Chapter 54

#54 Episode: The Tin Knight and the City of Springs Act 2 (3)

In a large mansion in the western part of TikTok.

“So, what you’re saying is to return Geppetto’s workshop to that sibling duo, right?”

“Yup.”

The blonde girl nodded nonchalantly at the middle-aged man’s question.

Her confident demeanor, as if making a completely obvious request, made the man chuckle involuntarily.

Considering the man’s usual temper, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he had already shouted or cursed, but usually, society is lenient towards good-looking individuals.

Faced with a girl whose beauty was a visual feast, the man decided to listen to this audacious girl a little longer.

“Why should I do that?”

“Based on the time when Polren Geppetto was alive, his workshop was indeed state-of-the-art. But that old man has been dead for over ten years, and in the meantime, the technology for magical automatons has continued to advance. Honestly, with Stromboli’s skills, it wouldn’t be too difficult to create a workshop equal to or better than that old man’s without getting fixated on it.”

“Hmm…”

After a murmur that was hard to tell if it was admiration or a sigh, the man lit a cigar.

Taking a puff of the thick smoke, the man nodded in agreement.

“Alright, you’re not wrong there. Certainly, mimicking that workshop wouldn’t be too challenging. Since I’ve finished interpreting all sorts of secrets since I took over the workshop. But that’s that, and this is this.”

Unconsciously or perhaps intentionally, the man puffed smoke near the girl’s face, grinning provocatively.

“Just because my wallet is overflowing with gold coins doesn’t mean the value of silver coins drops, does it? ‘The legendary master, Geppetto’s last work!’ ‘Masterpieces of magical automatons imbued with Geppetto’s spirit!’ Nobles who are quite taken by these plausible titles are everywhere. That old man’s name still holds enough value. It’d be a waste to just hand it over to those riff-raff.”

Sweeping away the smoke with her hands, the girl replied.

“If it’s for commercial reasons, wouldn’t actively supporting the descendant of a legendary artisan be better for building a good reputation or managing an image rather than neglecting them?”

“You’re quite clueless about business, aren’t you, young lady?”

The man flicked the ashes from his cigar into the ashtray, twisting his lips.

“Honestly, amongst those who covet Geppetto’s name, hardly anyone cares about his personal affairs. No one pays attention to whether that stubborn old man’s grandkids starve to death. Do you think those who flaunt the name of a master’s last work will hand over a few coins to those beggars?”

“Indeed, I understand.”

The girl smiled faintly.

“You’re one of those people that society calls ‘trash’.”

At her statement, not only the man but even the expressions of the nearby escorts twisted dramatically.

“What the hell is this!”

“Master, you really need to correct your attitude immediately!”

At the urging from his subordinates, the man rolled his eyes quietly.

His gaze shifted to the White Knight standing quietly behind the chair where the girl sat.

“Tsk. Enough. It’s unbecoming of me to be so affected by a young girl’s words.”

With that flimsy excuse, the man leaned back in his plush chair and waved his hand.

“I think I’ve given enough for a gift. You may leave now.”

“Sure, I think we’ve both run out of things to say.”

After the girl and the White Knight proudly left, the man called over his personal wizard.

“I’ll ask once more. Is this thing really that precious?”

In his hand was a square, flat pouch adorned with bizarre symbols.

Inside the pouch were several stone-like pieces, each engraved with the same symbol as the one on the fabric.

The middle-aged man wore a skeptical expression.

Answering Charles Stromboli’s inquiry, the wizard replied in a fluster.

“Yes, it’s a talisman embedded with powerful protective magic. Although it’s a consumable, merely possessing it grants the effect of a professional wizard’s defensive spell, so its worth is very high. Even across the entire Empire, there wouldn’t be many wizards capable of producing something like this.”

“Hm, is that so?”

With the wizard’s confirmation, the displeasure on Charles’s face eased somewhat.

“Well, that’s nice. I don’t know where that girl got it, but if she indeed has something precious, I can’t really hold it against her for being a bit cocky.”

“Um… Master. But, is it really alright to just send her back like that? Carries a magical automaton and willingly offering this precious talisman as mere conversational bribery seems… suspicious.”

“Nothing to worry about. I don’t know any influential family in the Empire by the name of Elilaz. It could be a pseudonym, but using a pseudonym already means they can’t step forward confidently, right? Also, even if I handed it back gently without much fuss, would anything serious happen?”

