Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 536 - 535: Movers and Shakers

Aldernon, the Typhon imperial capital, a special small-scale banquet is being hosted in the noble estates.

Bright magic crystal lamps illuminate the spacious main banquet hall. Golden tassels hang down from the high ceiling, forming a magnificent curtain above the hall. Gentle and lively melodies resonate in the indoor space, the music carrying the characteristic intoxication and extravagance of Typhon’s "Nightingale Chronology" era — nobles from the centre of the mainland favor these tunes from the previous age as they seem to let them recall the "good times" before the Empire’s new policies. They love to revel in this nightingale-like melody, reminiscing about the era when aristocrats could still enjoy many privileges and held the wealth of all their lands.

However, today, after many years of new policies, they can only indulge in such reminiscence through a melody.

Private parties of this kind, which only invite a few close friends, are destined to have not too many guests attending. A dozen invited guests gather in small groups, casually chatting in the hall. The exquisite wine and delicacies cannot attract much attention from these upper-class visitors. Their focus is almost entirely on the temporary platform formed in the center of the hall — placed there is a bizarrely shaped machine, with an iron frame and a series of complex linkages and gears. The cotton threads neatly arranged between the metal rods on the upper part of the machine involuntarily make one think of "weaving," yet this strange-looking weaving machine is something everyone is seeing for the first time.

The guests linger around the machine, discussing or speculating in low voices about its origin and the host’s purpose for placing it there — this unassuming, perhaps even somewhat unsightly mechanical creation does not match the atmosphere of a high society banquet. So, surely Viscount Hemir, the host — a nobleman born from a proper lineage — must have put it here for a reason?

"Probably another novelty magic toy," a young aristocrat wearing a dark brown coat murmured to his partner beside him in the banquet hall, "After all, Mr. Hemir is known for his love of tinkering with novel things."

"I heard he brought this out of the ’Imperial Construction Association’," the partner responded, "That peculiar old mage has recently been very close with Mr. Hemir..."

"That peculiar old mage? Is there such a person in the Construction Guild?"

"Oh, he’s a well-known figure — reportedly vouched for by Lady Windsor herself. Rumor has it he was once a powerful member of the Royal Mage Association, supposed to have retired, and was called back by the emperor’s recruitment decree this time..."

The guests’ low discussions did not last long. As the music gradually shifted to soothing and low tones, everyone’s gaze uniformly turned towards the entrance of the hall. Attendants dressed in dark red short robes opened the heavy and ornate door, and Viscount Hemir, wearing a loose dark coat, a monocle, tall and thin in stature, appeared at the door.

The viscount, not yet thirty, wore a joyful smile — he is always so cheerful, surrounded by an air of good things about to happen. Behind the viscount, however, followed two unfamiliar individuals.

One wore a black mage robe, looking old and with a gloomy demeanor, clearly an old-fashioned mage difficult to get along with. The other did not seem fit to be here at all: a middle-aged man of short stature, stooped back, and a tense expression on his face. Though dressed in a brand new and decent wool coat, he still seemed like a lower-class person, trembling slightly as he cautiously followed Viscount Hemir and the black-robed mage, looking as if he might faint at any moment.

The unfamiliar faces sparked curiosity among the guests, but no one dared to rudely inquire. They merely, with aristocratic reserve, glanced briefly at the two guests behind Viscount Hemir and then refocused their attention on the host of the banquet.

The visitors are all friends of Viscount Hemir, naturally not so restrained. Someone raised their wine glass high and greeted the host with laughter: "Viscount Hemir — thanks for the delightful wine and food, this banquet is truly impressive, especially the arrangements on site — my friend, won’t you introduce your new toy to everyone?"

"It’s not a toy, Viscount Dewey," Viscount Hemir replied with a bright smile. He strolled towards the center of the hall, near the bizarre machine, then turned to face the invited guests, extending his arms in an exaggerated gesture to point at the machine behind him, "This is the new era!"

"You’ve really come to favor such exaggerated terms lately," remarked a veiled lady with a humorously shaking head, "Last time, when you introduced a ’writing machine,’ you said the same, yet all it did was shred paper..."

Hemir immediately tilted his head back, responded with a serious face: "I am improving that machine, and I am confident I can fix its pesky small gears — as for the machine before us now, rest assured, it won’t malfunction as last time, it’s indeed a practical creation!"

He then slightly shifted his posture, gesturing to the tense-looking middle-aged man in the wool coat to come forward: "Mr. Martin, please step up and demonstrate this incredible thing for my friends."

So this seemingly out-of-place person was here to help the viscount to demonstrate the machine?

The guests, a bit surprised, watched the middle-aged man called "Mr. Martin" step to the machine, observing him busy checking the parts, adjusting the gears, and applying grease to the spaces between the components — upon contact with the machine, this middle-aged man’s tension seemed to vanish instantly, he completed all preparations with dizzying skill that made him seem more like a seasoned craftsman. Then, under Viscount Hemir’s command, he started up the machine.

Accompanied by a faint dark wave at the base of the machine, a strange creaking sound emanated between its gears and linkages, and soon enough... this complex engineering creation did something astonishing right before everyone’s eyes:

It began weaving!

The machine creaked and cranked for a few minutes, then halted under Mr. Martin’s control, and the surrounding guests had already widened their eyes.

Finally, someone exclaimed, "By the God of Knowledge — Hemir, you finally created something of great use!"

Viscount Hemir exhibited a modest expression, placing a hand on his abdomen, uttering a sigh with a cantabile tone: "How I wish this engineering miracle was of my own making, alas, aristocratic principles demand I must be honest — this machine is the handiwork of Mr. Martin, this gentleman from Anglais County is the fourth smartest person I have ever seen. He named this machine ’Anglais Weaving Machine’..."

