Wars are often started by trivial things.

But most people never know what kind of war a small thing can lead to.

One does not need to be great to be remembered by the world.

Just because, his death can allow countless people to bury him.

An insignificant little thing happens and makes an insignificant little person die.

And so, the war began.

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March 21, 1677, the city of Axtel.

The city of Axstere is located on the western border and is an industrial city adjacent to the Kingdom of Ryan. Supposedly, there should not be such an industrial city in such a frontier land, but the abundance of phlogiston, a gaseous fuel necessary for high-temperature steam, has made this frontier city famous as an industrial city.

In order to ensure that the work of the workers can be carried out smoothly, but also to guard against the almost close kingdom of Ryan, the empire has a standing army of 70,000 men here.

It's a place that's inherently suited to cause disputes.

Phlogiston refinery, city of Axtaire.

Paul squinted his eyes and looked through his goggles for the wriggling red light inside the steam pipes. The refinery where he works is privately owned, and the owner unfortunately can't afford to buy glass pipes. Therefore, refining workers like him can only rely on experience to judge whether the phlogiston deposited by peristaltic deposits in the pipeline has been fully refined.

If there is, that's fine, but if the refining is not sufficient, resulting in too much oxygen, it will be a disaster.

"How——! Paul ——! Is it ready to open the furnace————? ”

The owner of the refinery yelled behind Paul. Phlogiston, an element extracted from flammable materials such as coal, is very explosive, and if you don't have enough experience and a good attitude, the work of opening a furnace becomes like a game.

Naturally, the boss didn't have the guts, and Paul was the only one who had the experience, technology and guts in the entire refinery.

And he ignored his boss's yelling, and was very calm from beginning to end. After all, workers are a high-risk profession, and they can't even calm down, so I don't know how many times they will die.

Paul ————! Can you open the furnace——? ”

The boss tirelessly urged his foreman to work, and the business of the factory has not been good recently, but he is counting on this furnace phlogiston. Just as he was about to urge, Paul suddenly let out a loud shout! The large, heat-insulated glove hand tightly gripped the red-painted valve and quickly twisted it.

As he moved, the entire refining machine moved like a pump. The high-temperature steam that can burn people fills everywhere, and the workers who are not wearing insulated clothing are scared to retreat.

In the smoke, there was Paul's urn-filled voice: "Boss! One good news, one bad news! The good news is that it worked, and the bad news is ......"

After a grinding sound, Paul appeared in front of the boss with a large crucible in his hand, pointed to a layer of magma-like substance in the pot and said, "The bad news is that the production is as small as before. ”

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"Anyway, with this, I can at least pay you a salary."

The boss sat in the office and looked desperately at the neatly arranged row of small bottles in front of him, which contained phlogiston.

As an industrial raw material, phlogiston has a high demand and high price. When the news of the discovery of a large amount of phlogiston in the city of Axtell began, many young people with dreams came here to start their own businesses. And Akstell has indeed created a group of millionaires, but unfortunately his name is not among them.

He is now on the verge of bankruptcy, and the reason why he has not gone bankrupt is because he has not paid wages to workers such as Paul.

"Today, Axterme's phlogiston production is decreasing, and the city's industrial potential has been exploited. In the past, phlogiston, which could be refined in tons per furnace, can now only get a few small bottles......"

The boss smiled wryly, and Paul stood silent in front of him.

“…… Alas...... It's late, I'm late, I didn't catch the good time............"

With a heavy sigh, the boss took out an envelope from the drawer and handed it to Paul, and said to him, "This is the three months I owe you wages, maybe some short, but I have no money." You can take a bottle from one of these phlogistins and take it away, I don't need it anymore. ”

Paul looked at the envelope containing the money hesitantly, and did not rush to take it.

"Boss, I know you're a good person, I can only get half a month's salary, maybe we can survive......"

