Chapter 1292: Chapter 60 Reigniting the Spark (5)
The ng Plough, having withstood the tests of spring tilling and sumr harvesting, being widely adopted by the major refugee farms and enjoyed a great reputation in Iron Peak County, encountered cold reception when it ca to the neighboring Vernge County.
The gentry and rchants of Vernge County, who ca to observe the new plow, showed a very keen interest.
However, their enthusiasm was rely transmitted through “eyes and mouths,” and as soon as they heard any rumor, they would tightly lock up their money bags, reluctant to part with even a penny.
Thus, aside from a few estate owners living in the suburbs who, to save a certain Excellency’s face, each humiliatingly bought a plow — Winters suspected they intended to privately replicate it — to take ho for “display,”
the rest of the Artemis gentry were like lazy donkeys tied to a mill — they brayed loudly, but upon closer inspection, all four hooves stayed in place, never moving an inch.
Unless Winters raised a whip and lashed it hard across their backs, these “lazy donkeys” would absolutely not move the mill voluntarily.
The traveling rchants gathered in Artemis from Vernge County displayed an attitude towards the new plow identical to that of the estate owners:
As long as it didn’t cost them money, the rchants lavished such praise that it even made Winters blush;
But as soon as real money was needed, the rchants would co up with all sorts of excuses, leaving Winters literally “red in the face.”
In short, the ng Plough failed to make headway in Vernge County. It not only tarnished Winters’ “proudest creation,” but also diminished the joy Winters derived from lavishly spending gold, and unexpectedly troubled those around Winters.
Richard Mason was the primary victim.
…
[Outside Artemis City]
“The Vernge County people not buying your new plow — what use is it asking ?” Only after the Reserve Officers had walked far off did the exasperated Senior Mason finally explode: “You ought to ask the Vernge County people!”
The one being questioned, in embarrassnt and anger, beca calm instead: “I’ve asked, but I didn’t hear a single genuine word, just so insincere excuses.”
“Then have the locals ask for you!”
“I did, and it was the sa voices they relayed back.” Winters’ tone wasn’t questioning, it was more like solving a riddle for Senior Mason: “The Vernge County people don’t trust us, nor do we have trustworthy allies there. So even if we solicit opinions through local gentry, we’d still get the sa responses.”
“You.” Mason cautiously corrected: “Not ‘we.'”
“Senior, saying this in private is fine, I don’t take it seriously.” Winters put away his smile, his gaze sharp and deanor stern as he warned the senior: “But if soone else hears, they would misunderstand.”
Winters’ tone montarily left Mason bewildered and at a loss. As he subconsciously reflected upon himself, suddenly a chill climbed along his spine from the tailbone to the back of his neck.
“Putting on airs! Acting high and mighty!” Mason swung his whip, indignantly lashing at his junior: “Show a good example!”
…
In the distant watchtower, a guard responsible for overseeing captive labor couldn’t help but remark to a companion: “The bond between the two Civil Guard Officers is truly deep.”
“Of course,” replied another guard with pretended profundity: “Think back, when the big man slaughtered all the breeding stock Mason Commissioner had painstakingly cultivated, not a word of bla from Mason Commissioner. Search the whole army, and only Mason Commissioner can get physical with the big man.”
“Blowing smoke again.”
“Ha, when the big man was slaughtering pigs, I was the one starting the fire next to him!”
…
anwhile, Winters hadn’t even cried out from the pain, and Mason was already a bit exhausted.
“So what if the plows aren’t selling?” Mason put away the whip, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and, panting heavily, asked: “Aren’t the nails selling well?”
Hearing this, Winters, who had just taken the whipping with equanimity, suddenly had his expression turn gloomy.
“Yes,” he admitted rather sheepishly, “in short supply.”
His Excellency Montagne never imagined that the new plows he regarded as his “ace force” would be unasked for in Vernge County, while a few cartloads of iron nails Berlion brought along the way sold out instantly.
Almost every traveling rchant from Vernge County who ca to Artemis sought to load up on as many “Revodan nails” as possible.
The rchants who missed out, in their frustration, imdiately sought soone out to inquire: “Will there be another batch? And if so, when will it arrive?”
Having received a positive response, so rchants from afar simply chose to stay temporarily in the county city, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the next “Rebel” supply caravan daily.
The old blacksmith Poltan’s troubles were resolved, and the Revodan ironworks factory adjusted its course, now fully committed to rushing out iron nails.
Those making nails, selling nails, and buying nails, everyone was delighted — except for Winters Montagne.
The project he nad with his surna, confident about it, lost to a simple nail, leaving His Excellency Montagne’s pride considerably bruised.
Deep in the night, Winters had secretly lit the oil lamp, repeatedly examining the “Revodan nails” in his hand.
Finally, he concluded: there was nothing special about them, just ordinary, plain nails — except for being cheap.
Except… cheap.
Regardless of whether people engage in carpentry, they always need nails. The demand for nails was so significant and their uses so nurous that so families even prepared a set of tools, producing iron nails during their spare ti for their own needs.
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