Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

"What happened?"

Marquis Joe Foster, tasked with receiving the papal envoy, arrived at the border outpost and was shocked by the scene before him.

A body, dressed like a militia of the alliance, hung upside down from the watchtower, swinging in the wind.

Several other militia-dressed individuals lay killed and discarded at the base of the tower.

Beneath the tower stood three church knights, each gripping a sharp blade, ready for battle. Their swords gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

Upon seeing Marquis Foster's arrival, one of the knights approached him, stopping about ten meters away.

Marquis Foster spoke first: "I am Joe Foster, a member of the Council. I need a reasonable explanation."

His eyebrows were tightly furrowed, and his shoulders trembled slightly, clearly struggling to control his emotions.

This was a severe provocation.

This act was both deceitful and insulting.

"Marquis Foster!"

The approaching knight spoke, his face obscured by a helmet.

"I am ordered to stay in this sinful place to inform you that the despicable and shameless actions of the Horn Bay Alliance have thoroughly infuriated both the Horn Bay Church and the papacy. We view this as the gravest insult and provocation! You and your pathetic allies will now face the church's severest punishment."

What? This was utterly preposterous!

For a moment, Marquis Foster found it absurd. They had killed people on their territory and accused them of provocation.

Still, he asked patiently, "May I know what provocation you are referring to, knight? Let me guess: you mean our militia did not obediently wait to die under your swords and chose to resist, and in your eyes, that's provocation?"

"Marquis Foster, are you still playing dumb at this point?"

The knight asked, his voice filled with indignation.

"Playing dumb?" Foster sensed the knight's indignation seemed genuine, which only deepened his doubts.

The knight demanded loudly, "Isn't it the Horn Bay Alliance that sent assassins here to ambush and brutally murder Lord Libett of the papal envoy?"

"What did you say?"

Foster could hardly believe his ears. Libett was killed? And by someone from their side?

"If you didn't hear me clearly, I'll say it again. Lord Libett was brutally murdered by assassins from the Horn Bay Alliance, right in that cabin."

The knight pointed with his whip towards the cabin where Libett had previously rested.

"Of course, I suppose you know the details better than I do, since this was part of your evil plan."

The situation was serious!

Marquis Joe Foster felt as if he had plunged into an abyss of ice.

He wasn't afraid of the impending war, but such an incident before the war, if firmly blamed on them, would put the Horn Bay Alliance in a very unfavorable moral position.

Foster urgently said, "Where is Libett now… Where is Libett's body? I need to see it. There must be some mistake."

The knight scoffed disdainfully, "How could Lord Libett's body be left here for further desecration by you sinners? He has already been taken to Collins."

Foster countered, "There must be a misunderstanding here, knight. I urge you to regain the reason of a protector of the faith and consider this: In the current situation, what benefit would we gain from killing the papal envoy? If we wanted to negotiate, the grave consequences of killing an envoy are obvious. And if we wanted war, killing the envoy wouldn't immediately grant us victory. Instead, it would provoke your unified rage. Therefore, we have no motive to kill Libett."

"You still dare to argue!"

The knight's anger seemed to nearly burst into flames through his helmet's visor.

He gripped his sword hilt tightly, his body tense as if he might thrust his sword at any moment.

Noticing the knight's aggression, the Marquis's guards, with a sharp sound, drew their swords, ready to protect their master from an angry assault.

The knight, however, did not attack. Instead, he declared, "Our people witnessed your assassins stabbing Lord Libett in the back with that cursed, poisonous dagger. The evidence is irrefutable. It must be you, the despicable rulers, who have deceived the citizens still willing to follow the true faith, fearing Lord Libett would expose your lies, so you resorted to this cowardly and disgraceful method of assassination."

The knight was convinced of his version of the truth.

Foster was about to defend his side, but the knight brusquely waved his hand.

"Enough, Marquis Foster. I have no patience left to waste here arguing with you. The Almighty Father has already seen through some of the sins, and you will inevitably pay for your vile actions. Brothers, let us return to report."

With these words, the knight shook his reins fiercely, turned his horse around, and rode off toward the distant trade route.

The other two knights spurred their mounts and followed.

They left Marquis Foster in a cloud of dust.

…

Joe Foster's face turned ashen.

Who orchestrated this assassination?

He didn't doubt the knight's word—that is, the fact that Libett had been killed.

Libett was a high-ranking clergyman responsible for foreign affairs in the papacy. If the Horn Bay Church or the papacy fabricated the death of such a high-ranking figure to gain a pretext for war or moral high ground, it would be a laughingstock.

So, Libett must have been unquestionably murdered.

But who was behind it?

The Horn Bay Church? Quite possible, as it was filled with fanatics.

Hardliners from the Alliance or allied countries? Also a possibility; many had been preparing for this war, waiting to profit from the chaos.

Those inland countries supporting the Horn Bay Church? They were the most likely, always coveting the coastal wealth, wanting to use the church's banner to plunder it.

Ah, but now wasn't the time for such deductions. He needed to inform the Council immediately.

After all, war was about to erupt.

Filled with doubts, Marquis Foster fiercely whipped his horse, causing it to neigh in pain and gallop back the way they had come.

His attendants followed closely.

Both parties had departed.

Only the silent bodies of the militia, still hung upside down on the tower, swayed in the wind.