Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Mine
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"What the heck? This notification!?"
Looks like I've figured out how to use the skill.
When I draw a blueprint, the completion rating pops up.
And the higher that number, the better the design, no doubt.
I pulled out another sheet of paper and drew it again.
This time, I tweaked the material ratios.
"Oh..."
Even a master craftsman like Dve needs at least an hour to run a single experiment.
But what if I use the skill?
Drawing the blueprint takes all the time I need.
Right now, each one takes about ten minutes...
'Once I get the hang of it, down to five. I can shave off even more.'
...
...
...
"Uwaaaah..."
I stretched my upper body wide, cracking my back.
Bright sunlight was streaming in through the window.
"Has the night already passed?"
I'd drawn dozens of blueprints.
Thanks to that, I'd raised the completion from 13 all the way to 46.
"I'll catch a quick nap before Dve gets here..."
The workshop door opened.
And in walked Dve.
"Huh...? Why are you here so early?"
"I'm right on time."
In reality, it wasn't morning anymore—it was past lunchtime.
Gurgle.
My stomach rumbled, demanding food.
"Test this blueprint. The material ratios are listed next to it. Just follow them exactly."
I gave a quick explanation and hurried out of the workshop.
Central Workshop.
Dve was left alone.
In one hand, he held the paper Elwin had given him.
"Heh. Already bored of it, huh?"
Strange for a noble to hole up in a workshop like this.
"Couldn't last a few days before running off."
He tossed the paper onto the desk and plopped down in the chair.
If even the master had fled, did he really need to bust his hump?
"Even so..."
A promise was a promise.
This master was different somehow.
When he'd said he'd only work three hours,
and spend the rest of the time freely,
he'd agreed without hesitation.
And sure enough.
The free time was actually granted.
Separate from the master bailing on the workshop,
as long as the promise was kept, he had to do his duty.
He picked up the paper from the master.
It showed a plausible-looking design.
"What's this now?"
A stack of blueprints sat neatly on the desk.
One sheet, two.
Ten, twenty.
Nearly a hundred in total.
"No way... Did he draw these all night?"
He gave a small bow toward the door Elwin had left through.
A gesture laced with apology for his misunderstanding.
"If the master wants it this badly, I'd better step up my game too."
He rolled up his sleeves
and started twisting strings according to the blueprints.
Thirty minutes passed,
Ting.
"Ha, beginner's luck or what?"
He couldn't believe it.
The materials on hand were
goblin, orc, and troll sinews.
Common rope.
And some animal hair.
To get this level of elasticity from such stuff.
"Well, anyway, looks like he nailed the ratios."
He twisted the same materials differently.
This wasn't specified in the blueprint.
He tried various knotting methods
and found the best one to match the materials.
Twing.
"Even better elasticity. At this rate..."
Not quite up to an improved battlefield ballista,
but decent enough to be useful.
I wolfed down a quick meal and left the restaurant.
Whether from lunch
or staying up all night,
my eyelids were drooping hard.
"Still, gotta check it out."
I needed to confirm if the blueprint's completion rating matched real performance.
Entering the central workshop,
I saw Dve plucking at a bowstring.
Ting.
Ting.
"Oh..."
Even from afar, I could tell.
The elasticity was way better than before.
"Dve! Is that... the bowstring from the blueprint?"
"That's it."
Dve handed me another string.
Ting.
Ting.
It snapped back nicely.
Pretty good.
But not as good as the first one.
"What's that one?"
"I made it separately, referencing the design."
"Separately?"
"Aye. Because..."
I listened to Dve's explanation like a student.
The material ratios I'd found were spot on.
The problem was using only one knotting method.
"There are different ways to twist materials. So I tried other knots."
"Oh... What's that knotting method? Explain it in detail."
I learned the knotting from Dve
and pulled out a blank sheet.
I drew a new blueprint using the knot.
"I'm not one to meddle, but designs are for making things. You've already made it—why draw another blueprint?"
"I've got my reasons."
I brushed him off and focused on the design.
When I finished the last line,
"Oh, it really improved!"
I jumped up and clapped Dve on the shoulder.
He gave me a weird look,
but whatever.
I'd found a good design. That's what mattered.
"What else do you think it needs?"
