Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 361 - 244: I Have a Dream (3)

Chapter 361: Chapter 244: I Have a Dream (3)

The final personnel distribution numbers were determined by themselves; Malin merely stood at the lectern waiting for their discussion to conclude. The Archbishop of the Church of the Lord of Justice sat next to Malin, intriguingly watching the once-respectable nobles and gentlemen below argue like petty traders at a market, all the while listening to Malin explaining the operational model of the research facility.

Since nobody had ever found a complete set of twisted armor before, Malin’s opinion was that each race should designate a certain number of people every day to form one research group, record their progress daily, conduct a progress review every week, and after ensuring its correctness, bind the weekly progress into a report.

"Do you really distrust these guys this much?" the elderly Bishop asked with a smile.

"No, I think it’s better to do it this way from the start than to let them be suspicious of each other. If trouble still arises, just hang whoever caused it outside the doors of the research facility," Malin replied, flipping through the papers in his hand, looking to see if there was anything that needed to be added.

"Well, should the rope be tied around their neck or their ankles?" the elder Bishop looked at Malin and asked.

"The first round goes around the lower neck, and the second round goes around the upper neck. No pleas will help. If someone escapes, I’ll ask your boss to pursue him. If he’s too busy, then I’ll find that red-skinned kid to deal with him," Malin answered half-jokingly—the truth was he really did have the audacity to ask the Nameless of the Lord of Justice to kill the troublemaker, but the lie was that he would never really employ the tormenting old lord for such a task; just now, as he leaned out halfway, Malin had already felt the side hall sliding toward an abyssal state, and had it not been for the Nameless of the Lord of Justice reaching back to save the day, the ones seated now would have been Great Demons or Chosen Champions, and you would be disgraced if you tried to be a Prince.

"Still, better not to trouble that person; if someone has a death wish, we’ll take care of it. If they escape too far, I’ll ask the Mage Tower for help. The Dwarven Tower Master will certainly lend a hand," the old Bishop said with a wry smile, halting Malin’s suggestion.

"Then I’ll leave it to you. However, I suggest when we establish the research facility, we should also set up a Dimensional Anchor. It’s easy for someone to cause trouble, but trying to escape will be difficult—don’t you agree?"

"Of course." The old Bishop nodded assuredly and then signaled that those fellows had finally settled on the personnel distribution numbers.

The elven gentleman who had greeted Malin in the hall before passed the list over.

Malin glanced at it and was startled by the numbers.

Elves, a craftsman group of 429 people; a team of elven Druids responsible for managing all the animals near the research facility; a group of Rangers able to handle internal and external security; two-tenths allocated for common expenses, with all personnel covering their own costs.

"Do you have that many Great Craftsmen?" Malin asked incredulously, looking down at the elven gentleman.

"Certainly, these are the most elite, the most outstanding, and the most capable. I have already weeded out some of the older craftsmen who are inflexible and set in their ways," the elf said proudly, nodding to Malin: "Please trust us elves; our excellence and pride means we will take all of this very seriously."

Does that include ripping into Dwarves as well?

Malin thought to himself with inner mockery before looking at the next line.

Dwarves, a craftsman group of 1,082 people; a squad of Dwarven shield bearers to take care of internal security; at least twelve Dwarven Sages; two-tenths allocated for common expenses, with all personnel covering their own costs.

Malin’s neck mechanically twisted towards the Dwarven Great Craftsman, who immediately approached without needing Malin to speak: "Mr. Malin, I see you might need some clarification from me."

"Yes, are you sure about these numbers?"

"Yes, at our peak, we had tens of thousands of Great Craftsmen, and those selected here are the most reliable and neutral from each Dwarven Kingdom. They will not allow any unpleasantness with others over some foul smell clinging to some long-legged individuals, and I think the research facility needs our craftsmen to build the test machines, right?"

Is there a blood feud between you Dwarves and Elves?

Malin nodded reluctantly: "Alright, but as you said, nobody is allowed to fight within the research facility; that’s my bottom line. If you want to fight, you can go to the arena, but in the research facility, you must—and can only—rely on numbers and facts, and you cannot discriminate against anyone because of their race."

"Rest assured, the straightforwardness and stubbornness of Dwarves will be evident in every aspect you can see."

So, after watching the Great Craftsman leave, Malin looked at the third line.

Gnomes and Half-humans had indeed joined forces, and the number was reassuring for Malin at 722... Looking at the Dwarves’ four-digit number and then at this duo’s three digits, his heart no longer held as much surprise or confusion.

Gnomes and Half-humans, a craftsman group of 722 people; no full unit joined, but they also allocated two-tenths for common expenses, with all personnel covering their own costs.

Smiling and nodding to the leaders of the Gnomes and Half-humans, Malin then looked to the fourth line.

Mage Tower, 1,096 Great Craftsmen, on average High-Order Mages, welcoming all hard-headed heroes; one-tenth allocated for common expenses, with all personnel covering their own costs.

...Malin turned his head, still looking towards the Tower Master, who blinked in front of Malin.

"Our people are divided into two groups. One group has 70 people, with 10 people each day accompanying the research group to photograph Demon Crystals. The rest of the personnel are High-Order Mages from the Mage Tower; they are split into two groups, one responsible for data collection and organization, the other joining the research groups. Moreover, each one of them is battle-ready. With them present, even a Great Demon would have to reconsider if their bones are tough enough, and if we encounter someone even tougher, they can pull in more people..." He gestured towards himself, "like me."

