This even larger banquet was held on the third floor of the Balderom Chamber of Commerce’s building. The space was clearly designed for hosting receptions; the hosts mentioned they had hired Munich’s best chefs to prepare a feast for their distinguished guests.

"Let us welcome our esteemed Mage and our guests from Valuva! I believe the people of Bayern—no, of the entire Empire—would love to taste fine Valois vintages in addition to our beer!"

"As everyone knows, the very name ’Valuva’ holds a special kind of magic for the ladies. You’re guaranteed to sell out!"

The portly, red-faced men raised their glasses in flattery. The Execution Officer, Tax Officer, and trade representatives launched their assault in waves. Rorschach activated "Damage Transfer," and Mr. Pierre was hit with a double blow.

At first, the hosts tried to maintain a sophisticated image in front of the Valois people, sipping dry fruit wines with a rather sour and astringent aftertaste. As the mood warmed, the Execution Officer’s proposal to add sugar was met with unanimous approval.

Just as Mr. Pierre was getting full from the deceptively strong, sweet drinks, he opened his bleary eyes in surprise. At some point, his glass had been swapped for a large, tankard-like mug. A golden liquid frothed within, the popping bubbles releasing a rich, malty aroma.

Pierre Nixingen downed his portion, unable to stomach another drop. He shot a pleading look at Rorschach, who remained as sober as the servers.

’This beer looks delicious...’ Rorschach picked up his glass for the first time that evening, drawing everyone’s attention.

"I am the son of a farmer. After achieving some small success in Valois, I am incredibly honored to have this opportunity to give back to my homeland and return to the Southern Empire. It is an even greater honor that all of you have graced us with your presence tonight! Though I don’t usually touch a drop of alcohol, today, I will gladly join you all in praising the gift of the Wine God and praising Bayern!"

With that, the young man raised his mug and chugged the entire contents, then held it upside down to show everyone it was empty.

"Praise Bayern!" The others raised their mugs in unison.

"Huh?" Mr. Pierre, who had been hoping to sit this round out, saw that a server had already refilled his mug.

...

Fresh from the "battle," Pierre looked positively green. As their carriage rattled over the stone road, the cabin became his new torture chamber.

"BLECH..." Fortunately, it was a dark and windy night. The Valuvanan’s uncivilized act of vomiting out the window didn’t hit any pedestrians, and no patrols spotted him.

Rorschach handed him a small handkerchief. Pierre wiped his mouth and gave a miserable smile. "Thank you, Rorschach... BLECH..." At the last second, he managed to stick his head back out the window.

"Driver, slow down a bit. We’re not in a hurry." After instructing the coachman, Rorschach gathered a blue light in his right hand, which enveloped Pierre. Blessed by "Su Sheng," Pierre’s spirits instantly lifted, and his mind felt clear and refreshed.

"So much better, so much better! Wow, Magic is truly miraculous."

’Although Nixingen’s miserable state was directly related to Rorschach using him as a shield against the drinking, Rorschach felt little pity. Business was war, and who in this line of work wasn’t a veteran of alcoholic trials, a warrior on the verge of cirrhosis? If you couldn’t hold your liquor, you had no business trying to make money in Munich, the "City of Beer"!’

’Then again, I could develop a spell for sobering up quickly... Where would I even start? Accelerate alcohol metabolism, or apply a protective ward to the nerves... Drunkenness is fundamentally a form of ’poisoning,’ so maybe a detoxification spell would work?’

Pierre’s words pulled Rorschach back from his thoughts.

"To be honest with you, I feel like we made very little progress tonight." Even though Rorschach had eased his alcohol-induced misery, Nixingen wasn’t particularly happy. He may have been downing drink after drink, but he was far from blacking out; on the contrary, he had been carefully observing the situation at the table the whole time.

Rorschach agreed with his assessment. "At least the Execution Officer and Tax Officer acknowledged the favorable charter we obtained from the Royal Palace. But the rest of the time was just empty flattery and schmoozing with the representatives from the Balderom Chamber of Commerce."

