Munitions Empire

"Are you sure I look like a noble in this outfit?" Tang Mo looked down at the clothes he was wearing, standing in front of Roger.

The suit was custom-made in the most respectable tailor shop in Brunas town. The owner’s child was Tang Mo’s student, so he received a rather generous discount.

Putting on the vest, Tang Mo even felt his breathing become a bit heavier. Clothing of this era was far from simple, with sleeves adorned with intricate patterns.

"Now that you’re Lord Earl’s Guardian Knight, you naturally need to dress more presentably," Roger said, picking up Tang Mo’s coat and looking at the impeccably ironed grey suit on him with slight dissatisfaction, "But why did you choose grey? This fabric really does look rather dowdy."

"It hides the dirt," Tang Mo didn’t wish to explain to old Roger why he had chosen such an inconspicuous grey over bright yellow, azure, or bold red.

In the world he was familiar with, those who opted for suits in red, blue, yellow, or green were either cheap performers playing to the gallery or foolish show-offs shot dead by random gunfire in the afternoon.

So, he made up a reason that left old Roger both laughing and crying before putting on his coat, slipping a specially made triangular gun holster under his arm.

He inserted the Colt Left-Wheel Handgun that neither Wes nor Tagg had seen yet into the holster and adjusted it to a comfortable position before stretching out his arms, allowing Roger to help him put on the coat.

"How does it look? You can’t tell there’s a gun under there from the outside, right?" Tang Mo spread his arms and showed Roger with a smile.

Old Roger shook his head and said confidently, "Believe me, kid! In this world, there isn’t a handgun that can be hidden under the armpit yet."

"Now there is," Tang Mo lowered his arms and, feeling it was rather comfortable, smiled contentedly, "Take good care of the place for me and tell Auntie Cui Xi that I want chicken for dinner tonight."

"No problem! Hope everything goes smoothly for you." Roger patted Tang Mo’s arm, his pride in the dashing young man before him evident in his beaming smile that he couldn’t hide.

At the door, Wes leaned against the wall, his waist still adorned with the two revolvers he almost never parted with. He was very satisfied with his current life, seeing Tang Mo’s business grow ever larger.

Luff, who had just returned from the Vicious Forest the day before yesterday, and a young warrior with a face chiseled like carved stone, were already waiting not far away.

Each of them carried a wooden box in their hands, polished to a beautiful finish.

Inside Luff’s box were two revolvers, while the box in the hands of the young man contained a Tang K1 Needle Gun.

Almost identical to Wes, both men wore two revolvers on their waists covered by long coats, making their attire look a bit comical.

The four of them headed towards the factory gate where two carriages awaited. Four mighty destriers snorted loudly, their hooves restlessly making a dull thumping noise.

Tang Mo stopped in front of the carriage upon seeing a lone figure standing uncomfortably at the door, hesitating and seemingly embarrassed to approach.

"Tagg? What’s the matter?" Tang Mo walked towards the shadow with a smile, showing no intent to avoid, "Why are you standing here?"

"I—I don’t know, my lord." Tagg rubbed his nose, his face flushing as he didn’t know where to start.

Tang Mo didn’t rush him, simply standing in front of him, waiting for him to organize his speech.

Soon, Tagg lifted his head again, awkwardly scratching his head, "My lord, why? Why sell such weapons to others? Aren’t they meant exclusively for the Northern Ridge’s military?"

After asking, he felt embarrassed because even someone as straightforward as he knew that the Shireck Flintlock Gun wasn’t exclusive to the Leite Kingdom, nor was it only supplied to the Suthers and Leite kingdoms.

"Northern Ridge only needs 2000 K1 Quick Guns, Tagg," Tang Mo explained earnestly, "Relying solely on the orders from Northern Ridge, both I and the workers behind me would starve."

"I’ve tried my best to avoid dealing K1 Quick Guns nearby, already taking into consideration the Earl’s concerns," Tang Mo continued without waiting for Tagg to speak, "Today is an important day. When I come back, we can have a good chat, alright?"

"I know it’s an impertinent request, my lord. I’m sorry! I’ll wait here for you to return," Tagg managed to stand here thanks to mustering all his courage.

He had the guts to face an enemy force twice his size on the battlefield, but such a matter truly exceeded his bravery.

