Twenty-nine years ago, it was an ordinary day in spring.

A tired young man walked into an unknown settlement in a newly cultivated land.

The young man was tall, sallow and thin, and wore very old clothes sewn from sacks.

He didn't have any shoes, but that didn't matter. The soles of his feet were so thickly calloused that it wouldn't hurt even if he stepped on sharp gravel.

Two pairs of pliers and a hammer were all his possessions, and they were all carried cross-body in his satchel.

Along the way, young people relied on these tools to repair things for people in exchange for food and accommodation.

Although he can twist steel and shape metal with his arms, he is not a blacksmith because he has not yet become a disciple.

Moreover, because he did not agree to extend the apprenticeship period, he had fallen out with his master and might never be able to become an apprentice again.

If you have not become an apprentice, you are not a certified blacksmith; if you are not a certified blacksmith, you cannot practice; if you cannot practice, even if you are more capable than the master, you will starve to death.

The young man's master took him for granted. The master waited for him to apologize humbly and admit his mistake, and to be an unpaid apprentice for another four years.

The young man chose to leave his hometown and travel across the entire Plato to seek opportunities in unknown new lands - I heard that there was no blacksmith's guild there yet.

For this reason, the young man traveled a long distance, slept in the open air, and went through many hardships along the way before finally arriving at the newly cultivated land.

Unfortunately, he arrived a little late, and there were already blacksmiths working in every settlement he went to.

The young man walked and walked, farther and farther, and more and more remote. Finally, in this remote and desolate settlement, he did not find the existence of his companions.

The young man spent the first night under the eaves with his satchel. The next day, he exchanged one of the pliers for a meal of hot food and a wooden board.

After drinking up the last drop of soup on the plate, he solemnly carved on the wooden board:

[Blacksmith Boltan Majory repairs, forges and smelts]

…

Twenty-seven years ago, it was an ordinary day in summer.

Boltan and his two assistants were busy in the backyard of the blacksmith shop.

The three of them each held tools and worked together to dismantle a smelting furnace that was half a man tall and made of mud.

This is [Boltan Major]'s third year in the new land.

The once nameless settlement now has a resounding name - Gévaudan.

The young blacksmith apprentice who once only had a piece of wood, a pair of pliers and a hammer now has a small shop. The residents of Gevaudan respectfully call him "Blacksmith Boltan".

After breaking the smelting furnace, Boltan carefully took out an irregularly shaped piece of sponge iron from the furnace, just like holding a piece of precious porcelain.

"It's done!" Paul Vinicius, Boltan's assistant, was ecstatic, laughing and punching the air randomly: "We've done it!"

Another assistant, the silent Peter Goncharov, said nothing, but could not hide the joy in his eyes.

"It's not done yet!" Boltan said, with a smile already on his face.

The three people immediately transferred the sponge iron to the anvil. Boltan held the tongs and the other two wielded hammers and began to forge the sponge iron.

With the rhythmic hammering, the loose and porous sponge iron gradually becomes tight and dense, showing the appearance of "iron" little by little.

They were busy from noon to evening, returning the iron billet to the furnace for heating several times. The three of them finally forged this small piece of sponge iron into a mature iron ingot.

"It's done." Boltan wiped the sweat from his forehead and announced to his two companions with a smile.

Paul Vinicius was so happy that he almost went crazy. He hugged his friends' shoulders and laughed: "With iron, we can work freely!"

Without iron, the blacksmith can't do anything; without smelting iron, the three Boltans can tinker and work by recycling a little scrap iron.

"There is still too much charcoal used." Peter Goncharov pursed his lips, and his joy had somewhat dissipated: "The smelting furnace also needs to be moved to another location. It is too far away from the Tiefeng Mine."

"Hey! Why are you always so disappointed? Let's celebrate first!" Paul Vinicius said happily: "Let's go! Let's have a drink! I'll treat you!"

The three of them didn't close the door, just making dirty jokes and walking out of the blacksmith shop arm in arm.

I went to the little widow Allen's house across the street and bought beer. They sat comfortably under the eaves, drinking and thinking about the future.

At the same time, three cavalrymen carrying green flags flew past, raising a trail of smoke and dust.

Paul Vinicius was caught off guard and his mouth was full of dust. He was so angry that he yelled: "Donkey's stuff! You want to add some seasoning to me?"

Peter Goncharov stared at the back of the cavalry and said nothing for a long time.

The officer leading the three cavalrymen went straight into the town hall, rang the bell to gather the residents, and read a notice to everyone:

"According to the resolution passed by the Great Council of Plato... the new reclamation province was officially placed under military control... According to the "Tolde Agreement", all forests, rivers, land, and mineral property rights in the new reclamation province are under military control.

