Chapter 177 Banquet
AI Model: gemini-2.5-flash
That evening, the territory "as usual" hosted a crab meat banquet.
Tiger, with his stern, unapproachable face, instantly widened his amber beast eyes after tasting the first sip of the dragon breath flame.
He could hardly believe he could drink such a potent fine wine in such a remote place, and a satisfied low growl rumbled in his throat.
Roger asked, "How is it?"
Tiger's evaluation was concise: "Potent!"
Bear One chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice.
"Big fellow, this wine is a unique treasure of our territory; you won't find it anywhere else!"
With that, he took another big gulp, smacking his lips with satisfaction.
"Bear One, you're mistaken," Roger said, shaking his head and correcting him. "In the future, it will be available for purchase outside, but the price will be a bit high. A catty might cost over a thousand crystal coins."
"A thousand crystal coins?!"
Bear One nearly choked on his wine, his eyes widening like brass bells as he looked at the large goblet in his hand.
"Then didn't I just drink away several hundred crystal coins?"
Tiger also showed a surprised expression. Even though he didn't pay much attention to outside prices, he knew that a thousand crystal coins per catty was an exorbitant price.
Roger smiled and said, "This wine isn't meant for ordinary people to begin with."
Who among ordinary people could afford wine that costs a thousand crystal coins per catty?
The target customers for this wine were extravagant nobles, immensely wealthy merchants, and top-tier powerhouses who sought ultimate enjoyment.
Bear One nodded, half-understanding, and looked at the wine in his cup with a changed gaze, as if he wasn't holding wine, but a pile of glittering crystal coins.
"So, from now on, when I drink, do I have to sip it carefully?"
"Idiot." Roger was amused by his cautious demeanor. "It's for you to drink; do you think I'd charge you for it? It's perfectly fine for you all to have a big cup every day."
"Tiger, same for you. Have a big cup every day, and it's on me."
"Thank you, Lord."
Tiger remained taciturn, but his slightly twitching ears and relaxed posture showed his inner satisfaction.
Roger got up and walked to the round table where the Minotaurs were seated, not far away.
The Minotaurs, who were marveling at their wine glasses, stood up and saluted him when they saw the Lord approaching.
"Are you getting used to it here?"
When they were recruited, they were told that if they weren't satisfied, they could leave at any time, and no one would stop them.
The Minotaur leader's voice was booming.
"Yes! It's great here, Lord! Much better than our old days of constantly moving around!"
The other Minotaurs also nodded in agreement.
"Good, then settle down. If you need anything, you can directly find Harris, or come to me."
After reassuring the Minotaurs, Roger went to another table where the elves were sitting.
Unlike the lively and boisterous atmosphere at the Minotaur's table, the mood here was noticeably quiet, even somewhat reserved.
The elves gracefully bowed their heads in greeting, their postures impeccable, yet with a sense of detachment.
Roger didn't try to be overly friendly, maintaining the courtesy of a Lord, his tone calm.
"Are you all accustomed to the territory? If there are any inconveniences, please feel free to bring them up."
"Lord," one of the elves elegantly rose, her tone calm but with a hint of solemnity. "Regarding the conflict that occurred yesterday between us and your subordinate... that Dark Elf, we deeply apologize. It was not our intention; it's just that the situation at the time was somewhat unexpected."
Roger waved his hand dismissively. "I understand the situation. I should be the one to apologize to you all; I was negligent in my discipline and allowed Luna to offend you. She is a bit impulsive, but she means no harm. Please don't take it to heart."
The elf's expression softened slightly, and she bowed. "Lord, you overstate it. We understand that different elven branches have different... customs. We are willing to try and coexist peacefully with her, as long as she no longer actively provokes us."
"Of course, I will restrain her."
He had originally intended to recruit some elven artisans through them, but as they were new arrivals and their relationship was still shallow, he decided to wait.
He made a circuit, reassuring all the newcomers to the territory.
After the banquet, Roger went to Bren's workshop.
Raymond and Bren were assembling a ballista.
"Lord."
Seeing him enter, the two stopped their work.
Bren tapped the sturdy wooden frame of the ballista with his thick fingers, his beard bristling. "Lord, look at this fellow, isn't he impressive? He can shoot arm-thick arrows over 300 meters. Guaranteed to pierce through those knight's armors, like tin cans!"
Raymond, also beaming with pride, added, "Lord, this is still the light model. If we enlarge it and use stronger materials, the range could at least double."
Then he added with some regret, "It's just that its firing rate is unsatisfactory. According to calculations, for a heavy ballista using a winch, it would require at least four soldiers working together, taking nearly a minute to complete one shot."
"Well done."
Although the firing rate was a major drawback, such a weapon was suitable for fixed defensive positions or sieges, rather than open-field combat.
Moreover, this kind of weapon was merely a transitional product.
Once cannons were successfully developed, these cumbersome ballistas would gradually be phased out.
Cannons, those were the true game-changers in warfare.
Their range, power, and area-of-effect capabilities were incomparable to ballistas.
However, he also knew that with the territory's current level of technology and materials, it was too early to build stable and reliable cannons.
For example, this hand cannon broke after only four shots.
Roger took out the hand cannon and handed it to Bren.
Seeing the crack on the barrel, Bren's thick eyebrows immediately furrowed.
"Cracked? Tsk, the stuff stuffed inside must have been too powerful. Iron alone definitely can't withstand it."
His thick fingers carefully traced the crack on the barrel, his tone certain.
"It seems we'll need better materials, or magical metal materials."
Roger shook his head. "Magical metals are too expensive and not cost-effective. It looks like we'll have to build a steel mill."
Bren's eyes widened at this. "A steel mill?! Lord, do you know that steelmaking technology is a secret tightly guarded by Five Great Nations? Where would we get the technology?"
"This stuff is all classified?"
Roger raised an eyebrow, then understood.
In a world with a weak industrial base, the smelting technology for high-quality steel was indeed the cornerstone of a nation's military power, and it was entirely reasonable for it to be strictly guarded.
"We don't need to achieve everything at once; we can start by trying the simplest crucible steelmaking."
He already had a basic idea.
It would require a furnace capable of withstanding extremely high temperatures, and a batch of refractory clay crucibles.
Pig iron or scrap iron would be placed in the sealed crucible and heated to melt into molten iron. During this process, some charcoal powder could be added to adjust the carbon content.
Although inefficient and with low output, if successful once or twice, it could yield high-carbon steel with a uniform texture.