It had been several months since Stockwell joined the ranks of Moot village. He did not sit around like a wise sage like many of the villagers expected, but rather he ran around all over the place building and collecting all kinds of things. He had taken Niven, as an apprentice and he had him learning all manner of esoteric knowledge. They were always busy with something.
The blacksmith, Faber, rounded the corner behind his workshop. He and Stockwell along with many of the men had built something that Stockwell had called a "Bessemer Converter". It astonished him no matter how many times he saw it in action.
He had just finished a separate project for the scientist and figured he should come around and watch them work.
"Mr. Stockwell sir, I finished that project-"
"If you bastards were any denser we'd be using you to make a suit of armor! Now get a move on!"
"Yes sir!"
Stockwell stood atop a platform barking orders at the villagers working the makeshift outdoor foundry. Faber was blasted by hot air as he rounded the corner.
The place was a maze of messy scaffolding. Pulleys and weights hung about in seemingly a guesswork of trapezes. Rivers of glowing molten metal crisscrossed between scaffolds and splashed into molds as workers desperately tried to control the flow. And grown men drenched in sweat threw themselves on massive bellows that seemed to suck the scorching air out their very lungs.
At the center of the complex was the "Bessemer Converter", a massive, misshapen metal egg with a hole at the top that showered the workers with glowing red sparks. Large muscled men draped in thick leather garments perilously followed Stockwell's orders as they worked the pulleys and cranks that controlled the tilt of the converter.
"Blow out those impurities like you mean it you cowards! We need more air! More air!"
"Y-Yes!"
The men at the bellows squeezed like their lives depended on it. Every squeeze of the massive bellows elicited an eruption of sweltering orange sparks from the metal egg, showering the workers in microscopic fragments of glowing metal.
"Niven! Is that goddamn manganese ready yet!?"
Niven was crouched over a set of scales off to the side, carefully measuring ores.
"No master! Just a little longer!"
"Then hurry it up my boy!"
Stockwell glared at the workers desperately trying to control the flow of molten metal filling up the molds.
"You! You there on the left, you're on fire!"
"Thank you Stockwell sir!"
"No, I mean you're actually on fire!"
The worker looked down and saw flames creeping up his leg. He dropped to the ground and began rolling.
"I swear! Stop playing with that draw port like you're fingering a whore!"
"Yes! Mr. Stockwell sir!"
He certainly knows how to motivate the men. Faber thought.
"M-Master! The manganese is ready!"
"Then get to it boy!"
"Yes sir!" Niven, dressed in thick protective clothing, hauled a bucket of metal and ore up and across the scaffolds so he stood over the converter.
"Tip the converter to first position!"
"Yes!"
The men at the cranks and pulleys turned the giant metal egg so that the hole was pointing straight up. Niven dumped the contents of the bucket in.
"That's the stuff boy! Now be careful getting down from there!"
"On it!" Niven braced himself as he was showered in scorching metal sparks.
Stockwell sighed in relief now the last of their iron ore was finally almost done being converted into steel.
Faber was a talented blacksmith. He was capable of using 「Lesser Shape Metal」 in conjunction with traditional smithing methods. It was a technique not many in Re-Esize possessed. But even so, making these pieces for this device according to Stockwells specifications took a tremendous amount of effort. The time and metal required to build it alone took every scrap of wealth in the village.
But the investment had been worth it.
Because now they possessed the most advanced method of refining ore into steel in the entire world. Their profits would be immense once they got their foot in the market.
"Alright you sons of bitches! Master this process and you'll all be criminally rich by next winter!"
"Yes! Mr. Stockwell sir!"
"Wait a little while longer until you pour that batch out, the men working the molds are starting to get over-encumbered. Niven, with me."
"Yes sir!"
Stockwell stepped down from the platform and turned to the dumbfounded blacksmith who had been watching the whole process from behind him.
"So what is it that you wanted to talk about? "
"Yes, that project you had me working on, I just finished it." The blacksmith replied.
They both turned and saw Niven jogging toward them.
"Excellent, then let's talk back at my lab."
...
The walls of Stockwell's laboratory were lined with arrays of jars, and only some of them were actually labeled. They were filled with all kinds of strange things; plants, crystals, powdered ores, mysterious liquids, and other weird materials the scientist had created with his strange magic. Faber was pretty sure even saw a dead rat in one of them.
Stockwell had been absolutely ecstatic when he had learned that Faber was not only a blacksmith but that he also knew how to blow glass. Stockwell had made him make all kinds of bizarre shapes. Beakers, flasks, retorts, cylinders, pipettes, vials, condensers, stirring rods, petri dishes, slides, the whole slew. And they now all sat haphazardly on Stockwell's workbench, where Faber hoped that they were being treated well.
And while most of what Stockwell said went right over his head, Niven seemed to catch on right away.
He and Stockwell sat together discussing things while Niven tended to the lab around them.
"It never fails to amaze me no matter how many times I see it. I've never seen so much steel produced so quickly, we could completely dominate the market! What was that stuff you were throwing in the crucible earlier? The spiegle-whatsit?"
"Spiegeleisen, a mixture of iron and manganese. It reduces impurities in pig iron while also introducing carbon and manganese for the steel, the volcanic caves around the village are a treasure trove of ores so it wasn't that hard to make. And yes, the entire point of this was to flood the market with cheap, high-quality steel, not only will it make us rich, but it will also pave the way to getting bigger machines up and running later down the line. We will be needing a lot of steel."
