Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Can you really forge iron?" Winters asked Carlos Soya—brother of the great blacksmith Berlion—seriously.

Carlos was somewhat flustered by the sudden query, as he stuttered and stammered, "Yes… my lord, wasn't it agreed that we would start the furnace only after my brother is rescued?"

"I'm asking you, can you?" Winters's brows furrowed slightly: "Or can't you?"

Backed into a corner, Carlos answered resolutely: "I can!"

Seeing Carlos's evasive demeanor, Winters guessed that the likelihood was the young man was not well-versed in his craft.

In fact, Carlos harbored another layer of thought; he neither wanted to show his mettle before his brother returned nor feared proving his worthlessness would mean no one would go to rescue his brother.

"Ease your mind," Winters sighed, "Whether you help or not, I will rescue your brother. I've already sent people to look for Berlion, and we should have news soon. You don't have to be afraid; your brother was one of my men, and the camaraderie between us is far deeper than you think. That's why Pierre took you in and protected you, and why I won't trouble you."

Carlos felt a surge of emotion and nodded emphatically.

Of the Soya family's three brothers, Carlos's father and older brother were already gone; everything he did was for the sake of his eldest brother's safe return.

Winters sighed. Without the little blacksmith, the little blacksmith should be able to manage as well… he supposed.

Time was of the essence. Taking Carlos with him, Winters immediately picked up a gift and went to visit the father-in-law of the blacksmith Shosa.

Shosa's father-in-law, named Poltan, had many honors: one of Revodan's first settlers, Revodan's first blacksmith, and the inaugural president of the Revodan Blacksmith Guild Alliance…

Even when Revodan was nothing more than a few grass huts by the St. George River, flames were already licking the inside of Poltan's forge.

The history of his forge even predates the name "Revodan."

True to his self-made roots, regardless of how much property he accumulated, Poltan still worked beside the anvil every day, earning the reputation for being "hardworking, astute, and robust."

Thanks to his booming voice, sense of responsibility, and decisive action, blacksmith Poltan gradually became one of Revodan's most prominent figures, his words carrying a weight no less significant than that of another gentleman leader—the old tobacco merchant Priskin.

But all that came to an end with an accident eight years ago.

Poltan, then beyond fifty, was struck in the back by a falling beam, rendering him unable to feel anything below his waist.

The capable and astute great blacksmith was transformed into a helpless invalid dependent on others for his every need.

The people of Revodan expressed their regret and pity for him, but even the combined sighs of the entire population, magnified a hundredfold, couldn't equal the old man's mental and physical suffering.

It was around that time that Shosa, a young blacksmith working at Poltan's forge, was taken in as his son-in-law.

Blacksmith Shosa became the new master of the forge while old Poltan withdrew from public life, so much so that he was no longer seen even at weekly religious services.

But today, Poltan's house received an unexpected visitor—Military Governor Winters Montagne.

Winters had not arranged to meet with Shosa at this time, but he had a habit of acting on his impulses, so he arrived early.

Both Shosa and old Poltan were astonished.

"To have such an esteemed gentleman come to see an invalid like me who's close to death," old Poltan tried to prop up his upper body: "is truly an honor."

The old man was emaciated, like skin draped over bones. Years of being bedridden had caused his muscles to atrophy, and his cheeks were sunken and sagging.

Seeing old Poltan now, no one would believe he once was a tall, robust blacksmith with a voice like a tolling bell who laughed and cursed loudly.

Shosa hurried to assist his father-in-law.

"There's no need for trouble; let the old man be comfortable as he wishes," Winters said frankly. "Actually, I came to seek assistance on a matter."

"Please ask," old Poltan replied with a calm expression. "I will withhold nothing."

"I want to know everything about Iron Peak Mine: where are the mineshafts located? What are the reserves like? How is the quality of the ore? Can it still be mined? You are the person most knowledgeable about the history of Iron Peak County and Revodan, so I've come to seek your advice without permission. I hope, sir, that you won't mind."

When he heard "the person most knowledgeable about the history of Iron Peak County and Revodan," a flicker of emotion crossed old Poltan's face, but it vanished just as quickly as a ripple disappears on the water.

"There's so much to tell, I hardly know where to start," the old man replied.

Winters simply pulled up a chair and sat down, then motioned for others to do the same: "Then let me ask, and please don't hesitate to answer. Can Iron Peak Mine still be mined?"

"Yes," the old man nodded. "Iron Peak Mountain is essentially a mountain of iron. The Herders only exhausted the shallow veins; they didn't know how to mine any deeper. When we arrived here, we dug three slanted shafts on the north side of the mountain, which is what we call Iron Peak Mine."

Winters nodded, listening, and then took out a small notebook. "Then why was mining discontinued later on?"

Old Poltan sighed deeply: "The ore from Iron Peak Mine... it's what blacksmiths call 'poisoned ore.' You might not understand, but Shosa and this youngster here probably do," he said, nodding towards Carlos.

Although Winters had not introduced Carlos, the young blacksmith's identity was immediately recognized by the old man.

"Poisoned ore means it's bad ore," Carlos said, his voice growing fainter. "The iron smelted from it is also bad; it needs to be... detoxified."

When he heard the compound word "detoxified," a hint of skepticism flashed in old Poltan's eyes.

But the old man didn't press on and continued: "The best iron for forging is red iron, black iron, and magnet iron, and a purer form of spathic iron is passable, brown iron can also be used. But if the ore contains too much pyrite or siderite, the smelted iron is no good. It becomes brittle and easily breaks."