Chapter 69 - Failed Project

Chapter 69: Failed Project

Translator:

Atlas Studios

Editor:

Atlas Studios

Looking at the little old man’s gleeful manner, he totally seemed like a person who’d finally secured a new job after going hungry for weeks. This image wiped away every bit of Gawain’s impression of him as an expert in seclusion. Now, Gawain could be wholly certain that his torn old robes, ripped beret, and untrimmed beard were not because of a hermit lifestyle. It was because he was genuinely poor…

Faced with this situation, Gawain could not help but whisper to Amber, “This person you found… Is he dependable?”

“Gosh, don’t you worry. Although his personality may be a little weird, you’ve seen it, haven’t you? At the least, his druid capabilities are real. You aren’t the kind of pompous, rigid aristocrat who judges people by their class origin, are you? Don’t you always claim that competence is the most important?”

He did not expect that the comments he usually muttered were taken to heart by this half-elf and even used to thwart his argument now. Gawain could only purse his lips in resignation and then questioned curiously, “Say, how did you get to know him?”

There was no incompatibility when the little old man, who was probably a disgrace to druids, was put together with Amber, this disgrace to elves. However, Gawain was still very curious as to how these two met. Was it solely because they were the disgraces to their respective communities that they shared the same rotten style?

Gawain’s low murmur was caught by the little old man by the side. The druid with great hearing turned his head and chuckled. “Lord, I am an old acquaintance of Amber’s adoptive father. I watched this little brat grow up. According to seniority, she would have to address me as uncle…”

Amber immediately rolled her eyes. “A fellow like you who has no looks of a senior wants me to call you uncle?”

“I see. There’s still this connection between you two.” Gawain nodded in understanding. He had heard Amber speak of her adoptive father before and knew that he was a human rogue. In actuality, he was probably just a bandit hanging in the bottom rungs.

Amber wagged her head smugly as she said, “This fellow used to be real close with my adoptive father. Back in those days, they even wanted to be the southern border’s greatest bandits under the name of Night Walkers. But they did not become famous at all.”

Gawain instinctively frowned for a moment and then looked towards the little old man. “You were once even a bandit?”

“It’s all in the past, all in the past.” The old man waved his hand repeatedly. “I’ve quit. All I’ve been doing these years are decent means of living.”

Gawain found it interesting. “You switched professions also because you couldn’t get by as a bandit?”

“Because his skills were too trendy.” Amber rolled her eyes at a side, wearing a disdainful look. “He would get caught stealing dead people’s belongings and get a violent beating. He’s naturally not cut out to be a bandit. Of course, he’s also not cut out to be a druid. Now, it seems like he’s not made to be an antique appraiser or cook either.”

Gawain was stunned. “How did you get caught stealing from the dead?”

“Mainly because there were also more than two hundred grave visitors there…”

The little old man laughed in embarrassment. Very clearly, despite being an elder, his attitude towards Amber was really amiable. Such roasting by Amber was probably also a frequent thing. Especially on today’s topic, Amber had the confidence and qualifications to ridicule his bandit skills; after all, he received a beating after stealing from the dead; whereas, on top of successfully stealing from the dead, Amber had also resurrected this dead person…

Although the situation then wasn’t considered a ‘robbery’…

After some small talk, Gawain suddenly realized that he had let a key matter slip his mind. “Oh yeah, I still don’t know your name?”

The little old man held a hand to his chest and did an ambiguous salute. “Pittman Lauren is glad to be at your service. Just call me Pittman.”

“Very well, Pittman. You can first have a rest. I’ll arrange for someone to bring you to your lodging. You’ve seen this place. Everything is still in the pioneering stage. The housing conditions may not be the best yet. However, if you work hard like my residents, this place can soon become a well-off and comfortable new home for you.”

Pittman Lauren’s face bloomed with a smile. “For the sake of those glittering little cuties, I will definitely do my best.”

This eclectic learner type of druid left the tent with the guiding personnel that Gawain had arranged, leaving Amber and Gawain to gaze at each other. Slightly noticing the atmosphere, the half-elf girl prepared to sneak out with an awkward smile but was seized by Gawain. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to help patrol the perimeters of the camp!” Amber shouted noisily on her tiptoes. “Hey, let go of me!”

“First explain the ‘dug out an old antique with seven hundred years of history’ part. I didn’t forget that comment.”

“Oh—”

Everything in the camp was on the right track, but not everything would go without a hitch.

In a courtyard on the western end of the workshop area, Rebecca was staring blankly at the things before her.

She had an odd-looking kiln in front of her. The kiln had been made using fire-resistant bricks and mud mixed with quartz sand, like a huge bowl placed upside down on the ground. Simple runes used to increase temperatures and control the fire were drawn on the side of the ‘huge bowl’, whereas on the bottom was a newly made kiln door that originally had been sealed up with mud. The model of it slightly resembled brick kilns used to bake bricks, but what was being made inside weren’t bricks.

