Chess Mage of Faerûn

Chapter 536 Inspection
"Roar! You useless mortals, you good-for-nothings!"

"Thrust, I mean thrust! Raise those damned spears in your hands, raise them!"

"Look at me, look me straight in the eyes, you piece of trash! Where are your eyes looking? Where is your spear pointing? Do you think you're still plowing the field?"

Before even reaching the training ground, Mars's thunderous, deep, and rugged roar boomed in, and the unfortunate guy being lectured face-to-face had his hairstyle changed, flying backward as if it had been blown by a hairdryer.

When had the fiery-tempered God of War ever suffered such humiliation, forced to become an instructor for a bunch of rookies? He only regretted that the Olympian Guard, who had fought alongside him across countless planes, was long gone, otherwise…

"Coach Ma, easy, easy."

"..."

Mars, who was swimming in the past glory, almost choked to death. When he turned around, he saw that the person who came was none other than the smiling Master Zhang.

"Chanelm, Your Excellency! Isn't the mess you've dumped on me enough to torment you already?"

"Also, don't call me Coach Ma, I'm not surnamed Ma!"

Mr. Zhang smiled broadly, completely unaffected by the other party's aggressive tone:

"You are the mighty God of War of Olympus, enlightening a few mortals is as easy as turning your hand and seeing the lines on the palm of your hand, but it will still take some time."

"False words won't change the current dire situation. When will we be able to fight a proper battle in this world?!"

Seeing that Old Ma wasn't buying it, the mage's smile faded, and he asked somewhat seriously:
"So where is your Olympia Guard? Imprisoned in the Mad Moon, do you have any chance to lead the Ember Legion to conquer all directions?"

"The legions remain, and the war never ends."

Mars responded with a low growl, resounding but also concealing his anger, with a hint of melancholy remaining in his eyes.

“That day will come, but not today. But our current vulnerability in this world is a stark reality. Since you’re not a dreamer, then do something about it.”

After inspecting the troops' training, the mage patted the other's shoulder armor and turned to leave, when he heard Mars' deep voice:

"I heard from that guy Bosh that you're planning to build an elite army?"

"It's not that exaggerated. It's just about developing a new type of armor that can match the professionals in this world," the mage explained, stopping in his tracks.

"Whatever it is, I want a real army. You can't expect to win with a bunch of farmers."

"There will be bread, there will be milk, but now is not the time to fight for victory. Before that,..."

The monk looked directly at the other person with his head held high:

"Do your job well!"

Zhang Yuan's attitude was equally firm. He could understand and try to tolerate Mars's temper, but reality is beyond his control. He was eager to become a warmonger before he had even laid a solid foundation.

Even if you're courting death, you shouldn't step on the gas like that. Even if you have extremely high expectations for this war god, you absolutely cannot tolerate any signs of this kind of lapse in judgment from the sword commander.

snort!
A heavy nasal sound accompanied by smoke billowed from the latter's nostrils. Mars slammed his shield hard on the ground and swung his arm sharply at its edge. The shield spun like a top for a moment, digging a large pit in the solid, flat ground.

With another swift, dark red hand, Mars grabbed the shield back into his grasp and roared thunderously at the militia:
"You little brats, have you rested enough?! Now, raise your spears, hold up your shields, and let's continue!"

The mage, who had quietly taken in this scene, turned and left silently, his steps becoming lighter.

In planning for the future, several types of Dota heroes hold particular importance, including Vengeful Spirit, who is responsible for internal affairs, and Keen's artificers, skilled in alchemy. And Mars…

Although he is currently only the head instructor of a hundred spearmen, Zhang Yuan would not really treat him as a mere centurion.

Not just anyone can be called a god of war. While it's an exaggeration to say that the former conquered all the heavens, it's common for him to instigate wars between nations and even personally intervene and shed blood on the battlefield.

Among the heroes of Dota, there is no shortage of those with formidable strength or profound magical abilities, but when it comes to commanding troops in battle, only a handful can truly stand out.

You're making Axe King or Troll Warlord the commander?

It's possible that our own people have already died before the enemy.

Cuenca's strength lies in naval warfare. The Dark Sage might serve as a strategist when he appears in the future. After much thought, only Therese, the transgender leader of Stonehall, and…

Mars, the god of war.

The title of Warmaster can be given, and the explosive gun and power armor are negotiable, but the interests and order of priority here must be clearly explained.

