Several weeks later.
The monastery had begun to bustle with activity. Almost every day, visitors arrived at the gates—some out of curiosity to catch a glimpse of the now-famous genius, Perturabo, and others seeking the services of a master craftsman to forge specific tools.
After Perturabo demonstrated his brilliance with the steam tractor, word of Father Mikhail's foster son and apprentice spread rapidly among the neighboring villagers. In the countryside, news carried by word of mouth among the local folk travels the fastest.
Perturabo's massive physique—standing much taller and broader than any grown man—combined with his obscure origins before seeking refuge at the monastery, only added layers of complexity to his already mysterious identity.
Regarding the villagers' speculations, the devout Father Mikhail consistently maintained that Perturabo was an angel sent by the omniscient God to bring salvation to the people of Kislev and end thousands of years of conflict.
Although some bold villagers directly questioned Perturabo about his past, he stated that he had lost all memory of his life before being taken in by Mikhail. The earliest fragment he could recall was surviving alone as a young child in the blizzard-swept forests until he discovered the monastery. Any memories before that point did not exist.
Between Mikhail's persistence and Perturabo's amnesia, the young monk's identity became shrouded in an even thicker fog of rumor. This only made the villagers more inclined to gossip about him after meals. Through the network of taverns where folk gathered in every village, these rumors circulated with incredible speed.
Soon, starting from Mikhail's monastery, villages and towns within a dozen kilometers had heard that the venerable old Prior had adopted a genius apprentice. Those who had seen Perturabo's creations described his wisdom and knowledge in exaggerated tones.
In their telling, it was as if this young monk from the heavens could design and manufacture anything they desired. Consequently, many influential figures began to take notice of him.
Due to Mikhail's new foster son, the once-quiet monastery was now teeming with people again. Visitors came from all directions, seeking the legendary genius monk.
Perturabo did not turn these visitors away. Instead, he listened patiently to their requests and manufactured what they desired based on their needs and hopes.
To meet the growing demand, the long-abandoned blacksmith facilities within the monastery were brought back into use. Furnaces that had not been lit for years were reignited to melt iron.
Perturabo also constructed a waterwheel on the riverbank near the monastery. Unlike common mills, this waterwheel was designed to power his workshop rather than grind grain.
He used the innate knowledge in his mind to redesign the waterwheel, attaching a massive forging hammer to it. Utilizing the immense power generated by the flowing water, Perturabo could forge steel using a hammer so heavy that even the strongest blacksmith in the village could not lift it.
With the help of hydraulic forging, Perturabo's workshop produced armor and blades far superior to those made by the finest craftsmen in any town or city.
With his unique intellect, Perturabo understood that after creating the steam engine, more people—especially the nobility—would come to him for equipment. They required sharp blades and sturdy armor, and Perturabo was uniquely positioned to provide them.
As expected, as his reputation spread through villagers and traveling merchants, the news that Mikhail's monastery could provide peerless armor and weapons reached all of Kislev. Lords from across the land traveled to the monastery, begging Perturabo to forge armaments for them.
They were willing to pay any price Perturabo asked, provided they could afford it. However, Perturabo refused to leave. He insisted that he was merely a monk and had no intention of departing the monastery where he had grown up to serve any single lord.
He did, however, grant their requests for weapons, but with one condition: within the monastery grounds, no lord—regardless of their enmity—could raise a hand against another. Perturabo declared the monastery holy ground where brawling in the sight of God was strictly forbidden.
Furthermore, no lord could forbid Perturabo from providing weapons to their enemies. He would provide arms equally to anyone who could pay the price; he was a neutral arms dealer.
If anyone breached his neutrality, Perturabo would refuse to supply them with weapons, causing them to lose their advantage in struggles against other lords.
Perturabo's requirements were entirely reasonable. While the lords were disappointed that the genius monk would not serve them exclusively, it was better than him serving a rival and granting them total superiority. More importantly, Perturabo made it clear that he was an impartial arms dealer who worked for payment.
In the eyes of the Kislevite lords, Perturabo's rules were legitimate, and none had reason to oppose them.
Thus, in the war-torn lands of Kislev, Mikhail's monastery became a peaceful oasis in a chaotic world. Envoys from various lords maintained the peace in Perturabo's presence, leaving their masters' grievances at the gate.
Perturabo would silently forge the weapons they requested and exchange them for payment. He did not ask where the weapons were going, nor did he care what they would be used for.
This was Perturabo, the neutral arms dealer of Kislev.
"Abo, is this truly your ambition? To be an arms dealer, making weapons for these lords?"
After finishing the day's work, Mikhail finally could not hold back his question. Perturabo's current neutral stance seemed vastly different from his earlier grand talk of transforming all of Kislev.
Perturabo did not speak immediately. He smiled slightly and brought out a rifle. It looked similar to the matchlock muskets used in Kislev, but Mikhail quickly noticed it was far more advanced and complex than any firearm he had seen.
"Mr. Mikhail, I have been building this recently. It is far more advanced than the muskets in the hands of these lords. Yes, I forge blades for them, but I possess the more advanced weaponry. I will monopolize the production of arms and make them dependent on me."
"Then, when I truly begin my work, they will realize I am capable of much more."
Facing Mikhail's confusion, Perturabo spoke with a calm expression, looking like a man who held everything in his grasp and was certain of his victory.