Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 552 - 333: Russell at Dawn Port (Part 2)

Chapter 552: Chapter 333: Russell at Dawn Port (Part 2)

“The rail hoist was personally tested by the Lord last year,” Mike told Russell.

Mike is older than him, serving as the head of the craftsmen at the Red Tide Workshop. He has a loud voice, somewhat rough around the edges, but he consistently speaks with respect regarding the Lord.

“The cog chain of the transport vehicle was originally used in the grain sorting machine. It was devised by Lord Louis,” he said.

At first, Russell regarded these things as mere boasts from Mike.

But the more he observed, the clearer it became, and he began proactively consulting Mike on operation methods, gradually accepting these Red Tide-style technologies.

Though what truly felt different to him was not the technology, but the system.

Every day, there were checklist reports at the construction site.

Who is responsible for tasks, where the progress is, whether the transfer is completed, whether errors are reported…

Lists were posted at the entrance of the workshop, visible to everyone.

“What’s the use of this?” He once couldn’t help but ask.

Mike pulled out several documents, showing him examples: “Lord Louis says, technology must be valued, but so should the system.”

Yet Russell didn’t put much stock in those so-called procedure lists or responsibility cards.

Having worked a lifetime, he knew what truly moved a project forward.

Not plans on paper, but onsite experience, feel, and shouting.

Russell even felt that this approach of reducing craftsmen’s work into tables was somewhat pretentious.

“A construction site is not a school,” he just thought back then.

But Russell wasn’t in a position to stop Mike from applying this system to the port’s construction.

At first, craftsmen from the Southeast Province couldn’t adjust.

They complained about complicated paperwork, team leaders disliked fragmented tasks, and some resorted to their usual memory-based scheduling.

No major issues arose for several days.

Until an error occurred, a batch of foundation stones was delayed due to a scheduling conflict, forcing a segment of the wall to halt construction for a day.

Mike simply pulled out the list, adjusting schedules according to the timeline, marking related tasks for involved personnel, reforming the schedule and rework by the rules, and administering reasonable penalties.

From then on, no one underestimated those lists, and within two days, the procedure caught up, even ahead of plan by half a day.

Russell stood aside observing the list’s effects become apparent, everyone’s responsibilities clear, problems couldn’t be shirked.

With clear handovers, no one threw blame, remedy was faster.

Moreover, every participant knew their work’s true significance.

Not pushed to work, but actively seeing themselves as part of the entire project.

It was more stable, efficient, and less disputative than any site he’d seen before.

Russell had to admit, this stuff was quite effective.

That night, he sat alone in his room, flipping the day’s procedure card for a long while.

Not only in work, Russell’s life was far more decent than he imagined.

He now lived in a half-buried Red Tide domed house allocated by Dawn Port.

It looked inconspicuous from the outside, but inside it was dry, warm, and well-equipped, better than his brick house in the South by several folds.

Warm water for bathing at night, sometimes he could hear music and lines from the drama stage in the port area.

“Is there a performance arranged every day?” Russell couldn’t resist muttering.

Initially, Russell paid no heed, but later during some idle nights, he stood outside listening to segments.

Afterwards, he simply squeezed into the crowd.

Most performances were tales of the Northern Territory, some newly written on how Red Tide Knights repelled Barbarian Race strikes, how Red Tide City’s granary protected food during pest disasters.

Always circling around that young lord.

On stage, Lord Louis was the great Sun of the Northern Territory, combating enemies, guarding the North.

He sat within the crowd, watching the drama on stage, not knowing why, his heart tightened a bit, thinking, “Lord Louis is a different kind of Lord.”

The pay didn’t need to be mentioned.

The base salary was triple that of the South, settled monthly, with quarterly bonuses, special position allowances, and operational risk subsidies.

Most importantly, no one treated him like a servant.

Even Red Tide knights talked to him as “Lord Russell.”

Having grown accustomed to years spent working with his head down, at first, he wasn’t used to it, often turning back thinking someone else was being addressed.