That didn’t really sound like “handed back gently” to the wizard, but before he could say anything else, another subordinate approached.

“Master, we’ve received word from the people we have stationed in Lord’s Mansion. There’s been a request for permission to open a workshop.”

“Location?”

“To the northwest district.”

“Not particularly good or bad, then. Who is the shop associated with?”

“It’s not a shared shop.”

“What? A personal business? Then there’s no need to report it. After all, we’ve got all the prime spots locked down, and all the guides serving travelers will only refer them to us, so they’ll dry up soon anyway.”

“Well, about that, um, it’s been requested by Smith Geppetto.”

“What?”

Charles’s face twisted in disbelief.

“That beggar, what money does he have? Maintaining that shabby warehouse must require him to tighten his belt!”

“I’m not sure. But he seems quite serious about it since he’s already put out recruitment ads for workers. What should we do?”

“Why ask something obvious? Tell our people to let them know that extending their hand would be unwise.”

“Those who’ve already established themselves will heed that message, but the newcomers are only focused on the immediate money, so they might not listen unless there’s separate compensation. Should we allocate some funds?”

“Forget it. Why would I give my hard-earned money to a bunch of useless clods? It’s not easy to set up a workshop without an expert technician anyway. We only need to keep the core personnel close.”

A sly smile crept onto Charles’s face.

“Well, this is great. Even though the former Duke of TikTok was involved when we tried to drive them out and couldn’t finish the job properly… If this newly opened shop fails, it’s guaranteed the idiot will face bankruptcy this time.”

“Still, that Smith guy probably has some sort of plan to take this step, right? He might have a rich patron backing him.”

“Hmm.”

“Instead of taking a chance on him…”

“Ah, my friend. Don’t talk nonsense. We’re a guild, not a bunch of thieves. Just because something’s displeasing doesn’t mean we should bury it all.”

Charles’s words made the expressions of those listening awkward.

“What’s with that look of yours?”

“Nothing at all!”

“Indeed, Master, you are a truly moral merchant and a model to others!”

“Hahaha! Exactly right! Right?!”

The unscrupulous capitalist, Charles Stromboli, laughed heartily.

Nothing could interrupt his laughter.

Not yet.

***

In TikTok, the young man Dalton surveyed his surroundings cautiously.

A wide open space.

According to the official document he had seen, about thirty workers were gathered at the site where the new workshop was set to be built.

The faces of these ‘workers’ were quite familiar.

In other words, they were a bunch of freeloader buddies who often hung out with Dalton without any particular agenda.

Dalton thought to himself.

“So it’s only a group of rejects after all.”

That assessment included himself.

The ages of the workers were generally young or even very young, and not a single ‘skilled laborer’ who should originally be taking charge was in sight.

They might have moderate stamina, but that was about it.

Seeing them all gathered without proper skills or experience made it seem unlikely that the construction would end successfully.

“Well, whatever. As long as I get paid, that’s all that matters.”

Just as Dalton was thinking this, a sudden silence fell over the previously bustling area.

Turning to see what the workers were staring at, Dalton gasped in shock.

There stood a breathtaking beauty like none he had ever seen in his life.

The casual banter among the workers was replaced with dazed stares at her face and figure, with several of them so lost in their admiration that some even had bugs on their cheeks or drool hanging from their mouths.

Addressing those workers, the beauty calmly laid out her demands.

Her tone was quite icy, almost scolding, but perhaps due to her overwhelming presence, none of the workers dared to retort.

To summarize what the beauty laid down:

– Workers would be divided into three shifts: morning, afternoon, and night.

– The working hours were eight hours, but workers showing up an hour early would be provided with meals and drinks.

– Whatever else they did outside of working hours was fine, but they were not allowed to leave the site during work hours.

– Payment would be given on a daily basis. If anyone drops out halfway, additional personnel would be recruited to fill in the gaps.

By the time Dalton heard all that, he gaped for a different reason than when he first saw the beauty.

“So, you’re saying, um, you’ll be giving us drinks? Right before starting work?”

“Both drinks and food. But there won’t be a break during those eight hours, and if you’re late and ask for food, you won’t get it.”

That didn’t seem like the important thing.

The workers were speechless.