They were rocks, or rather, a mixture of lime, stone powder, and clay. Ancestor said that the product ‘calcined’ from this combination — mixed with slag from the blacksmith store and ground into powder form — would become a new kind of construction material.

However, it didn’t seem like it had succeeded no matter how she looked at it.

The basket in front of the kiln contained some of the finished product. It was a dark-gray hardened object that looked dirty and unpleasant. Many hard and brittle lumps were mixed in the fragments of many sizes. Rebecca had tried to forcibly grind a portion of the fragments together with slag into powder and then mix it with water according to her ancestor’s instructions. At present, the first batch of experimental compound had dried up. They became a substance that broke when force was applied, almost like rotten wood.

It was totally impossible to build a house using this.

Rebecca sank in thought with her fingers propping up her chin. She was simply too occupied to clean her black and dirty face.

In the last couple of days, she was either at the blacksmith store (now named Cecil Steelworks) supervising the assembly of Magic Web 1 and the modern furnace, or baking rocks here. She was a viscountess yet was this filthy for most of the day, every day. However, the knights and soldiers in the territory weren’t surprised at all; after all, the viscountess had been of similar manner, often for the whole day, in the past. Smoking her own face black as she practiced her fireballs was a common thing. Some days, she would go into the forest to fight the wolves and returned covered in mud. Everyone was used to it…

As for the civilians who rarely got the chance to meet real aristocrats and only got to interact often with Heidi, Rebecca, and the others these days, they’d developed a fairly good and friendly impression towards this busy, always-running viscountess. Gawain was a strong pillar, yet he was too authoritative in the civilians’ opinion. Heidi was intelligent and benevolent; however, to some extent, she appeared reserved and overly stern. That left them with Rebecca, this lady who ran everywhere; she had no airs and greeted everyone with a smile. Thus, everyone subconsciously neglected her identity as an aristocrat.

Another important reason was that Rebecca’s big fireballs were a great help for burning the wastelands and blowing up rocks…

Seeing Rebecca sunken in thought, the few assisting civilians beside her didn’t dare to utter a word to disrupt her. They too did not understand the Grand Duke’s intention in building such a place to bake rocks. However, the waterwheel that the Grand Duke ordered built had revealed its magic, and the planning of the camp was also rather brilliant. Add to that the ease which the reclamation work had been and the existence of the newly recruited druid, everyone was quite convinced by Gawain’s arrangements. Although they could not figure out the use of baking rocks… doing as he said was right.

After pondering hard for some time, Rebecca finally lifted her head and came to a conclusion — she wasn’t suited to thinking about this!

Hence, she waved her small hand. “Carry these things. Bring them to let my ancestor have a look!”

Moments later, Gawain saw the pile of… indescribable substances that had been brought to him.

“This is the… ‘cement’ that you baked?” He watched Rebecca in shock. If he wasn’t the one who personally gave the order, he almost would not have associated these dark gray mounds with the ‘cement’ in his mind.

“Ah? So this substance is called ‘cement’?” Rebecca had her eyes wide. “What an odd name.”

But Gawain had neither the time nor the energy to explain the meaning behind this term. Although he had long been mentally prepared to feel defeated, a subtle sense of frustration still emerged in him at this point. And when he saw Rebecca bring out from the basket another ‘stone’ that looked like a porous rock, he was even more certain of this failure.

“This is the outcome of mixing the product with water according to your instructions.” Rebecca blinked. “It did harden very quickly, and its appearance after hardening was similar to stone, but in reality, it’s soft and crisp…”

Before Rebecca could finish, Amber sneaked out from an unknown nook and cranny. “What’s soft and crisp? Let me have a taste!”

Gawain pushed the other party back into the shadows and then turned to those black lumps and sighed. “Seems like we’ve failed.”

He confirmed Rebecca’s operational process over and over again and concluded that there was absolutely no problem from the raw materials to the manufacturing process. Moreover, he’d even learned that Rebecca had specially adjusted the ratio of the various raw materials, the temperature of the fire, the baking times, and all sorts of other parameters. She’d also used four furnaces and carried out several cross tests; she even used lime, stone powder, and clay of different consistencies and places of origin. Yet, the results were all nearly the same.

This world had presented its peculiarity and malice to Gawain once again.

The properties of the materials didn’t match. How many of the widely known primitive formulas in his memory were useable?

Gawain decided to experiment with everything he knew in his mind that could be tested using simple and easy methods as long as they had the means. And when he settled on this decision, he was mentally prepared for all the experiments to be declared a failure.

At the same time, Rebecca was still staring anxiously at him. This girl who could finally help everyone out but failed didn’t seem to have ever considered that it could be Gawain’s ‘formula’ that was problematic and instinctively attributed the problem to herself. “Lord Ancestor… have I disappointed you?”

“No, any experiment is an endless process, especially when seeking out a new kind of material.” Gawain shook his head and sighed. “Continue to bake using all sorts of stones and clays. I will give you a few more possible formulas. Take this as a long-term work that you can do in your leisure time. Just don’t let it affect the progress on the steelworks side.”

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