Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 558 - 381: Many Tales of the Small Town (5)

Chapter 558: Chapter 381: Many Tales of the Small Town (5)

Anthony brought Malin back to his family’s ancestral home, a very beautiful castle. When the Gallo family first arrived at the southernmost tip of Farole, they took root here, and this family had always stood with their people, facing various surges and desperate situations.

The current head of the Gallo family was an old man, thin and short, blind in the left eye, his right hand missing a piece, and his left calf replaced by a false leg.

When Anthony saw him, he quickly came to his side, bent down, and lifted the old man’s left hand, kissing the ring on his ring finger, "Great-grandfather, I have brought Sir Malin Gaiate."

The old man withdrew his attention from the book in his hand, raising his head, "Good afternoon, Mr. Malin, I have heard of your story. Anthony received your kindness, and on behalf of my family, I thank you. It’s thanks to you these fools could come back alive."

"My great-grandfather is still mad at me. I’ve lost twenty great swordsmen, oh, the Gallo family!" This talkative junior was interrupted by his elder with a cane tap as the elder caught up with the topic, "Each great swordsman was an elite trained for at least twenty years, and this foolish boy left them in the North, some without even their bodies recovered. If he’s not a fool, then what is he? So, thank you, Mr. Malin."

"Your Excellency, these injuries of yours..." "More than thirty years ago, I killed a Great Chaos Demon when the Tide of the Dead came. These injuries are the gift it left me, and I severed its head and offered it to the Lord of Justice. My family has maintained its legacy for hundreds of years on sacrifice, honor, and the greatsword, not by a mage’s hands but with the help of a lord destined to become legendary, surviving that fated deadly night."

Malin smiled, somewhat awkwardly and with regret, "Times have changed, Your Excellency."

"I know, I’ve also seen the new style of firearms, with barrels even having very standard rifling. In my youth, a muzzleloader took at least 40 seconds to load for a single shot and no step could be omitted. Yesterday, this foolish great-grandson of mine pulled out the gun you gave him and fired twenty shots in ten seconds. I knew then, just like he said, the era of the great swordsmen was over."

At this, the old man sighed and looked at Malin, "Our princess is to marry you, isn’t she."

"...Yes, I am willing to marry her," Malin looked at the old man in front of him, "I will give up the right to name our child, and our child will become the new king of this realm. I will help him."

"If I gave you a piece of advice, to leave our princess, would you take it?" The old man narrowed his eyes, asking like a merchant, "You can name your terms, I could even decide to give you a province in the North. Mr. Malin, I’ve heard your story, you’re a merchant and not a noble, you’re a priest and not a noble, and furthermore, you are a... person, good or bad I can’t say, but what you’ve done, many of us here are displeased by, so... please leave, Mr. Malin, let’s not cause each other any trouble."

"So, must there be a fight to the death between us?" Malin said as he sat down, the chair formed from the World Tree Sapling supporting its master.

"Good, kill me then, offend all the nobles of the South, and your child’s rule will end without disease."

"Or I could just kill all of you," Malin smiled as he replied, "Trust me, Your Excellency, times have changed, I can now muster at least eight thousand musketeers who will ride on engines pulling twelve-pound cannons from Carterburg, crushing all resistance along the way. Legendary mages may cause me some casualties, but I can hire Dwarf Runemages who will deal with any Mage Tower members bold enough to oppose me. I will pay them with various designs, and I will rid my wife Nova of all the treacherous subjects, all of them."

"Mr. Malin, sitting before you is a legendary great swordsman, and his two sons, my brother and I, are half a step across that line," said the two middle-aged men sitting nearby with a smile.

"Then what are you waiting for, why don’t you just come and kill me and my wives," Malin smiled as he took out a cigarette, which Anthony came over and lit with a smile.

After a puff, Malin looked at those before him, "I can assure you, if my wives and I die here, the Neapolitans will be slain to the last, and the whole Farol Principality will become a purgatory. This is not tyranny, believe me, plenty will kill you for the reward, and any Paladin from the Church of Justice will raise their longsword to avenge you, and the lords of the Eastern Kingdom will laugh their heads off."