While there are always fools who get beat up by their bosses for drinking on the job, seeing a workplace that encourages drinking before work was a first for them.

It would be one thing if they suggested to eat after the work was done, which would just seem like a generous employer being considerate, but asking them to drink before work? What sort of madness was this?

After the beauty left, the remaining workers began to conjure up their own reasonable hypotheses.

“Eh, this is probably just a plot to keep us from being late. If they feed us and give us drinks apart from our pay, many will come just for the food. After eating, they won’t want to leave in the middle of work.”

“Still, do people really drink before doing physical labor? What if something happens?”

“They’ll probably just give us a beer or something. That wouldn’t make much difference, right?”

Dalton nodded in agreement.

It sounded plausible.

And, it was a pretty good hypothesis.

Considering he had no clear job and was either living on people’s charity or starving, just the idea that they would provide food without any additional payment was a huge advantage.

Still, given it would be a physically demanding job, they wouldn’t skimp on servings, right?

The next morning.

As Dalton made his way to work, he was once again stunned. At this point, astonishment had become routine.

“Hey! Hurry up and grab a plate and get your servings! It’s okay to get more later if you run short, so don’t force yourself to take too much at first!”

The menu was simple.

Bread. Stew. Wine.

The bread wasn’t particularly luxurious or remarkable, but it was substantial.

It was large enough to be equivalent to two adult male fists. Even if one ate only this, it would be sufficient to fill up for at least two meals.

But then came the stew.

The stew that was said to be made by the beautiful owner smelled heavenly and was loaded with all sorts of ingredients.

Chunky pieces of meat, sweet onions, chewy mushrooms, and assorted unknown greens finely chopped and mixed in.

“Wow.”

The moment the stew hit his mouth, its strong flavors spread throughout, causing the workers to collectively exclaim in awe.

It wasn’t just delicious; just a single bite warmed them up inside, making them feel invigorated.

They already felt full, yet the urge to eat more surged within.

“Is this all wine?”

As for the wine, it went without saying.

It was a far cry from the cheap beer they usually drank, with a strong alcoholic aroma.

Just a sip sent a prickly sensation down their throat, and the sharp force of the high alcohol content made their heads swim.

‘Is this really okay? Am I allowed to have this much?’

Even as these thoughts crossed through his mind, Dalton couldn’t stop his hands.

He diligently chewed on the bread, enjoyed the stew, and gulped down the wine.

For those who couldn’t handle the wine, there was also beer and rum available. Each was of high alcohol content as well.

When meal time ended and work was about to begin, none of the workers had the will to rise.

With their bellies full, bodies warmed, and booze flowing through them, they sprawled out on the ground, snoring like logs.

As an employer, this would be quite infuriating, yet Dorothea bore no ill-will.

On the contrary, she wore a smile as if she had been anticipating this outcome.

Dorothea waved her staff.

And then.

The workers who had collapsed on the ground began to slowly stir and rise.

***

“Hey, you lazy bum! What are you doing that way!? Are you trying to wrench your back or what?”

“That’s not how you use a pickaxe! It’s all about technique! Like this!”

“Damn it, how can a sprightly young kid move like that!? Back in my day, I could split wood with my bare hands! Got it!?”

***

“Ugh.”

Dalton woke from sleep.

It felt like he had just had an outrageous nightmare.

A long and terrifying time, being thoroughly berated in real-time by an old-timer. No, it felt more like that old-timer was controlling his body without his permission.

“The morning shift is over. Come collect your pay. Don’t be late tomorrow.”

Receiving a pile of coins from the manager, Dalton tilted his head.

‘Did I… actually work?’

Objectively, it seemed he must have done something right.

The manager handed him his pay, and the body that had felt so lively before work now felt as heavy as lead.

It seemed like he had exhausted himself beyond his limits, pushing beyond his stamina and mental endurance, almost as if it had been endured only through the stimulating effects of alcohol.

“Damn, I’m so tired. Did I drink too much? I can’t remember much of anything.”

“I feel like I’ve been digging and shifting things all day, but not the fine details. Maybe we should drink a little less?”

“Hey, you idiots, that’s a good thing! If you don’t remember the hard work, and when you wake up you get your pay, why hesitate? Can you usually have such high-quality alcohol?”

“That’s true.”

Watching the workers pass by and glancing at the money in his hand, Dalton thought.

Yeah, it’s all good, right?

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