Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

TL: Etude

On November 6th, 1991 of the Holy Calendar, the entire capital of the Gabella Empire was festooned with lights and decorations. Especially exaggerated was the décor along the road from the city’s eastern main gate to the central square, where colorful flags fluttered and artists performed. The streets were packed with residents, buzzing with conversation and frequently glancing towards the eastern gate. Not just within the city walls, even the road outside was lined with a long queue.

Today, everyone gathered on the streets to welcome the return of the soldiers from their expedition. In the Empire, military achievements were highly esteemed, and the victorious army was welcomed back with unreserved enthusiasm from the populace.

To maintain order, the city guard established posts at intervals along the streets, preventing the crowd from spilling into the center.

At around eleven in the morning, someone suddenly shouted, “They’re here! They’re here!” The cry quickly spread from outside the eastern gate to the streets and then all the way to the central square.

On the western side of the square, a huge viewing platform had been erected. Emperor Bartley Griffin of Gabella , along with royal family members and court ministers, sat atop it. Present were his brother, Prince Felton Griffin, his eldest son, Prince Oliver Griffin, and his third son from the same queen, Prince Dicky Griffin. However, the queen herself was not beside the emperor. The ministers were led by Duke Dias, the Prime Minister, and David Aldridge, the Royal Advisor.

The area around the platform was heavily guarded, and ordinary civilians were forbidden from approaching. Only the renowned nobles of the capital were allowed to secure a position near the platform. Kevin and his senior, Professor Mond, benefitted from the halo of being scholars and sat on newly constructed tiered seats near the platform.

Hearing the cheers coming from the east, Emperor Bartley stroked his beard and laughed heartily, eagerly anticipating the reunion with his long-separated second son.

After about ten minutes, the sound of horns grew louder, and the crowd’s cheers swelled like waves, striking against the viewing platform.

Everyone, both on and off the platform, focused their attention on the eastern street. Finally, a procession appeared in view.

Kevin craned his neck, curious to see what the legendary second prince looked like. His senior, Mond, was already excitedly restless. However, since the surrounding crowd remained seated, they felt it improper to stand out.

As the procession neared the square, Kevin finally spotted the person he was looking for—Antonio Griffin.

He was unmissable, with his dazzling golden hair imparting a radiant aura, his oval face marking him as a handsome young man, and his perfectly proportioned body—neither too tall nor too short. From a distance, his eyes were indistinct, but Kevin was convinced they were sharp and proud, like an eagle’s—after all, the Creator wouldn’t flaw His proudest creation.

Antonio, seemingly embodying the notion that “some are born noble,” rode at the forefront on a white steed, followed by others in two neat rows, enhancing his natural leadership aura.

The second prince of the Gabella Empire thus made an unforgettable impression on the capital’s residents. Although the prince had made several public appearances before, always heavily guarded and accompanying the emperor, the common people could only discern a fine young man from a distance. The elite, who had encountered the prince, spread word of his handsome and extraordinary demeanor. However, in an era without photography, ordinary people could only speculate about the prince’s appearance.

Even noble families in the capital often disguised themselves when mingling with commoners, so most residents were unaware of Antonio’s exact appearance.

Today, as the prince entered from the eastern gate and walked down the street under the close scrutiny of the public, the commoners finally got a clear view of this legendary Witch’s Son.

Thanks to his astonishing appearance, the nickname “Witch’s Son” no longer instilled fear as before but instead shrouded the prince in a layer of mystery, prompting people to want to know more about him.

Of course, a major reason for this shift in perception was Antonio’s significant military achievements. History is always forgiving towards those who excel and triumph on the battlefield. Even if a person is cruel or has committed dishonorable deeds, people tend to overlook the negative aspects when judging their character.

Antonio approached the viewing platform, dismounted, and walked up the steps under everyone’s gaze. Kneeling on one knee before Emperor Bartley, he said, “Father, I have returned.”

The ministers on either side of the emperor and the nobles below all stood up. Scholar Aldridge showed a relieved smile, Prince Felton smiled faintly, and Duke Dias stroked his beard, deep in thought. The eldest prince, Oliver, was also smiling, though upon closer inspection, it seemed forced. The third prince, Dicky, however, looked up to his half-brother with evident admiration.

The emperor appeared stunned for a moment, then slowly stood up, placing a trembling hand on Antonio’s shoulder. With a slightly choked voice, he said, “My child, with such achievements, your mother would have been proud.”

Antonio’s shoulders trembled slightly, and a wave of inexplicable emotion surged in his heart. He replied, “Thank you, Father.”

“Rise, my child,” Bartley helped Antonio up. The imperial majesty quickly replaced the fatherly image as he asked solemnly, “Is Duke McDonald well? Did he leave any instructions when you departed?”

“The Duke is well, and he will lead the remaining troops back after finalizing talks with the Nestan people. He said our victory ensures at least ten years of peace on the eastern border.”

“Ha ha, excellent!” The emperor’s heart swelled with joy, thinking who would dare gossip about the Witch’s Son now.

He stepped past Antonio to the edge of the platform and addressed the crowd, “Citizens of the Empire! We have finally completely subdued the Nestan people, securing peace for at least a decade!”

The emperor’s words were met with thunderous cheers and endless cries of “Long live the emperor!”

Emperor Bartley continued, “Our victory is thanks to the brave and united efforts of our imperial army. The Empire never skimps on rewarding those who have made great contributions!”

He looked down at the officers brought back by Antonio, standing solemnly in two rows, many of them young.

The emperor thought, “These are the future pillars of the Empire.”

“Gentlemen, please come forward. Today, you are the protagonists.”

Upon the emperor’s summons, the officers bowed from a distance and ascended the steps, some of the younger ones appearing quite restrained.

The first to meet Bartley was a young, red-haired officer.

“The lad from the Aephis family!” Knowing Siegfried as Antonio’s close friend, Bartley greeted him warmly, “I read in McDonald’s report, you also performed well.”

Siegfried humbly replied, “It’s all thanks to the prince’s brilliant strategies and the duke’s competent command.”

“Ha ha!” Bartley clapped him on the shoulder, “Please continue to support Antonio in the future.”

“I shall not fail Your Majesty,” Siegfried nodded.

“Good!” Bartley patted him firmly and turned to the next officer.

…

As the welcoming ceremony for the expeditionary force continued, the atmosphere in the square grew increasingly lively. People began singing and dancing, indulging in revelry. Minstrels, while performing, were already crafting new songs to depict the victory.

And naturally, the protagonist of these songs was none other than the sun-like dazzling Prince.

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