The new conference room in the Red Tide Territory's industrial zone was located in the heart of the entire artisan district, specifically designed for major technical discussions. It had a stone and wood mixed structure, with massive beams steadily supporting a circular arched roof.
At the center, a five-ter-long solid wood conference table resembled a battlefield command center, with the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) latest weapon blueprints and tal samples spread across its surface.
Around it sat the core artisans of the Red Tide Territory, dressed in uniform leather work robes, their chests emblazoned with the “Sun Gear Emblem” personally designed by Lord Louis, a symbol of honor for this industrial legion.
They respected their Lord, not just for his power, but for the designs he had proposed.
The structural logic and functional concepts he introduced, which they had never dared to imagine, were enough to make an old artisan re-examine the ancient craft of engineering from top to bottom.
Flathrowers, Magic Bomb launchers, and special armor—these fantastical ideas, once rely sketches on paper, were now undergoing trial production and iteration in the workshops.
Mac stood at the forefront, his face serious, a stark contrast to his usual boisterous laughter by the furnace.
Beside him stood a slightly nervous young man, his face still smudged with uncleaned slag, but his eyes were remarkably bright.
As soon as he appeared, Louis recognized him.
It was Hamilton, a key individual that the intelligence system had reported on several tis over the past two months.
He possessed a rare combined talent for machinery and alchemy, and if nurtured properly in the future, he had great potential to beco the “Number One Artisan of the North.”
Louis had intended to remind Mac to pay attention to this child later, but to his surprise, Mac had not only noticed him but had already promoted him to his side.
“As expected, you old fellow truly have good foresight,” Louis chuckled inwardly.
Just as everyone was waiting for the eting to begin, an alchemist in a white robe with scorched edges walked in, yawning.
“Sorry, sorry, the furnace had a bit of a gas explosion—but I’m still here,” he wiped the sleep from his eyes with his sleeve and sat in a corner, yet no one dared to underestimate him.
That was Silco, one of the founders of the Alchemical Workshop, a dangerous fellow whose mind was filled with explosives and wild ideas.
Bradley, as usual, stood to Louis’s left-rear, holding a notebook in one hand and wearing a silver-rimd monocle in the other.
As the co-chair of the eting, he was ready to supplent data or procedural arrangents at any ti, ensuring the eting was efficient and error-free.
As everyone took their seats, the atmosphere grew tense.
Mac stood up, clapped his hands together, and announced in a booming voice:
“By Lord Louis’s command, we have prioritized the basic improvent and trial production of traditional weaponry. Today, the first batch of results is officially presented.”
At his command, several artisans carried large, canvas-covered crates into the conference room. The heavy clanging of tal echoed on the floor, making the air seem to tremble slightly.
The first to be unveiled was the Cold Iron Greatsword.
An artisan carefully removed the canvas, revealing the gleaming greatsword to everyone.
The sword was over one and a half ters long, with a broad yet not cumberso blade. The cold iron material was polished smooth and even, and the hilt and guard were ergonomically re-engineered, with precise weight distribution.
The sword tip even incorporated a micro-arc downward bevel design to enhance armor-piercing efficiency.
Mac added, “This sword is made from the third furnace batch of cold iron ingots. The forging ti has been tripled to increase overall strength while maintaining toughness. We also repeatedly quenched the blade edge to ensure it won’t chip on the battlefield.”
Next was the Cold Iron Spear.
“Made from the sa material, the spearhead has fine-toothed barbs embedded within it. Once it pierces—if you don’t pull it out, it’s fine, but pulling it out will surely tear flesh.”
Bradley looked slightly shocked: “...Is this to force opponents to self-amputate on the battlefield?”
“Indeed. Not for cruelty, but for efficiency and deterrence.”
Subsequently, round shields and tower shields were presented.
Two tower shields stood on the conference room floor, with cold iron ribs embedded within them. Their surfaces were covered with fire-resistant coating and wrapped in leather, and while the patterns were simple, they exuded a strong sense of oppression.
“We’ve installed special slots inside the tower shields that can accommodate oil or ice powder, forming temporary elental resistance. This is experintal, and if effective, it can be mass-produced.”
What pleased Louis even more was the consistency of quality control.
He carefully reviewed the sample list and various records, then personally picked up a greatsword and tested its blade elasticity and recoil twice.
Only then did he nod: “Very good, this batch of cold iron is forged very uniformly.” He turned to Mac, “Can you guarantee that all weapon production will maintain this quality?”
Mac thumped his chest, sending rust flying: “Lord Louis, rest assured, if we can’t achieve quality control, it would be a disservice to the treatnt you give us artisans.”
His tone was not fawning, but sincere, with a hint of pride.
This was no empty boast.
