Chapter 58: The New Arrival in Gaul City (Part Two)

The man before him was someone who, if thrown into a crowd, would be impossible to pick out at first glance—his appearance was simply too ordinary.

That was Grant’s initial thought upon seeing Machiavelli. Yet Grant was not one to judge by appearances alone. Perhaps because, before crossing over, in his old world there was a novelist named Gu Long, whose works he adored. He vaguely recalled that this author insisted the most terrifying assassins were those who looked completely ordinary, making it impossible to arouse any suspicion.

Of course, this Mr. Machiavelli was unlikely to be an assassin, as his strength was at most on par with Leiard’s. This was the third person Grant had encountered who knew the Way of Tao. The first had broken ties with him, the second was an assassin—what would this third one bring?

“You say you have a way to solve my problem?” Grant asked with interest, glancing at the plain man before him. Then, suddenly, “So, what exactly is my problem?”

Machiavelli replied without offense, “You have many problems, but your most urgent one now is how to develop further. I hear that Mr. Hegel in the city, who was focused on separating alchemy and establishing machinery independently, has passed away; and the other magic wielders do not support you much.”

Grant straightened up immediately. The man was indeed prepared—perhaps it was worth listening to his advice. “That’s correct. So, can you tell me how you propose to solve these difficulties?”

“Have you ever considered using faith to solve your problems?” Machiavelli asked bluntly.

“Faith? Religion?” Grant was momentarily stunned.

――――

People looked at the rough, stout dwarf with puzzled eyes until Wahrenheit calmed him and introduced the second important guest of the day: Basarkin, chief of the Stonefist clan, the largest dwarf tribe in the south.

Even with Wahrenheit’s prestige, some at the gathering couldn’t help but protest. This was always an exclusive circle, and those allowed access were either the current elite of Landia or the emerging powerful merchants closely tied to them. Even the old loyalists of the former dynasty could not enter, left only to stomp their feet and curse outside, secretly sharpening their wits to find a way in.

Princess Helen was welcomed into this circle largely because of her beauty. At least, the young men were captivated by her charm. Though prejudice and disdain toward her Feixi heritage lingered deep in their hearts, over ninety percent of the men here welcomed this stunning young lady—even if she was a ‘sea orc.’ What did that matter? Only the women disliked her; most men merely dreamed of chances to form some special bond with such an astonishing beauty. Her humble origins, secretly looked down upon, were also a kind of stimulant—for winning her heart and body would surely bring envy and admiration afterward.

Of course, risks and rewards coexisted. Helen was a Feixi princess, so even the most lustful men kept their intentions hidden, knowing any chance with her required subtlety, not force. The ‘sea orcs’ had attacked Herdasin before, reportedly because someone had assaulted the princess at sea.

But what was this old, ugly Basarkin doing here? The elders considered his presence carefully because they trusted their Prime Minister. Though not a merchant himself, he was certainly wise enough to be one.

However, the younger generation, some just starting in business, others still squandering their family's wealth, viewed this crude dwarf as unworthy of this gathering, despite his influence in southern dwarf tribes.

Basarkin paid no mind to their protests. The chief’s main reason for attending was the wine. As for collaborating with Wahrenheit, he was still pondering it, but believed there was no need to discuss it here.

“Regarding Basarkin’s presence, I will explain shortly,” Wahrenheit said solemnly. “But first, I ask everyone to pause the dancing and dining and follow me to the treasury to view two items.”

“Mr. Basarkin, could you wait a moment longer? We will soon have wine made from grapes set up in the buffet—you may help yourself then,” Wahrenheit said to the dwarf.

Basarkin swallowed, helplessly nodding. After persuading him, Wahrenheit led the group out of the ballroom, down a corridor, to a separate building within the estate.

This was Wahrenheit’s collection room. Many had heard of it. The Prime Minister had few hobbies besides eating and collecting various items—some extremely valuable, such as blue pearls, green gemstones, and even magical crystals favored by sorcerers. Yet there were also utterly mundane or worthless objects, like combustible stones dug from underground and black liquids preserved as specimens, all carefully labeled with their origins.

But this time, instead of leading them upstairs to view mineral specimens and miscellaneous curiosities, Wahrenheit activated some mechanism, revealing a stairway descending to an underground vault.

Suppressing their curiosity, the group followed him down. The walls emitted light—not from ever-burning lamps, but from magical crystals favored by sorcerers, similar to those the crow had seen in the west. The upper class disliked these crystals, preferring dragon’s incense candles shipped from the Far East or ingenious ever-burning lamps better suited to their status. Magical lighting was first used by sorcerers, later spreading to common folk who found practical use for it.

Pushing open a massive door, the group found themselves facing a loom.

They stared, confused. Wahrenheit smiled and said, “This is a new type of loom invented by a textile worker named Danit. I have decided to name it the Danit Loom.”