had stated his position, the other old blacksmiths didn’t make things difficult for Mayor Wuper. Some greeted him, some shook hands, and others – like the one-eyed blacksmith – just nodded their head as a form of salutation.
Paulo Wuper wanted to chat more, but Schmid didn’t give him the chance to beat around the bush, and directly asked the question everyone was most concerned about: “What do you plan to do about the trade embargo, Your Honor the Mayor?”
Paulo Wuper’s expression stiffened, hemming and hawing: “Haven’t we talked about this before?”
“Talked, yes, but you’ve made no commitments, no commitments I can believe in, Your Honor the Mayor!” Schmid pressed relentlessly.
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“You know, non-intervention in the Paratu civil war is the formal resolution of the Upper Council.” Paulo Wuper’s eyes dodged: “Though Solingen calls itself an autonomous state and Steel Fortress calls itself an autonomous city, after all, we are a part of Monta and must obey the laws of the Republic.”
“[Indignant Montese swear]! When could those spineless weaklings of Horn Fortress ever control Solingen?” The one-eyed old blacksmith cursed loudly: “Upper Council? The circus of the United Provincials! Their law counts for nothing! Has the Lower Council approved it? Has the Grand Council passed it?”
The one-eyed old blacksmith used an extremely vulgar Montese curse, which, literally meant [a servant who holds their master’s balls while the master walks]. Winters, who initially did not understand, deduced from the context that the one-eyed blacksmith must have been denouncing the people from Horn Fortress as spineless.
Another blacksmith commented coldly: “When it all comes down to it, the spear is in someone else’s hands, and of course they take whatever they want.”
Paulo Wuper wiped the sweat off his forehead continuously, casting a pleading look at Colonel Berny: ”
“Gentlemen, the legions of the Republic are not meant to fight our own people.” Colonel Berny cleared his throat: “In any case, each state has enjoyed peace for two generations, haven’t they? No more forced conscriptions, no more excessive taxes. Comparing our army to a weapon in the hands of thieves really distresses me a bit.”
The one-eyed old blacksmith snorted, no longer swearing.
“The embargo is only on weapons.” Seeing the atmosphere had eased, Paulo Wuper quickly added: “The export of other goods isn’t restricted, and business can continue as normal.”
Paulo Wuper would have been better off staying silent; speaking up again only reignited the anger of the old blacksmiths.
“Does a bar of iron count as a weapon? What about steel discs? Aren’t metal materials also included in the embargo?” The old man with the hoarse voice slammed his glass down on the table: “I’ll lay it out for you – if you don’t sell weapons to the people of Paratu, don’t even think about exporting anything else! Or are you saying the Paratu People have become especially tolerant, and I just don’t know about it?”
“The Paratu People will always need our ironware, they can’t block the Ashen Stream River forever. If worse comes to worst, we can take the land routes…”
“The land routes? To where?” The one-eyed old blacksmith rudely interrupted Mayor Wuper: “East? To Varn? North? To the Empire? Or west, to trade with savages in the wilderness?”
Paulo Wuper’s tone was almost pleading; even Winters could see he was on his last legs: “Not getting involved in the Paratu civil war also involves moral considerations, making blood money from an ally will damage Steel Fortress’s business reputation, harming long-term interests.”
“Morality?” The questioning voice was as grating as glass shards in the throat, sharper than a dagger: “The United Provincials forbid us from selling weapons, but what are they doing? Our Forge is as cold as an ice cellar, while the chimneys of Victory Arsenal spew black clouds. They are forging blades day and night, ready to make a killing selling to the Paratu People!”
Winters’s recollection was triggered by “Victory Arsenal,” and he remembered the towering inferno at the Harbor District of Guidao City: The Federated Provinces has rebuilt Victory Arsenal?
