Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters
Chapter 1058: 78: The Storm (Part 7)

Chapter 1058: Chapter 78: The Storm (Part 7)

[Steel Fortress · South Bank]

The only road connecting the South City with the Old City, the Republic Avenue, had already been blocked.

This narrow strip of land between the mountain and lake is now piled with every imaginable barrier the South City Sheriff could find: carriages, furniture, boxes, barrels… Even the trees from the residents’ yards had been chopped down and dragged onto the street.

All the militiamen of the South City district were stationed behind the barricades, watching the Old City with tension and anticipation.

Although they held spears and firearms, anxiety and fear were still flickering in their eyes.

These “freemen” with citizen rights were woken up by alarm bells in their beds, groped for their weapons in the dark, and dressed haphazardly to gather outside, hurrying to the Republic Avenue.

After all the turmoil, it was not easy for the South City militia to maintain considerable organization, to swiftly construct barricades following commands.

They had already shown military training far superior to ordinary people, but the disaster they were facing was still way beyond their abilities.

The Old Town was like a boiler on the brink of bursting at this moment.

Dense smoke billowed, and flames that rose high were like fierce fire from furnace chambers; the cacophony was ear-splitting, cries and wails tore through the night like scalding steam.

Lights flickered, the spire of Erwin Cathedral appeared and disappeared intermittently; the cold wind was piercing, and the road to Old Town seemed like the gaping maw of a monster, awaiting its prey to willingly leap into its trap.

In front of such an apocalyptic scene, individual strength seemed exceedingly trivial.

Even the freemen who were usually respected, were now like lambs waiting for the slaughter, able only to sit and watch as the situation worsened.

The militia were anxious, but Sheriff Bitler Rhenetahl of South City was even more so.

This over-fifty-year-old blacksmith and veteran had just struggled to climb onto the roof of a house by the street and was now intently observing the situation in the Old City.

In his rush to leave the house, Bitler only fastened three buttons on his coat, one of which was misplaced.

When the cold wind blew, the frostbite on his hands itched terribly. As he gazed into the distance, he scratched until his skin cracked and bled, yet he was completely oblivious to the pain.

There came a noise from the ladder; Sheriff’s assistant Schler, gasping for breath, climbed onto the roof, “Mr. Rhenetahl, I’ve found you a cloak!”

Bitler turned his head abruptly and asked gruffly, “Has the person sent to contact Colonel Berny returned?!”

“Not yet,” Schler carefully walked across the roof tiles toward Bitler, unfolding the cloak and draping it over his boss.

Bitler yanked off the cloak impatiently, crumpled it harshly, then glared and asked, “What about those sent to scout out the Old City?”

Schler stuttered in his reply, “They haven’t come back either.”

Bitler’s eyebrows shot up, like a fierce old wolf, fixing his subordinate with a glare, “Haven’t come back? Or haven’t you sent anyone?”

Schler lamented, “We sent two people, and they haven’t returned. No one else is willing to go.”

Bitler glared, “If no one else will go, can’t you go?”

“Don’t worry.” Schler put the cloak back on the old sheriff, “Let’s wait for the people in the front to come back and get a clear picture of the situation before making any decisions.”

Bitler became angrily resistant, striding towards the ladder, “Fine! Then I’ll go myself!”

“Oh my lord! Mr. Rhenetahl, please don’t be reckless!” Schler hurriedly stopped the old sheriff, not letting him descent the staircase at all costs.

It was only then that the deputy sheriff expressed his true thoughts, “I think this little disturbance won’t calm down for a while. If we just guard the Republic Avenue and keep the rioters from breaking into the South City, that’s enough! Forget about suppressing the rioters now, and no matter what happens in the Old City, let’s wait until dawn to deal with it!”

“Little disturbance?” Bitler pointed toward the Old Town, his white beard and eyebrows trembling with anger, “You call this a little disturbance?”

…

Disturbance, a word not unfamiliar to the citizens of the Steel Fortress.

Where there are people, there are conflicts, and Monta’s city of Steel Fortress is the most densely populated.

Conflicts occurring in places where social disparities are marked easily escalate into disturbances, and the internal pressure within Steel Fortress needs no further mention.

In the year 496 of the Imperial Calendar, on the eve of All Saints’ Day. Due to unfair distribution of watching spots, a blacksmith and a monk had an argument that turned into a brawl.

The outnumbered blacksmiths involved in the brawl were ousted from the cathedral, but the fury of the artisans, long-oppressed by excessive taxes, completely erupted.

A trivial incident—over a bribe of three silver coins for changing a selling spot—unexpectedly evolved into a large-scale brawl among clergymen, nobles, and citizens.

After a night of chaos, all monks of the Erwin Monastery were expelled from the city. Following that, armed citizens repelled mercenaries hired by the Monastery to retake the city on three occasions.

This event was known as [The All Saints’ Riot].

After a series of events, the disturbances of Steel Fortress were reported to the Emperor’s desk. In the end, the Emperor at the time, Richard IV, made a ruling requiring the people of Steel Fortress to compensate the Monastery for the losses, while also allowing them to redeem ownership of the city.

Steel Fortress thus shed its status as a bishopric, becoming a self-governing city under the direct jurisdiction of the Royal Family. Only in some minor terms—such as the General Diocesan Committee—did remnants of the past linger. It was also for this reason that many of the older generation in Steel Fortress are still grateful for the Emperor’s grace.

In the year 527 of the Imperial Calendar, the year following “The Butcher” Duke Arlian’s suicide and the end of the First Sovereignty War.

A large number of Monta-born Imperial veterans returned to their homeland, quite a few among them were disabled for life.

However, with the loss of the southern provinces, the Empire’s finances were increasingly tight, and not only was there no adequate pension for the disabled veterans, but taxes were also more heavily imposed.