Iron Powder and Spellcasters

   Chapter 376 Vortex (2)

   White Eagle's hall gradually filled with guests.

   Most of the people who came to the meeting were well-known workshop owners in Steel Castle, and many of the men could still see the scalding scars left by the molten iron on their hands.

   Of course, there are also some "upper-class gentlemen" who are pure and pampered.

  Although the age, temperament, and conversation are different, the society in which the guests live is the same, and they have the same identity: the master of the forge.

   Winters' alumni—mysterious middle-aged man with two missing fingers—seems to be well respected by the forge owners. Wherever he goes, people stop talking, nodding, or raising their glasses to greet him.

  The middle-aged man swaggered across the venue and went straight to the long table at the other end of the hall, with Winterstein following behind.

  Kaman, who was drinking beside the long table, inadvertently caught a glimpse of Winters following an unfamiliar face. He put down the glass and stood up slowly.

  The caster and the priest looked at each other across the crowd, and Kaman asked with his eyes - "Need help?"

   Winters tilted his head in the direction of Anna indifferently - "Don't worry about me, protect Anna."

  Kaman nodded slightly and walked towards the side hall where the ladies gathered.

   The middle-aged man casually picked up a bottle of wine on the long table, turned and walked to the small circle of conversation near the long table.

   There were a dozen or so guests near the long table, all of them were quite old. Most of them had gray hair and bald tops. These people have long passed the age of being courteous to ladies, and they are unwilling to lower their status to be in the company of the younger generation, so they naturally form a small circle.

   Seeing the middle-aged man approaching, the burly old man headed nodded and greeted: "Colonel."

   "Mr. Schmid." The middle-aged man responded politely.

   During the conversation, the middle-aged man stood in the chat circle.

   Winters followed the former, staying at the periphery of the invisible circle, maintaining a proper distance.

   The other guests naturally regarded Winters as the lieutenant of the "Colonel", so they didn't notice anything strange.

   "Come here?" The middle-aged man pulled out the cork with his bare hands and asked the burly old man with a smile.

  The burly old man protected the glass: "Distilled spirits? You want my life."

   "Distilled? Didn't see the label." The middle-aged man poured himself a half glass of transparent liquid, and handed the wine bottle and cork to Winters: "What about him! It's just wine."

   The tone of the two is relaxed and close, and it seems that they have a close relationship.

   Winters silently observed the burly old man—it's no exaggeration to say that when he first saw him, Winters thought that someone was playing a prank and actually stuffed a bear into a human's clothes.

   "Bear in tights", this is the truest portrayal of the burly old man.

   His beard is as lush as the weeds on the river bank in midsummer, and his dark skin seems to have just climbed out of the charcoal kiln.

   Every button from his chest to his stomach was taut, clearly being subjected to an unacceptable amount of tension. The material is enough for Winters to make two coats, and it looks a little restrained on the burly old man.

   Even if the burly old man is no longer strong due to middle-aged weight gain and muscle atrophy, he can still imagine the loud noise he would make when he swiped the hammer when he was young.

The other old people around    should have also been blacksmiths in their early years—not the "blacksmiths" who actually became merchants and employers under the name of blacksmiths today; but blacksmiths who worked hard and sweated by the forge and anvil.

  The dangerous and arduous career has left some marks on them, swollen knees, deformed joints, ugly scars... These are all lucky.

   The old man beside the burly old man has only one knuckle on the other four fingers of his left hand except the thumb. Two more people passed, and the right eye of the other short and stout old man was covered by a blindfold, which must have been an accident.

   Winters looked at everything in his eyes, kept it in his heart, and collected information silently.

   Winters was not surprised at the fact that "the colonel and the old blacksmiths in front of him have similar scents".

   "Why don't you chat? Gentlemen?" The middle-aged man sniffed the wine glass: "I disturbed your interest?"

