Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

As Caroline’s words fell, a brief silence descended both inside and outside Flower Hall.

This silence lasted less than three breaths before the crowd absolutely erupted.

"Twice the salary of the Royal Capital? For real?"

"Paid out every month? Not just at the end of the year?"

"My wife works at the dyehouse. Does Grey Marsh Territory need people like her too?"

"My kids... can my kids really go to school? For free literacy lessons?"

The crowd went into an uproar. Countless questions, all tinged with disbelief, surged from all directions.

The cacophony converged into a single wave of sound, crashing against the clay-tiled roof of Flower Hall as if to tear it right off.

Caroline had long since anticipated this scene.

She clapped her hands, and a dozen or so managers in Golden Sail Commerce Association uniforms filed in through the side doors of the hall.

They quickly took their seats behind the long tables and brought out ink, quill pens, and thick registration ledgers.

"Everyone!" Caroline’s voice rang out again. "Regarding employment, the Golden Sail Commerce Association has reached an agreement with Baron Grey Marsh. Between us, we can guarantee that everyone will find a suitable job! Now, those who are willing to join the Grey Marsh Territory, please form a line over here to register!"

The crowd stirred, pushing and shoving forward.

The apprentices who had left earlier because their families stopped them now stood at the edge of the crowd, caught in a dilemma.

Buck, who had been the first to leave, was being pushed forcefully from behind by his mother.

"What are you standing around like an idiot for! Go on, get up there!" the woman urged impatiently. "Double the salary! Your little brothers can go to school! This... this is a blessing from the heavens!"

Buck turned to look at his mother’s wrinkled face. What trace of sorrow was left on it now?

"But... the association..."

"To hell with the association!" another old woman exclaimed, grabbing her son’s hand and pushing him forward. "If the honorable Baron hires you, our family won’t have to worry about rent anymore! If you don’t go now, we’ll all end up sleeping under a canal bridge!"

The very family members who had just been crying and trying to stop them were now their most ardent supporters.

The promise of the future was far more immediate than the threat of the associations.

Buck and the few other apprentices who had left exchanged a glance, their faces burning with shame.

They no longer hesitated, pushing through the crowd and running back to the line.

They ran up to Hog and lowered their heads.

"Master, we..."

Hog didn’t look at them. He simply picked up the giant iron hammer from the table and gripped it in his hand again.

"Get in line."

Those three simple words made the young men’s eyes well up. They nodded emphatically and got in line behind Tim.

A queue quickly formed, a long dragon of a line that snaked from inside the hall all the way out into the square.

Just then, Bolin, the president of the Stonemason Association, flanked by the presidents of the Alchemy Association and the Blacksmith Association and surrounded by a throng of deacons, pushed his way through the crowd with an intimidating air.

"All of you, stop right there!" Bolin slammed his mahogany cane on the ground. "Is this a rebellion? I’ll have anyone who dares to register immediately expelled from the association!"

The line came to a halt, and fear reappeared on many faces.

Caroline walked down from the steps and went straight to confront them.

"President Bolin, what an impressive display of authority."

"Miss Channing!" Seeing her, Bolin’s imposing manner faltered, though his tone remained firm. "This is an internal affair of the Royal Capital. I hope the Golden Sail Commerce Association will not interfere!"

"An internal affair?" Caroline stopped in front of them. "You monopolize raw materials, suppress wages, and obstruct technological innovation. Are these also ’internal affairs’?"

"You..."

Caroline gave him no chance to retort.

"Let me make myself clear. For this recruitment drive, the Grey Marsh Territory is only seeking one hundred artisans from various trades, the best of the best. For the Royal Capital’s massive artisan population, that is but a drop in the bucket."

She took a step forward, leaning closer to Bolin.

"I’m only taking one hundred people. Your businesses can carry on. But if you continue to obstruct me here and make me unhappy..."

Caroline paused for a moment.

"Perhaps I should consider supporting a new association here in the Royal Capital. Just like I did in Tarry Port."

The moment the words "Tarry Port" left her lips, the faces of Bolin and the other two presidents turned deathly pale. They had all heard the story: Tarry Port’s most powerful shipwrights’ guild had been utterly dismantled in less than a year, its president and vice presidents all driven to bankruptcy, simply because they had offended the woman standing before them.

Bolin’s hand, clutching his cane, began to tremble.

He understood that she was not joking.

"Of course," Caroline said, stepping back with a merchant’s smile returning to her face, "we are here to recruit talent, not make enemies. As long as you presidents do us this small favor, we will leave the Royal Capital immediately after today. How does that sound?"

Threat and reassurance, delivered in the same breath.

Bolin and the other two exchanged a look. On each other’s faces, they saw humiliation and helplessness.

They knew it was time to give up.

Once the association presidents left, the last shred of hesitation vanished.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and the line surged forward once more.

For the next few days, Flower Hall became the liveliest place in the entire Royal Capital.

The news grew wings and flew through every workshop, tavern, and slum.

All the unappreciated and frustrated artisans flocked over, figuring they had nothing to lose by trying.

There was a young apprentice who researched new textile dyes, only to be branded a heretic by the dyehouse masters.

There was a master who could brew ale of the same strength with less malt, but was ostracized by the brewers’ guild.

There were even a few surveyors skilled in cartography who, lacking letters of recommendation from a noble, could only make a living by painting portraits down at the docks.

Of course, there were also plenty of charlatans mixed in, hoping to bluff their way through.

One man, claiming to be a master jeweler, couldn’t even state the most basic cutting angles for a gemstone in front of the assessor Caroline had arranged. He was exposed on the spot and "escorted" out by the guards.

Velin and Caroline personally oversaw the process, conducting a simple interview and skills assessment for each applicant.

In a single day, what had begun as a complete joke that no one cared about had transformed into the legend of the year in the Royal Capital.

...

In the Royal Capital’s Twilight Zone, in a private room on the second floor of a tavern called "The Scholar’s Rest."

It was far from the hustle and bustle of the commercial district, dimly lit, and the air was filled with the mixed scent of old books and tobacco.

Tristan sat by the window, an untouched mug of ale before him.

He was flipping through a worn, old book about the hydrographic records of the sea routes in the Southern Islands.

A man in a grey servant’s uniform entered silently, bent down, and reported in a low voice in his ear.

"...The recruitment drive on Golden Cross Avenue ended today."

Tristan turned a page, not looking up.

"In the end, they recruited one hundred and twelve artisans of various types, including forty-two stonemasons and nineteen blacksmiths... They also recruited a Mage from the naturalist school named Elvin."

"The terms offered by that Baron are indeed very generous."

Tristan closed the book.

He looked up, gazing out the window at the gray, hazy sky.

After a long moment, he finally spoke.

"Find a way to get me a copy of all of Mage Elvin’s papers, and also the blueprints for that ’ribbed vault’ structure of Hog Iron Hammer’s."