Chapter 117: Cecil Mechanical Manufacturing Workshop

Indeed, the iron-sphere alien’s ability to rapidly reshape metal left a strong impression on Gawain. At first, he was genuinely amazed by how efficiently this creature processed metal parts. But soon, he realized that compared to sheer speed, precision was the real treasure here.

Speed wasn’t everything—Gawain knew this well. Although Nicholas Egg’s processing speed could intimidate everyone present, Gawain understood that in true industrial production, no matter how fast an individual is, it’s meaningless. Producing a hundred parts in a few minutes might be faster than a blacksmith’s hammer, but in the industrial age, just setting up a few production lines would instantly outpace that speed by orders of magnitude.

Though Gawain couldn’t just snap his fingers and build a production line yet, the prototype arcane engine was already here. He believed that one day, he would be able to do just that. Nicholas Egg’s speed advantage would eventually be swallowed up as more machines came online. But there was another advantage that wouldn’t be so easily replaced by machines—at least, not as quickly as speed would be.

His precision.

The parts Nicholas Egg “sculpted” from scrap weren’t made haphazardly. Gawain immediately recognized them as miniature versions of some of the exposed components on the arcane engine prototype. Each piece was crafted with a level of delicacy far beyond any blacksmith’s handiwork. Some of the metal sculptures even included strands of hair… it was almost absurdly meticulous!

“Precision?” Nicholas Egg seemed to catch on to something. After a moment of thought, he confidently replied, “That depends on how many parts I process at once. If I do a hundred at a time, sure, there’ll be errors. But if I only do a handful each time, and take my time… the margin of error is probably dozens of times finer than a strand of your hair. Of course, speed depends on the complexity and size of the parts, but from what I see, the most complex parts in your machine are actually quite simple.”

Gawain blinked in surprise.

The metal sphere hovered over, nudging Gawain’s arm after a long silence. “Hey, hey, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I’ll entrust you with the first generation industrial machine tools!”

“Huh?”

Gawain didn’t bother explaining much. His heart was already bursting with excitement, leaving little energy for anything else.

Yes—the first generation industrial machine tools, or the so-called “mother machines,” the foundation upon which the entire industrial chain could be built. Instead of having Nicholas Egg churn out mass-produced parts repeatedly, it made more sense to leverage his precision and efficiency to produce these mother machines as quickly as possible—whether they were various machine tools for processing parts or mass-production “rune engraving machines” for simple runes. Only by making these could Gawain anchor his enterprise to the powerful arcane engine, and build up the confidence to make a decisive move before the fragile wall on the other side of the mountain collapsed.

At this moment, he even felt a twinge of regret that he hadn’t realized Nicholas Egg’s talents sooner. If this metal sphere had been involved in the arcane engine’s development from the start, this day might have come earlier.

But he didn’t let that regret linger. Who could have guessed, before seeing it with his own eyes today, that this metal sphere’s control over metal would be so formidable? Honestly, Gawain even suspected Nicholas Egg himself hadn’t fully grasped his own abilities…

There was one more thing: Gawain wasn’t blinded by Nicholas Egg’s talents. This iron sphere was a unique individual—irreplaceable and non-reproducible. It would be unwise to rely the entire system on a single entity. It was great that Nicholas Egg could produce the first generation machine tools, but what if something went wrong? What if he couldn’t control a certain critical metal? What if he got injured? What if some uniquely local device couldn’t be made from metal at all?

So Gawain quickly calmed down and realized that while Nicholas Egg might be the greatest help he’d encountered so far, he couldn’t depend on him entirely.

He still had to ensure that ordinary people were involved throughout the industrial foundation-building process.

He looked at the anxious old blacksmith and the rune craftsmen, nodding slightly. “Don’t worry about your skills becoming useless. The territory will always need people. At most, the way you work will change a little.”

Then he turned to Nicholas Egg. “Would you be willing to serve as my mechanical manufacturing supervisor?”

Nicholas Egg answered promptly, “Sure, why not? It’s rare to find something to do.”

“Good. You’ll be in charge of making machines. Soon, I’ll give you some blueprints and tasks. Try to get those done as fast as possible. For convenience, you can use the workshop right next to the steel mill. Also, your first task is to make three more arcane engines—I need them for the mines and the steel mill.”

Though Gawain’s main expectation was for Nicholas Egg to be the “mother machine” maker, at this stage the sphere still had plenty of capacity to help scale up mass production. Following the principle of making full use of resources, Gawain didn’t hesitate to assign a large number of production tasks to the sphere.

