Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Wait, what did you say? Montan?" Winters was surprised, his breathing quickened.

"Yes," Benwei replied matter-of-factly.

"The Montan working at the docks?" Winters pressed repeatedly, "Do you mean the ones who blew up the docks are members of the Montan gang?"

"Yes," Benwei spread his hands, "It was Scarface's new help, they just recently started hanging out with those Montan."

Winters took a deep breath, becoming extremely serious, "Benwei, if you want me to take care of those Montan for you, you just have to say the word, and I'll definitely help you. But, never make unfounded accusations because you have a grudge against the Montan. This assassination is complicated, the identity of the deceased remains a mystery until now and could lead to some serious trouble... I need you to answer me honestly, are you sure you didn't see it wrong?"

"I'm sure, I'm sure I didn't see it wrong," Benwei answered earnestly, meeting Winters' gaze, "And we haven't reached a point with the Montan where it's a matter of life and death. You're thinking too seriously."

"Tell me everything you know about those people."

"Where should I start?"

"From the beginning."

Benwei took a sip of water to moisten his throat and began his story six years ago.

In the last year of the Naval Academy for young students, Benwei's family lost two breadwinners due to a tragic accident - Benwei's father and uncle. So, after graduating from the Naval Academy six years ago, to support his family, Benwei went to work at the docks just like his forefathers.

At that time, there was no established order at the docks, and with a massive influx of dispossessed peasants into the city, the competition became brutal.

"You want three silver coins to unload a ship?"

"We will do it for two."

Dockworkers undercut and outbid each other, leading to endless violent conflicts.

Soon, as the conflicts intensified, organized groups began to emerge among the dockworkers. The power of one was nothing against a group, and without joining one, dockworkers would be intimidated, beaten, and driven away.

Small gangs were oppressed by larger ones; either they would join the opposition or they had to band together into an even larger gang. Eventually, all the dockworkers became members of some large gang.

For these people from all corners of the land, regional origins were the most common form of identity, and it was inevitable that they would band together based on them. In the end, outsiders like the Montan, the Vaughan People, and the Paratu People ended up expelling the locals from the docks, seizing control of all the cargo handling work.

These three groups controlled the number of dockworkers, refusing outsiders from working at the docks at will, avoiding excessive competition. To some extent, it had a similarity to the artificial entry thresholds set by merchants and craft guilds.

But they didn't form a tight organization, and fundamentally they united only to avoid being bullied. Even the gang leaders were regular porters on a daily basis, only taking charge during conflicts when everyone would side based on their place of origin.

Things were relatively peaceful until some were no longer content with the status quo. About half a month ago, Benwei noticed some new faces among the Montan. This wasn't unusual, as dock work had a high turnover rate with new people always coming and going.

However, the Montan soon instigated conflicts with the other two groups. Previously, the three groups were evenly matched as they were all just porters who dared not fight too fiercely. But the new faces among the Montan were exceptionally ruthless. It was they who seriously injured Benwei's uncle, who died shortly after being brought home.

Scarface, the leader of the Montan, boasted while drunk that he had specially found these bruisers, intending to crush and subdue the Vaughan and Paratu completely this time.

And on the day of the dockside assassination, Benwei himself saw those new Montan throw explosives onto the pier. There were several other porters with those Montan, but they were silenced on the spot, only Benwei escaped by hiding in a ship's hold.

Winters thought, "Those silenced porters must be the ones mentioned by the customs that were claimed by their families." The pieces of information corroborated each other, increasing their credibility.

What followed was an earth-shattering explosion, with Benwei rescuing the non-swimmers Winters and Moritz from the sea. Winters and his contemporaries were invited to "rest" in the customs prison, and whatever happened outside was of no concern to them.

For Benwei, though, one bad thing followed another. The customs were in such chaos after the explosion that Benwei couldn't find anyone willing to listen to a mere porter.

With no other choice, he went home first, planning to find the customs guard the next day. But before he even had dinner, several distant relatives knocked on his door, breathlessly telling him: Scarface was dead, and the Montan were gathering people to take revenge on him.

Overnight, Benwei and his family had to leave their home; women and the elderly were sent to distant places, while Benwei, his uncle, and his brother hid on the outskirts of the city until today.