It's not that I'm afraid the other party will come to the Lord of Gaoya's mansion for a grand birthday celebration. If the name is not proper, then the words will not be proper. Once this door is opened, and the seeds of accommodation are sown, how will we coordinate the relationship between the ruler and these heroes in the future?

With the system in hand, no one can turn the world upside down, but blackmail and banning are the last resort. Zhang Yuan, who understands the reasons, will not simply treat the heroes of the Dota world as pawns and puppets to be manipulated.

Only by reaching a consensus, integrating each other's goals and aspirations, and pooling the strength of both worlds for our own use can we hope to plan for the future.

This is the source of Zhang Yuan's confidence. Otherwise, why would he bother with such a small territory? Wouldn't it have been better to plunge into Gaolibao or the academy and become the Sword God of Shilipo?

This small plot of land on Gaoya isn't just for Master Zhang to play his management strategy game; it's also a great place for these visitors from another world to show off their skills.

"My lord, several kinds of spirits have been brewed and are ready to be opened and tasted."

Inside the brewery, the dwarf brewer, who had accompanied the lord on a tour, eagerly laid out a row of barrels and asked with longing eyes.

“Don’t make excuses if you’re just having a drinking problem, Blake.”

The monk smiled and then waved his hand generously.

"Let's have a celebratory banquet. You craftsmen and apprentices have worked hard these past few days, so let's have a good time together. There will be plenty of food and drinks."

"Aha, Moradin's beard!"

The dwarf Blake almost jumped for joy, shouting as he did so:

"Alright, it's time for everyone to taste our fruits of labor. I'm going to drink those guys with beards longer than mine under the table."

The mage smiled and ignored the dwarves' competitive display of beards. This batch of liquor was all strong, and he politely declined.

As for the quality of the wine?

The brewing process was overseen and guided by the wine connoisseur; it was not his place to supervise, as he was an amateur who usually only drank fruit wine and light malt. The lord's inspection did not linger because of the fine wine; his feet left some footprints on the newly paved stone path, extending to another area.

Unlike other territories where the lord occupies the castle and the commoners and farmers do as they please, High Cliff, having undergone infrastructure construction, has its own unique regional planning.

The castle is situated on a mountain ridge in the north-central part of the territory. Important buildings such as the blacksmith's shop and the brewery are also located nearby, and the hills and caves not far away provide dwellings for the dwarves.

Centered around the castle, the entire area is a plain. The earthen buildings stand guard over the flat terrain and water sources.

Surrounding the Tulou are not only cultivated fields, but also windmills, cattle and sheep pens, grain drying grounds, militia outposts, and even handicraft workshops.

Each earthen building and its surrounding supporting buildings together form a small-scale residential ecosystem.

Currently, the Gaoya people come from two backgrounds: local residents and immigrants from the riverside village. Although there is no conflict between the two groups, they are estranged and seem to have no intention of interacting with each other.

The development phase following the major construction project addressed more than just industrial and commercial issues. The management team, comprised of Shandelsa, Jadi, and others, was constantly disrupting and reconstructing the original groups of villagers on both sides under the guise of housing allocation and land division.

The spot where the monk stood, nestled against the mountain and beside the water, was the location of the dwarf blacksmith's shop. Not far to the southwest along the river stood another earthen building.

This settlement is known as the Riverside District, where a branch of the River No Winter flows from northeast to west across the high cliffs, through the area and into the Sea of ​​Swords, and along the way forms a small lake at the foot of Castle Hill.

Yes, that's the place that the sirens have their eyes on and are eager to turn into their private bathhouse.

It seems that the construction of water conservancy projects can be put on the agenda?

The monk's gaze turned to where the river came from, as if he wanted to go upstream to trace its source.

The small tributary is still somewhat insufficient to meet the future water demand of Gaoya.

Flames licked the inner wall of the furnace, and the flickering flames illuminated the blacksmith's forging hall, dispelling the chill of late winter.

The busy apprentices were dressed in only a single layer of clothing, and the dwarven blacksmiths were even wearing just a short shirt. When the lord arrived, he gave a brief greeting and then continued with his work.

The former, however, was somewhat nervous and flustered. He hurriedly bowed to the lord who had suddenly arrived, and then didn't know whether he should go forward to listen to the "leader's instructions" or continue working.

"You all continue, don't get distracted by me."

