Firearms in a Fantasy World

Chapter 79: Witch Hunt

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

In September, autumn had arrived in the northwest bay. The mountains were slowly adorned with shades of golden and orange as farmers diligently worked in their fields, preparing for the impending long winter.

On the road leading from Earl Alden's domain southwards to Alden Town, a convoy was slowly making its way.

This group was none other than the first batch of skilled craftsmen recruited by Quiller Foster for his good friend Paul, along with a caravan from his family. They had sailed from Angle Bay, taking the sea route to avoid the conflict zones in the south of the Kingdom of Aldor, then landed on the west coast of the kingdom and proceeded northward by land.

Escorting this group was the previously known Lichman Adventurer's Guild, though this time they had mobilized all their members.

...

Let's rewind time two months.

"How did I end up with such a useless son!"

Lord Foster, a member of the Angle Alliance Council, shouted in frustration in his mansion.

Standing beside him was his son, Quiller Foster, looking aggrieved.

Quiller retorted, "Father! I just sneaked out for a few days. Is it necessary to be this angry?"

Lord Foster glared at his son, "Your leaving without notice, we'll discuss that later."

He held up a porcelain plate in front of Quiller cautiously, shaking it, "First, tell me about this stupid thing you did!"

Quiller looked puzzled, "This is a gift from my friend, asking me to come back to promote it. He intends to sell it to the south, and I know it's valuable, so I specifically invited you, an experienced businessman, to estimate its price. How is that stupid?"

Lord Foster carefully placed the porcelain plate on the table, then tapped Quiller's head, saying with exasperation, "How did the family's business acumen disappear completely in you? You should have decisively secured its exclusive agency at that time."

Quiller suddenly realized, "Uh... so that's what this is about."

Seeing his son finally grasping the situation, Lord Foster grew even angrier, pointing at his son's nose and scolding him.

"You are completely useless, only know how to wander around!"

"Your brother made me worry less. At 15, he could negotiate his own deals."

"At twenty, you've achieved nothing."

...

Quiller appeared indifferent, letting his father's words go in one ear and out the other.

Exhausted from scolding, Lord Foster picked up a glass of water to moisten his throat, only to remember something more pressing than lecturing his son.

"Hurry up, take a caravan to the northwest bay. Secure the agency rights for this 'porcelain,' and also negotiate for that new type of paper. These are all promising prospects. Oh, isn't your friend, the earl, short of shipbuilders? Go recruit as many as he needs. If not enough, draw some from the family shipyard."

Quiller casually responded, "Alright alright, Father, please calm down."

Seeing his son still nonchalant, Lord Foster exploded, "Go now!!!"

Quiller complained, "Seriously? I just got home; can't I rest for a few days?"

But seeing his father ready to throw the water glass at his face, he swiftly ran out to handle the tasks.