The government...the old pioneering policy will be invalidated immediately..."

The three blacksmiths arrived a little late. Paul Vinicius was short and couldn't see anything standing behind the crowd. He asked his friends anxiously: "Hey? What are you talking about? I can't hear you clearly!"

"What does it matter?" Boltan crossed his arms and said, "No matter how happy the birds are, we still have to rely on our crafts to earn bread."

Peter Goncharov was silent. "The situation is going to change," he thought.

At the same time, the kings' castles were thousands of miles away.

Six negotiators from the Monta Republic entered the first conference room of the Grand Council with serious expressions. Six Palatine negotiators and observer representatives from the United Provinces, Veneta and Varn were waiting.

The delegates in the first conference room are going to discuss a major event that will change the fate of many people:

Unify the commercial laws, currencies and weights and measures of the republics, abolish customs clearance, transit taxes and consumption taxes, realize the free flow of goods within the union, and achieve the ultimate goal - the establishment of the [Grand Senas Customs Union].

…

Twenty-one years ago, it was an ordinary day in autumn.

In Widow Ellen's tavern, Boltan, Paul Vinicius and Peter Goncharov were drinking.

"Mejri, come up with a solution!" Paul Vinicius broke the silence, pounded the table and shouted: "We all listen to you."

Boltan shook his head.

Peter Goncharov sipped his beer silently.

This is Boltan Mejri's ninth year in the new land.

Little Widow Ellen has become Widow Ellen, and one or two white hairs have sprouted from Boltan's temples.

Six years ago, Boltan moved the forge to a new location at the foot of Iron Peak Mountain and on the bank of the St. George River. Since then, the business has been booming day by day.

Paul Vinicius and Peter Goncharov are no longer Boltan's assistants. They have their own forges, assistants and apprentices, but the three friends are still doing business together.

The three Boltans specialize in smelting iron and sell the smelted iron directly to other blacksmiths to avoid trouble themselves.

At first, blacksmiths from nearby villages and towns purchased iron materials from afar. Later, some blacksmiths simply moved their forges to the workshops of the three Boltans in order to save shipping costs.

Around Boltan's workshop, the population gradually became denser. Because there were many forges, nearby farmers called this blacksmith village "Forge Country".

Boltan liked the name very much, but he didn't know how long it would last.

He drank down the glass of wine and said with a stern face: "The iron ingots in Forge Township can no longer be sold in Linjun. The iron smelted last month is still in the warehouse today. The iron bars of Steel Castle are about to be

Squeeze us to pieces, and if we continue, we will be waiting to die."

"Does this need to be said?" Paul Vinicius said impatiently: "It's all because of this bullshit treaty!"

Because the republics refused to give in to each other, the attempt to establish the "Grand Senas Customs Union" ultimately failed. However, the stillborn customs union plan still left some legacy.

For example: at the strong suggestion of General Antoine Laurent, the republics agreed to unify weights and measures at the official level - of course, there was no way to unify the currency.

And: the republics agreed in principle to reduce tariffs and unanimously agreed to use "bilateral treaties" as a replacement for the "Grand Customs Union" at this stage.

After Plato and Monta signed the Bilateral Tariff Treaty a year ago, bars and iron tools from the steel castle poured into Plato like a dam bursting.

For the Platuan people, it was a good thing that they could buy cheaper iron tools. But for the blacksmiths like Boltan, the situation could not get worse.

The good times have only lasted six years, is this the end?

"If I have a way." Boltan gritted his teeth and asked his two partners in a deep voice: "Are you willing to support me?"

Peter Goncharov blinked and said nothing.

Paul Vinicius eagerly agreed: "Just say it!"

"Guild! We want to set up our own Tiefeng County blacksmiths' guild!"

…

At this moment, it is an ordinary day in winter.

"Your Excellency, please allow me to put myself out there." Facing the Montagne tribune who came to visit late at night, the old blacksmith Boltan sat up and said: "Do you know what the core of the guild is?"

Winters smiled half-heartedly: "Monopoly."

"That's right." The old blacksmith Boltan sat on the recliner Winters built for him, speaking calmly and slowly: "The core of the guild is internal democracy and external monopoly. Then you know why I did it twenty years ago

Are you going to get the blacksmiths from Tiefeng County to form a guild?"

"I guess." Winters chuckled: "You want to monopolize the source of iron in Tiefeng County and keep the iron of the steel castle out."

"Yes." The old blacksmith Boltan did not deny it: "It's despicable, isn't it?"

"No, it's normal." Winters smiled and shook his head: "This is what the guild does. It would be weird if it didn't do this. I'm more curious about why you failed?"

The old blacksmith Boltan was silent.
To be continued...