"Uh huh…." The blacksmith didn't understand the words he was using so he just decided to continue.
"So anyways, I completed that project-"
He was interrupted by Niven who walked into the room holding a pile of white slop in his gloved hands, "Master, what do you want me to do with this?"
Faber held his nose due to the stench it made.
"We don't need the bat guano anymore after we've already extracted the nitrates, go ahead and toss it. We shouldn't need to study the fresh guano any more. I was just curious if it had a similar composition to the bats I know of."
"Okay!"
Niven walked out of the room and the stench disappeared.
"Mr. Faber, please, continue."
"Um, yea, so I completed that project, here it is."
Mr. Faber revealed a cylindrical object and handed it to Stockwell. It was an incredibly simple thing. It was just a metal tube, with one open end and one closed end. The closed end also had a small hole in the side.
Stockwell was surprised by what he saw. He actually managed to do it with dark ages metallurgy, I thought for sure that I would have to build some kind of lathe. But then again, he did manage to smith the pieces for the Bessemer with relative ease...
Stockwell examined it closely while Faber talked.
"It was tricky to forge the cylinder, It took every ounce of smithing skill I had in order to keep the hole in the middle from collapsing."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I just said, after I heated the steel, I shaped it into the cylinder the old fashioned way, good ol' hammer and anvil."
Hammer and anvil? I should really pay more attention to how he's actually making these things. Damn I'm busy.
"Are you saying you didn't just make the cylinder and bore a hole in it?"
The blacksmith gave him a confused look, "Why would I do that? I'm more than capable when it comes to shaping steel. But I did still end up using quite a lot of focus to keep the cylinder from collapsing in on itself."
Stockwell had heard that there were several types of magic in this world. One of which was confusingly called 'martial arts' that imbued people with magical abilities. "Focus" was a term they used in relation to their techniques.
"Are you saying you used magic to make this?"
"Well, martial arts, sort of, it isn't exactly like tier magic, in a sense. I'm not sure about the details. All blacksmiths use some kind of technique to get the metal in the shape that they want it. I'm capable of using 「Lesser Shape Metal」 so that's what I normally use."
"I-I see."
Stockwell looked at the metal cylinder in his hands like an alien object. He even got the touch hole right without boring it, it's literally just one continuous piece of metal.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, it's fine. Nice work Mr. Faber. I'll put it to good use."
"Thank you, I'll take my leave then, and once more, thank you for saving our village."
"Of course, the pleasure is all mine. Now then, I have to go and sell, quite literally, tons of steel in the capital. Tell the chief that Niven and I will be back in a few days."
The blacksmith nodded and left the lab. As he did so, Stockwell looked at the metal cylinder in his hands. He had a look of fascination on his face.
Mr. Faber… It may only be a trifle to you, but you haven't the slightest clue how insane that magic of yours really is. We might be able to industrialize at ludicrous speeds because of this.
"Niven! Pack your things, we're going to the capital! Also, get an extra horse out of the stable and hook it up to the wagon, we're going to be pulling a lot of extra weight!"
"Yes master!"
He had already visited E-Pespel a week prior to sell some steel as a test run and to get a feel for the New World's economy. He felt they were now ready to go into business for real.
...
Niven and Stockwell had just made it through the checkpoint to get into the city, and were now loading their wagon back up.
Niven patted one of the horses attached to the wagon and fed it a carrot. "Good job coming over that hill, Grensquell Belegorn Aradahelpen the II, Destroyer of Worlds, I wasn't sure if we were going to make it."
The horse neighed and flicked its tail.
"You can't keep spoiling only that one or the other one will get jealous. Also, do you have to say her full name every single time?"
"Don't worry master, Moo-Chee-Goo-Chee-La-Poo-Chee the III, Splinterer of Souls, isn't the jealous type, and also, this is Grensquell Belegorn Aradahelpen the II, Destroyer of World's first trip outside the village, so of course I'm going to spoil her. And yes, the stable keep allowed me to name them so of course I'm going to call them by their full names.
Stockwell simply rolled his eyes, "Let's get moving then."
"Yes sir."
They both got onto the driver's seat and continued down the road. They saw the tip of a spire coming up over the hill.
Stockwell craned his neck to get a better look. "*whistle* That's quite the castle."
"Have you never been to the capital before, master?"
"I told you, I came from a different world my boy, of course not."
"Oh yeah…" He had told Niven that he had come from a different world, which was why he possessed such alien knowledge, but Niven had yet to truly internalize it.
"It really is a nice castle though, it certainly has some tall spires. Still though, not as big as my old home."
"What?"
"You heard me." Stockwell was holding his hands out and framing the castle in his fingers. "I'd say that my tower in Los Angeles is easily fifty times that castle's height."
Niven turned and giggled, "Stop joking around master. I heard that Ro Lente Castle is one of the tallest structures on the continent."
"Oh but it's true my boy. It cost me a pretty penny to build. Most expensive building in the world at the time. It stood at 1674 meters tall. The engineers said it couldn't be done, it had its own microclimate and the support columns had to be made out of solid, tessellated Asimovium alloy. You could watch the sunset from the bottom of the tower, and then if you wanted to, you could take an elevator and watch it again from the top seven minutes later."
Stockwell grinned evilly, "I sure beat those slimy bastards at their own game of vanity."