"Thank you for your hard work," Malin said as he shook hands with the Dwarven Tower Master.

"No, it is an honor for the Mage Tower to serve you," the elderly Dwarven Tower Master said with a smile as he stepped back.

Malin looked to the fifth line.

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Goddess of Harvest Church, ah, our own people.

Then I looked at the number, an observation group of 15 people, no apportioning, all personnel expenses were on their own.

Malin turned his head, "What’s the meaning of this? Other organizations cram in several hundreds of people, and you bring out 15? Can’t you spare me the embarrassment as an apprentice?"

The Archbishop of the Goddess of Harvest Church seemed to have anticipated Malin’s questioning glance and stood up, "The 15-person observation group of the Goddess of Harvest Church will be divided into two groups, one of 8 people responsible for verifying the performance of the experimental machine and the possibility of its modification for agricultural use, and the other 7 will be incorporated into the research group, mainly in charge of data collection for all teams and dietary health."

Malin thought for a moment... and finally nodded his head.

Indeed, having the Goddess of Harvest Church’s engineering department make guns and bombs was all for the sake of defending farmers against spirits that threatened them and for the self-preservation of their farms. To ask them to do this was indeed putting them in a difficult position. It would be better this way; it might seem like playing a supporting role, but it could also highlight the presence of the Church. Moreover, the Church really did have money. If the agricultural model could be made, who wouldn’t like a buyer waving a checkbook?

With this thought, Malin continued to read on.

The Sydney Union sent a scholar group of 70 people, the land needed by the research institute, two-tenths of the institute’s public expenses to be apportioned, and at least one legion to be dispatched for the peripheral security of the institute, with all personnel expenses being self-funded.

Malin smiled at Earl Roben, who returned the smile.

The subsequent organizations mostly had no apportioning, and of course, they sent fewer personnel. It seemed that they had little confidence in this research institute or perhaps they were here to join in the grand cause but the large organizations felt no need for their involvement to complicate matters.

At the last line, Malin saw the Church of the Lord of Justice.

The Church of the Lord of Justice sent a sage group of 475 people in charge of research, 300 paladins responsible for internal security and patrol checks. In case of any emergency, they would be responsible for summoning the incarnations of the Lord of Justice, taking charge of the apportioning of the remaining public expenses, with all personnel expenses being self-funded.

The part about summoning the incarnation of the Lord of Justice was truly frightening. Malin felt that even if it was just sending a single incarnation, it was an existence that could destroy everything. Who would dare to seek death?

"Very well, with regard to the research institute, apart from the main blueprints, I will also draw up enough dormitory clusters for your personnel’s use, as well as functional buildings that come with annex facilities. This might cause an increase in initial expenses..." Before Malin could finish, the various leaders unanimously began to pledge donations. In the end, Malin left this expensive assignment to Earl Roben—up to now, only the Sydney Union kingdom was involved, and Malin decided to let them provide the funds. If the research institute could operate normally in the future, then the Sydney Union would be the institute’s only designated region.

At least until he, as the director, handed over power, or this kingdom faced a significant threat, this point, no matter what, would not change.

"Good, since you’ve all agreed to take up the most troublesome work, I will draw up the blueprints in the next two days. Any other questions?" Malin looked at everyone below the stage.

These folks fell silent for a while, then unanimously answered, "We hope that you don’t contact that person when there’s nothing wrong because we don’t know who else was with him at that time."

Malin gave a bitter smile and nodded in agreement.

Thus, the meeting was dismissed, and Malin stepped out of the side hall with the old Bishop of the Lord of Justice, watching various dignified and not-so-dignified nobles board their respectable carriages and leave.

"Will you make it to the competition?" the old Bishop asked.

To this, Malin sighed, "They won’t let me participate."

To this answer, the old Bishop laughed twice, "I had forgotten about that, but surely your classmates will be participating."

"Yes, so I must complete the drawings within these two days, otherwise I won’t be able to catch my classmates’ and my sister’s first match." Malin saw the carriage of his Church approaching and nodded at the old man, "I have to go now, may you live long. Oh, and may I borrow your gun?"

"Thank you." In the lands of Sydney, ’May you live long’ is the purest blessing that the young offer to the elderly. The old Archbishop smiled as he accepted the blessing, pulling out a revolver from his waist and handing it to Malin.

Malin turned around and pulled the trigger at the coachman.

Walking over to the coachman’s side, he kicked the face of the dead man, whose eyes were not yet closed, and found a mask on his face—it was no wonder it was hard to identify anything from the face.

"I didn’t feel any spell formation reaction. How did you notice?" The old Archbishop walked over and took back the revolver from Malin, asking out of curiosity.

"The usual Jack doesn’t come over unless I wave to him. His arrival today was so strange; it had to be a trick." As Malin said this, a tender branch of the World Tree sliced open his coat, revealing the evil tattoo within.

"In psychic vision, this guy was as black as an eggplant. If I didn’t kill him, who else should I? Now, how am I supposed to explain this to the old man from my Church?" Malin furrowed his brow.

"What explanation?" the old Bishop asked.

"Jack was his dedicated coachman. I might have to return today filled with regret to tell him that it’s time for a change." With that, Malin pushed the dead man under the carriage and, looking at the shop doors being pushed open in the distance and the humans drawing their guns, frowned deeply, "Old man, what do we do with the controlled assassins?"

"Kill them first then write the report, or get killed and I’ll write it for you; pick one." After saying that, the old man handed out his revolver again.

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