Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 710 - 492: It’s Rare That a Transaction is Always Pleasant (Part 2)

Chapter 710: Chapter 492: It’s Rare That a Transaction is Always Pleasant (Part 2)

It was heard that even the Frost Giants were coming to join the grand event at the workshop, which surprised Malin to find that neither the Dwarves nor the Half-humans reacted at all. As for the Elves and Gnomes, who had enmity with the Frost Giants in the past, the ambassador merely laughed upon hearing the news. As for the master Gnome craftsman, he even commented that it was a private matter of Lord Malin.

By "private matter", Malin understood; after all, he was partly a Frost Giant, even though his height never supported his claim. However, the behavior of the other three races left Malin truly clueless, so he had to make some indirect inquiries on the human side.

Faye gave an answer—the Frost Giants liked to make big things. Their one-handed swords would be considered colossal weapons among the other races, fit only for those of exceptional strength, unwieldy and embarrassing for anyone with a strength below 16.

Similarly, what the Frost Giants called a firearm was a giant single-shot shotgun made from a hollow iron tube bound with iron bars, and it was a muzzleloader at that. Faye had seen the Frost Giants use this thing, taking at least ten seconds to reload—and that’s for the Elite Archers.

To the contemporary Dwarves and Half-humans, such a thing was impressive if it could even shoot fifty paces. Such an antiquated piece, what use could it possibly have?

Lord Malin was able to persuade them to join because he himself was of mixed heritage with the Frost Giants. Given this connection, whether Dwarves, Half-humans, or even Elves, none would bear any grudges.

In their eyes, the fact that Lord Malin had only now started to recruit his relatives spoke volumes—those who obeyed would be fed. With such arrogance previously shown by the Frost Giant’s royal court, refusing to submit to Lord Malin’s banner, it was natural that he wouldn’t be all smiles in welcoming them.

However, it wasn’t too late now, and the Frost Giants were considered to be bringing substantial assets with them. The pure iron mines they brought with them were coveted even by the Dwarves, and the North was too cold for anyone but Frost Giants to withstand the weather, so much so that any territory they gained could not be held by others. Hence, even before the treaty was signed, the races of the South and the Frost Giants remained in a state of mutual wariness, yet still traded pleasantly. After the Frost Giant’s envoy returned, he brought with him a princess, said to be from the royal family of the Frost Giants.

Malin already had preconceived notions about the princess of the Frost Giants—she was probably no different from Princess Marathon or any other such princess.

Surprisingly though, this new princess looked more like an Elf. As a witness to the contract, she observed the signing ceremony between Malin and the envoy, then took a copy back to the North.

Malin thought the Frost Giants were resorting to seduction once more.

Fortunately, though the woman was beautiful, she wasn’t quite Malin’s type, and unexpectedly... Malin felt he quite detested her.

This aversion came from the heart and didn’t seem to be feigned.

It wasn’t a bias controlled by Illusion Technique, but a feeling from deep within his bloodlines.

Luckily, she left.

In the following month, the Three-Eyed Clan of the Frost Giants moved south, their gargantuan ships clogging the waterways of Carterburg’s port completely, and this was just the first batch of personnel and resources. The fleet would return to the North to continue bringing more people after disembarking passengers.

Malin especially had them bring a large supply of canned goods, learning that the Frost Giants were lacking salt. He provided them with some—bribing their hearts, at least since they were coming to work for Malin without any compensation, he couldn’t simply let them starve.

Because of this, the aquaculture industry on the Semi-Plane would definitely need to be developed—if not, with so many giants in northern Carterburg, Malin feared they could eat their way to the Western Wasteland.

While Malin always entertained the wild idea of leading these giants on a buffet tour through the territories of the Western Nobility, if they really started consuming their way through the region, the entire world would know Malin was responsible.

This wouldn’t do. How could Malin, who brazenly blazes his way through the daylight, be wrongfully accused of such a thing?

Therefore, he had to first approach the Shepherd Church, obtaining from them a batch of jerky that had been preserved for gods know how long. Although Malin suspected that this rock-hard jerky was likely older than his two lifetimes combined, he couldn’t deny the sheer quantity of it.

Considering how the British soldiers of World War II managed to eat century-old jerky, like their foregone lobster-eating ancestors, Malin believed there wouldn’t be any problem—at least it wasn’t toxic.

He then made a deal with the Shepherd Church for all the apprentices graduating within the next three years from both the Sydney Union and Farole Principality—he was planning to build a massive aquaculture center in the Semi-Plane, to let these youths experience the advanced techniques of a thousand-year-old prisoner-scale aquaculture collective.

He also reached out to the fishermen, who were now promoting big fishing tournaments in Regensburg. The local Nobles had shown little interest, but the Northern countries and the Eastern Kingdom responded—with good reason, as they were the true Nobles. The nouveau riche parvenus from the South couldn’t appreciate the joy brought by such a refined and universally enjoyable event.

Hearing that Malin needed experience in freshwater fish farming, they assembled a group of apprentices and sent them over.

Malin had seen these apprentices; they had no particular talent, all just Mortals... but on second thought, it made sense, as the fishermen’s Deity had ceased to manifest, and their leader was just an unfortunate Assistant Priest. What economic strength could they have to find talented apprentices? Just being able to pass down those skills was fortunate enough.