"You're really bad at lying, master." As Niven said that, he looked at the castle in amazement as he imagined a tower raising out one of its spires and climbing high into the cloud.
Stockwell's smile softened and he ruffled the boy's hair, "Let's go sell some steel."
...
"Hahaha! Did you see the look on that man's face! I bet he's never seen so many steel ingots in one place, and at such high quality too!"
Niven laughed as he remembered the forge master's face.
"Why did you sell them for so little though? Whenever I buy steel for Mr. Faber, it costs me twice as much. Couldn't you have charged much more?"
Stockwell rifled through a small satchel of gold coins as he rode beside him. He knew that people in the past used to use precious metals as coinage, but it felt like such a waste to Stockwell. Bank notes would serve as currency far better than coins, and then the gold, copper, and silver could be put to better work for use in wires and other components.
When in Rome…
"No, in fact, I think we probably sold it for a little too much." Stockwell did some mental math. "We should have been greedier and sold for less."
Niven paused. "...how would it have been greedier to sell for less?"
"Because our aim isn't merely profit." Stockwell did his best to repress his demented smile. "With the bessemer, our overall process of converting iron ore into steel is already way more efficient than this world's current process. That being the case, we can afford to sell the steel at an even lower market price than that of typical iron alloys."
"But why though? Wouldn't It still be better to sell it for more? Our steel is better than the stuff on the market after all, I don't think people will have a problem paying more for it."
"You might think that, but like I said, we're not here for a quick profit. We're here to dominate the market. What do you think will happen once consumers realize that they can buy steel for less than what they're already paying?"
"They'll buy our steel?"
"Yes yes yes, but that's not the important part.
"The important part?"
"Yes, the most important part, what do you think will happen to the other ore refineries once everyone is buying from us."
Niven put his finger to his lips and thought. "They won't have very many customers."
"Yes, and…?"
"And they'll go out of business?"
"Yes my boy, exactly! And we'll be ready to swallow them up when that happens." Stockwell said. "It's all about the balancing act of maintaining our profit margin while undercutting as much as possible. We need to grow as fast as possible. Then, once we have a monopoly on the kingdom's metal, we'll be able to set prices wherever we want them. And not only will we be criminally rich, we'll also be able to leverage politics involving metal such as infrastructure and warfare."
Stockwell could no longer suppress his demented smile.
"I've already learned plenty about the power structure here. These nobles are no different from the elite of my world, they get rid of antitrust laws so that they can sit together around their little table and abuse their monopoly power, it's sickening. But not us though, we'll show them the right way to abuse a monopoly, and before they know it, they'll be penniless and begging for mercy. They'll be starving out on these muddy streets that they refused to pave."
Stockwell chuckled evilly while Niven thought.
"But doesn't that seem, well… kind of mean?"
"Mean? Did you just ask if that was mean?" Stockwell's voice was cold.
"...um, Yeah?" Niven asked sheepishly.
"Oh I'll tell you what's mean!" He raised his voice. "What's mean is when-!"
Stockwell saw Niven's scared expression and stopped himself. He took a deep breath.
"Look, Niven. You're a nice kid, you really are. But this is how the universe works." Stockwell said. "The Re-estize kingdom is primarily feudalistic, but there is still room for capitalist exploitation once we get our foot in the door. Those nobles signed up for this game the moment they decided they wanted to still be on top. If they lose and suffer because of it, they have no right to complain. Capeesh?"
"Capeesh?" Niven asked, confused.
Stockwell corrected himself. "It means, 'Do you understand?'. You understand?"
Niven nodded sadly. "Yes. Sorry master."
Stockwell's voice calmed down. "That's quite alright. Now let's carry on. We have a lot more stops to make."
He hoped that by the time they were finished selling off their cargo, word would already be spreading around the smithing guilds about their cheap steel.
…
As they were traveling through the wealthiest part of the city, Stockwell noticed a large building off to the side. It was big and ornate, with several domes and spires pointing proudly into the air.
"That's the magician's guild, right?"
Niven nodded in affirmative. "Mhm, pretty sure."
"They have a library and whatnot inside, yes?"
"I think so. Why?"
"Go ahead and stop here then."
Niven did as instructed and stopped the wagon.
"I want to go and do a little browsing," Stockwell said. "Why don't you manage the next stop by yourself?"
Niven fidgeted. "By myself?"
Stockwell smiled in reassurance. "Yes by yourself. You've seen me do the deal a dozen times now. You know the rate we're selling at, so I'm sure you can manage this last one on your own. Feel free to go up or down 20% if the mood strikes you."
Niven had never made a true business deal before, so he was a bit nervous at the prospect. However, this was his master and he was his apprentice, so it was only a matter of time until he had to step up to the plate. "S-Sure. Yeah. I can do this. Of course. Not a problem sir."
"Good, good." Stockwell said as he dismounted the wagon. "Just tell them that you work for Wesley from the "E-Pespel Metallurgy Company" and that you're there to see if they're interested in buying any steel. Easy as pi. You got it?"
Niven nodded nervously. "Yes, got it."
"Alright then, I'll meet up with you in a little bit. Just wait for me after you're done."
"See you soon, then."
Stockwell waved Niven off as the wagon slowly disappeared around the paved street.
Now then
He approached the magician's guild. Before him was a gently sloping wide staircase and a set of doors which opened into a distinguished-looking detached house. Naturally, these doors were open, to welcome visitors.
