“The new girl seems to be doing quite well. Where did you find her? Central Sector?” Bishop Vernette asked as she overlooked a roaring construction site, the thrum and whirs of heavy arctech machinery nearly drowning out her soft gentle voice.

Dozens of workers swarmed the area, their actions seemingly choreographed to a hidden beat presented all across the site. Fine dust particles hung in the air, kicked up by the never-ending movement of steel beams, bricks and clay, hauled to and fro along a temporary scaffolding that enveloped the entire old factory, which had been completely cordoned off by a series of barriers, guarded by a few Seven Snakes to ensure no one stole any materials.

The bishop squinted her eyes, peering not too far away where a whole host of activity was happening: the lightcapturer filiming, for which Inquisitor Mason was being berated once more.

“Bishop, the potential for greatness lies in everyone, not just those of the Central Sector. A boost in confidence is all the difference one needs to reach the sky. Even diamonds can be found in the rough here.” Kyle replied, leaving out the part of Emily being a former sex worker under Slavin at the Lusty Arcian.

“If someone else other than a gang leader said that, I might be inclined to believe it.” The bishop smiled. “People don’t change much. I’ve learned that much over my career.”

“Then you just haven’t gone far enough.”

“And do you have the means to go that far?”

“With Baron Cain’s blessing, I do. With the Ardent Cretins… not so much.”

“If this is an implicit cry for help, I can’t do anything on my end. You’re not the only one with a peace treaty.”

“I know.” Kyle took a deep breath, looking across the construction site, the din echoing off the walls of other nearby warehouses and manufacturing plants. The old factory in which Niko, Karl and Gordon used to work was being overhauled to be the site of the new weapons factory, with many of the existing infrastructure reutilized and diverted for efficiency and speed. It was far easier to retrofit the old factory than to build one from scratch, saving much time.

Kyle had obtained the land deed through a ‘conversation’ with the owner, the transfer officiated by Baron Cain himself thanks to the joint venture. With all the odds against the owner, he wouldn’t be surprised if the owner and his family were halfway to Versia or Kregol now.

“Well, looks like it’s my turn.” Bishop Vernette was a bit excited to be featured in the advertisement, carefully stepping down a sandy slope while Kyle escorted her, reaching the lightcapturer crew where Reese was.

“How’s everything?” Kyle inspected the crew and arctech engravings, checking for any errant accumulation of dust that might affect the lightcapturer.

“Looking good. We should be done in three days.”

“Good. We have all the necessary equipment in place?”

“Yes, sir, I have five dozen degraded light-throwers that we can distribute across the South Sector as a gift to spread our marketing efforts.”

“Excellent. Have them sent to the local pubs and soup kitchens. I want the advertisements playing the moment it is ready. We need to attract talent as quickly as possible. Keep up the good work.” Kyle patted Reese on the shoulder before leaving to inspect the weapons factory.

Close to two hundred construction workers were on hand, digging and layering bricks en-masse, the multiple floors being knocked down to create one singular expansive room. Kyle strode past diggers, machinery operators, and managers, earning a respectful bow or a salute from everyone around.

None of the old factory was left behind, though the workers were still retained, many of them now temporarily working under the Golden Snakes. Theoretically, nearly everything was in place for the operation of the weapons factory. Yet Kyle faced a pertinent problem, one that he had yet to solve.

He made his way through the site towards a makeshift office, where Gordon was planning the placement of the heavy machinery with the other construction managers. “Twenty rows, with a continuous conveyor belt system moving downwards. Each individual worker takes care of one specific procedure, with no one other than the designers learning more than three procedures. Each station should have an arctech etcher performing a singular task as well as spotlights for a better view. On top of that, metal grill catwalks all around the perimeter as a security feature. We don’t want any sabotages, unionization or funky business.”

The moment Gordon noticed Kyle entering the tent, he instantly bowed, as did the rest of the managers. Kyle merely waved them off, focusing on the issue at hand. “What’s our current situation?”

“The external structural design and floor plan is somewhat complete, what’s left is the allocation of space. If we were to follow the old factory’s design, each team will be assigned a single row.”

“And the team comprises of?”

“Two arctech designers, two logistics and twelve technicians.”

“For a single production line? That’s not enough, let me see the floor plan.” Kyle ran his fingers over the drawn-out blueprint, measuring the available distance. The team was pitfully small for the area available, as well as the scale that Kyle was intending to hit. “We can do much more than that.”

“Yes, but organizationally, it would be harder to control.”

“No, it’s doable. We’ll have twenty production teams, five supply teams, three design teams and one management team.”

The managers looked around at each other in confusion, with Gordon also scratching his head. “You’re suggesting to split up the current working unit?”