He is also considered an old qualification here, and unlike his rough appearance, his craftsmanship can only be said to be at a level that is not up or down among the phlogiston refining workers. No one wants to go to a big company, and it's not even eye-catching to go to a small company.

If the boss decides to continue in this business, he doesn't mind two more days of hard work.

It's just that the boss smiled bitterly and didn't say anything, and the hand that handed out the money didn't take it back.

It seems that he has made up his mind.

Paul reluctantly took the envelope and did not take the phlogiston on the table. Straight out of his boss's office and straight out of the place where he had worked for several years. From the moment the boss returned the wages owed to him, he Paul was considered unemployed.

What's next? His heart was filled with confusion. There is no shortage of jobs for the workers of the empire, and he was deceived into the worker industry like this when he was a child, but when he grew up, he found that the workers were indeed not short of jobs, but they were tired to death every day, and the salary was not high at all.

Now even the lie that "there will be no job" cannot be maintained.

Depressed to death, Paul headed down and headed for the city center. It's a big deal to work as a coolie, he is five big and three thick, and in the eyes of those foremen, he is more popular than those young people.

Now that I've finally paid my salary, let's have a fucking drink first!

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Paul made his way to the tavern, but he regretted it the moment he pushed the door open.

Inside the tavern, two waves of people are facing each other.

It is not quite right to say that there is a confrontation, it should be more correct to say that one side completely surrounds the other.

On the other side of the siege were the Imperials, all dressed in army-green leather coats, with shiny riding boots on their feet, and Type 36 officers' brimmed hats on their heads—the Imperial Gendarmerie.

In contrast, the side that was surrounded was not very well dressed. But no one would underestimate them, because their leader, a man with a long hooked nose and dark eyes, was the city's largest supplier of phlogiston.

Paul glanced around, and there were still a number of customers in the tavern, and their expressions were the same as his—they were all fidgeting.

No matter what kind of friction there is between the army and the big businessmen, it is not up to them as small citizens. But now the atmosphere in the tavern is solemn, but I can't leave if I want to.

Just as Paul was using his few brains to think of a way out, the leader of the gendarmerie, an Imperial captain, said with a smirk: "Mr. Britz, there are all the evidence, what else do you have to say now?" ”

The big merchant Britz looked ugly, smoked his cigar to himself, and ignored the captain's words.

"Looks like you don't have anything to say, so please come with us."

The captain saluted in a pretended reserve, and the gendarmes behind him immediately swarmed him and carried him away by the arm.

Passing by the gendarmerie captain, Britz suddenly exclaimed: "Captain! You'll regret it! I swear! You'll regret it! ”

The captain looked at him coldly, and said unhurriedly: "I will return this sentence." ”

The gendarmerie escorted the merchant away, and Paul was relieved. Then he found that his throat was particularly thirsty.

Most of the people in the tavern had dispersed after the army had left, and Paul was no longer in the mood to drink. But a thirsty throat forced him to sit down and order an ale. He sat quietly at the table and experienced what had happened today.

"It's been a terrible day."

He whispered, "Mr. Britz, the largest supplier of phlogiston, how did he get captured by the army?" ”

"Hey! You don't know this, uncle! ”

A stealthy boy leaned over stealthily, and Paul glanced at him and tightened the purse in his arms.

The sneaky boy didn't pay attention to his movements, but continued to say in an underwhelming voice, "Do you know why Mr. Britz was captured? ”

“……………… Why? ”

Honestly, Paul was curious.

Seeing that his interest had been aroused, the young man smiled, stretched out his thumb, index finger, and middle finger and rubbed them.

"Boss, another glass of ale."

"Oh, okay!"

Paul looked at the boy and said, "Say it." ”

The boy didn't sell it either, he approached Paul and said in a low voice, "I saw from the beginning that in the end, the reason why those army masters wanted to arrest Mr. Britz was because of ......"

He looked up and around again, and then said nervously, "It's because Mr. Britz sold phlogiston to the people of the kingdom!" ”