Upon entering, he found himself in a small entrance hall, with the building's lobby before him. A number of magical chandeliers hung down from the high ceiling of the latter room.
On the right was a guest lounge that contained a sofa and several other pieces of furniture. There were magic casters conversing within. On the left was a notice board. Several people were studying it in earnest; some wore robes and looked like arcane magic casters, while others seemed to be adventurers.
There was a counter in the innermost reaches of the hall, and there were several young men and women seated behind it. All of them wore robes, and they had badges on their chests that matched the symbol he had seen while entering the building.
There was a large doorway off to one side and several bookcases could be seen behind it; most likely the entrance to the library. Stockwell opted to ignore the counter and simply start browsing the library.
He roamed around the isles between the bookshelves for a few minutes to orient himself but had very little luck finding what he was looking for.
He simply couldn't read the language.
Aww… This is hopeless.
He knew what some basic words meant simply from a few months of exposure so he had hoped he would be at least able to figure out the subjects of some of the books, but he found himself not even being able to read the signs above the aisle.
I suppose there is no shame in asking for help.
He saw an older gentleman quietly browsing the bookshelves across from him. The man was dressed like a butler and was reading the book labels through a very expensive-looking pair of glasses. He had several large books nestled in the crook of his arm.
Stockwell approached him. "Excuse me?"
The man turned and looked at Stockwell above the brim of the glasses. "Yes?"
The man appeared as an immaculate image of a butler in Stockwell's eyes. He stood tall and straight and his speech was elegant and polite. "Pardon me, hello. Did you need something?"
"Yes actually," Stockwell said. "I'm new to Re-Estize and I'm still learning the language. I was wondering if you can help me find a few books."
Stockwell suddenly stretched out his hand. "Oh, It's Wesley."
The man met his handshake. "Pleasure to meet you Wesley-san. It's Sebas. There's no shame for not being able to read a language, especially since you said you're new here." Sebas gestured to the bookshelves. "What can I help you with?"
"I'm only looking for a few books at the moment, it shouldn't take too much time." Stockwell said.
Sebas nodded politely. "Of course, not to worry. It's common sense to help someone in need."
"Thank you." Stockwell said. "So first, I'd like to find some kind of book on magic."
Sebas cocked his head briefly. "We are in the magicians guild. Nearly every book in here is on some form of magic."
Ahh… now it makes sense why I couldn't find what I was looking for. I was searching for hay in a haystack.
"Ah.. of course." Stockwell said. "What I meant was I'm looking for a book on magical basics. Uh… basic mechanics, in other words. Something for people that know nothing about magic to help them understand it better."
"I see." Sebas nodded with understanding. He adjusted his glasses and followed the signs above the isles. He led Stockwell a few isles down, and after a brief scan of one of the bookshelves he plucked a book from the shelf.
"This one reads Fundamental Arcana of the Zeroth and First tiers." Sebas handed the book to Stockwell. "Hopefully it has what you're looking for."
Stockwell took the book and flipped through the pages. He understood none of it, but that was okay as he planned on having Niven translate it all later along with the other books he planned to get.
"Yes, thank you." Stockwell said. "Next, I'd like to find some kind of bestiary. Some sort of codex detailing the form and functions of monsters and magical creatures."
"Ah, so you mean something like this?" Sebas withdrew a large book nestled in the crook of his arm and opened it for Stockwell to see.
Inside of it were large drawings of fantastical creatures. Flipping through the pages, Stockwell saw depictions of large, octopedal cat like monsters, blobs of amorphous slime, and titanic, monstrous insects among many other things.
Stockwell's eyes lit up. "Yes! Exactly that."
Seabs said. "I believe I remember seeing another copy."
As Sebas led him across the library, Stockwell shot a glance at the rest of the books under Sebas's arm. "Are you doing research on Re-Estize as well?"
"As a matter of fact I am." Sebas replied. "It seems we both share a fact in common in that we're both new to this area."
"Really?" Stockwell said. "Where are you from?"
Sebas shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. How about you? Where are you from?"
Stockwell winced before replying in kind. "It's quite far, a place called the city of angels. But despite its name, the place is much closer to hell than heaven, so I'd rather not talk about it."
Sebas nodded. "I understand. Forgive me for prying."
Stockwell waved him off. "None taken. I fully believe being hungry for information is a good virtue to have." Stockwell replied. "After all, look at me, I'm planning on spending my very first round of profits on books."
Sebas smiled softly. Indeed, being thorough in the pursuit of information was a virtue his master, Ainz Ooal Gown extolled above all else. He could respect Stockwell for that.
"Well, regardless of where you're from," Stockwell continued, "You seem to be able to read the language quite well."
Sebas adjusted his glasses. "It certainly helps to have a good pair of glasses."
Stockwell chuckled. "Eye problems can get even the best of us when we're older. I'm thankful to have been blessed with healthy eyes. I fear for the days when I'll need glasses to read."
They reached the bookshelf Sebas was leading them toward and he pulled out a book. It was the same size as the bestiary he had shown Stockwell and the markings on the cover were the same.
"Here you are."
"Thank you." Stockwell said. "Alright, so next, as you can probably guess from what I was talking about earlier, I was looking for a history book. Something detailing major historical events as well as politics and geography and what not."
"I'm afraid we're both out of luck." Sebas said. "I was looking for something like that earlier as well and was unable to find anything. However, I did hear that that was another library within the walls of the Re-Estize. I was planning on checking out that place after I was finished here. You're welcome to come along if you wish."