"Don’t be so formal, Tagg! It’s good that you’re considerate of Northern Ridge," Tang Mo said, patting Tagg’s shoulder with a demeanor of mature assurance.

In fact, he was only 18 years old, while the Tagg standing before him was already a thirty-year-old adult.

"Let’s go," Tang Mo soothed Tagg and took the lead to get into a carriage, while Luff and his men slipped into another. Wes mounted the front carriage’s passenger seat, nodded slightly to Tagg as a gesture of respect.

Subsequently, the sound of reins cutting through the air rang sharply, and the noise of the hooves, accompanied by the horses’ whinnies, grew fainter as the two carriages disappeared into the horizon, one after the other.

Tagg stood still, watching until the carriages vanished from sight before he heaved a long sigh.

"The Elf Race’s merchant fleet only comes to Brunas once a year, so he has to try his luck," Roger said, appearing beside Tagg without notice, looking toward the distant horizon as he spoke.

"I understand," Tagg replied, somewhat disheartened; he truly hoped that the Quick Gun and Revolvers would become the secret weapons for Earl Ronin Fisallo’s conquest for dominion.

He had genuinely fantasized that Tang Mo would supply these weapons solely to Earl Fisallo, rather than sell them to others indiscriminately, as was the case now.

...

"Hurry up and sell these damned ballast iron ingots and spices and such... Ah, I’m in a rush to get back," a handsome man casually flipped through a travel journal, not even lifting his head as he ordered the subordinate at the doorway.

"Yes, Lord John!" The subordinate bowed respectfully and reported, "The taxes have been paid in full, and the workers are currently unloading the remaining cargo from the ship."

Along the journey, they had sold about eighty percent of their goods, with the remainder to be unloaded here, then exchanged for Gold Coins or other commodities.

Truthfully, Elven merchant ships did not need to do business in Brunas, but they required supplies, fresh fruits, and vegetables to prevent death due to vitamin deficiency on the vast sea.

So, since they had to stop here, it made the most economical sense to trade some goods while they were at it.

On this trip, they had brought a total of fifteen merchant ships, all armed with cannons, making them a daunting target for pirates in normal circumstances.

Moreover, these were ships of the Elf Race; if any trouble arose within the waters of the Leite Kingdom, it could even alarm the King. The Elves, nearly ruling the seas, were a mighty force that no one wished to offend.

Now, the cargo aboard these fifteen merchant ships had dwindled to a mere fraction, while a mishmash of other purchased items completely filled two of the ships.

Most of the merchandise had been converted into Gold Coins, which, piled up in the hold, exuded an enviable and jealous charm.

"Their wine is too inferior, sour and harsh, not delicious at all," the fleet leader standing by the window turned around and remarked to his partner, "That’s why I’m not too fond of this place."

"Make do for now! If you don’t drink the ale, then you won’t have any booze at all," the Elf sitting at the table shifted his gaze from the journal, his pointed ears twitching, "The relations between Leite Kingdom and Suthers Kingdom are increasingly tense, which is good news for us."

"How so?" the fleet leader inquired curiously.

"From a national strength perspective, Leite Kingdom is unlikely to defeat Suthers Kingdom... Therefore, having lost Northern Ridge, Leite Kingdom seems to rely even more on maritime transport," John, the Elf called Lord, closed his travel journal and explained with a smile.

"Our business will be easier, isn’t that good news?" He placed the book on the table and stretched his neck.

"What if Leite Kingdom wins?" The leader asked again, out of curiosity.

"What loss would that be to us?" John shrugged, unconcerned, "If Leite Kingdom wins, doesn’t everything just stay the same, no changes? That’s not bad news for us either."

"I finally understand why you always make a profit in business," the fleet leader laughed heartily, emptying the cup of inferior ale in his hand.

"Sir! There’s someone at the harbor dock hoping to have a word with you," an Elf Sailor pushed open the door and reported after nodding in respect.

"The tax officer? The sheriff? Or that greedy mayor? Didn’t I already give him a share? What? Does he want more?" Frowning, John fired off a rapid series of questions.

"No, not that, sir..." the Sailor replied with a slight embarrassment, for he had just accepted a bribe from the other party, "It’s a person named Tang Mo, he... he claims to be an arms dealer..."

"Oh?" John stroked the travel journal in his hand, raising an eyebrow and letting out a meaningful, elongated sound.

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