Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

TL: Etude

Emerson Wilde waited in the castle’s dining room for the arrival of Count Kent.

Half a year ago, he was appointed as a royal commissioner and stationed in Emden. The Kent family had familial ties with the Wilde family, and their interactions had never ceased. Emerson had worked diligently behind the scenes to secure his posting to Emden.

This assignment was like a vacation on his relative’s territory. Unlike the lords of the northwest, the Kent family was known for its wealth, so Emerson naturally didn’t endure any hardships here. Moreover, thanks to the relationship between the two families, he didn’t receive the cold treatment other royal commissioners often faced from their hosts.

A voice announced at the door, “The Count has arrived!”

Emerson stood up to greet Count Kent’s arrival.

The lord of the castle walked into the dining room at a leisurely pace, followed by a young man who bore a resemblance to the Count.

That was the Count’s son, Emerson’s cousin — Jace Kent.

He greeted the father and son, “Good day, Uncle Kent. Good day, Cousin Jace.”

“Sit down, young Emerson,” the Count warmly invited Emerson to sit, displaying none of the aloofness he had shown when Viscount Angelo visited. His pale face even had a touch of color.

After the father and son seated themselves at the dining table, the Count instructed a servant, “Serve the meal.”

Jace greeted Emerson, “It’s been a while. How have you been finding your stay here?”

Emerson responded with a smile, “Uncle Kent has been very kind to me. What about you, when did you return?”

Jace replied, “I arrived home last night. I didn’t want to disturb your rest, so I didn’t notify you.”

A few months ago, Jace had led troops to the south to support the king, but they had to disband temporarily due to a shortage of provisions in the capital.

The three discussed recent events. Count Kent remarked, “With the grain completely burned this time, I wonder when His Majesty will call upon the lords for service again.”

All three were aware of the kingdom’s grain shortage, so there was no need for caution in their discussion.

Jace shook his head, “Before I left, there were all sorts of rumors. Our king is truly facing an unprecedented crisis. It’s not just a matter of food. It seems the rebels in the south are exceptionally strong and difficult to handle.”

His tone lacked any concern for the king.

Hearing this, Count Kent said meaningfully to Emerson, “Looking at the current situation, both the Wilde and Kent families need to make early preparations!”

Emerson understood what the Count meant by “early preparations” — not to put all their hopes in the royal family and to leave a way out for themselves.

Although he was a royal commissioner, his loyalty was first to his family. In these uncertain times, he maintained the image of a royal loyalist. Once the royal family’s decline became apparent, he would gradually distance himself, and when their defeat was certain, he would quickly switch sides.

In this era, wasn’t this what everyone did?

He gave the Count a knowing look, “Thank you for the reminder, Uncle Kent. I’m sure my father will make all necessary preparations.”

Count Kent laughed heartily. Knowing how to judge the situation and act accordingly was the reason their two families had long-standing relations and even alliances.

As they spoke, the servant brought breakfast.

Upon lifting the lid from the dish in front of the Count, a pungent smell of blood wafted out.

Emerson wrinkled his nose. Despite having dined with Uncle Kent several times, he still wasn’t accustomed to that smell.

On Count Kent’s plate was a delicate glass cup, filled not with wine or juice, but with crimson blood, its appearance enough to make one’s hair stand on end.

His cousin, Jace Kent, seemed unperturbed, evidently accustomed to his father’s unusual choice of drink.

Emerson had visited Emden before, but at that time, Count Kent hadn’t adopted this habit.

During his current visit to Emden, the first time he dined with the Count, a large cup of blood had been placed on the table, startling him.

The Count explained that it was a health regimen taught to him by a wandering doctor. Drinking a cup of sheep or pig blood at each meal, supplemented with secret medicines, was said to strengthen the body and prolong life.

Emerson knew from past communications between the families that Count Kent had once been gravely ill. A doctor passing through his territory had saved his life, likely the same person who taught him this health regimen.contemporary romance

Now, it seemed this method had some effect. His Uncle Kent, in his fifties, appeared quite robust, although his skin had turned somewhat pale, probably from spending too much time inside the castle.

The Count had even enthusiastically recommended his health regimen to Emerson, but the thought of the pungent smell of blood made him politely decline. How could one have an appetite while drinking such a thing during a meal?

After taking a sip of his “drink,” the Count seemed invigorated and began to enjoy the meal on the table.

While eating, he said, “Putting aside the southern rebellion, a lot has happened around here recently!”

Jace, just back from his journey, was interested and quietly awaited his father’s continuation.

“Our neighbor to the north single-handedly eradicated pirates who invaded his territory. I remember that young lad from the Grayman family is just about 15 years old now. Quite a feat.”

Jace, somewhat dismissive, said, “Pirates are nothing special. Even a young lord can handle them with capable vassals.”

Count Kent continued:

“After defeating the pirates, our young Count seems to have grown bolder and has now taken over Baylding, next door. He and Baylding’s lord, Malron Ganard, are blood-sworn brothers.”

“There are two versions of the story. One, propagated by Grayman, claims that Ganard’s vassals plotted to kill their master, and as Malron Ganard’s blood-sworn brother, he couldn’t stand idly by. There’s a signature from Malron Ganard on the announcement, though it might have been coerced.”

“The other version, spread by Ganard’s vassals, suggests that Grayman coveted the wealth of Baylding and detained Malron Ganard under the guise of a banquet. They took up arms to seek justice but, unsurprisingly, failed. How could a few viscounts and barons compete with a count? So these fellows have come to us…”

Jace picked up his father’s thread, “Seeking our military support?”

“That’s right. Baylding’s steward, Angelo, has been coming to see me every few days.”

“Do you think, Father, who is lying?”

Count Kent shrugged, “It could be Grayman, it could be Angelo, or maybe both are lying. Who knows? Old Ganard’s death was suspicious, Angelo and his men can’t be absolved of blame, and Grayman’s takeover of Baylding is an undeniable fact. So, my son, it’s not important who is lying. What’s important is…”

“Making the choice that benefits us the most!” Jace understood what his father meant.

Count Kent smiled at his son’s maturity, nodding as he took another sip of his “drink.”

“Angelo has already made his offer—half of Baylding’s lands. I wonder how much Grayman is willing to offer. I’m considering who should go to Alda.”

As soon as the Count finished speaking, Emerson, who had been silently listening, stood up.

“Uncle Kent, if you agree, I would like to make the trip to Alda.”

done.co