Stockwell shook his head. "I've got other plans and people I need to meet up with as soon as I'm done here. Thanks for telling me though, I'll be sure to check it out at a later date."
"You're quite welcome." Sebas smiled. "Is there anything else you need?"
"Yes, three more actually, sorry for taking so long." Stockwell replied. "I'm looking for books on astrology, alchemy, and an encyclopedia."
"Of course," Sebas said. "Those should be easy to find around here."
Sebas led Stockwell around one final time before finding three books that satisfied what he was looking for.
A book on astrology named Celestia Fundemntalis
A tome on alchemy titled Elementary Infusions and Principles
And a large encyclopedia called Encyclopedia: Second Edition authored by a man who's name Stockwell could not pronounce.
Stockwell took the books and tucked it beneath his arm with the others. "Thank you. You were a big help."
"Think nothing of it." Said Sebas.
Stockwell stretched out his hand for a final handshake. "I'll be on my way then."
"Of course." Sebas returned the handshake and waved him off.
Sebas watched as Stockwell left the library. He waited until he was out of sight.
When Sebas was certain that the stranger was well out of earshot, he suddenly turned towards a bookcase across the aisle and called out.
"Did you need something, miss?"
There was a sudden sound of papers shuffling followed by a surprised exclamation. "Y-You knew I was here?"
The voice belonged to a woman.
"You were following that man around the whole time, were you not?" Sebas said. "Why?"
Eventually, the woman walked around the bookcase to reveal herself. She had long black hair and an eyepatch.
"I-I was just curious. I know Wesley. The guy you were just talking to."
"Oh?" Sebas raised an eyebrow. "Then why didn't you say hello to him? Surely he would've been more comfortable receiving help from someone he knew than a complete stranger like-"
"-Uh actually never mind!" The woman interrupted. "I gotta go. Please don't tell him I was watching him if you see him again. Bye!"
She bounded out of the library without waiting for a reply.
Sebas allowed himself a knowing smile as he watched her leave. He felt no malicious intent from the woman while she was spying on them. This was clearly a lovely affair between two humans, he reasoned. It would be unbecoming of him to pry into it.
...
Stockwell counted the few remaining coins he had left in his satchel.
Even with the ability to copy books with magic, these things are still damn expensive. A printing press would do these people wonders.
He navigated the streets of Re-Estize until he came upon a blacksmith in the upper district of the city. Niven should've been just inside finishing up the business deal.
He noticed a high-class carriage parked just outside along with his and Niven's wagon. It struck him as odd, but the thought passed immediately.
No one greeted him when he passed the threshold of the door. Instead, he heard what sounded like the muffled voices of several people arguing in a room beyond.
Stockwell sighed and figured that the deal must've gone south somehow. He invited himself into the room.
"Hello?"
Inside were five people in heated discussion: Niven, a man who looked to be the blacksmith, and a man who was dressed in fine clothing, and two people in armor.
Niven's face brightened in relief the moment he saw Stockwell in the doorway. "Master!"
The man in fine clothing turned at his words. "Master? So this is the fool?"
"Excuse me? Can someone explain what's going on here? Who's the guy in the tights?" Stockwell asked.
"Hmph!" The man approached Stockwell with an exaggerated swagger as the blacksmith looked on with concern.
"I'll forgive you for not knowing who I am seeing as you are a low class mongrel." The man scoffed. "My name is Sir Tamalyn Gareth Chardelon Dale Dulagrin Esquire. I'm the left— no! Right-hand of the Marquis Blumrush, greatest nobel in all of Re-Estize!"
The man smirked. "And now that you know who I am, I'll give you the chance to apologize."
The coroner of Stockwells mouth curled up as he bit back laughter "Right. So… Ahem. So um, what brings you here, Mr. Esquire?"
"It has come to my attention that some conceited mongrel is going around butting into business he has no place in."
Stockwell's voice lost all humor and he leveled his gaze now that he knew precisely what was going on. "Excuse me?"
"Marquis Blumrush owns all the metal refineries in the Kingdom, from E-Naüru to E-Rantel, and he has invested a great deal of time and money to keep it that way. And it is in his great charity that the price of steel in this nation is as low as it is. Attempting to undercut the prices he has set is not just foolhardy, it is deeply ungrateful and rude."
"And I was under the assumption," Stockwell replied coolly, "that under the current regime, that in crown owned territories such as the city of Re-Estize, I am permitted to sell my goods to whomever I want, at whatever price I want, so long as I pay the appropriate taxes."
"You're correct." The esquire conceded, though he maintained a smirk and his voice was demeaning. "But that alone doesn't make you free from consequences that may arise from your choices."
Stockwell thought for a moment and scratched his chin. "I see, that makes sense. Quick question. Does the Re-Estize Kingdom have any laws against insulting people?"
The esquire paused. "For some members of the royal family and the nobility. Yes there are quite strict laws."
"Do those laws apply to the title of esquire?"
The esquire realized what Stockwell's aim was. He faltered for a moment but tried to remain cool. "E-Ehem, well no technically not, however, most people of my rank are still—"
"—Then fuck off." Stockwell said. He raised his middle finger. "And tell your boss to fuck off too while you're at it."
The esquire recoiled at the statement as the two guards flanking him instinctively put their hands on the hilt of their swords. Niven and the blacksmith took a step back and fell silent.
