After a few seconds of silence, I can perceive movement from the depths of the room. A burly and robust man emerges from the shadows, reminiscent of Rom, albeit younger. His powerful arms seem forged for heavy tasks as he glares at me with annoyance from his position.
"The second entrance on your right; knock five times in a row," the man instructs before disappearing again into the shadows.
Following his instructions to the letter, we head towards the designated entrance, and I repeat the specified steps: knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
Almost immediately after, the door opens, revealing a muscular individual with white hair and purple eyes that reflect profound life experience. This man examines me and Beatrice closely before granting us access without hesitation. Upon entering, I feel the ambient temperature suddenly rise.
The exterior turns out to be merely a deceptive facade, as once inside the house, a spacious stone corridor unfolds, leading us into the unknown.
We walk in silence, following the man who serves as our guide.
"We had to flee; Baltazar sacrificed his group so we could stay. Now we live in the shadows," the man says, anger and disappointment permeating his voice.
The atmosphere is laden with an unpleasant odor, a nauseating blend of sweat, metal, and coal.
Around me, piles of metal pieces, sharp blades, gleaming swords, and boxes full of weapons accumulate alongside abandoned debris. However, this is not what truly interests me...
"The blacksmith guild of Lugunica has managed to monopolize the capital and, in general, most of Lugunica. They established branches in every corner, ruthlessly exploiting their workers to fulfill orders," the man turns towards me, extending his hand in a firm gesture.
I hesitate for a moment, but with no other option than to accept the greeting, I shake his hand. The grip is strong, and I try not to fall behind.
"We already know who you are; Baltazar sent us a letter, but we've decided to wait for more encouraging news," the man looks at me with lifeless eyes. "I'm Brimar, a man stripped of his past triumphs."
He releases my hand and opens the last door, revealing what seems to be a basement. We descend the stairs, and the temperature becomes increasingly intense. Metal strikes resonate clearly as we progress step by step.
"We are people expelled by bureaucracy; with no other viable alternative, we decided to sell weapons to thieves while remaining hidden in the shadows," Brimar explains.
Once we reach the bottom of the basement, I can clearly see the scene before me: nine individuals are present alongside the burly man who brought me here, making it ten. The room is filled with anvils and blazing furnaces emitting suffocating heat.
Living under these conditions must be overwhelming.
"Are you the one who fought against the knights?" Brimar asks, fixing his gaze on my rifle. The news has spread rapidly; the fact that the servants witnessed my confrontations has made it impossible to maintain discretion.
Moreover, there's the possibility that everything has been orchestrated to turn me into an enemy of these people. It seems these men hold a disdain for knights, which could be an advantage for me.
"Yes, I gave them a lesson," I smile slightly, causing Brimar to observe me with seriousness.
"Hahaha!" Brimar exclaims, laughing heartily. "A neighbor spread the word about that; people didn't believe it at first, but it seems to be true. Marco Luz, associate of the half-elf candidate."
Brimar seems pleased by this revelation, and the other individuals direct their gazes towards me as they rise and approach with smiles. Though all of them are adults, their appearance leaves much to be desired: dirty and malodorous to the point of being nauseating even for Beatrice.
The way news spreads will ensure that rumors grow to a point where, even if they don't believe initially, they'll have no choice but to spread them. It will be a significant blow to the pride of the knights.
Everyone talks simultaneously, preventing me from understanding their words. I extend my hands to stop their cacophony, and in a matter of seconds, they all fall silent.
"I've come here for one reason," I display my rifle. "I've come to offer you the opportunity for revenge."
I aim my weapon at a wall, and everyone quickly steps aside. A deafening roar fills the room when I fire; people cover their ears, experiencing a moment of fear. They then direct their gazes toward the source of the sound as a faint trail of smoke escapes from the rifle's barrel.
However, I point towards the impacted wall.
I have no time to waste; soon, we'll have to head towards Crusch.
"I'm building my own city; for now, we're just a small town," I explain with determination. "But with this weapon designed by me and built by Baltazar, we've managed to exterminate the Witch's Cult, eliminating one of its archbishops."
The blacksmiths watch attentively as I approach the wall to see the bullet pierce through it, forming a small crater. They fill with fear at the sight but quickly grasp my words.