In the Red Tide Territory, the welfare of artisans was already the most generous in the entire North: daily hot als, a shift system, high-level industrial injury compensation, apprentice promotion chanisms, priority housing and education, and even education subsidies for artisans’ children.
Louis’s gaze swept across the room: “Then let’s proceed with mass production. We are not short on raw materials, so maximize speed.”
The artisans responded in unison, their morale high, and several young apprentices even clapped their hands in celebration.
In other territories, such weapon production capacity was a luxury, but in Red Tide, it was a reality.
And even if they made more, it wouldn’t matter.
Couldn’t sell them all? Impossible.
Louis had already calculated clearly in his mind that the North was now entering a new wave of pioneering nobles, and the new noble territories were in urgent need of military equipnt.
And even if they didn’t co to buy, the Calvin rchant Guild could sell these weapons all the way to the South.
Not to ntion—according to daily intelligence reports, there was a tal called “Cinder Sunk Iron” in the Starforge Territory, which possessed extrely strong battle qi conductivity.
If it could be mixed and trial-produced with cold iron, perhaps a batch of combat armants specifically for the knight class could be created, forming the prototype of the Red Tide Elite Knight Corps system.
However, that was for later. For now, the most important thing was to continue this eting.
Louis collected himself and scanned the energetic artisans around the conference table: “I have seen all your efforts during this period. You have done very well.”
It was just a simple sentence, yet it felt like a warm current slowly flowing from a high place into the chests of everyone present.
Praise from the Lord himself!
The artisans’ eyes were slightly red, and their throats felt sore. Their silent contributions, long buried in iron furnaces and firelight, seed to be seen and acknowledged by their great Lord at this mont.
“For Lord, for this land, this is what we should do,” Mac said softly, his eyes shining.
Many old artisans also nodded vigorously.
“...Lord Louis truly overestimates us rough old n.”
“Haha, I’d be happy to hamr iron for Red Tide my whole life.”
“Lord Louis is the backbone for us working people.”
The atmosphere on both sides of the conference table beca very lively for a while, and even Bradley couldn’t help but nod gently.
At this mont, Louis smiled slightly and subtly pulled out a roll of blueprints from beside him, spreading it flat on the center of the table.
Everyone instantly fell silent, their gazes fixed upon it.
The blueprint depicted not an intricate city design, but several sets of chanical structure line drawings, with clean lines and clear annotations, clearly indicating they were drawn by Louis himself.
Louis stood at the head of the table, his fingertip resting steadily on one corner of the blueprint, and with his other hand, he gently pulled back the translucent structural layer covering the top.
“The first item: a foldable wood-iron chevaux de frise, paired with a Cinder Oil Fire System.”
The paper glowed, and the complex yet precise structure drawn on the blueprint was illuminated.
The three-section interlocking folding structure resembled the splayed backbone of a beast, with each spike angled precisely.
Inside, a dense pipe system was embedded, leading to an oil tank and end nozzles, finally connecting to a central trigger-activated ignition core.
“Requires only two operators, deploys in three seconds, ignites in ten seconds, instantly establishing a line of fire.
Used in gorges, valleys, and narrow passes. Combined with the terrain, it directly breaks the montum of barbarian charges.” Louis explained in detail.
As soon as he finished speaking, Mac slamd the table, a crude smile on his face as usual: “With sothing like this, no matter how fast those barbarian beast riders charge, their bellies will be roasted!”
A tal artisan in the back, wearing safety goggles, whispered with a frown: “But if the oil pipes are so thin, wouldn’t a single oil shot from outside make them all explode?”
“It’s possible, we’ve actually tested similar structures on our flathrowers before,” soone retorted.
“That’s right.” Mac rubbed his rough stubble and nodded with a smile, “This thing, we can make it.”
Louis’s gaze swept over Mac: “You are very confident.”
Mac grinned and gestured to the artisans: “If you had asked a month ago, I would have said it’s hard to say. But ever since you had us make new flathrower structures, redo pipe compression and ignition cores, now? It’s a piece of cake.”
He paused, his tone becoming serious: “I dare to guarantee on my hamrhead, not only can we make it, but we can mass produce it.”
Seeing Mac’s confident assurance, Louis nodded with a smile: “Very good, then this first item is entrusted to you.”
He didn’t stop, pulling out a second roll of blueprints. This ti, he used both hands to fully unroll the large scroll horizontally.
“The second one is this.”
With a rustle, the blueprint covered half of the conference table. On the thick parchnt, the ink was precise, and a large vehicle with a peculiar outline and heavy lines leapt off the page.
It resembled both a carriage and so kind of chanical beast, drawing murmurs from the artisans.
“Is this a carriage? Or a tower?”