The esquire stared for a moment in disbelief at Stockwell before his eyes glanced at Stockwell's raised finger.
Stockwell saw the glance. "...I guess this gesture doesn't mean anything here. Well, you can probably figure it out from context."
One of the guards began to draw his sword. "Sir. Do you want us to—
"—no." The esquire regained his composure. "Put your swords away. We're leaving."
"Right."
As the esquire and his guards began to leave the building, the esquire raised his chin high to look down at Stockwell. It was obvious that calculations were going on behind his contempt filled eyes. "You're clearly new here, so you're idiotic outburst is understandable. Don't worry. I'll make sure Marquis Blumrush doesn't hear of you, I would be no use bothering him with this matter."
He smiled crookedly as he closed the door behind him. "Have a great rest of your day."
Stockwell smirked and waved him goodbye.
A few moments passed before the esquire and his men were out of earshot.
"Are you mad!?" The blacksmith shouted.
"Mad?"
"That man represented Marquis Blumrush! You can't just go around insulting them so brazenly!"
Stockwell scoffed and looked towards Niven. Judging from the boy's face, he had a similar opinion as the blacksmith.
"Relax." Stockwell said. "You can't make it big without making a few enemies. So—"
He gestured to the blacksmith. "—You feel like buying some steel or not."
The blacksmith sighed and combed his hand through his hair. "I'm willing to buy, but only at the standard price. I can't take your offer after that scene you just made."
"Fine." Stockwell scratched his chin. "I understand. Niven."
"Y-Yes!" Niven said, startled.
"Help me unload the wagon."
They walked back to the wagon.
The tension in Niven's demeanor was evident. "What's got you so scared my boy?"
"Are you sure this is alright?" Niven eventually said. "Marquis Blumrush is one of the most powerful people in the kingdom."
"It's more than alright." Stockwell said. "Its ideal. The point of this exercise was to spread the cheap steel around and see who got mad about it. Now that we have confirmation that Blumrush is our main competitor, thing become straight forward."
Niven gave him a concerned look.
"Don't worry Niven, I've done my homework about the basic political struggles here. When I was doing my test run in E-Pespel I heard about the noble Marquis Pespea. He's a member of the royal faction, he'll be happy to hear that we pissed off Blumrush, or, his esquire at least."
"You're thinking of allying with the royal faction?"
"Well, maybe not the faction in its entirety. It's just a well known fact that Pespea has a dislike for Blumrush."
Stockwell said it was a "well known fact" but this was actually something that you could only know if you asked around the merchants in E-Pespel under the control of Marquis Pespea.
"Wow!" Niven said. "You have done your homework!"
"I would've done the opposite had our competitor ended up being someone else, of course. For the time being, it's better to play into the power structure rather than trying to undermine it from the get-go. We'll need the help to get us off the ground before we can start cannibalizing the metallurgy industry by ourselves."
They finished unloading the blacksmith's requested amount of steel.
"Now then. We still have some more stops to make. Let's get this over with and head back to Moot."
…
It was getting dark by the time they finished their business. They rode while talking about science and chemistry. The capital had just disappeared behind a hill.
"And that's what color really is."
"Wait wait wait, but master didn't you just say five minutes that light was a particle? But now you're saying that it's a wave."
"Yes, that's also true, but you need to consider that I'm talking about color right now and that-"
「Magic Arrow」
A glowing arrow came out of nowhere and lodged itself in one of the horse's sides. Niven and Stockwell watched in surprised horror as the horse cried and flailed.
"G-Grensquell Belegorn Aradahelpen the II, Destroyer of Worlds! H-How did-?
Stockwell lept into action, "God damn it boy! Get behind the wagon, we're not alone! Get the hand can—"
「Shock」
A small bolt of lighting collided with Stockwell, causing him to fall to the ground in a spasm. He caught sight of two people emerging from the bluff on the side of the road.
One appeared to be dressed in the attire of a typical rogue. He was dressed in chainmail and leathers with a hood pulled over his head and was in the process of drawing his sword.
The other one appeared to be a magic caster of some kind. He wore a steel breastplate atop a set of dirty robes. His outstretched hand was still glowing from the spell he had just cast.
"The kid jumped around behind the wagon." The rouge said to the magic caster. "I'll take care of the mark."
The rogue quickly strided up to Stockwell who was still paralyzed. His sword glittered orange in the light of the setting sun.
Stockwell heard their words.
The mark?
Immediately, Stockwell understood who these people were. They were workers. Killers hired to put an end to his steel trade before it could begin.
Really!? To kill me just like that!? That's not how business is done! That's beyond barbaric!
Stockwell struggled with all his might against the influence of spell but his body remained still.
He hated this spell, 「Shock」, more than any other. He had been hit with it many times before while held captive in the crypt. More than simply being the primary tool by which he was subdued, the spell confounded his very understanding of electricity.
Paralysis induced by an electric charge should theoretically pass the moment the current stopped flowing and the spell only consisted of an initial shot. The spell shouldn't have the ability to shut down his movements for an extended length of time, only interrupt him in that moment.
But he was all too familiar with the several, painfully long seconds of inaction he was subjected to.
He watched in horror as the rogue gently pressed the sword into his abdomen. He could not even voice his pain as he felt the blade slowly passed through his fat, muscle, kidney and liver and into the soil on the other side.
Then, like a switch being flipped, the paralysis ended. His throat muscles engaged and he wailed in pain.