   Several old blacksmiths looked at each other, and the burly old man headed by Schmid said gruffly: "The mayor doesn't show up, what's the use of our old guys complaining too much?"

  Schmidt took the word "Lord Mayor" very seriously, and his dissatisfaction was beyond words.

"That boy Paul Wupper must be accurate today!" The short, one-eyed old blacksmith's fiery temper was just a little off: "There will still be a hole in the wood when the nail hits the wood. To my vote, [angry Monta swearing]!"

   "What do you think of the trade ban?" Another old blacksmith asked hoarsely, "Colonel Bern?"

   Winters blinked, and he was finally able to know the name of the senior.

  Colonel Berne took a sip of distilled wine and waved his hands again and again: "Don't hurt me. The trade ban is a matter between your Solingen state government and the General Assembly, and has nothing to do with the army. What should I say?"

   "I think when the emperor is there, the legion is still in charge of the state. Your troops are stationed in Solingen. You are also a member of Solingen. Of course, you can express your opinion."

   Colonel Bernie smiled wryly and shook his head, reluctant to say more.

The one-eyed old blacksmith couldn't hold back his anger immediately, he shouted: "Colonel, you know best, your soldiers eat, drink, and live... and the salary, which one is not from our steel castle? After all these years, We have not missed you a grain of wheat and a silver horn, right? Now that the steel castle is being reorganized, you have to speak for us!"

   "Enough!" The burly old Schmid roared, "Isn't it shameful enough?"

   The one-eyed old blacksmith grunted in anger, but he didn't say anything more.

   "I'm sorry, Colonel." Old Man Schmid bowed slightly: "We're not blaming you."

  Colonel Berne waved his hand, indicating that it would be okay. After a few sips of suffocating wine, he led the topic: "Last year's winter training was delayed, I want to make up for it before the spring."

   Winters pricked up his ears when he heard the words—he had heard when he was still in the military school that the Monta people would organize military training during the winter slack.

   However, the above memories are mainly from the boasting of the students from Monta.

   So, when Colonel Berne mentioned winter training, Winters immediately cheered up.

Old Schmid touched his forehead, like a brown bear tickling, he recalled: "Last winter... After the lake and river froze last year, everyone was so busy with their work that they really couldn't take winter training. If you make up for it now... Colonel, immediately But it's going to freeze."

"I know."

"It's easy to talk about people in the city, everyone is idle anyway." Old Schmid's voice was rough and low, but it was very kind: "What about the people outside the city? When the weather turns warm, they will plant crops. Earth, you're busy."

  Colonel Berne was well prepared: "I will not recruit 'outsiders' for this supplementary training. To be honest, I don't want to recruit 'citymen' either."

  Old man Schmid frowned and asked, "If you don't recruit people from the city, you don't recruit people from outside the city. Who else can you recruit?"

   "Who to recruit?" Colonel Bern paused for a moment and said with a smile, "Whoever is hungry will be recruited."

   After saying that, the colonel drank the remaining distilled spirit in the glass in one gulp. Although Winters felt that drinking like this would hurt his body, he still handed the bottle against his will.

   The other old blacksmiths haven't thought about it yet. The old man who just asked the colonel's attitude has already figured it out. He asked in a hoarse voice: "You want to recruit... mule workers?"

   Several other old blacksmiths could not help frowning when they heard this.

  The mule workers are the poorest poor in Steelcastle. Most of them are not Steelcastle people, but moved in from other towns and even other states. They cannot be apprentices, but can only work hard, like mules in a mine, so they are contemptuously called mule workers.

  Winters also figured it out—the mule workers, as the blacksmiths call them, were the men on the street who were shivering in the cold wind and waiting for their employers.

   "The mule workers are not from Steelcastle, and many are not even from Solingen." The one-eyed blacksmith squinted: "Winter training is all about food and drink, so why give them free bread?"

   "According to tradition, winter training does not recruit foreigners." The old man with a hoarse voice added slowly: "According to the law, winter training is a state affair, and foreigners cannot be recruited."

