Chapter 50 50: production permits

------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. ------------------------------- Vorgeheim 21th ,2488 IC Fortunately, after notifying the judge that the matter had been resolved, and receiving confirmation from both parties, he declared the conflict officially closed. However, he maintained the prohibition against the margrave using the state regiments stationed in Helmgart for personal campaigns that did not directly benefit the Empire. I had won completely. I was now free of the margrave's pressure. I no longer had to spend more than half my income on bribes and could finally reinvest everything back into my lands. At last, I would stop funding the lavish lifestyles of corrupt magistrates and sinful nobles. But now that I was in Altdorf, I needed to make the most of my time here while keeping a low profile. I couldn't risk attracting the attention of a high-ranking priest of Sigmar who might be able to see through the magical items concealing my magical affinity. Weapons were tightly controlled in Reikland—at least when it came to their manufacture. Many nobles feared that a peasant armed with a pistol might kill a lifelong-trained knight with a single well-placed shot. The fear of losing the monopoly on violence echoed through the upper echelons like a constant whisper. If I were in Ostermark or Ostland, it wouldn't be a problem. There, control fell directly to the Elector Count, and none of them minded their peasants being better armed to face all the horrors the eastern provinces endure each winter. That's why I needed a permit from the Imperial Army's high command to begin arms production. I doubted I could steal a major contract from the gunsmiths of Nuln or the workshops of other cities in the Empire's industrial belt... but with the right connections and a proper presentation, I could get a foot in the door. The problem was contacts. All I had were corrupt nobles who charged me for introducing me to a guy who knew another guy who knew someone else who supposedly knew the person I actually needed. And they charged me at every step. So I tried my luck in a place where I knew my father had left some influence behind. I went to a tavern near the Imperial barracks. The air smelled of beer. It didn't take long for me to spot the Carroburg Greatswords drinking, still in full gear. They were laughing, slamming tables, celebrating something. Probably a recent campaign. My father had maintained good relations with many officers, especially with the Greatswords, as he had served in the regiment for many years before becoming baron of the lands I inherited. I approached the man whose armor bore the most adornments—likely a captain—just as he raised his mug. "Excuse me, captain," I said firmly, catching his attention. The man looked at me. At first, he didn't react, but as he focused on my face, he spat out what he was drinking. "By Sigmar...!" he exclaimed, coughing and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You're the spitting image..." Cough, cough "Damn... Are you the son of...? Yes, you're wearing his heraldry! You must be." I nodded silently. "You knew my father?" I asked bluntly. "By blessed Sigmar, of course I did! I'll never forget the strongest, angriest, most bad-tempered bastard who ever served in this regiment. I still remember when he killed four beastmen with just two swings of his greatsword," he said with a nostalgic smile. "I'd heard something about that... That my father was a distinguished member of such an honorable regiment in his youth," I replied with the proper formality. "What can I help you with... I assume you're not just here for pleasantries," said the captain, tilting his head. "Ah, straight to the point, I see. Yes, I need help. I wanted to ask if you have any connections to an Imperial general or their direct aides. I need permits to start arms production, and I don't want to break the law by doing it without proper authorization," I said, keeping a serious tone. The captain eyed me for a moment, then took a long drink from his mug. "Arms production, eh? That's no small thing. There are some very jealous eyes watching who forges steel in Reikland... especially if you're not from Nuln's workshops or one of the traditional houses," he said, slamming his mug down on the table. "I know. I just want a contact. Someone who'll give me a chance to present what I'm making. Nothing more," I said confidently. The captain chuckled briefly. "You talk like your father... and sound just like him when he asked to be the first to breach the green skins lines. Alright. I know someone. General Magnus Von Abresicht's aide might be able to help you with that permit," the captain said before downing his drink in one go. He burped loudly. "You've got the coin, right?" Without saying a word, I tossed a bag of gold coins onto the table. It had been meant for legal bribes, but now it had a new purpose. "Well now... this is heavy," the captain murmured as he opened it. His eyes widened. "This is more than I make in a year." "Probably much more, actually," I replied indifferently. "Alright. Let's go." The captain left a few coins on the table for his companions, who laughed and sent him off with cheers. I followed him as we walked toward the buildings near the Imperial Palace. As we got closer, the number of Sigmarite priests noticeably increased, and with them, my discomfort. "What's wrong, young Reinsfeld? The priests of Sigmar won't harm you," said the captain, noticing my tension. "Have you ever been caught in one of their sermons?" I replied without looking. "You kill a few beastmen, and suddenly you're forced to sit through hours of speeches about being a paragon of virtue, devotion to Sigmar, and how you should keep hunting the Empire's enemies until your dying breath." The captain burst into laughter. We finally turned south, heading toward the barracks where the number of clergymen began to decrease, relieving the pressure of having to keep my magical items hidden. We crossed the courtyard and entered a building that clearly belonged to a state regiment. The captain led me without stopping. "That