Stockwell gripped at the blade in an attempt to pull it out but the rogue was leaning firmly into it with his weight. He kicked at the ground, but the rogue was already standing on Stockwell's legs by the time the paralysis ended
"There, there." The rogue said. "I didn't hit anything vital. You might just get out of this alive if you cooperate. Try not to struggle."
"C-Co-operate?" Stockwell sputtered out with blood in his mouth.
"Exactly." The rogue said. "Our employer said to spare you if you provided us with some information."
Stockwell did not believe his words, but he didn't have any options other than to cooperate.
"I-Information?"
"Yes, firstly. Who are you working for?"
"N-No one!" Stockwell wheezed.
The rogue twisted the blade. Pain shot up through Stockwell's gut and burned into his mind.
"No one?" the rogue said. "Don't lie now. Our employer said you were undercutting goods by a huge margin. A no name like yourself can't afford to do that which means you're working for someone with money."
"I work alone! I swear! P-Please! Let me go!" Stockwell screamed.
Every instinct in Stockwell's body told him that right now he should be fighting tooth and nail against this man, but his rational mind told him that it was best to act helpless in this situation to keep the rogue off guard.
The rogue twisted the blade further. "Oooo~! We got someone with some spunk who won't talk. C'mon man. Don't lie."
"Next question—" The rogue suddenly paused like he remembered something and shifted his attention to his partner who was busy wrapping around the wagon. "—Hey! Tarick! You get the kid yet!?"
"Yeah!" The magic caster replied. "I think he's hiding in the back of the wagon! One second!"
The rogue turned back to Stockwell.
"Next question. You're heading south, what city are you heading to? E-Pespel or E-Rantel?"
They were headed back towards Moot and would be passing through E-Pespel on the way.
"E-Rantel." Stockwell managed to say.
The weight on the rogue's sword lightened.
"See?" The rogue said, "It ain't so hard to tell the truth. Next question, why were you headed to—"
The rogue turned his head when he heard the startled inhale of his partner who was climbing into the back of the wagon.
"What the—"
Suddenly, the magic caster's voice was drowned out by an overwhelming sound as he met eyes with the boy hiding in the back of the wagon.
Niven shivered with fear as he had brought a burning wick to the touch hole of the hand cannon as Stockwell had told him about earlier.
What had happened in that moment was the kind of thing that could only be described as a miracle.
The heat from the ember decomposed the potassium nitrate and reacted with the sulfur to form potassium sulfide, potassium sulfate, and nitrogen gas. The exothermic reaction and decomposition of nitrate gave heat and oxygen to the carbon which explosively formed carbon dioxide. The gasses expanded and the mixture blasted to life. All parts working in measured proportion and burning with the energy content of 3 megajoules per kilogram.
Countless unnamed chemists lived and died by that chemical reaction, improving upon it through hundreds of years of trial and error. A thousand lifetimes of struggle and achievement erupted from every grain. It had taken countless lives on Earth and would endeavor to take one more in the New world.
A millennia of human history passed in a blink of an eye.
Bang.
Propelled by the expanding gasses, an iron ball shot from the barrel in Niven's hand at a speed far too quick for the human eye to track. It burrowed through the magic caster's breastplate and into his chest cavity like the thumb of god through primordial clay.
The magic caster fell backwards onto the ground. The iron ball rolled around in the cavity of his collapsed lungs as he thrashed about in pain.
"M-Master!" Niven shouted out as he appeared from the back of the wagon. His ears still rang and his hands were numb from the discharge.
"What the hell!?" The rogue yelled. He began to pull away from Stockwell in order to confront Niven but felt his sword catch on something.
He turned back to see the crazed expression of Stockwell clutching the blade with his left hand and pulling it further into his body to prevent the rogue's escape and bringing him to within arm's reach.
The madman's right hand was already in mid swing, armed with a dagger and on path to plunge deep into the side of the rogue's neck.
"Shit—"
The best the rogue could in his surprise was pull his head backwards in a panic. The dagger missed its original target, instead cutting a deep across the rogue's exposed throat.
The rogue's screams came out as a gurgle as he fell backwards. He clutched his throat with both hands but could not staunch the flow of blood. His open jugular squirted blood through his fingers and onto Stockwell and the surrounding soil.
"You finish that one off boy!" Stockwell shouted. There was a deranged glee in his voice.
As he straddled the rogue with the sword still lodged in his abdomen, his eyes focused on the picture of a very different person beneath him.
Yes, this was the way! This was always the way! They way I should've done it all along!
On Earth, it was not unthinkable to hire a trained assassin to kill a business opponent. Such events were rare, but not unheard of. However, that only applied to the elite of the elite, the people whose wealth was so grand and widely dispersed that physically killing them was the only way to get them out of the picture.
But it was unthinkable to hire an assassin to get rid of a lowly working class citizen. There was just no logic to it. Barely anything to gain and so much more to lose if word got out.
Stockwell had erroneously thought he was safe here because he was still thinking like that. He was currently just a lowly peasant, so he hadn't even remotely considered that the competition might actually try to kill him.
Sanctions, sabotage, other nasty business practices sure, that was fair game in doing business. But killing, that hadn't crossed his mind.
But as he thought about further, it had already been that way on Earth.
Yes, you might not hire a couple of goons to kill a new upstart on Earth, but from lobbying, to propaganda, to targeted impediment, there were many ways to make a rich man to make a poor man lose what wealth they had.