The aristocratic guests in the hall let out another series of small exclamations, and this time, they seriously looked at "Mr. Martin."

Standing rigidly under the noble gaze, Martin’s hands instinctively clenched and unclenched, so anxious, yet so thrilled — his once mocked machine had finally been acknowledged, had been given a chance. A respected nobleman even hosted an entire banquet specifically to showcase his invention and had no intention of claiming any of his credit.

"Gentlemen and ladies, you may direct any questions regarding the details of this machine to Mr. Martin—please do not intimidate him, he is my esteemed guest," Viscount Hemir shouted with a smile. "And if anyone wishes to purchase such a machine for some enterprise, please see me after the banquet ends—I am honored to be the first investor in the Anglais Weaving Machine, and I eagerly look forward to friends joining me in embarking on a great venture."

Then, the Viscount himself withdrew from the scene, leaving the banquet hall to the Anglais Weaving Machine and its inventor, and headed to the nearby lounge with the old mage, Daniel.

"Master Daniel, what an enjoyable day this has been," Viscount Hemir exclaimed with delight as he stepped into the lounge, "Do you know? My favorite thing is unveiling something new and observing everyone’s amazed expressions..."

The old mage Daniel nodded his head, "Thank you for your assistance, Viscount Sir."

Though his character is eccentric, he understands basic etiquette, and now, to accomplish his master’s mission, he must try to establish good relationships with each "target."

"Please don’t be so polite, Master," Viscount Hemir quickly said, "Lady Windsor once guided me, and I consider myself half her disciple, and as you are her mentor, it’s my honor to help you as much as I can."

Daniel glanced at this young aristocrat: "You do indeed have some Mage talent."

"Ah, I’m aware of my meager talent on the path of Magic, probably I won’t walk far, and I’m not one to endure hardship," Viscount Hemir waved dismissively, "That’s why I prefer to devote my energy to ’extraordinary objects’—fate has treated me well, allowing me to find such a valuable ’miraculous product,’ and meet someone as insightful and wise as yourself. To be frank, although I recognized the Anglais Weaving Machine’s great value, without your guidance and insight, I might never have understood its true power in my lifetime..."

Daniel frankly accepted the Viscount’s flattery, then nudgingly asked: "Viscount Sir, do you think your friends would be interested in the Anglais Weaving Machine?"

"Ah, they’re as interested in new things as I am, though not everyone shares my courage to invest. You know, many aristocrats value the assets they have left after losing their land greatly, some even only dare host banquets every two months," Viscount Hemir said, seating himself on the lounge’s soft couch, reaching for a fruit from the nearby fruit plate, while inhaling its fragrance, "But still, there are two... no, three people among them who possess both the vision and courage, and they will join."

"That’s good," Daniel nodded, "The more people involved, the quicker we can upscale, and the more apparent the promotional impact will be. The Anglais Weaving Machine is registered with the Constructers’ Guild, so not only can you start a factory, but you can also sell the weaving machine’s licenses. Its income could exceed annual dividends."

"Honestly, I can’t wait," Viscount Hemir set the fruit down, "But, to be fair... although the Anglais Weaving Machine works well, it requires sufficient yarn supply to fully unleash its value, and Mr. Martin... can he really design the new spinning machine before the Cold Month ends?"

"He will succeed, rest assured, since spinning machines have simpler structures than weaving machines, and also the Harritt People invented the water-powered spinning machine in 714 as a reference," Daniel smiled, although the smile was more eerie than comforting, "Additionally, I will assist him, for I know a thing or two about mechanics."

Viscount Hemir let out a long sigh of relief: "That’s reassuring, once the spinning machine is in place, I have nothing else to worry about."

"No, actually there is one thing you should consider in advance," Daniel shook his head, timely reminding, "Viscount Sir, don’t you think if both spinning and weaving machines start operating, we’ll need a vast amount of... cotton?"

"...This I have indeed thought of," Hearing Daniel’s words, Viscount Hemir’s expression became slightly solemn, "People near the imperial capital mostly cultivate grains and beans, the primary cotton cultivation area is further south, and even there, their cotton yield can’t keep up with the machine’s consumption—the machines are amazingly efficient."

"Why not try persuading those grain and bean farmers to plant some cotton as well? After all, cotton yields well in the centre of the mainland," Daniel recalled his master’s teachings, gently guiding, with a more apparent smile on his face—though still eerily unsettling, but in Viscount Hemir’s eyes, full of sincerity and friendliness, "The farmers would tremendously benefit, as the factory’s purchase price for cotton is far higher than their grain sales income..."

"Then... what if they don’t want to?" Viscount Hemir hesitated, "Many farmers are quite stubborn, and now Empire law protects them, so I can’t forcibly change their crops... "

"Viscount Sir, that’s where you need to exert some effort within the Noble Congress—attract more people into the textile factories, once everyone becomes investors, Councilors will naturally realize cotton’s importance..."

"Ah, Master Daniel, you also understand the rules of the noble congress’s operation?"

"I know a few."

Looking at the insightful and wise old mage before him, Viscount Hemir finally couldn’t help but show an expression of admiration: "Master Daniel, allow me to be frank—you really should have returned to the imperial capital earlier. Your knowledge and vision are so exceptional; if you had returned earlier, you would have been a famous figure here by now."

"No, Viscount Sir, this is the era of young people," Daniel said unhurriedly, "Keep the anticipation; you are about to become a renowned figure of this era."

Viscount Hemir laughed heartily, stood up, retrieved a wine glass and red wine from the nearby wine rack, poured a glass each for himself and Daniel, and then handed a glass to the old mage standing before him: "Let’s celebrate this, Master."

Daniel took the wine glass, slightly raising it: "To this wonderful era."

"To this wonderful era."

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