Russell privately asked Mike, and several craftsmen from Red Tide side.

Mike, drinking, honestly said: “Over at Red Tide, things are better—detached houses, kids can go to school, work even includes subsidies…”

What shook Russell more was one evening when Louis called him forward:

“If you wish to stay in the Northern Territory, not only as chief craftsman of Dawn Port. I am thinking of offering you a position in Red Tide’s craftsman department, as a deputy director, assisting Mike in managing a broader range of workshops, though I won’t force you, take your time and consider.”

That night, Russell returned to his room, sitting at the table, dazed for a long time.

Russell was not driven by wanting an official position or earning a few more Gold Coins, but he saw where he was genuinely needed.

Russell began to consider bringing his wife and two children to the Northern Territory, knowing the region was unstable, and Dawn Port was just establishing itself, needing to be observed more.

Yet he had begun seriously contemplating.

……

The east side of the port district, cranes and stake trucks roared without pause.

On the other side at the Southwest inner bay, another quieter yet not relaxed area had quietly formed.

That was Dawn Port’s shipbuilding workshop.

The tide was calm and gentle in the inner bay, terrain was high, less prone to flooding, within a hundred paces from the main port road.

At first planning, Louis designated this as the “ship slipway workshop base,” for building the first batch of trial ships.

Now, two long tracks had been firmly embedded in the sand by craftsmen.

The tracks were grooved with oak, lubricated with beast oil, extending to the shallow water zone, and once the hulls were built, just pulling the anchor chain would let them slide into the sea with the slope.

The workshop itself was still being constructed, but the core area was divided into five workspaces, arranged in order for keel assembly, cabin enclosure, mast installation, and steam testing works.

The innermost vacant space was reserved as a material storage area, currently stacked with selected oak and pine timber, neatly piled, carrying the scent of seasoned wood and tar.

Oak was a key material for the keel, essential for shipbuilding, initially Louis thought transportation from the Southeast Province was the only option.

Yet that meant long-distance transport, cost doubling, and more troublesome, those timbers were nearly monopolized by the Calvin Family.

Even though Louis was Duke Calvin’s son, controlling supply rhythm was difficult, easily hampered by others if there were any changes.

And this was precisely the situation he wished to avoid.

Yet just days before the Calvin trading team planned to head to Southeast for negotiations on timber matters, Louis learned through daily intelligence that the Northern Territory had quality natural oak.

Thus he dispatched a Special Envoy with grain from Mai Lang Territory, personally visiting that remote domain.

No bargaining was made, nor were long-term contracts mentioned, just offering a straightforward tempting condition: “Grain for oak.”

Now the lord over there didn’t even have time to hesitate, axes in the entire domain swung to smoking, and fully prepared oak logs arrived at Dawn Port.

In the Empire’s coastal ports, the common ship types remained dual or triple-masted sailboats.

The structure consisted of a typical grease-coated wooden shell, reliant on wind to unfurl sails, plus a few skilled mariners to traverse the seas.

A few Southern nobility families attempted newer methods, installing Magic Energy Furnaces on ships.

Indeed faster, but too costly, most importantly, too unstable.

With slightly rough seas, fires would flare up from below the masts, sometimes even explode the ship’s planks.

Teams that tried it wouldn’t mention this thing again, preferring to spend double time navigating.

So when Louis proposed steam-powered ships without Magic, many craftsmen were indeed puzzled.

“Setting fire to water, making wheels turn?” This was the most frequently heard doubt in the port.

But Louis didn’t bother explaining much.

He merely proposed three words: steam engine, gear transmission, paddle wheel propulsion.

This wasn’t replicating a particular place’s ship model, but his aspiration to develop a Red Tide-featured long-distance voyage ship prototype in the Northern Territory.

It might be cumbersome, perhaps immature, but unaided by Magic, wind could navigate through sea breezes and currents.

“I don’t ask for immediate success,” he told craftsmen, “but at least take the first step, this will be our ship.”