one there, the one with the monocle," he said, pointing to a man with a refined demeanor, dressed in expensive clothes, quill in hand and an open book in front of him. "The one with the monocle... really? That's how you introduce me?" replied the man with a dry voice and an annoyed tone. "Would you prefer I bring up what happened in—?" the captain began, but the abrupt sound of the book slamming shut cut him off. "That won't be necessary, captain. That information is not to leave this room. I won't warn you again, or I'll take disciplinary action," replied the man as he stood. "He pissed himself when he saw a beastman," the captain whispered to me "Argh! You muscle-headed brutes..." the assistant muttered, shaking his head. "I see your companion is a noble. May I ask what brings you here, young man of the Empire? I'm afraid we're not accepting recruits at the moment." "No, actually, I've come to request something very specific. I'd like to ask for your assistance in securing an audience with General Magnus Von Abresicht," I replied with formality, giving a slight bow. "And may I ask why?" he said as he slowly walked around the desk, letting his boots echo deliberately across the stone floor. "Ah, very simple. I've recently begun building a sizable industrial network, and I would like to obtain the proper permit to produce firearms—especially considering how delicate their regulation is," I answered honestly. "A greater supply of weapons means more agile provisioning, yes, but one must also be cautious about who ends up wielding them. We wouldn't want peasants forgetting their place just because they've got a pistol in their hands," the general's assistant said, flipping through a book with a neutral expression. "But... I don't believe that justifies an urgent meeting with the general. I could schedule one for you in two months... unless you have more convincing reasons." "And exactly how many reasons would you consider enough to do me that favor?" I asked as my hand was already sliding into my coat, reaching for one of the gold pouches. "Two hundred should be sufficient," he replied without hesitation. "Then here are my extra reasons," I said, dropping the pouch onto his desk. The metallic clink was deliberate, heavy. "Right this way, please. The general is in his office," he said with a barely concealed smile. 'Much cheaper than the other route... now let's see how much the general will charge,' I thought as I followed. We walked through the building's corridors, passing by offices, archives, and supply rooms, until we reached the end of a hallway where a heavy oak door stood. The assistant stepped ahead, knocked firmly, and entered briefly. He had me wait a few moments. After a couple of minutes, he came out and gestured for me to enter. As soon as I stepped inside, the general looked up from his desk with a faintly annoyed expression. He wore his uniform with martial sobriety—no unnecessary decorations. "Who are you?" he asked immediately, without courtesy. "Albrech von Reinsfeld, honorable general," I replied respectfully, giving a slight nod. "Reinsfeld... Reinsfeld... that's to the west, isn't it? Your father was a hunter of some repute, if I recall correctly." "That's correct, general," I nodded, maintaining composure. "My assistant says you want my support to obtain firearm production permits..." he said, leafing through some documents. "But I checked the state army records, and your lands are only obligated to supply forty men in the event of mobilization. So frankly, I wonder if I'm wasting my time." "Those numbers are outdated, general," I said firmly but without insolence. "The next Imperial census will make it clearer: at the beginning of the year, around fifteen thousand people lived in my domain. Today, we've already surpassed thirty-five thousand, and the number continues to grow. According to state calculations, that would mean my military obligation should be around one hundred and forty men. And that number could still rise—I'm planning another expansion in the coming months." The general's eyes lifted from the document. For the first time, he showed genuine interest. "Thirty-five thousand people... in Reinsfeld?" he repeated, crossing his arms. "Interesting, interesting... Tell me what you plan to produce, so I know what I can do," said the general with a serious face, though his voice revealed curiosity. "A bit of everything. We recently brought a blast furnace online, so we have steel to work with. We also have a large group of smiths ready for action. We plan to produce swords, spears, chainmail, greaves... and firearms, of course, along with the corresponding gunpowder," I finally replied, keeping my voice steady and composed. "Interesting... don't you think?" the general said, glancing at his assistant, who nodded silently. "Very well. I can intercede on your behalf. Consider it a favor," he finally said, with a faint smile. 'Ugh... I don't like that kind of favor.' "No need for that, general. I'm more than willing to compensate you for the trouble," I said, forcing a false smile while my fingers reached into the coat. "Nonsense, von Reinsfeld! I won't take gold from the son of such a renowned beast hunter," the general replied, returning the smile with one equally insincere. 'As much as I dislike it, this route is safer than dealing with judges... or worse, getting too close to the clergy of Verena and Sigmar.' "Very well, then I count on your support, general. Once I have the permits, I'll hire gunsmiths here in Altdorf, take them back to Reinsfeld, and begin production as soon as possible." The general nodded slowly. "Perfect. My assistant will draft the preliminary authorization and seal it with my signature. That will allow you to start the paperwork, and if all goes well, you'll have the final documents in less than two weeks." He turned to his assistant. "Have everything ready by the end of the day." "Yes, general," his assistant replied. I gave a slight bow, observing protocol, and quickly left heading toward the Imperial Engineers School ------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. -------------------------------