They had paid to escape with a caravan, but bandits scattered them halfway through the journey. Forced to separate, their fates uncertain, she had used the remaining money to buy boat tickets to Totnes for herself and her daughter, their agreed-upon destination.
However, midway through the voyage, the captain demanded more money. When she couldn’t pay, she was simply abandoned. Luckily, they weren’t far off. Surviving on their last bit of food, they walked for three days and finally arrived.
She just hadn’t expected to encounter such a scene upon nearing Totnes, the city of their dreams.
Recounting it, the woman still felt a lingering fear. If those n had taken them, she and her daughter would surely have endured inhuman tornt.
Lance listened, his brow furrowing. Totnes is still enjoying peace and prosperity, while even cities in the interior can’t hold out. Just how severe is the situation there?
But he quickly snapped back to reality and reassured the woman.
"Rest assured and settle down. Now you are my people, and I will guarantee your safety and provide for your livelihood," he said.
"Thank you, my lord!" After everything she had been through on her journey, the woman dared not ask for too much; she was very content now.
"Of course, everyone must bear certain responsibilities. Since you were once a teacher, please help manage those children for now. We can discuss the rest once we return to my domain," he continued.
Just as he finished making these arrangents, soone approached him from outside.
"My lord, a man nad Winston is at the garrison looking for you," the person reported.
Hearing this, Lance’s eyes lit up. After quickly settling the mother and daughter, he imdiately rushed back to the garrison in the Central City District.
He had made nearly all the necessary preparations in the past few days and was just waiting for news from Winston.
When he returned to the garrison, Winston was indeed there.
"My lord!"
Winston had been diligently handling the communications and arrangents Lance had entrusted to him, and now he finally had results to report.
After a brief discussion, Lance learned from him about the craftsn’s current predicant.
It wasn’t just Lance who was anxious; the craftsn were even more so. They had been expelled from the academy, and although outsiders didn’t know why, they were inevitably labeled as unskilled.
They carried the unspoken question: Otherwise, why dismiss you and not others?
Furthermore, these n specialized in making guns and cannons. The markets for both low-end and high-end related products were already saturated. For other forges, hiring new apprentices—who might not even require wages—made more sense than taking them on.
Totnes simply had no shortage of people.
The cost of living in Totnes was imnse. Losing their source of inco was dire. Singles might scrape by, but those with families to support faced eviction from their rented hos as early as the next day.
Indeed, by the ti Winston had sought them out, so had already switched to other jobs, desperate to supplent their household inco and avoid being driven from the city.
For the first ti, Totnes felt alien to Winston.
Lance hadn’t anticipated the situation being quite so severe and fell into thought.
Winston, seeing his expression, looked sowhat conflicted. After hesitating repeatedly, he finally spoke.
"Actually, my lord... if you wished to lower their wages a bit... it’s... not entirely out of the question," he suggested tentatively.
As a middleman, he should, by rights, have sided with Lance, as he earned a commission. However, being a craftsman himself, though not well acquainted with these particular n, he felt a degree of personal sympathy for their plight and hoped to lend them a hand.
Lance, however, waved his hand.
"Tell them that as long as they’re willing to co, I’ll pay them the sa wages the academy workshop did. Furthermore, I’ll take care of their housing."
Although Lance knew of their desperate plight, he had no intention of pressing his advantage to lower their wages. On the contrary, he was prepared to offer them generous conditions.
He was willing to respect talent, provided it was at his service.
Winston imdiately and enthusiastically agreed, then shared a piece of information.
"Among these craftsn, there is one man whom I feel you must et in person, my lord," he revealed.
"Oh? Who?"
"Master Eugene," Winston emphasized, his expression deeply respectful. "In all of Totnes, there are fewer than a hundred individuals who can be called ’Master’."
"Then, doesn’t your Golden Hamr carry more weight than his title?" Lance asked curiously.
This clearly embarrassed Winston, who hastened to explain. "The Forging Contest is a local competition organized by the workshops themselves. It’s held annually, and this is only its seventh year, so of course, there aren’t even ten winners yet. However, all craftsn who hold the title of ’Master’ are the ones sitting on the judging panel. They either possess their own unique techniques or have made major inventions."
Lance understood that Winston’s earlier boasting had likely been a bit of self-aggrandizent, but it was undeniable that his skills were genuinely excellent; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to stand out among so many craftsn.
To dispel the awkwardness, Winston quickly steered the conversation back on topic.
"Master Eugene started as a clockmaker. His most outstanding invention is a chanical device capable of magnifying objects. He earned his ’Master’ title with this invention. Later, he joined the academy, becoming a professor and also a craftsman responsible for researching the manufacturing processes for guns and cannons."
"Unlike the others who were dismissed, I heard from so craftsn that Master Eugene resigned voluntarily. Apparently, he had a falling out with soone at the academy. The layoffs began only after he, the Master, departed."
"In that case, I really must et this Master," Lance said, his interest suddenly piqued. Even if not for the man himself, that unique invention alone makes a visit worthwhile.
However, he didn’t ask Winston to accompany him. Instead, he instructed Winston to contact the remaining craftsn as soon as possible, while he himself would go alone to Master Eugene’s residence.
From Winston’s glowing description, Lance had imagined Master Eugene would live in a detached house at the very least. To his surprise, he too was renting, and in a very ordinary, run-down old urban district.
Upon entering the neighborhood, Lance found it sowhat gloomy. During the day, most residents were likely at work, so there were few people around.
"Is anyone ho?" Lance called out as he knocked on the door. There was no response. After knocking several more tis, he finally heard movent from behind it.
The door opened, not to the brawny artisan Lance had half-expected, but to an ordinary-looking, bespectacled middle-aged man. He looked more like a scholar than a craftsman.
"Who are you looking for?" the man asked, looking hesitantly at the visitor, clearly not recognizing him.
"May I ask if you are Master Eugene?"
"What do you want?"
"I would like to invite you to my domain to participate in a project."
"Not interested," Eugene replied flatly, his gaze shifting away as he started to close the door.
"In that case, do you know why the workshop has been laying people off? Or why the Gun and Cannon Academy’s budget has been cut?" Lance probed.
Sure enough, Eugene’s hand paused on the door. He clearly didn’t know the reasons behind these events.
"Let co in. We can sit down and discuss it. I believe you’ll find this matter very interesting."
After a mont’s hesitation, Eugene stepped aside, allowing him entry. Lance noted the room was rather cluttered, with various manuscripts piled everywhere. A quick glance revealed them to be design schematics of so kind.
Books lined a bookshelf, alongside several unidentifiable dals and trophies. Most striking among them, however, was a device primarily made of brass and equipped with lenses. Its appearance imdiately reminded Lance of an optical microscope.
The main room lacked a proper area for receiving guests. Instead, it was dominated by a large, long table covered with various drafting tools and an unfinished schematic.
It was evident Eugene rarely had visitors; the few chairs in the room were layered with dust, and there wasn’t even a second teacup in sight.
Lance had learned from Winston that Eugene had lived alone for many years. He appears to be a Master completely absorbed in his research, Lance thought. Such individuals are often the most straightforward to deal with. One shouldn’t try to be indirect; they often don’t appreciate subtleties.
"The reasons for all this have been suppressed by the higher-ups," Lance began, once seated. "But I can share so useful information with you, such as a shaful, major defeat..."
He got straight to the point, speaking of the recent war.
He didn’t delve into battlefield specifics but focused on the failure of the firearms brigade. He explained how the high command had subsequently lost faith and withdrawn investnt, which in turn triggered a backlash from traditionalist factions, ultimately leading to the Gun and Cannon Academy’s budget cuts.
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