After Zhang Yuan nodded in return, he waved his hand and gave an order. The apprentices hurriedly returned to their positions, spinning like tops after being whipped by their dwarf master's reprimand.

The monk strolled leisurely through the halls and rooms, his gaze sweeping over the entire blacksmith shop, where all sorts of forged products and ironware were displayed.

It wasn't just weapons and armor; there were also many household items and farm tools such as kitchen knives, scissors, hoes, and rakes, and even imitation forged bicycle parts. The mage could tell from a little inspection that the quality of these items varied greatly, and a significant portion of them were definitely not made by the dwarves.

The militia's military equipment mission has long been completed, and the bicycle market is nearing saturation. Assembling a few dozen bicycles each month is sufficient. Nowadays, the blacksmith shop not only develops and undertakes the business of supplying goods to residents, but has even brought in some orders from Neverwinter.

Having a dwarven blacksmith craft everyday utensils would undoubtedly be a waste of talent and wouldn't generate much profit, but none of that matters. The key is that apprentices who want to grow must go through a process of practicing from the basics.

Even if they become master blacksmiths in the future, they should at least be able to take on the role of a blacksmith. You can't expect the dwarven craftsmen, who are rough on the outside but quite arrogant on the inside, to always take on these low-level and boring crafting tasks in their eyes.

In fact, they were only being patient because of the contract, the fine wine, and the soothing promises from the monk.

"Once you young men are able to stand on your own, these trivial matters will no longer concern you."

“Every apprentice who is able to graduate independently is obligated to pay one-third of his first year’s income to his master.”

"This portion of the dividends can be converted into alcoholic beverages, calculated at the ex-factory price."

The series of preferential policies have yielded remarkable results. Apprentices who have been in the profession for less than half a year are making rapid progress under the great guidance and encouragement of their dwarf master, Ke Zhenlizhong. They are already considered skilled assistants and may even complete in a year what others take several years to accomplish.

That's normal. Dwarven blacksmiths are dedicated, don't hoard their work, and have plenty of raw materials to practice with—none of which are things that poor apprentices elsewhere can even imagine.

Everything is on track, the monk thought, glancing back at the bustling scene around him.

These dwarves, it seems, are getting restless and starting to think about making a copy of a bicycle.
As the mage was weighing and feeling the texture of the imitation component, a dwarf's classic gruff voice suddenly rang in his ears.

"These are bicycle parts we've painstakingly crafted. What do you think? Not bad, right?"

"Not bad, um, it's very good."

Zhang Yuan praised them truthfully, saying that setting aside production efficiency and equipment enchanting, the dwarves' craftsmanship was no less than that of the Elemental Forge.

"But with this size, are you looking to build a bicycle that fits your body type?"

Upon hearing this, Storm, the leader of the dwarven blacksmiths, immediately turned from smug to bitter:

"That's right, but it doesn't work at all; you fall over as soon as you get on it."

How could it not fall over? With the dwarfs' short, stout physiques, even if they copied the design and created a scaled-down version of the bicycle, maintaining their own center of gravity would still be a problem.

Aside from a few exceptionally agile individuals among dwarves, the rest frequently suffered tumbles and falls while riding horses, ending up covered in dust and dirt.

"This is not difficult."

After a moment's thought, Zhang Yuan had an idea. Just as he was about to take out paper and pen to draw an explanation, he caught a glimpse of the furnace ash piled up in the corner of the wall not far away.

Why go through all this trouble?

Reaching out, a clump of ash is drawn to the air and suspended in the palm of the hand. The hand is then turned back to grasp it, like sand in an hourglass. Strands of ash fall but do not touch the ground, as if an invisible brush has sketched out a three-dimensional image in the air with the ashes.

The monk thought to himself, "It's a good painting."

It's a pity it's not Dalaran. The mage's thoughts drifted a bit, but the tricycle he was using wasn't bad either.

Yes, a tricycle~
A small, amazing gadget that's smooth to drive, has a strong carrying capacity, and is almost flawless except for lacking a high-end look!
Moreover, as the inventor, Mr. Zhang is fully qualified to redefine sophistication.

Hey, I knew it was a bicycle plus, so what?
Of course, this was just a thought. Knowing the value of the tricycle, Zhang Yuan had already figured out its purpose when he dug it out. How could such a convenient, down-to-earth tool with excellent carrying capacity be used only as a mount for the dwarves?

He didn't even intend to bring it to market; he wanted to use it secretly on his own turf first.

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(End of this chapter)