495: Chapter 496 The furnace fire goes out and iron is hard to find; a harsh winter rises in Europe, and complaints arise.

The cold wind howled, whipping up snowflakes and beating against the windows, making a wailing sound.

The European continent was experiencing an unusually cold winter.

It was not just the weather.

What was colder was the human heart, the extinguished furnace fires, and the empty mines.

Kingdom of France, Lyon.

A city once famous for its handicrafts now appeared exceptionally desolate.

Inside the blacksmith shop, the furnace fire had been extinguished for many days, and the cold anvil was covered in dust.

Old blacksmith Pierre, wrapped in a worn sheepskin coat, sat at the entrance of the cold shop, staring blankly at the snowflakes falling outside.

His large hands, which once could hammer out the finest armor and farm tools, were now covered in chilblains, as rough as old tree bark.

"Uncle Pierre, are there any iron nails left? The fence at my house is broken, and I need a few..." A neighbor wearing thin clothes ran over, shrinking his neck, and asked while rubbing his hands together.

Pierre slowly shook his head, his voice hoarse: "Gone, everything is gone. The last batch of iron material was used up last month."

A look of disappointment appeared on the neighbor's face: "Then... what about the hoes? My hoe is about to break, too. How can I farm when spring comes?"

"Hoes?" Pierre gave a bitter laugh and pointed to a few broken-handled, dulled farm tools piled in the corner, "Look, these are all that's left—just scrap metal. Want them repaired? With what? I can't even find a decent piece of iron."

The neighbor sighed, stomped his feet, and turned to leave.

Pierre watched his back, his cloudy eyes filled with helplessness.

Once upon a time, his blacksmith shop was the busiest place in town.

Making farm tools during busy farming seasons, forging weapons during wartime—all year round, the furnace fires roared, and the clanging sound was endless.

However, since last year, everything had changed.

First, the iron Ore became scarcer and more expensive.

Then, the few old mines nearby, surprisingly... could not produce any Ore! Only hard rocks!

Next, panic spread, and the price of iron soared.

Finally, hardly any new ironware could be seen on the market.

Even those noble lords began to complain that their weapons were suffering severe wear and tear, yet were difficult to replace.

Without iron, farm tools could not be repaired, weapons could not be forged, and even everyday pots, pans, door hinges, and bolts became rare commodities.

The operation of the entire society seemed to have had its foundation pulled out from under it, suddenly slowing down, and even showing faint signs of stagnation.

"Damn it, what on earth is going on?" Pierre fiercely hammered his cold thigh, and a sharp pain shot through his joints.

He couldn't understand how those mines, which had been dug by ancestors for hundreds of years, could suddenly be empty?

Could it be God's punishment?

...

Meanwhile, inside a castle in the Holy Roman Empire.

The flames in the fireplace were not burning brightly, reflecting the faces of several gorgeously dressed yet worried nobles.

"Baron, you must find a way! My knights' armor is almost like paper! Last time we wiped out a small group of bandits, three sets of plate armor were actually smashed flat by blunt weapons!" A bearded Count waved his arms excitedly.

The man called the Baron was a middle-aged man in a velvet coat with a gloomy expression; he was the mining supervisor of this territory.

"Count, do you think I don't want to?" The Baron said with a bitter face, "The people I sent to the mines almost came back crying! They dug for a month without finding even a fingernail-sized piece of iron Ore! It's all rocks! Hard, solid rocks!"

"The alchemists have checked, and they say those veins... it seems, it seems like the metal inside has vanished into thin air!"

"Vanished?!" The Count widened his eyes, "How is this possible?! Could it have been stolen by gnomes?!"

"Enough!" The Duke sitting in the main seat, an old man with graying hair and sharp eyes, shouted to stop the pointless argument.

He picked up the wine glass on the table but didn't drink, just looking at the dark red liquid in the glass, and said slowly: "Complaints and guesses won't solve the problem. The problem now is that we need iron, a large amount of iron."

He looked at the mining supervisor, the Baron: "I heard that those Ming Kingdom merchants from the East have ironware for sale?"

The Baron nodded quickly: "Yes, Duke. Their fleet comes to the port once every month. Their ironware... the quality is excellent, even harder and sharper than what our best craftsmen forge."

"However," the Baron paused, a difficult expression appearing on his face, "their price... is very expensive. A regular iron plow costs us ten gold coins! Or they want that kind of paper slip from their own country..."

The Duke's eyes flickered: "They call it the 'great ming treasure note'. Of course, they also accept gold and silver, but... how much gold and silver do we have left to give them?"

The hall fell into silence.

Years of war and the extravagance of the nobility had long since left the treasuries of many territories stretched thin.

And now, even the most basic iron had become a problem.

"Could it be... that we really have to use gold and silver to exchange for their ironware?" The bearded Count growled unwillingly.

The Duke put down his wine glass, a trace of helplessness appearing on his aged face: "If we still want our soldiers to have weapons and wear armor, and our farmers to have tools to till the land... I'm afraid we have no other choice."

The biting cold wind seemed to pierce through the thick castle walls, blowing into the heart of every noble.

A long winter belonging to Europe had only just begun.