Nicholas Egg seemed quite pleased…

Watching the sphere’s enthusiasm, Gawain’s heart gradually settled.

With such a godlike “transcendent” helper, ignoring social structures and focusing purely on technology, he felt that not only could he achieve leapfrog development, but even a quantum leap was possible…

Yet amid this joyful mood, Gawain keenly noticed the faint shadow still lingering on the old blacksmith Hammel’s face in the corner.

But Gawain chose not to say anything.

Hammel was, after all, an old blacksmith—decades spent with hammer and anvil. He believed in his hammer and took pride in it, just as a knight trusts his sword and skill. But the sudden appearance of a metal sphere, a born “metal master” who could control metal at will, completely shattered the old blacksmith’s confidence.

It might not be a fatal blow yet. After all, before Nicholas Egg appeared, there were already “dwarven craftsmen” in this world who far surpassed human blacksmiths. Hammel wasn’t crushed by an individual’s skill alone. What weighed on him was the vague realization of the future—

A future where machines drive the hammers, and human labor grows ever more insignificant. That future seemed not far off.

Hammel possessed a rare sensitivity among ordinary people of this era.

But what could Gawain say now? Tell Hammel to quickly adapt to his role as “steel supervisor” and stop clinging to his blacksmith craft? Or reassure him that craftsmen wouldn’t disappear entirely, that even in a highly industrialized world, blacksmiths would still have an unshakable place? It was too soon to say any of that.

He could only hope Hammel would adjust to the changes soon, because faster changes were coming.

Gawain sighed inwardly, then broke the silence. “The new department needs a name. Let’s call it the Cecil Mechanical Manufacturing Workshop for now. Nicholas Egg, you’re the mechanical supervisor and first director, on equal footing with Hammel, the steel supervisor. You can also select some of the hundred craftsmen as your long-term assistants, but the list needs my approval.”

“Good. Having help is definitely faster than me doing all the processing alone. They can assist with assembly,” Nicholas Egg agreed, bobbing up and down.

On the way out of the workshop, Hetty kept glancing at Gawain.

“What’s up?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing much. It’s just rare to see you this happy,” Hetty smiled warmly. “You’re usually so serious, always with a stern face, but today you smiled a lot.”

Gawain was taken aback. “Am I really that serious normally?”

He thought about his usual mental state, which was actually quite intense. After all, he’d spent so much time with Amber, honing his skills. By now, he was almost a semi-professional straight man in their banter. He might not always maintain the solemn dignity of an ancestor, but he didn’t think he was that stone-faced either.

Yet Hetty nodded earnestly. “You might not notice, but your expression is really serious most of the time.”

Gawain worriedly touched his hairline, then his chin, pondering. “It’s probably the square jaw and the beard…”

“Huh?”

He quickly waved it off. “No, nothing.”

Hetty had more domestic matters to attend to, so she said goodbye halfway. Watching her figure fade from view, Gawain’s joyful expression gradually faded, replaced by a trace of seriousness.

Instead of returning directly to his tent, he took a slight detour to a wooden house in the southwest of the camp.

This house was larger than the others nearby, with extensive nurseries in front and back. The gardens grew a variety of plants—most were medicinal herbs with various effects, while the rest were common plants that could be processed into spellcasting materials.

Just from the gardens, one could tell this house was special.

It was the home and workplace of the druid Pittman—an unreliable-looking old man, but his residence and workshop were quite respectable.

Gawain approached the door and saw a sign hanging there, written in flamboyant calligraphy:

Pittman’s Apothecary: Selling all kinds of herbs and finished alchemical potions. Druidic talismans and lucky charms for sale. Part-time antique appraisal, divination (in training), professional locksmith and roof repair, home chef (can babysit children under three).

Gawain stared blankly at the sign, feeling nothing.

That old man knew the illiterate commoners wouldn’t understand the sign, yet he stubbornly hung it anyway. This could only be explained as a personal quirk.

Gawain shook his head and reached out to knock, but before his hand touched the door, it swung open from the inside.

Pittman’s wrinkled face appeared. “Ah, I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”

Gawain was surprised. “You knew I was coming?”

Had the old man’s divination really worked?

Pittman shook his head. “I was just watching from the window and saw you walking this way.”

Gawain: “…”

(End of chapter)