“There’s no reason for designers and logistics to be tied to a single team. They should be floating. The supply team will keep track of the number of parts and raw resources required by each production team, fulfilling each order in sequence and by priority. Also, the production teams’ number of technicians should be increased to a hundred.”

“A hundred?! We can’t fit a hundred.”

“We can’t, but this way, we will be able to do shifts around the clock. The production lines must keep going even through the night. Designers will be allocated the smallest space here, supply teams near the loading bay. Each team should have about thirty-three workers per eight-hour shift, until we can procure the requisite heavy machinery to lower our headcount. Understood?”

Kyle would have gone further if he could – if he had the option he would have robots replace every single human worker, with all protocols under his direct control. But he had fallen a long way from his Galactic Era position, and with so many willing employees lingering out in the streets, it was only right that he made use of them.

Gordon felt a bit resistant to the idea overall, having no prior experience of running such a large operation, yet he could not reject it. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. How’s our progress on finding the employees?”

“Well, we weren’t expecting to hire as many as a hundred per team. We can try, but I highly doubt we’re going to be able to fill up the vacancies in time for the opening ceremony. If we want more experienced people, we could try discussing with the various masters.”

"Masters?"

"Masters of the Society of Friendly Weaponsmiths. They are compromised of skilled craftsman who has been making weapons for generations. Though, discussions with them may be a bit tricky..."

Kyle got a rough idea of why. "We obtained the license through a direct grant by the Baron instead of going through them. Since we've ran afoul of their 'procedures' we can expect some trouble. No matter, I will handle it. What about the arctech designers? Don't tell me they are part of the same society as well."

“About that… we only have ten designers currently, if you include Reese and Gordon. We have a few more signing up, but they are not exactly the best nor the cream of the crop since we're explictly trying to avoid those who are in the society. It would take time to get them up to speed.”

“That’s not enough. We need at least fifty overall to be able to run the production lines smoothly. Where is Keith?”

“He’s in the adjacent building, setting up the trade school as you've requested.”

The trade school was a reconditioned apartment building but converted for the purposes of educating future factory workers. Kyle needed a continuous stream of skilled labour to achieve the economic goals that he had set forth, and the trade school served its purpose well both in the short-term and long-term

However, they did not have any teachers hired yet, despite having already invested the money into the establishment. Construction workers were already building up technical studios, practical workshops and classrooms while Keith was busy talking through an arctech radio in the newly furnished principal’s office, though it now only sported a simple table and chair filled to the brim with papers. Each paper held the information on every skilled arctech designer in the districts.

“…Then I wish you the best of luck in your future career. Take care. Thank you.” Keith hung up on the radio call, letting out a frustrated sigh as Kyle entered the office. “Sir, we have a problem regarding the recruitment of the arctech designers.”

“I noticed. How many so far?”

“I’ve called fifty, only a few responded. The rest turned me down, or didn’t pick up the radio.”

“Are we not offering double the current market rate? No one else here offers that much. They should be approaching us in swaths, bar those who have aligned themselves with the society.”

“The fifty we've approached are not part of the society. And yes, we are offering double… but take a look at this.” Keith handed him a scrounged-up flyer. “It’s been spreading through the city like wildfire recently.”

The flyer had an interesting style to it: thick accented watercolours seemingly mass printed by multiple printing presses, with a smart-looking handsome man plastered all over it. The face didn’t really matter to Kyle, only the number that was printed below the headline of the flyer.

“20000 rakels a month is ridiculous. No one would pay that amount in Raktor.” Kyle remarked, flipping over the flyer to see the other side.

“Exactly. I don’t know how they’ve done it, but right now, Harrison Industries is all the rage. People are smuggling themselves into Versia despite the restrictions just for a chance to work under him.”

Kyle knew Harrison, though he never met him in person. The Versian had bet a large amount of money during his auction of the Oriental Bloom, nearly taking it out of Baron Cain’s hands. Furthermore, Reese was nearly kidnapped by Harrison as soon as he completed the light-thrower. It was immediately obvious what was happening here.

“It’s a race for human resources. And skilled arctech designers will be the make or break for the upcoming war, Harrison was just ahead of us in the game.” Kyle concluded, not putting much thought into Harrison's actions, knowing that there was always solutions.

“The Ardent Cretins are also highly protective of their designers as well. I can’t get any information on them, it’s like they have been erased from the world. Their names have been blacked out on this copy. I suspect if I tried to dig up any information on them, we would run into much more trouble.” Keith tapped on a book detailing all recent graduates from the University of Raktor’s arctech design program.

“Let's not poke the Ardent Cretins anymore. ” As indignant as Kyle was about the still persistent blockade, he saw it as an opportunity to develop his own parallel economy rather than be dependent on businesses under the control of Sebastian. This way he would be free of the effects of anything more that the Ardent Cretins tried to do. “How many left?”

