Chapter 54: The Tin Knight and The City of Clockwork — Act 2 (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 54: The Tin Knight and The City of Clockwork — Act 2 (3)
In a large mansion in the western part of Tik-Tok.
“So, what you're saying is, I should return Geppetto's workshop to those siblings?”
“Yes.”
At the middle-aged man’s question, the golden-haired girl nodded nonchalantly.
Her confident demeanor, as if she were demanding the most natural thing in the world, made the man let out an involuntary laugh.
Considering the man’s usual temper, it wouldn’t have been strange for him to have already started shouting or thrown her out. But most people in the world are lenient toward the beautiful.
Faced with a girl so beautiful it was a feast for the eyes, the man decided to hear out this audacious girl a little longer.
“And why should I do that?”
“Back when Pollen Geppetto was alive, his workshop was indeed the latest and greatest. But it’s been over a decade since the old man died, and magic doll technology has continued to advance. Honestly, with your abilities, Mr. Stromboli, you don’t need to cling to a dead man’s workshop. Wouldn’t it be easy for you to create a workshop of equal or greater caliber?”
“Hah…”
After letting out a sound that was somewhere between admiration and a sigh, the man lit his cigar.
He savored a puff of the hazy smoke before nodding his head in agreement.
“Yes, you’re not wrong. It certainly wouldn’t be that difficult to create a similar workshop. Unlike when I first acquired it, I’ve finished analyzing all his secret techniques. But that’s that, and this is this.”
Whether unconsciously or intentionally, the man blew a cloud of smoke near the girl’s face and smiled provocatively.
“Just because my wallet is overflowing with gold coins, does that diminish the value of a silver coin? ‘The final work left by the legendary master, Geppetto!’ ‘A masterpiece magic doll crafted in the workshop imbued with Geppetto’s soul!’ Nobles who fall for such plausible titles are everywhere. The old man’s name is still quite useful. It’s too valuable to just hand over to some riffraff as charity.”
Waving the smoke away with her hand, the girl replied.
“If it’s for commercial reasons, wouldn’t it be better for your image and for creating a heartwarming story to actively support the legendary artisan’s descendants, rather than mistreating them?”
“Young lady, you know nothing about business.”
The man tapped his cigar on the ashtray, the corner of his mouth twisting.
“Among those who covet Geppetto’s name, almost no one cares about his personal life. Nobody gives a damn whether that stubborn old man’s grandchildren are starving to death somewhere. Do you think the types who wear the master’s legacy like a luxury good would spare even a few coins for those beggars?”
“I see. I understand now.”
The girl smiled sweetly.
“You’re what the world would call a piece of ‘trash’.”
At the girl’s declaration, not only the man’s face but also the expressions of the guards around him twisted in anger.
“What did you just say?!”
“Master. We must teach her a lesson immediately!”
At his subordinates’ urging, the man quietly shifted his gaze.
His eyes fell on the white knight standing silently in wait behind the girl’s chair.
“Tsk. That’s enough. Losing my composure over a little girl's words would be beneath me.”
Making that excuse, the man leaned back in his luxurious chair and waved his hand dismissively.
“I believe this more than covers the cost of the gift you brought. You may leave now.”
“Yes, of course. I have nothing more to say to you, either.”
After the girl and the white knight departed with their heads held high, the man summoned his personal mage.
“I’ll ask again. Is this thing really valuable?”
In the man’s hand was a flat, rectangular cloth pouch with strange characters drawn on it.
Inside the pouch were several stone-like fragments, each one engraved with the same symbol as the one on the cloth.
The middle-aged man wore a deeply skeptical expression.
At the question from Charles Stromboli, the head of the Stromboli Company, the mage answered in a fluster.
“Yes, it is a talisman imbued with a powerful protective magic. Although it’s a consumable item, simply possessing it provides the same level of effect as a professional mage’s defensive spell, making it extremely valuable. Across the entire Empire, not even one in ten mages could create something like this.”
“Hmm, is that so?”
At the mage’s confirmation, the displeasure that had filled Charles’s face subsided somewhat.
“Well, fine. I don’t know where that girl got her hands on this, but if it’s the price for obtaining something truly precious, I suppose I can forgive a few impertinent remarks.”
“Um… Master. But is it really all right to send her away like that? The fact that she has a magic doll with her, and that she so readily offered such a valuable talisman as a mere bribe for a conversation… she might be someone of no small standing.”