"I'll pay you fairly; I'll provide you with food and housing. We'll improve your working conditions, and undoubtedly, we'll improve your lives," I clench my fist, displaying my determination. "We're a growing community. This is the only chance you'll have to progress. If you want revenge, you can only do it with us."
They must already know that I am the creator of the steam engine; they are aware of the existence of Irlam. I suppose they just need a little motivation.
"Leave behind this gloomy place and step into the light, where you'll work and be recognized as true artisans. You'll accomplish feats never seen before; we'll innovate and create so much that the blacksmith guild of Lugunica will bow before us."
Although they don't say a word, their faces still reflect sorrow for an evident reason.
The excessive growth of the guild was due to the monopolization of steel production. Iron was relegated to simple tasks, with no place in a world where steel was the undisputed protagonist. That was the key point that led to the decline of all other guilds.
But things are no longer as they used to be.
"I know how to produce steel," I draw a malicious smile as they look at me with expressions filled with surprise. "The Lugunica guild is not the only one capable of it, but that's not my goal. Our steel will surpass theirs, forged with mastery and perfection."
Yes, when I manage to produce wrought iron, I can initiate processes to obtain steel; from there, it's just a matter of recycling and keeping the purity of the metal intact. However, I need capable individuals to guide the workers in this delicate process.
All these individuals were leaders in their respective guilds; they were forced to close their doors, but they never wasted their time or let their skills wither.
"Baltazar has recommended you, and here I am for that same reason," I continue speaking as I observe their silent faces. "If you want the chance to get revenge, you must come to Irlam. Only there will you find a fresh start under a renewed name."
The men look at me without uttering a word; only the crackling from the scorching heat emanating from the furnaces is heard. They exchange glances filled with doubt and fear.
"The weapon I've designed can easily defeat knights; the machine I created improves the efficiency of any process and allows for semi-automatic tasks," I hand a sack to Brimar, thus revealing my intentions. "Inside, you'll find ten holy coins, twenty silver, and one gold."
They hastily examine the contents of the sack, confirming their valuable treasure.
"You can leave whenever you want; just bring with you what you cherish the most, the rest is not necessary," I say, turning my back as I begin to climb the stairs in the opposite direction.
"If you desire revenge, if you yearn to progress, if you dream of witnessing how the blacksmiths look up at us when we have achieved greatness... then I await you in Irlam with open arms."
Without saying another word, we distance ourselves from the place. Beatrice seems more comfortable breathing in the fresh air, and so do I. The truth is, I couldn't bear another minute in that stifling and foul-smelling environment.
"Why did you give them so much money? I suppose. Wouldn't it have been better to send carriages to take them to Irlam? In fact," Beatrice looks toward a food stall, and we approach it. We buy some strawberry skewers and various fruits, then walk back to the mansion, taking our time.
The blacksmiths are proud people, but also loyal; they were leaders abandoned by their people and remained faithful to their principles until the end. Providing them an opportunity is better than leaving them in misery.
They have no way to start anew with that money in Lugunica; they could leave, but they would still face difficulties.
The recognition we are gaining is a key factor: Emilia's speech, my personal fight against the cult... Today, I will be granted the title of baron, which will further spread the news of our victory over the cult.
All of this is thanks to the explosive blow; they couldn't hide the information due to Emilia's powerful speech and the support of the wise chief Miklotov, who made it possible to receive a fair reward.
"By giving them money, they will feel indebted to us," I conclude while savoring the last strawberry. "If they have what it takes to gather their belongings and risk it all for this opportunity, I'll be proud to welcome them. If they don't, then I simply don't need them."
This is the best way to sift through people; if they truly desire revenge, they will do everything in their power to achieve it. And if they have the courage to join us, they will do anything I ask.
Beatrice seems to understand, but her attention is captured by a shop where a black drawing in the shape of a book adorns the wooden board. Her eyes light up with a glimmer of remembrance, reminding me of something I promised and had completely forgotten.
We enter the shop, and a small bell hangs over the door, producing a pleasant sound. A young woman looks at us with surprise and bows as our eyes explore the place.
The shelves are perfectly arranged, and the books seem to be well taken care of. However, what catches my attention is the large number of volumes present in the establishment.