"Those hired by the Montan aren't bruisers, they are assassins in disguise, just masquerading as bruisers to infiltrate the Montan gang," Winters furrowed his brows, "I guess by now they've already run off without a trace."

Benwei sighed lightly, "I also figured those unfamiliar faces weren't ordinary folks; they were the type that treated other people's lives like nothing."

"I'm actually a bit puzzled; if they had already infiltrated the docks, why cause such a big commotion? And that carriage, could it be they also planned to kidnap someone alive?" Winters stroked his chin stubble, sneering, "I'm getting more curious about the identity of the deceased by the minute. Who could be worth all this trouble? I bet the Montan's boss was also silenced by them."

"Anyway, those people must have already run off without a trace."

"Wherever one goes, one leaves traces. If we follow the footprints, we'll surely find them. Do you know where the core members of the Montan are now? The dockworkers won't tell us anything."

Benwei shook his head: "I don't know, just like they don't know where I am, we're all hiding. If I find them, I'll let you know."

"Alright, but don't have this friend deliver messages for you anymore," Winters said with a wry smile, "He really is a terrible messenger. Also, move to a new place to live quickly; this house is too unsafe."

Benwei nodded with a smile and agreed.

After chatting about the times they had shared and those they hadn't, the two said goodbye.

"How will I find you if you move?" asked Winters.

"Go to the docks and find George Gap, tell him you want to see me, and I'll contact you."

Winters nodded, without wasting words, and rode back to the city.

Pushing open the door of the gendarmerie, Winters found that Colonel Field and Major Moritz were waiting for him.

"Where have you been?" Field asked with some dissatisfaction.

"I went to see a dockworker and got some important information," Winters, who had been absent from his friends, answered without blushing or skipping a beat, "The docks shouldn't be monolithic anymore, the Varn People will support us."

"Oh? What information?"

Winters relayed what he had heard from Benwei about the relationship between the assassins and the Montan gang.

"Isn't your classmate Lu You trying to use us to eliminate the Montan?" Field looked skeptical.

"It's possible," Winters said, trusting Benwei but not committing entirely.

"Let's put that aside for now," Field said with a wave of his hand, "There's an important task for you... ever stolen something?" Find your next read at empire

It turned out that Colonel Field and Major Moritz had spent several days searching according to a list provided by the Duelist Club, only to discover that the Duelist Club had provided a list that was half true and half false.

On one hand, it was a very detailed list, filling up seven pages. But many of the names were just signatories on a guestbook, also included in the list. And many who weren't military officers appeared on it—the Duelist Club seemed to have a fair number of non-officer members.

However, the gendarmerie was looking for someone familiar with Ned Longsword's swordsmanship and proficient in Swift Sword. There might be many civilians proficient in Swift Sword, but few were familiar with Longsword, which had long since gone out of style; there were no swordsmanship schools in Vineta that taught Longsword. Only officers returning from the Army Officers' Academy had systematically studied this swordsmanship.

The real core members of the Duelist Club were scarcely present on the list. There were only a handful of field-grade officers on the entire list, which was impossible.

Although Major Moritz was a formal member of the Duelist Club, his character was consistently casual, and he was seldom sober after eight o'clock in the evening. So the few times he went to the club were just for eating and drinking, never involving himself in the management of the Duelist Club.

Moritz had gone to demand the list, but the other party wouldn't sincerely give it, and the major was helpless.

No, the major actually had a way—his method was to steal.

"No, no, no," Winters shook his head vigorously, waving his hands again and again, "You can have me rob someone, but stealing, I really can't do that."

"Stealing is easy, mainly you need to have good psychological quality. Like horse thieves, as long as you act calmly like the horse's owner, then no one will suspect you. I think your psychological quality is strong and you have a lot of potential," Field praised Winters, the Montaigne Ensign, to the skies.

"Senior, I really can't do it. I am, after all, an officer. If I get caught stealing..."

Field scolded, "You're thinking about failure before we even start. Can you succeed with that attitude? You just have to think about success, and you won't slip up."

He added, "Besides, we're on official business, conducting a legitimate investigation. How could the gendarmerie's actions be considered stealing? This is called using flexible methods to obtain evidence."

"If it's so legitimate, we should go with guns and kick down doors to seize it! If it's a raid, I'll definitely go!" Winters was anxious.

"Alright, Montaigne Ensign, I order you to seize the evidence—without being detected."