White Eagle's hall was gradually filled with guests.

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

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

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

The mysterious middle-aged man who is missing two fingers from Winters' schoolmate seems to be very respected by the forge owners. Wherever he goes, people will stop talking, nod, or raise a glass to greet him.

The middle-aged man swaggered through the venue and went straight to the long table at the other end of the hall, followed by Winters calmly.

Kaman, who was drinking at the long table, accidentally caught a glimpse of Winters walking over with an unfamiliar face. He put down his 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 Anna's direction without saying anything, "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 around and walked towards the small conversation circle near the long table.

There were about a dozen guests gathered near the long table, all of whom were quite old. Most of them had gray beards and hair, and their heads were bald. These people had long passed the age of courting ladies, and they did not want to lower themselves to associate with younger generations.

, so a small circle naturally formed.

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

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

While talking, a middle-aged man stepped into the chat circle.

Winters followed the former, staying on the periphery of the invisible circle, maintaining an appropriate distance.

The other guests naturally regarded Winters as the "Colonel's" adjutant, so they didn't find anything strange.

"Want some?" the middle-aged man pulled out the cork of the bottle with his bare hands and asked the burly old man with a smile.

The burly old man protected the wine glass: "Distilled spirits? You want to kill me."

"Distilled? I didn't see the label." The middle-aged man poured himself half a glass of transparent liquid, and handed the bottle and cork to Winters: "Whatever, it's just wine."

The two spoke in a relaxed and friendly tone, and it seemed that they had a close relationship.

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

"A bear in tights" is the truest portrayal of a burly old man.

His beard on his temples was as lush as the weeds by the river in midsummer, and his dark skin looked like he had just climbed out of a charcoal kiln.

Every button from the chest to the stomach was tightly stretched, obviously undergoing huge tension that should not be endured. The material was enough for Winters to make a two-piece coat, and it looked a bit restrictive on the burly old man.

Even though middle-aged weight loss and muscle atrophy have made the burly old man no longer strong, you can still imagine the loud noise he would make when he swung the hammer when he was young.

The other old men around him must have been blacksmiths in their early years. They are not the "blacksmiths" who bear the name of blacksmiths today but actually become businessmen and employers; they are actually blacksmiths who work hard at the forge and anvil, sweating profusely.

The dangerous and hard careers have left some traces on their bodies, including swollen knees, deformed joints, ugly scars... these are all considered lucky.

The old man next to the burly old man has only one knuckle on the other four fingers on his left hand except the thumb. Two people behind him, there is another short and stocky old man whose right eye is covered by an eyepatch. He must have been in some accident.

Winters saw everything, took it to heart, and silently collected information.

Winters was not surprised at all that "the colonel and the old blacksmiths in front of him had similar odors."

"Why don't we talk anymore? Gentlemen?" The middle-aged man smelled the wine glass: "Have I disturbed your interest?"

Several old blacksmiths looked at each other, and the burly old man headed by Schmid said in a rough voice: "If the mayor doesn't show up, what's the use of us old guys complaining more?"

Schmid emphasized the word "Lord Mayor" very strongly, and his dissatisfaction was palpable.

"That boy Paul Wooper must give you an accurate word today!" The short, stocky, one-eyed old blacksmith's fiery temper said: "If a nail hits the wood, there will be a hole in it. If he dares to hide anything, don't even think about it.

It’s my vote, [angry Monta expletive]!”

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

Winters blinked, and he finally learned the senior's name.

Colonel Berne took a sip of distilled wine and waved his hands repeatedly: "Please don't harm me. The trade ban is a matter between your Solingen state government and the Grand Council, and has nothing to do with the army. What position should I make?"

"When the emperor is here, the army is still under the control of the state. Your troops are stationed in Solingen, and you are also a member of Solingen. Of course you can express your stance."

Colonel Berne smiled bitterly and shook his head, refusing to say anything.

The one-eyed and stocky old blacksmith immediately couldn't suppress his anger. He shouted: "Colonel, you know best. Your soldiers eat, drink, eat, drink, live, clothe, live, and transport...as well as the salary. Which one of them is not from our steel fort? After so many years,

, we haven’t lost a grain of wheat or a dime of silver to you, right? Now that the steel castle is under attack, you have to speak for us!”

"That's enough!" The burly old man Schmid roared: "Isn't that embarrassing enough?"

The one-eyed old blacksmith was so angry that he groaned, but said nothing more.

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

Colonel Berne waved his hand, indicating that it was okay. After taking a few sips of wine, he changed the topic: "Last winter training was delayed. I want to make up for it before spring."

Winters pricked up his ears when he heard this. When he was still in the military academy, he had heard that the Monta people would organize military training during the winter farm slack. The disciplined fighting methods of the mountain people were the origin of today's Alliance infantry tactics.