While Beatrice searches among the shelves, I decide to strike up a conversation with the shopkeeper.
The best way to do business is to get involved in other people's problems. The capital is undoubtedly an endless source of wealth, but it is also plagued by fierce competition that causes businesses to open and close constantly.
The girl looks at me with a forced smile; her pale face and dark circles clearly indicate that she has been under high levels of stress lately, affecting her sleep. Her sky-blue hair strikingly contrasts with her worn-out clothes.
The book market is usually crowded, which implies that prices fluctuate constantly. But it also means that choosing the right place to buy can be crucial; a fruit market is not ideal for acquiring books since one generally doesn't go loaded when planning such a literary purchase.
Furthermore, this area is not exactly prosperous, so the lack of customers is not surprising.
"I would like to purchase several books," I smile, trying to be courteous.
The girl's eyes light up, and she immediately straightens her posture as she looks at me with joy.
"Understood. Once I place them on the counter, I'll give you the total, sir," she explains with some desperation, seeming to breathe with difficulty.
"Don't you get much clientele?" I inquire curiously.
She quickly realizes the excess of emotion in her initial response and coughs slightly to compose herself. Then, she looks disappointedly at the store before responding.
"It's a bad area; I rented this place because of its affordable price, but customers rarely show up. Besides, the books are quite old. However, I wanted to create this library; it was the inheritance my grandfather left, and I decided to sell it to finance my life while..." The young woman abruptly stops when she realizes she's sharing intimate details about her life with a stranger. She quickly becomes embarrassed and falls silent.
"Is there anything else you want to do?" I ask with a curious tone. If she has trusted enough to speak this way, I suppose she's willing to tell it all.
Just as the girl is about to speak, Beatrice suddenly appears.
"Marco!" Beatrice exclaims, running towards me with a book in her hands. Her illuminated face reveals that she has found something she likes. "Look, it's like the stories you tell me I suppose."
With enthusiasm, she hands me the book titled "A Love of Laments." At first glance, it seems to be a melancholic and sad story. Intrigued, I open the book to explore it. Instead of finding a synopsis or any other initial information, the first thing that unfolds before my eyes is the table of contents followed by the first chapter.
"It's about a princess who falls in love with a prince from an opposing nation," the girl explains with a sigh laden with demotivation.
"Have you read all the books in this place?" I ask curiously.
She nods while gently taking the book from my hands and flipping directly to the last page where only the author's acknowledgments appear: Helena Grandheart.
"Is it you?" I inquire, unable to help myself. There's no other reason why someone would reveal acknowledgments so abruptly; I begin to understand what's happening here.
I start by explaining to the young woman my thoughts as we piece together the puzzle. She developed an interest in reading thanks to her grandfather and probably faced difficulties after his death, eventually being forced to sell his personal collection. Perhaps she used that situation to learn to write and start a new life based on her passion for literature.
The diversity of worlds that exist between the pages of books is incredible.
The girl opens her eyes in surprise, confirming my suspicions.
"Do we know each other?" she asks fearfully as she tries to analyze me carefully, searching for familiar traces on my face.
I deny her assumption, causing her to step back cautiously.
"Well, let's say I've met people in situations similar to yours, so it was easy to deduce," I respond calmly. Through a simple analysis, I can glimpse the most obvious details of her situation.
"My grandfather hasn't passed away, but your assumptions are quite accurate," she admits.
She explains that her grandfather is ill and needs to sell his precious books to cover the necessary medical treatment. As I observe her worried face, I understand that the situation is far from favorable.
I direct my gaze toward Beatrice, seeking support and complicity. She nods with an enigmatic smile, as if she has already decided on the path to follow.
"I have a proposal for you," I announce straightforwardly. Now that I have someone eager to dedicate themselves to writing in front of me, I can initiate my personal projects—yes, I'm referring to the local newspaper.
The first step is to secure suitable paper for printing our publications, which will require negotiations in Irlam with Anastasia. However, in the meantime, we can use common paper; the important thing is to start the mass printing industry.
Curiosity shines in the eyes of the young woman at my direct and intriguing words.
"I want to offer you a job with me; that way, you can do what you love and receive proper compensation for it. Furthermore, I personally commit to covering all the expenses for the necessary medical treatment to cure your grandfather."
