Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World
Chapter 218: Attending the Banquet, (3)

TL: Etude

“Count Grayman, Count Ganard, how exactly do you manufacture those items? I am willing to pay a substantial amount for the relevant technology,” a lord finally broached the subject that was on everyone’s mind.

“I’m interested too. Our family has some savings, and we can make an offer that will surely satisfy you,” another chimed in.

As soon as the first lord expressed interest, others followed suit. They had sent people to Alda to gather information about the technology, but Alda’s factories and workers were strictly monitored.

Production processes were divided into several parts, with each worker responsible for only a small segment, making it nearly impossible for any one person to grasp the whole picture. Those with such knowledge were highly paid and lived with their families in secure, specialized areas.

So far, they had gleaned only bits of information, such as papermaking being somehow related to wood and pottery being made from clay.

Cecil, the intelligence chief, might not have operated a vast network like in other transmigration novels, but he had successfully kept their secrets. However, the neighboring lords lacked significant underground power, so everyone was more or less on equal footing in terms of secret-keeping.

Malron looked uncertainly at Paul, waiting for his decision.

“Uh… gentlemen,” Paul hesitated.

He hadn’t yet decided whether to share the technology with outsiders. With the successful iron production from blast furnaces, he had higher aspirations and was less concerned about papermaking and canning industries. He didn’t want to expend too much effort in guarding their secrets, as these technologies would eventually spread.

However, Alda and Baylding hadn’t yet secured an absolute advantage over neighboring territories. In this chaotic world, strength was paramount, and he needed to accumulate more resources for self-preservation.

“Gentlemen, we have a patent system in place. Using these technologies requires authorization from the inventors.”

“A patent? Aren’t you the lord of Alda? Why depend on others?”

“Well… there are certain rules to follow. This isn’t the right place to discuss this. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to visit Lakeheart Town, and we can talk in detail.”

The lords, seeing Paul hadn’t outright refused, sensed a strong possibility of a deal. With many ears around, it wasn’t the place for business talks. Keeping the good stuff among a few neighbors seemed like a wise choice.

“Great, we’ll discuss it back home! Let’s drink, young brother Paul, young brother Malron!” The lords moved on to other topics, chatting and laughing.

“The Duke Ferdinand—arrived!”

“Count Kent—arrived!”

The loud announcements indicated the arrival of the birthday banquet’s host.

The hall fell silent, everyone waiting respectfully for the arrival of the kingdom’s greatest noble from the northwest.

An elderly figure, supported by servants, slowly made his way in. The current Duke Ferdinand looked frail and unsteady.

“Tsk, the Duke really seems to be in poor shape.”

“Last time I visited him six months ago, he was robust and had just taken a new concubine.”

“Could it be a sudden illness?”

Paul overheard the whispers around him as the Duke entered the hall. Henry, the Viscount and the Duke’s brother, hurriedly went to greet him.

“My brother, finally you’re here. You’re the star today. Happy birthday!”

“Ah…”

The Duke responded feebly, barely acknowledging the crowd, and headed straight for the main seat, with Henry assisting him.

Following closely behind the Duke were two figures: Count Marltz of Kent and a young boy, likely Kent’s attendant. Everyone knew Count Marltz was the Duke’s trusted confidant, so his presence alongside the Duke didn’t raise any questions.

Count Marltz matched his pace with the Duke, ensuring he was always a step behind.

The Duke finally reached his seat and sat down heavily. Count Kent and his attendant took their seats near the Duke, while Henry sat on the other side.

Only then did the Duke look around the hall. Seeing the crowd, his face flushed with a semblance of vitality, perhaps from the thrill of power.

He extended his trembling hand, and a servant quickly filled a goblet with wine. The Duke raised his glass.

“To all! Thank you for attending my birthday banquet. Let’s not leave sober tonight!”

“Happy birthday to the Duke!”

Everyone raised their glasses, toasting to the Duke’s health.

A smile finally appeared on the Duke’s face.

While everyone’s attention was on the Duke, Paul observed Count Kent, the man who had sent an emissary to Lakeheart Town to extort him last year. Sensing Paul’s gaze, Kent turned and smiled subtly at him.

Paul felt a chill, as if he had stumbled into a dark cave and been startled by a swarm of bats.

The Duke, gathering his strength, announced the start of the banquet. Servants rushed in with food and replaced the nearly empty barrels of wine with new ones.

“Please, enjoy!”

“Thank you, you too!”

After some polite exchanges, the guests began indulging in the feast.

The banquet featured various entertainers: dwarfs and clowns eliciting laughter, minstrels captivating with their songs, and acrobats thrilling the audience.

“Woe is me, I’ll surely gain ten pounds after this,” Paul joked, struggling with a roasted pig, occasionally clinking glasses with Malron, Bryce, and others.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the hall, quiet but commanding enough to silence the room.

The Duke was speaking again. Reluctantly setting down his cutlery, Paul turned to listen attentively.

“You see, my health is failing, so…”

The Duke’s voice faltered, struggling to speak.

“So… so…”

After repeating “so” several times, as if making a final decision, he spoke up with renewed vigor.

“While everyone is here, I wish to announce my successor!”

This statement sent a shockwave through the hall, leaving everyone stunned.

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