Howard walked toward the scorched workshop near the steel plant's feed zone and spoke loudly:
"Each work cycle is divided into two shifts, each lasting sixteen hours."
"Each cycle includes one hour for maintenance, following a rotating shift system."
He moved to Coke Oven No. 2 and continued:
"The first stage of steel production is coking. After blending and crushing coking coal, it is loaded into the coke oven. Through the dry distillation process, hot coke and crude coke oven gas are produced."
"Oven No. 1 has 53 chambers, Oven No. 2 has 53, and Oven No.3 has 31, a total of 137 chambers. The coke-pushing sequence follows the 5-4 standard."
"Coal charging ti is sixteen minutes. Each coke-pushing cycle takes eleven minutes."
The coke-pushing sequence refers to the order in which coal is loaded into and coke is pushed out of the various chambers.
After research, the technical workers of the Fender family optimized the process to reduce wait ti. The work cycle was dramatically shortened from 26 minutes to 11 minutes. Under Howard's signal, they perford a demonstration.
"Each oven's coking ti is fifteen hours. Quenching and screening take thirty-four minutes."
"Full operation per oven is sixteen hours. Each shift must complete one full cycle. Output per shift should be 137 ovens, with a standard coke yield of 2,013 tons."
The workers all looked to a foreman, who had previously served as a head at the coking workshop in the neighboring Katowice Do Steel Plant.
The bald foreman scratched his head and gave a slight nod.
Despite the tight timing, a well-coordinated team giving full effort could realistically et the target.
As Howard detailed each procedure's standards, the workers gradually beca convinced that, while challenging, these benchmarks were achievable.
Returning to the raised platform, the blonde noble continued:
"As this is Magnitogorsk Steelworks' first production cycle after resuming operations, I grant you this concession: any shift completing their quota before the next Night-Kai shift arrives will receive corpse starch rations."
"The first crew to finish will be rewarded with tuna, bread, and clean water."
"These are the sa provisions I consu, foods that eighty percent of Upper Hive citizens never taste."
"Those who eat this would be able to boast that they dine better than those of the Upper Hive."
The bald foreman was the first to react. He smacked his head and shouted:
"What are we waiting for? True or not, we'll find out if we try!"
"What was that fish called again?"
Howard smiled. "Tuna."
"Anyone who wants tuna, move with the old man!"
"You, you, and you, you three look the strongest. You'll be the coal-loading and coke-pushing cart team. Start now!"
"Rember: fully loaded, level, compact, and even."
Four hours remained before the Night Kai shift. The bald foreman let out a shout:
"We did it!"
He released the cart and strode up to the platform. All the workers stopped and looked toward it.
Howard gestured to the guard captain to bring up the foreman of the soot-covered coking team.
"Don't rush, it's yours, no one will take it. I'll have the cook warm it up for you."
"No need," the foreman said hurriedly. "Cold is fine."
Amid the envious stares of all the workers, he received a lunchbox and a water flask.
"Thank you, sir. Praise be to you..." he said repeatedly as he carefully held the reward and turned to leave.
At that mont, workers from other factories stared wide-eyed. They saw the foreman share food with his team and watched them eat; their jaws nearly dropped.
One thought rose in all their minds:
'So the noble was telling the truth.'
Howard shook his head. Since he had promised, he wouldn't go back on his word.
The honor of the Fender family was worth far more than tuna and clean water. Rubbing his brow, he looked down.
He saw that everyone's auras radiated a passionate red and an optimistic white.
The blonde noble turned off his spirit vision and observed the crowd from the platform. The once-exhausted workers now moved like they'd been injected with stimulants, powerful and quick.
'So this is what my lord ant by "motivating the workers?"'
He nodded in satisfaction and told the guard captain:
"Stay behind and distribute the corpse starch, strictly follow the standard."
Then, Howard walked toward the newly expanded rest chamber once occupied by Nareth.
Closing the door behind him, the blonde noble yawned. Unlike Bukayo the "Sleepless," he was starting to feel fatigued after nearly two full work cycles without rest.
At the sa ti, just outside the shantytown near the Lukevo Hive City, Nareth encountered Thierry Vieira.
Thierry was around 23 or 24, tall and well-proportioned, with smooth, defined muscles. His short golden hair accentuated his chiseled features.
His eyes were deep and bright as he stared in shock at the giant before him, gripping a heavy halberd.
Instinctively gripping his ancestral longsword at his waist, Thierry asked in a low voice:
"Are you Nareth, the new King of Tizca?"
"I shall be the ruler of Vostroya. And you... should kneel before ."
Nareth stepped forward, and Thierry felt imnse pressure from the giant's words, spoken with unshakable confidence, as if they were truth itself.
"Thousands of so-called kings have tried to conquer Vostroya for hundreds of years. None succeeded."
"What makes you think you will, with less than three thousand n? You can't even take Lukevo with those numbers."
"You're wrong," Nareth said sternly. "My confidence cos from my strength. They say you're Vostroya's finest swordsman. I'd like to see what you're made of."
Thierry smirked confidently. "Size doesn't decide the outco of the battle."
"If I win, will you, so-called King of Vostroya, submit to ?"
"Since you're so confident, how about this: the loser must serve the victor for life. Deal?"
Upon hearing Nareth's bold wager, Thierry thought to himself:
'I've killed more than a dozen Ogryns. Nareth's just taller, I can defeat him.'
'If I gain control of Tizca, my revenge is within reach. I won't be as reckless as he is, I'll keep using guerrilla tactics, gather troops, and eventually crush Puhachi.'
'If he does defeat , it ans he might be able to kill Puhachi. In that case, serving him wouldn't be unacceptable. But... that won't happen.'
"My Lord, allow to face him first," said Roslov with a burning fighting spirit.
He stared at Thierry. Thierry glanced at the dark-skinned, muscular man, clearly tanned from long years of labor.
'A worker?' Thierry frowned slightly. Nareth looked mighty, at least. This one just seed big, and yet he dared to challenge him?
"He speaks for you?"
"No one speaks for my lord," Roslov declared. He pulled a las pistol from his belt.
"This is a fine piece from the Boleslaw family. If you beat , it's yours."
"A fine weapon indeed," Thierry nodded. "Alright, let's have a match first."
He drew his powered sword and activated its disruptive field with a button on the hilt.
Roslov simultaneously activated his chainsaw sword. The two walked toward each other.
A cold gleam flashed in Thierry's eyes as he lunged forward, the first, most basic strike of the "Ostberg-Vaya" style: a direct thrust, fast as a fiery snake, aid for Roslov's chest.
User Comments
0 comments from readers