“Based on this book, three thousand. But they are scattered all across the city. If you’re talking just about the South Sector, then there’s only five hundred left available, not including the fifty I’ve called.”

Kyle paced around the room, thinking carefully. With a diminishing pool of skilled manpower, he would not be able to delegate designing duties to the factory. Reese and Gordon were just two people, hardly enough to handle the entire Seven Snakes catalogue of requirements.

“Raise our starting salary to 25000 rakels. Run the numbers, how long can we last?”

Keith baulked instantly, but quickly calculated on a piece of paper, twirling a pen in his hands. “We’re still under embargo by the Ardent Cretins, which means iron and coal are all priced exorbitantly.”

“Didn’t we get ninety million rakels from the information dealer? If I’m not wrong we should still have thirty million rakels left.” Kyle had a good grasp on the finances.

“Yes, you’re right. Sixty million rakes were allocated it all for the six housing blocks as well as the weapons factory and this trade school. We’re only left with thirty million rakels or so for operational usage. 25000 rakels with fifty designers means…” Keith scribbled down quickly, mentally adding up the expenses. “We’ll run out in a year or so, assuming we don’t expand any further. And I haven’t included the wages for the technicians and other miscellaneous staff, not to mention the cost of buying iron and coal.”

Fifteen million a year just for the fifty designers… Kyle, of course, was planning to expand further. Yet it was impossible to compromise on workers – skilled labour was necessary. “If we can’t compromise on salary, then we have to compromise elsewhere… how much more are we paying for the iron and coal now?”

“About close to 400% from last year. Lowest I’ve been offered was 250%, but that was from the Tul'e Da'li , the East Sector’s major gang, who apparently is on close terms with their Baron. If we accept their supply, the Ardent Cretins could take it as an direct offense and try to clamp down harder on us physically via hijackings and raids. They are not on the best terms with the Tul’e Da’li…”

“Even 250% is a rip-off. We’ll need to find an alternative source of iron and coal if we want to support the salary of the designers, and soon. Otherwise, the weapons factory will be running dry in months if Harrison raises his offering again.” Kyle rejected the offer. When he proposed the weapons factory, he had been banking on assumptions made following certain well-known hallmarks of historical progression based on his former Galactic Era education. He had already priced in double the current salary, not expecting Harrison to quadruple it.

Furthermore, Kyle’s weapons factory was not the only one clamoring for resources. With the war all but confirmed in name, Count Leon had his own gaggle of businessmen who supported his every move, forming a corrupt conglomerate with the best locations and adjacencies to iron mine deposits and coking coal for steel manufacturing. This was the real reason why the prices in the market were so high this time round.

“There is an independent iron mine deposit in Kregol that we could potentially discuss with.” Keith pointed out. “Though I hear it is under the control of their own native gangs as well. The Ravens, if I recall correctly.”

Kyle massaged his temples, trying to think his way out of this predicament. “If we go with them, we will need to pay them an additional fee to get them to supply us with the necessary materials. Furthermore, the transportation would take more than four hours one way via wagon, and is prone to being hijacked.”

The radio on Keith’s desk beeped, Adrian’s voice crackling through the static on the private Seven Snakes vipers’ channel. [Keith, is Boss with you?]

“Yeah, go ahead.”

[Just got word from the Culdao Peaks that Sasha captured a goblin official, who seems to be a representative from the goblin kingdom deeper in. The official tried to claim tribute from our first goblin den with a few soldiers…]

A sudden flash of inspiration struck Kyle. “What weapons did they have? Armour?”

[From what I understand, they have iron spears and shields…]

“Homemade? Or stolen?”

[I’ll need to verify with them, but as far as I can tell, it was all homemade.]

Kyle instantly sprung to action, speaking quickly into the radio. “Adrian, tell Sasha to prepare from my arrival. Keith, raise the salary cap, but find me a prospector first, the best one you can find. He will be following me to the Culdao Peaks. How far has the tunnel been dug?”

Keith was caught unaware, confusedly looking at Kyle. “The tunnel should be about half of the way to here, sir, perhaps it would be complete in two months. But what about the weapons factory? Why are you going there now?”

“Focus on hiring: you, Gordon, and Reese will be in charge of setting everything up. The goblins’ weapons are indicative that they have their own form of iron production, however small. As such, instead of buying iron and coal externally, we will develop our own vertical economy.”

“That means we would have to refine and process the iron ourselves into steel before making the weapons. How are we going to get the manpower and resources necessary to do all the additional work?” The confused Keith racked his brain. “We would need to transport workers from Raktor to Culdao Peaks… and then have a food supply and housing for them…?”

Kyle could only sigh. “Keith, it seems like you’re still not ready to be a gang leader. We already have a workforce in the Culdao Peaks. All we have to do is expand.”