“Why does it look like a riveted hedgehog? Is that the front or a cannon muzzle?”
“This size, it would need at least ten warhorses to pull it—”
Mac poked the blueprint with his finger: “You’re not thinking of putting this thing on the battlefield, are you?”
“Not thinking, but it’s a must.” Louis smiled slightly, his tone revealing an uncontainable sharpness. “This is the ‘steel beast,’ our Red Tide Territory’s land armored tactical platform.”
As he spoke, he unveiled the cross-section detail drawing on the right side of the blueprint. “Reinforced with magic steel frawork, heavily armored, capable of fully enclosed propulsion.
It has firing ports and armored hinges, allowing a small team to conduct long-range strikes and defensive operations.”
“Not only can it escort supplies, but it can also advance to the front lines, suppress enemy forces, and blockade canyons—”
The conference room imdiately fell silent, and all the artisans stared wide-eyed at the shield wall device and the upper and lower slides embedded in the side of the vehicle.
“...This thing isn’t a carriage, it’s a damn fortress, isn’t it? What are these holes on the side for?”
“And it can advance in a sealed manner? What kind of monster would it need to pull it?”
Soone began to frown: “It seems our territory’s current monster reserves don’t have this type of heavy-duty pulling beast—if we force it, we might just pull the vehicle apart first.”
Louis turned to the man, his tone not heavy but confident: “You don’t need to worry about this; I will solve the monster problem.”
Everyone was stunned, realizing that Lord Louis had already made preparations.
Before they could recover from this news, Louis had already drawn a circle on the side of the “steel beast.”
“Just now, so of you ntioned that you didn’t understand what these holes on the vehicle body were for,” he said, pulling out another small blueprint and quickly unfolding it on the table.
“This is the formation-breaking hook spear, a special device used in conjunction with the steel beast.”
The blueprint showed a long-handled weapon with a three-pronged hook at the front, serrated barbs on the side, and a sword-like protrusion in reverse.
“This is not an ordinary weapon. It can hook horse legs and dismantle shield walls, designed specifically to disrupt enemy formations and destroy cavalry charges.
Installed on the retractable arm on the side of the steel beast, it can actively harvest enemy heavy armor during advancent. Combined with the shield-row advancent mode I designed, it can forcibly tear through mixed barbarian infantry and cavalry formations.”
Then Louis picked up another small-sized scroll from beside him, gently unfurled it, and spread it on the corner of the table.
“Finally, this one.” His tone was steady, yet it caused everyone to refocus.
On the blueprint, there was an arrow body that resembled a short arrow—a Magic Bomb arrow.
The arrow shaft appeared slightly thicker, and the tail end had a clear exploded view diagram:
The head was embedded with a thumb-sized magic energy crystal core, with miniature explosive patterns carved around the outer ring, detonating within milliseconds upon impact.
“Magic Bomb Arrow,” Louis stated the na calmly. “Contains a small Magic Bomb crystal, launched by a heavy crossbow, instantly exploding upon impact.”
He lightly tapped a corner of the blueprint with his fingertip, “Though small, the explosion is enough to penetrate half an inch of steel plate. It’s very suitable for striking dense formations or shooting distant enemies.”
As soon as his words fell, the artisans involuntarily gasped.
“Explosive—arrow?” soone whispered, “There’s even such a thing?”
“No wonder the top of the ‘steel beast’ was specifically designed with long-range firing ports; this is an internal weapon—”
Everyone murmured and discussed, clearly this was a weapon form they had never imagined.
“This thing—can it be made?” Mac frowned, habitually looking towards the other end of the conference table at the alchemical workshop manager, who was yawning and still had charcoal smudges on his face, “Silco?”
“What did you say?” The man looked up, his eyes hazy as he glanced at the blueprint, then slowly scratched his hair.
“Oh, this? A small gadget, no big deal,” he stretched, a slight grin on his lips, revealing a nonchalant but exceptionally confident deanor.
“There are already existing Magic Bombs. Lord Louis had already discussed it with before, so I made them in advance. You just tell how big you want the explosion, and I can control the explosion point accuracy. You want small explosions, directional explosions, delayed explosions after penetration—anything is fine.”
“But speaking of which...” He narrowed his eyes, looking at the blueprint, “Do you really want to equip this thing inside the steel beast?”
Louis nodded: “This is one component of its long-range weapon system. Firepower strike is not just for open field combat; urban warfare and canyon blockades also require rapid disruption and precise strikes.”
Mac couldn’t help but grin: “You’re going to cram an entire tactical squad into this vehicle, even arranging the tactical accessories in advance?”
Louis nodded gently, a satisfied smile appearing in his eyes: “That’s all for now. As long as you can make it, I can put it on the battlefield.”
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