"I know, I know it all." Colonel Bern's expression was indifferent, and he was not shaken by the objection: "But I also know one thing - people have to eat bread. If they don't have it, they have to find a way to get it, or else they will eat bread. Starvation to death. The employees of Steelcastle are all out of work now, and they are left alone. Sooner or later, something big will happen. If you are unwilling to help, then I can only come. Gentlemen, listen, I am helping you... but you are still Didn't realize it."

  The colonel looked around with a hint of threat, but none of the blacksmiths dared to look at him

Except for Schmid, the burly old blacksmith laughed heartily, dissolving the tense atmosphere: "The Executive Committee has discussed your proposal, Colonel. But the election is approaching, and the Executive Committee has no authority. In the end, you still have to think about it. Ways to convince the next executive, and… the next mayor.”

   "Yes." Colonel Bern spread his hands and sighed: "Otherwise, why am I here to join in the fun?"

   Old Schmid patted the colonel on the shoulder hard, the colonel shook his head, and said nothing.

"How could it be like this?" The old man with a hoarse voice also sighed: "When we were young, what a wonderful time! As soon as the lake and river freeze, we will work hard for him for a whole winter. Wait until it gets warmer. When the lakes and rivers are frozen, boats big and small will carry our cargo away to Palato, the Interprovince, and Veneta. Alas, how could it be like this?"

   As he spoke, the old man's eyes were a little wet, and he couldn't help but sigh again.

The one-eyed old blacksmith grumbled and complained: "When the emperor was still there, although the army was recruited every year, at least the legion was still under the control of the states. No one dared to wrong us with military power. Now? The legion has been taken over by the federation, they Turning face and not recognizing people, we're **** bare ass! Anyone can handle it! [Vicious mountain people swearing]!"

   Winters listened silently. If memory is a notebook, he has just scribbled down two lines:

   "The old blacksmith Schmid is a member of the executive committee";

   "The conflict between Solingen and Monta Confederation is sharper than expected, and it may even be more hostile than Solingen."

   Winters smelled opportunity, but for some reason he felt little joy, instead a little dejected.

   Witnessing the "great heritage" degenerate into something that more and more people are dissatisfied with, and if nothing can be changed, any person with ideals will sooner or later become a person who uses wine as water like Colonel Bern.

   "What will my legacy be? What will it look like?" Winters asked himself.

   Winters even began to doubt: "Is there really an ideal country? Is there really a perfect system? Or is it a mistake to pursue a perfect system?"

   A few crisp sounds interrupted Winters' thoughts, and the attention of others was also attracted by the knocking sound.

   After focusing everyone's attention on himself, Bai Ying put down the goblet and spoon in his hand, and walked gracefully to the center of the hall.

"Gentlemen, dear ladies." The white eagle bowed dashingly and exaggeratedly to all around, and announced in his unique magnetic voice: "Please allow me to introduce today's most honorable guest, the honorable servant of Steel Castle, a loyal husband and honesty. The blacksmith, my dear friend, Mayor Paul Wupper."

   I don't know where, there is a sparse applause. The applause immediately became warm and the atmosphere reached a high point.

   Winters didn't see the "Mayor", only a puffy middle-aged man with a well-dressed and stiff expression walked into the hall with a reluctance to smile.

   [Herewego!]

   [Many words, such as "executive committee" sound a bit tongue-in-cheek - I feel that way when I write it myself]

   [Because smooth words are actually more commonly used words (covering your face), it is easy to be accidentally injured. Therefore, in this story, we use rare words such as "Resolution Council", "Executive Committee" and "Council Council" to replace the commonly used names of power bodies, please forgive me]

   [Some Chinese words correspond to foreign words, such as the Senate and the Senate…]

   [Thank you for your collection, reading, subscription, recommendation ticket, monthly ticket, reward and comment, thank you all]

   (end of this chapter)