“Not to worry. I know of no influential family in the Empire named Elilaz. It could be a fake name, but using a fake name means she can't show her face openly, doesn't it? Besides, just in case, I sent her away nicely without threatening her. What could possibly happen?”
That didn’t exactly seem like sending her away nicely, the mage thought. But just as he was about to speak to his master again, another subordinate approached.
“Master. We’ve received a message from our man at the lord’s mansion. A document requesting a permit to establish a workshop has been filed.”
“The location?”
“The northwest district.”
“A place that’s neither particularly good nor bad. Which company is it?”
“It’s not a company.”
“What? A private business? Then there’s no need to report it. We already have a tight grip on all the prime locations in the city, and the guides who deal with travelers will only recommend our places. They’ll dry up and wither soon enough.”
“Well, it’s… the one who applied is Smith Geppetto. That kid.”
“What?”
Charles’s face contorted.
“Where in the world did that beggar get the money? He should be tightening his belt just to maintain that shabby warehouse.”
“I don’t know, sir. But he’s already posted a notice for hiring workers, so it seems he’s serious. What should we do?”
“Don’t ask the obvious. Spread the word to everyone under our influence. Tell them there will be consequences if they lend him a hand.”
“That will work for the established ones, but the drifters only care about the money in front of them. We won’t be able to stop them without offering a separate payment. Should we allocate funds?”
“Forget it. Why should I waste my hard-earned money on those incompetent fools? A workshop isn’t something you can build easily without professional technicians anyway. All we need to do is hold onto the key personnel.”
A sinister smile crept onto Charles’s lips.
“This actually works out well. When we kicked them out before, the previous lord of Tik-Tok interfered, so I couldn’t finish the job properly… But if his brand-new shop goes under, this time he’ll surely go bankrupt for good.”
“Still, Smith must have some kind of plan to be making a move like this. He might have found a wealthy sponsor.”
“Hmm.”
“Perhaps it would be better to hire someone…”
“Now, now, my friend. Don’t say such frightening things. We’re a company, a company. Not a band of thieves. We can’t just go burying everyone we don’t like.”
At Charles’s words, the expressions of those listening around him turned strange.
“What’s with those looks, all of you?”
“It’s nothing, sir!”
“Indeed, Master, you are a truly moral merchant and a role model for others!”
“Hahaha! Yes! That’s right!”
The unscrupulous capitalist, Charles Stromboli, laughed heartily.
There was nothing to stop his laughter.
Not yet.
*
Dolton, a young man from Tik-Tok, cautiously looked around.
A wide, empty lot.
According to the official notice he had seen, this was the planned site for a new workshop. About thirty workers were gathered there.
The faces of the ‘workers’ were quite familiar.
Which is to say, they were the same loafers who usually idled away their time with Dolton.
Dolton thought to himself.
It’s just a bunch of drifters.
It was an assessment that included himself.
The workers were mostly young, and there wasn’t a single ‘skilled worker’ in sight—the very people who should have been the veterans on a site like this.
They had some stamina, but that was their only advantage.
Seeing a group with no proper skills or experience, it seemed unlikely that this construction project would be completed properly.
Well, who cares? As long as I get paid, that’s all that matters.
As Dolton was thinking this, the noisy surroundings suddenly fell silent.
Wondering what was happening, Dolton turned his gaze to where the other workers were looking and his jaw dropped.
Standing there was the most beautiful woman Dolton had ever seen in his life.
The workers, who had been chatting idly, could only stare dumbly at the beautiful woman's face and figure. More than a few of them were so mesmerized they didn’t even notice the bugs landing on their cheeks or the drool trickling from their mouths.
The beauty addressed the workers, her voice calm and steady.
Her tone was incredibly cold and curt, disregarding any age difference, but perhaps due to the aura she possessed, not a single worker dared to talk back.
The contents of her speech could be summarized as follows:
- The workers would be divided into three shifts: morning, afternoon, and night.
- The workday was eight hours, but workers who arrived an hour early would be provided with a meal and alcohol.
- They were free to do whatever they wanted outside of work hours, but leaving in the middle of a shift was forbidden.
- Wages would be paid daily. If any vacancies occurred, new workers would be recruited to fill the spots.
Listening to this, Dolton’s mouth hung open again, for a completely different reason than when he had first seen the beauty.
“So, you’re… you’re going to give us alcohol? Right before we start work?”
“Both food and alcohol. But there are no breaks during the eight hours, and if you’re late, you won’t get fed.”