"Such a mundane hypothetical," Malin concluded this conversation, looking at the old man before him, flicking a cigarette, "Do you old-timers always like to test people this way? If it were anyone else, you could forget about having a wedding here."

"The four fresh tendrils on your arm don’t look like fakes to me," the old man said as he was offered a cigarette by his foolish great-grandson, "so what else do I have to worry about? I just wanted to test you, young man, and at the same time, see whether a merchant like you would ever make a losing deal."

"I never make a losing deal, and although I am not interested in my child becoming a king, I am moved by your princess’s dream. So, I will protect her and her child, and you’d better not entertain any ideas about Rewo."

"That’s wonderful, it looks like for a good long while we won’t have to worry about our king being gored to death by a wild boar," the old man said and then burst into hearty laughter.

Although Malin knew that indeed there had been a Farol king who met his end at the boar’s tusks, he really couldn’t manage a laugh: "Is this how you mock your king?"

"That was the affair of the previous dynasty, and at that time our Gallo family was just a small noble house in the south, and the ancestor of that old woman in the north was no more than a baron," the old man said with a contented puff of his pipe: "Truthfully, he’s not our king, our king at least died on the battlefield."

"So, you came here today to test me?" Malin asked, feeling somewhat helpless.

"More importantly, I wanted to see you, Mr. Malin. Anthony is an oddity in our family; the Gallo lineage hasn’t produced a mage for an entire century. As you said, times have changed, we must learn the things we don’t know, mages, firearms, and machinery. As nobles, we must lead the times, otherwise, we will end up swept into history like those nobles of the past, becoming just a part of history." The old man looked at Malin: "Mr. Malin, you know Anthony well. Therefore, guide this foolish boy. I’ve heard your story and know what you and the princess want to do. If possible, the lands of the Gallo family will carry out your will, only asking that you don’t let the Gallo house become a pitiful bug swept away by the tides of time."

"...You really believe that?"

Malin could sense the old man’s intentions from the beginning, like a joke between an elder and a younger generation.

But at that moment, the man’s eyes were full of weariness, and it was the first time Malin felt sorrow.

"Yes, I must admit I can’t block all the bullets from that gun in ten seconds, not even in my prime. It took me fifty years to learn how to use a longsword, while your musketeers only need a few years to become proficient, right?"

"To be precise, three months," Malin honestly replied.

"More frightening than I imagined... Therefore, we need cooperation all the more, or rather, we need to change." The old man gestured for Malin to come closer after saying that.

So Malin stood before him.

"Mr. Malin, Anthony is not actually the next heir of my family, but he’s the only mage. Although he’s foolish, the firearm he brought back taught me a lesson: the times are progressing, and those who refuse to face change will ultimately die unburied. So he will be the father of my heir, and I will personally raise his eldest son. But all of this takes time, and I lack time... My children have grown old too, their thinking and ways are already outdated, so, if you can, would you be his mentor?"

"You are a duke," Malin sighed.

"Three hundred years ago, who even recognized the Gallo family?" The old man waved his hand dismissively, then turned to Malin: "So, please don’t turn me down, Mr. Malin. I can assure you that the boy will heed your words. You can teach him the same way you would your own child."

"I am a very strict teacher," Malin said.

"Then let that boy experience your strictness firsthand. I believe under your guidance he will grow into a perfect child, able to lead the Gallo family to continued strength. I will do my best to live to see that day, but also, please don’t be stingy with your wisdom."

"...Then I’ll do my best," Malin nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, Mr. Malin. I am grateful you could come to Anthony’s wedding. I’m confident you will be the best friend of the Gallo family."

"... I am very much obliged for your trust," Malin extended his hand.

The old man smiled and reached out his left hand: "Receiving thanks from a future prince is a great honor for the Gallo family. You may doubt our loyalty to the royal house, but please believe in our loyalty to this land. We shall fight for this land until the end, no matter who lords over it, for Farole."