The new conference room in the Red Tide Fief's industrial zone stood at the heart of the Artisans' District. Built specifically for major technical discussions, it combined stone and timber, with sturdy beams and pillars supporting its vaulted roof.
At its center stood a five-meter-long solid wooden conference table, like a battlefield command station, covered with the latest weapon sketches and metal samples.
The Red Tide Fief's leading craftsmen sat around it in matching leather work robes. On their chests was the Sun Gear Emblem Louis had personally designed, the proud symbol of this industrial army.
They respected their lord not merely for his power, but for the designs he had proposed.
The structural logic and functional concepts they had never dared imagine were enough to make a veteran craftsman reconsider the ancient art of craftsmanship from the ground up.
Flamethrowers, Demon Explosive Bomb Launchers, Special Armor...
One by one, those wild ideas drawn on paper had entered trial production and undergone refinement in the workshops.
Mike stood at the front, his expression solemn, nothing like his usual laughing self beside the furnace.
Beside him stood a slightly nervous boy, with traces of furnace slag still on his face but exceptionally bright eyes.
Louis recognized him the moment he appeared.
He was Hamilton, a person of particular interest whom the Intelligence System had reported on several times over the past two months.
He possessed a rare combination of mechanical and alchemical talent. With proper training, he stood an excellent chance of becoming the "foremost craftsman of the Northern Frontier."
Louis had intended to remind Mike later to pay attention to the boy, but unexpectedly...
Mike had not only noticed him, but already promoted him to a position at his side.
You old fellow really do have an eye for talent,