And on a planet where the atmosphere was unbreathable, having no money to buy air or fresh gas mask filters was death.
This new world Stockwell found himself in was just far more honest about the killing it did. It was liberating in a way.
Stockwell laughed in sinister triumph as he stabbed at the disabled rogue.
Blood bubbled in the rogue's throat and frothed in his screams. The screams eventually fell silent but Stockwell continued to stab.
Stockwell continued to stab the corpse until he passed out from loss of blood trickling from his sword wound. That last thing he remembered was Niven's voice and hands on his shoulders, and the sudden sound of a woman's voice calling out his name.
…
Vera had tentatively followed the wagon out of the city.
It seemed that Stockwell had not yet noticed that she was following him.
She followed the wagon at a great distance.
She pondered how best it would be to approach him. Afterall, while she was technically his "friend", she had still been a part of the cult that captured and tortured him.
But, she did want to see him again.
He was certainly a being from another world who held mysterious knowledge. She had returned to the crypt afterward to see his handiwork. No normal person could have done that.
She wanted to learn from him, as gaining knowledge and power was the goal of most wizards like herself.
Hm?
She saw a commotion far in the distance where the wagon was.
「Fly」
She rose into the air to get a better look.
Stockwell seemed to be distracted so it was probably fine to get a little closer to get a clearer view.
As she neared, she saw the distinct forms of a pair of workers assaulting the wagon.
Stockwell was pinned to the ground by one of the worker's swords.
What? Are they being robbed?
She drew nearer, unsure about whether or not to help.
Afterall, Stockwell had somehow escaped the crypt and killed most of the cult unarmed, he should be able to handle a worker of that level.
He does look to be in serious trouble though…
Suddenly, she heard an explosion and the other worker who was entering the back of the wagon collapsed to the ground.
What was that!?
She watched as Stockwell overpowered and killed the worker who had stabbed him.
However, despite killing his opponent, Stockwell continued to stab his opponent's corpse until he went unconscious soon after without first finishing off the other one who was still writhing on the ground.
What's that kid doing?
She watched the teetager simply stand there, looking between Stockwell and the worker who was writhing on the ground but still very much alive.
"Master!" The teenager said. "Mr. Stockwell! Snap out of it!"
The teenager tried to wrestle Stockwell off the rogue's corpse with little success.
What are you doing you fool!? The guy behind you is still alive!
Vera watched as the worker who was writhing on the ground slowly sat up. Vera saw the signature glow of a healing spell he was casting on himself.
He wheezed from a hole in his chest and his eyes were filled with a mad panic. But his intentions were clear.
Ah! You idiot!
She saw the worker narrow his gaze on the teenager's back and raise a hand. 「Magic Arr—」
「Electro Bolt」
Vera unleashed a second tier spell. A mote of crackling electricity flung from her outstretched finger. It spanned the distance between her and the worker in an instant.
It was an instant kill.
The worker's body flashed white with a blinding light that illuminated his skeleton. He dropped over dead in a lump of charred flesh, the power in his charging spell immediately extinguishing.
She quickly flew over to the two.
"Wesley! Hello?"
Stockwell was unconscious by the time she reached him. He was still clutching his dagger with an insane expression plastered to his face.
"W-Who are you?" The teenager asked.
Vera looked him over. Nothing immediately abnormal struck her about him.
"I'm a friend of Wesley's. I'm from the magician's guild."
She then went about removing Stockwel from atop the rouge's corpse. "Who are you?"
"N-Niven ma'am." Niven bowed at his waist, seemingly shaking out a lot of the shock of the events that had just transpired. "Thank you so much for your help, miss…?"
"Vera."
"Thank you so much for your help Vera-san!"
They laid Stockwell down on the soil. He was still losing a lot of blood from the sword wound in his abdomen.
Niven began applying pressure to the wound and trying to find something to bandage it with.
Damn it. Vera thought. I should've learned some healing spells
She knew methods of repairing, healing, and maintaining undead, but they were useless on living people.
Niven seemed like he knew what he was doing so she let him be and started rummaging through the rogue's gear.
She turned the corpse onto its back and rifled through its gear.
"What are you doing, Vera-san?"
"Looking to see if these have anything useful."
"But isn't that disrespectful to the dead?" Niven asked.
Hah? Is this kid insane?
Vera looked back at Niven. His eyes were filled with worry.
Oh, I guess he's just a nice person.
There were people in this world that actually had genuine compassion for others, even if those people were their enemies who were just trying to kill them. That must've been why Niven hadn't finished off the worker while he still had the chance.
That kind of unconditional respect for life mystified Vera a little. But she had had a very different upbringing than most people, so it was only a given that there were certain things she couldn't understand.
"It's nothing like that." Vera said. "I'm just looking for something that might help Wesley."
Her eyes glimmered. "Something like this for example."
As she had suspected, at least one of them was bound to have a healing potion . She pulled out a small bottle of blue liquid from beneath the rogue's clothing.
"Move aside." Vera said.
Niven moved his hands and allowed Vera to pour the potion on to Stockwell's wound.
The wound closed slowly. After about a minute, the wound disappeared completely, leaving behind no visible trace of scarring. Stockwell's breathing stabilized, though he was still unconscious.
They figured it would be best to let him rest.
He really is as weak as a simple human if that's all it took…
Vera scratched her head and gestured to the wagon.
"Where were you headed? Mind if I join you?"