"The Alliance is interested in distribution, but they’d rather get their goods from the original Valois factory. They showed little enthusiasm for us building a factory locally."

Rorschach let out a long sigh. "Next, let’s go inspect the site ourselves and see it with our own eyes." ’My mind is still stuck in my past life,’ he thought. ’I’m making the mistake of relying on old experiences, assuming that bringing capital, technology, jobs, and tax revenue would guarantee a warm welcome.’

’But it seems that aside from the Prince himself, the Execution Officer, the Tax Officer, and the local merchant representatives have all had a lukewarm response. They seem more interested in a Valuvanan’s drinking capacity than anything else.’ All in all, after a full evening of socializing, Rorschach and Pierre hadn’t managed to secure a single verbal commitment.

His dealings with the Prince had gone so smoothly. It seemed they’d finally hit a bit of polite, but firm, resistance.

「The next day.」

Bart, Rorschach, and Pierre walked under a blue sky and white clouds, across lush green meadows. It was the season when all living things grew and animals frequently... exchanged genetic information.

Freshly shorn sheep gnawed at the grass, pulling it up by the roots, while dairy cows chewed their cud leisurely. The countryside of Bayern boasted abundant water and pastures, with flocks of sheep, herds of cattle, and vast fields of wheat. Without them, it could never support the beer-brewing industry for which it was renowned across the continent.

The three men walked along the edge of a pasture and a thicket, following a dirt road at the foot of a hill. Two carriages followed behind them at a slow pace.

Bart pointed to the wheat fields within sight, most of which would become brewing ingredients after the harvest. "It’s a shame it’s so difficult to preserve the flavor of beer," he said. "Otherwise, our Chamber of Commerce would love to let the people of Valuva taste this wonderful liquid bread."

"It really is delicious," Rorschach nodded. Mr. Pierre, his trauma clearly not yet healed, gave a reflexive dry heave.

"The Balderom Chamber of Commerce holds a lot of weight in the Logistics Guild. If Hasse could use that to build a bridge between Bayern and Valois, my old man would definitely make him a senior partner..."

At that thought, Bart frowned. "Guilds, Guilds... Every trade and industry in Bayern is controlled by them. And for as comfortable as it is being inside your own Guild, it’s a nightmare dealing with any of the others."

"And the Magic Guild," Rorschach added.

"Yeah, and the relationship between the Empire Council and the Magic Guild isn’t exactly great right now. Now you two get to try dealing with these blasted Guilds. As for me, it’s time to head back to my post. See you in Wertzburg!" Bart waved, boarded the lead carriage, and rode off.

Rorschach and Pierre boarded the second carriage. Far down a fork in the road—separate from the path to Wertzburg—plumes of smoke drifted into the sky from the edge of the fields. That was their first destination: the glass manufacturing center of the Bayern Kingdom. Large and small workshops, their chimneys bristling against the sky, were clustered along both banks of the river.

Each workshop was filled with sweltering heat. Inside round furnaces, silica and flux were added in specific proportions and melted at high temperatures, while water-powered bellows WHIRRED. Glass beer mugs were mass-produced with molds, but more curvaceous vessels like stemmed goblets had to be made by glassblowers, who dipped metal pipes into the syrupy molten glass and blew them into shape, little by little.

With the Workshop Master’s permission, Rorschach and Mr. Pierre toured one of the facilities. Pierre grew curious about a bucket a craftsman was carrying, which was filled with off-white ash. "What’s that?"

The Workshop Master replied, "That’s a secret, sir."

Rorschach said, "Soda ash."

Then, another bucket of black powder was added to the raw river sand, and Pierre asked again.

The Workshop Master said, "A secret..."

Rorschach said, "Lead powder."

"..." Before the pot-bellied Workshop Master could fly into a rage, Rorschach flipped open his overcoat, revealing the Mage Badge pinned to his vest.

"Oh, a Lord Mage! You are truly knowledgeable." In the simple worldview of farmers and craftsmen, it was only natural for a Caster to know everything.