I know that the best way to ensure people's loyalty is by offering help in difficult times. Although there is a risk of betrayals, it is significantly reduced when someone has a debt to us.
"It will depend on the boundaries you set and the trust you place in me," I respond, noticing her palpable skepticism.
"Who are you?" she asks with some skepticism.
"I am Marco Luz, pleased to meet you," I reply courteously while performing a slight bow. "I am the mayor of Irlam, a growing town."
The young woman looks at me with bewilderment, making me realize that she is not aware of what has happened.
"Allow me to see your grandfather," I request kindly, empathizing with her desperate situation.
She agrees confidently and opens the counter of the shop. I suppose she is so distressed that she is willing to try any minimal opportunity to help her grandfather.
Together, we climb the stairs to reach a room where a nauseating smell of decay permeates the air. I muster my will to contain the nausea, but Beatrice reacts immediately by covering her nose.
"It smells worse than even you, in fact," she asserts with a disgusted expression.
The comment is painful and unexpected; it's something I can't avoid when the miasma emanates from me.
I approach the old man, who shows evident signs of the passage of time with his wrinkled face and fragile white hair. The girl hurries to assist him quickly when I discover that he has had a sudden physiological accident.
"Even if we manage to cure him, I suppose, I doubt he has much time left, in fact," I murmur with sorrow.
"I'm sorry you have to witness this," she apologizes, bowing in a sign of respect.
I gently take her by the shoulders and lift her, seeking to convey comfort amid the sadness.
"Don't apologize; we will all reach that age if life allows it. I will never judge the elderly because I will become one too. Some things are beyond our control, and this is one of them."
We briefly leave the room to allow her to clean up the mess and open the windows to freshen the stale air.
"My grandfather sleeps for hours, eats, but it's very difficult for him," she explains as we return to the interior of the room.
At first glance, I don't notice anything unusual or extraordinary in his physical state.
Beatrice approaches the old man and places her hand on his head, radiating a faint blue light. I observe his deep wrinkles, his fragile white hair, and the time-marked spots on his face.
After a few seconds, Beatrice looks at me with a negative gesture, shaking her head twice.
"He doesn't actually have any illness," she states with conviction.
I don't know the extent of the healing limits of the magic possessed by Beatrice; perhaps someone like Felix might be able to gather more information about it. But for now, I don't have access to him or his special abilities.
Additionally, facing this seemingly unsolvable situation would require considerable effort.
Helena's expression fades, and a trace of uncertainty appears in her eyes as she listens to me speak. She feels the need to understand my words, as if searching for answers deep within herself.
"This man doesn't suffer from any illness; he is simply in old age," I assert calmly, feeling how her vacant gaze transforms into a desperate struggle to not accept the cruel reality she faces.
Helena seems to be aware of the situation, but her heart resists accepting it.
"Don't say such a thing! You're a fraud!" she exclaims vehemently, gripping my jacket tightly. Her words, full of anguish, unleash like a storm.
But I maintain my composure, aware that I must be firm in my convictions.
Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she hits the floor in helplessness. The fragility of her figure reveals the impact of the challenging economic situation she faces, showcasing her physical and emotional deterioration.
"Each body emits a unique energy, and with age, that energy does, in fact, diminish," Beatrice explains, seeking to offer an explanation for what is happening.
Spirits see the world differently than we do—life and death, even, I'm convinced they perceive the miasma, keeping it a secret. After all, they are composed of mana, giving them a perspective different from ours.
"The old man has lived many years, in fact, but soon..."
Helena tries to approach Beatrice, but I gently stop her, looking at her with compassion.
"Live the last days with your grandfather, take this," I offer her twenty gold coins, which surprises her.
Her tears continue to flow as she tightly holds the coins. It's a small investment to meet my objectives; after all, this money belongs to Roswaal. It doesn't pain me to spend it.
This way, she can consult the healers she wants and see that there's nothing more to be done.
I hand her a metal card; an object I've designed to identify people I recommend. This will ease her journey, as the guards won't pose any obstacles in her path.
"Thank you..." Helena whispers gratefully.
With Beatrice by my side, I head towards the door while she remains on the floor, holding the coins with devotion.