I don’t think that’s the important part here.
The workers were speechless.
You could always find idiots who'd get beaten by their superiors for drinking on the job, but they had never in their lives seen a workplace that actually encouraged it.
If she had offered it after work, they might have just thought she was a generous employer, but telling them to drink before work? What was that about?
After the woman left, the remaining workers began to speculate, each trying to come up with a rational explanation.
“Ah, it’s probably just a trick to make sure we’re not late. If she’s offering food and booze on top of our wages, plenty of guys will show up to eat, right? And if we start work right after eating, we can’t just sneak off.”
“Still, do people usually drink before doing manual labor? What if there’s an accident?”
“It’ll probably be just a glass of beer. That much won’t make a difference, will it?”
Dolton nodded.
It sounded plausible to him.
And it wasn’t a bad theory, either.
As someone who often had to endure disapproving looks at home or simply went hungry due to his lack of a clear profession, the offer of a free meal was a huge merit in itself.
It’s manual labor, after all, so they probably won’t skimp on the portions, he thought.
The next morning.
When Dolton arrived at the worksite, he was shocked yet again. At this point, being shocked was becoming his daily routine.
“Alright! Alright! Grab a bowl and get in line! You can get more later if you’re still hungry, so don’t be greedy from the start!”
The menu itself was simple.
Bread. Stew. Alcohol.
The bread wasn’t particularly fancy or special, but it was generously sized.
It was about the size of two adult fists, large enough that if you ate it sparingly, you could easily make it last for two meals.
The problem was what came next.
First, the stew.
The stew, which their beautiful employer had supposedly made herself, gave off an incredible aroma and was packed with ingredients.
There were large chunks of meat, sweet onions, chewy mushrooms, and various finely chopped, unidentifiable herbs.
“Whoa.”
The moment the stew entered their mouths, a powerful flavor spread throughout, and the workers let out a collective gasp of admiration.
The taste was excellent, but what was truly exquisite was the sensation of his insides warming up and his body filling with vigor after just one bite.
It was the kind of feeling where you already felt full, but you still wanted to stuff yourself with more.
“Is… is all of this wine?”
The alcohol was beyond words.
It was nothing like the cheap beer they usually drank. The aroma was that of a strong spirit.
A single sip made one’s throat tingle and nose feel tipsy; it was an incredibly potent wine.
Is this… is this really okay?
Even as he thought this, Dolton couldn’t stop his hands.
He eagerly chewed the bread, drank the stew, and gulped down the wine.
There was even beer and rum set aside for those who didn’t like wine, and they were all just as strong.
When mealtime ended and the workday began, none of the workers could bring themselves to get up.
With full bellies, warm bodies, and heads full of alcohol, they were all passed out on the ground, snoring away.
It was a situation that would infuriate any employer, yet Dorothea wasn’t displeased.
On the contrary, a smile graced her lips as if she had been waiting for this very moment.
Dorothea brandished her staff.
And then.
The workers lying on the ground began to rise, one by one.
*
—Hey, you damn slug! Is that how you use a shovel? Are you trying to break your back?!
—You don’t use a pickaxe with brute force! It’s about technique, technique! Look, like this!
—Shit, you're a healthy young punk and that's all you can move?! Back in my day, I could split a tree with my bare hands! You hear me?!
*
“Gasp.”
Dolton woke up.
He felt like he’d had a terrible nightmare.
For an incredibly long time, he was being nagged in real-time by a fearsome old geezer. No, it was more than just nagging; it was as if the old man was moving his body against his will…
“Morning shift is over. Get your pay. Don’t be late tomorrow.”
Taking the pile of coins from the supervisor, Dolton tilted his head.
Did I… work?
Objectively, it seemed he had.
The supervisor had told him “good work” and handed him his daily wage, and his body, which had been so full of energy before work, now felt as heavy as lead.
He also felt as if he had pushed past his physical and mental limits, surviving on the sheer power of whatever was in that food.
“Damn, I’m so tired. I must have drunk too much, I can’t even remember what happened.”
“Yeah, I think I was digging and carrying stuff like crazy, but the details are a blur. Should I drink less tomorrow?”
“You idiots, that’s the best part! Why hesitate? You don't remember the hard parts, you just drink, wake up, the work's done, and you get paid. Can you guys even afford fancy booze like that normally?”
“That’s true.”
Listening to the workers passing by and looking at the bundle of money in his hand, Dolton thought to himself.
Yeah, what’s good is good.