"First, better materials. Can't make a top-notch string with what we've got."
"Same thought here!"
I bolted out of the workshop.
Spotted a slave on the street and called him over.
"Send a letter to Russell right now. Tell him to procure all kinds of sinews. Animal hair too!"
"Understood, Master."
.
.
After sending the letter to Russell,
sinews and hair arrived with every merchant caravan.
Two months later, dozens of types of sinews and hair were arrayed on my desk.
"Uwaaaak!!!"
I tore at my hair.
The Designer's Guidance was an outstanding skill, no doubt.
It saved a ton of experimentation time.
But.
Dozens of sinews. Dozens of hairs.
Various ropes.
Plus knotting methods.
Too many combinations.
I pulled out the sheets summarizing my experiments so far.
Not just one—over dozens.
They were filled with materials used, ratios, knots,
and completion scores at the end.
The highest was 71.
"Good enough. We'll settle here."
Over two months glued to the workshop, drawing blueprints.
Time to compromise.
"Dve! This one. Let's go with it."
Twing.
Twing.
"Like I said, this is plenty good enough."
"Yeah, yeah. Start mass production now."
"Got it. The craftsmen I recommended last time?"
"Exactly."
Dve headed out.
I faceplanted onto the desk.
"Burned it all out..."
.
.
The next day,
ballista production kicked off in earnest.
I left the bodies to regular slave craftsmen.
The key tech—the strings—I handpicked through interviews.
They agreed to keep the slave seals for life.
In exchange, I promised them a far better life than free folk.
I'd handle their old age too.
Kids? Childcare support and good jobs.
Why go this far?
To keep the secrets tight.
.
.
"Streets are bustling."
While I obsessed over designs, my subordinates handled their duties.
Hans and the slave soldiers guarded the village,
Isaac finished Alf Village.
Russell grew the island merchant group,
supplying ballista materials along the way.
I entered the workshop district.
Blacksmith shops lined both sides of the main road.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Hammers striking anvils battered my ears.
I looked up at the mountain.
People hauling iron ore to the village.
"Taking basic shape, huh."
The mine was running,
blacksmiths producing goods.
Mine Village.
No—officially named 'Iron' Village now, and it was fulfilling its role.
"Expand the scale more, and once ballistae are done, cut back on mercenaries."
I planned to manage Iron Village directly as a core territory.
To claim all the profits myself.
Sunset crept in while touring the village.
"Who knew walking could feel this good. Feels like I could live without ever seeing another blueprint."
.
.
A few days into sweet vacation,
Russell visited.
"Why come in person?"
Russell was swamped running the merchant group.
Not just growth—competing with Silnia's group too.
Materials had come via other merchants before.
"We've got a problem."
"What kind?"
"Slave supply's drying up. Requested more from Justice Slave Merchant Group, but even they're struggling."
"Don't tell me it's because of us?"
"It is."
Our empire was vast.
Slaves were being produced this very moment.
Wars between nations,
feuds between territories never stopped.
Not just war slaves either.
Debt slaves too.
This world had zero welfare.
Countless folks racked up debts they couldn't pay, falling into slavery.
The numbers I'd bought weren't huge compared to the empire's scale.
'Yet they're short? Has the balance broken?'
The empire had run its slave system long before I started buying in bulk.
Supply and demand had balanced over ages.
Then a massive buyer like me appeared.
Supply stayed steady, demand spiked—shortage.
"Trouble."
Slaves were the foundation of my power.
Slaves made money,
slaves built strength.
"My lord, we're short now, but in one or two years, it'll normalize."
One or two years.
Not too long, not too short.
Halt expansion that long?
No way.
Bought slaves,
built large farms,
farm villages,
now mine villages.
Stop growing now?
My brain, in recovery mode from the break, started firing fast.
Farmable land? Plenty.
Iron deposits? Ample.
Just need people to expand right away.
'But do they have to be slaves?'
"Russell."
"Yes?"
"What do you think of this place? Livable?"
"Thanks to your grace..."
I cut him off with a hand.
"No flattery. Compared to the continent."
"Average quality of life... isn't bad."
Mercenaries poured in, culling monsters regularly.
Stable jobs available.
Schools as communal childcare saved labor.
Weighed it all—livable verdict.
"Let's take in wanderers."