"If you have doubts, you can ask around. I'm sure someone will know about me. If what you really want is to fulfill your dreams, then make that decision for yourself," I advise before leaving.
Uncertainty and pain mark her face, but I know she has received a spark of hope. The choice is in her hands, and only time will tell if she will take the path I offer.
In any case, it's crucial that she arrives with unwavering determination to overcome any adversity. Only time will reveal what will happen.
Before closing the door, I add one last comment.
"However, I would recommend not coming this week, or at least until you receive important news. It's just a precaution."
I conclude my visit and leave the place with Beatrice, who holds a single book in her hands.
"Did you take the book she wrote?" I ask, surprised to see that the cover is identical.
Beatrice nods as she caresses the tome tenderly.
"It resembles the stories you tell me; I suppose. I wonder what its real ending will be, in fact."
I am genuinely intrigued to discover it as well; I admit to being perplexed by that unexpected turn. I wonder if we will have the opportunity to see her again... Perhaps with the gold coins, she can embark on a different path.
However, sometimes it's wiser to leave that decision in the hands of others: if someone wants to forge a connection or start a conversation... That's the magic: each person holds an unread story, like a hidden book waiting to be discovered.
It's fascinating how, in a matter of minutes, we've witnessed such intense and emotional situations; we've truly witnessed a pure love like the one Helena feels for her grandfather...
Once we reach the mansion, I see that everyone is ready, and the carriages eagerly await to depart once and for all. Even though it's noon, I suppose I can enjoy a snack on the way.
Emilia greets me as we pass through the main gates. She runs towards us in her impeccable military attire. I can't help but admire how well it suits her; however, she looks embarrassed when our eyes meet... It seems she has remembered everything.
"Good afternoon… princess." I smile mischievously, teasing her gently.
She comes to a sudden stop, covering her mouth as her cheeks turn a deep crimson. Her eyes desperately search for some corner to hide. But there's no time to waste.
I continue walking forward, leaving her with Beatrice.
"Let's leave what happened behind and move forward," I comment with determination.
The soldiers also come out prepared with their luggage to accompany us to Crusch. The servants quickly organize the baggage, and in a matter of minutes, we are ready to begin our journey.
Lucas positions himself beside me and looks at me seriously.
"We've buried the last one..."
Finally, I've obtained valuable information that allows me to glimpse two possible future scenarios: that means I need to investigate further to gather conclusive evidence... to be able to anticipate the future created by Roswaal.
"Good job," I respond pleased.
Without further delay, we board the luxurious carriages and set off for the majestic mansion of Crusch. Emilia seems to have regained her composure, engaging in a calm conversation with Beatrice.
The latter proudly shows her book, sparking a lively chat between them.
Now that we are here, I must ensure to do everything correctly. Crusch possesses a sharp discernment to detect lies even better than Puck.
I can't afford to succumb to pressure; after all, she is a candidate for the throne, and every step must be carefully considered.
To help her or not... to allow her death or to fight alongside her... In the end, I know that Emilia will choose to support her, so I won't have another option. However, if I were the one in that situation, I would consider letting her die as the best option.
Certainly, that would significantly affect my personal economy; I would have to look for new suppliers while the Karsten family recovers from the blow they suffered. But that doesn't matter right now; handling matters related to Crusch must become my top priority.
Whether she lives or dies... that remains to be seen.
After a little over an hour, we arrive at our desired destination: Crusch's mansion. I've made some modifications to the personalized clock divided into twenty-four hours; however, I am still evaluating how well it works, and I might make some adjustments before officially marketing them.
It's absurd to lack suitable time zones; measuring time in hours and minutes is only possible if I make the right modifications. It's a useful tool that I need for my work.
From now on, time will be measured following this renewed logic.
The carriage stops, and servants open it from the outside. As I descend, I glimpse an enormous mansion that makes Roswaal's residence pale in comparison.
Emilia and I watch in admiration as our eyes roam the four floors of the building, an unprecedented limit in architectural design.
A vast terrace with two majestic fountains adorns its sides; imposing watchtowers rise in the distance. Additionally, I can make out several carriages parked on the terrace: an unequivocal sign that they are indeed preparing to face the whale.