However, the above memories mainly come from the boasts of fellow students from Monta, and the war history textbooks briefly mention the relevant content without going into details.

Therefore, as soon as Colonel Berne mentioned winter training, Winters immediately cheered up.

Old man Schmid touched his forehead, as if a brown bear was scratching his itch. He recalled: "Last winter...after the lakes and rivers froze last year, everyone was busy working and really couldn't take care of winter training. If we make up for it now...Colonel

, it will be frozen soon."

"I know."

"It's easy to talk about people in the city. Everyone is idle anyway." Old man Schmid's voice was rough and low, but very friendly: "What about the people outside the city? As soon as the weather gets warmer, they will plant seeds.

You are very busy here."

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

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

"Who are you recruiting?" Colonel Bern paused and said with a smile, "Whoever is hungry will be recruited."

After speaking, the colonel drank the remaining distilled liquor in the glass in one gulp. Although Winters felt that drinking like this was harmful to the body, he still handed over the bottle against his will.

Before the other old blacksmiths could recover, the old man who had just questioned the colonel's attitude had already figured it out. He asked in a hoarse voice: "Do you want to recruit... mule workers?"

Several other old blacksmiths couldn't help but frown when they heard this.

Mule workers are the poorest people at the bottom of Steel Castle. Most of them are not from Steel Castle, but have moved in from other towns or even other states. They cannot be apprentices and can only engage in hard work, working like mules in the mine.

, so he was called a mule worker contemptuously.

Winters also figured out that the mule workers mentioned by several blacksmiths were the men on the street shivering in the cold wind, waiting for their employers.

"The mule workers are not Steel Castle people, and many of them are not even Solingen people." The one-eyed blacksmith glared: "Winter training is in charge of food and drink, so why should we give them free bread?"

"According to tradition, people from outside the state are not recruited for winter training." The old man with a hoarse voice slowly added: "According to the law, winter training is a state matter, and people from outside the state cannot be recruited."

"I know, I know everything." Colonel Berne looked indifferent and was not shaken by the objections at all: "But I also know one thing: people have to eat bread. If you don't have to eat, you have to find a way to get it, otherwise you will have to eat it.

Starve to death. None of the employees in Steel Castle are working now. If you don't care, something big will happen sooner or later. If you don't want to help, then I have to do it. Gentlemen, listen up, I am helping you... but you still

I just didn’t realize it.”

The colonel looked around at everyone with a hint of threat. No one among the blacksmiths dared to look at him.

In addition to Schmid, the burly old blacksmith laughed heartily and relieved 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

A way to convince the next executive committee member, and... the next mayor."

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

Old man Schmid patted the colonel's shoulder hard. The colonel shook his head and said nothing more.

"How could it be like this?" The old man with a hoarse voice also sighed: "When we were young, it was so wonderful! As soon as the lakes and rivers froze, we would work hard for a whole winter. Wait until it gets warmer

, when the lakes and rivers freeze, boats of all sizes will carry our goods away to Plato, to the United Provinces, and to Veneta. Alas, how did it end up like this?"

As he spoke, the old man's eyes became moist and he couldn't help but sigh again.

The one-eyed old blacksmith muttered and complained: "In the past, when the emperor was still here, although the army was recruited every year, at least the legions were still under the control of the states. With military power, no one dared to wrong us. What now? The legions have been taken over by the federation. They

If we turn against each other and refuse to recognize anyone, we will be fucking naked! Anyone can take advantage of it! [Vicious mountain folk’s expletive]!”

Winters listened silently. If memory were a notebook, he had just written two lines:

"Old blacksmith Schmid is a member of the executive committee";

“The conflict between the state of Solingen and the Monta Confederation is more acute than expected, and it may even be that not only Solingen state is hostile.”

Winters smelled the opportunity, but for some reason, he could hardly feel the joy, and instead felt a little depressed.

Seeing the "great heritage" corrupt into something that makes more and more people feel dissatisfied, and if nothing can be changed, any person with ideals will sooner or later become a person like Colonel Bernier who drinks wine as water.

"What will my legacy be? What will it become?" Winters couldn't help but ask himself.

Winters even began to wonder: "Is there really a Utopia? Is there really a perfect system? Or is the pursuit of establishing a perfect system itself a mistake?"

Several 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 hands and walked gracefully to the center of the hall.

"Gentlemen, dear ladies." Bai Ying bowed around him in a chic and exaggerated manner, announcing with a unique magnetic voice: "Please allow me to introduce today's most distinguished guest, the respectable public servant of Steel Castle, the loyal husband and the honest man.

blacksmith, my dear friend Mayor Paul Wooper."

From somewhere, sparse applause sounded. The applause soon became enthusiastic, and the atmosphere reached a high point.
Chapter completed!