mijobooks Chapter 799 - 438: Fernando (3)
Chapter 799 - 438: Fernando (3)
In that gaze, calculation and performance persisted, but were forcefully pushed out by an irrepressible heat.
Using a surname for naming, this idea echoed repeatedly in his mind.
If Louis’s words were true, in the future in port taverns, voyage ledgers, and even academy textbooks, people would casually mention Fernando when discussing those "monsters that don’t rely on the wind".
Orland’s breath became rapid, instinctively puffing out his chest, as if already standing on the imagined shipyard, watching workers and apprentices look up waiting for his command.
"...Use my name." He seemed to be savoring the weight of this title itself.
Orland said nothing more, just slowly nodded his head.
The action seemed somewhat dazed, as if the whole person was still lingering in the instant the name was spoken out, the consciousness had already agreed first, but the rationality hadn’t caught up yet.
Louis did not probe further, he simply closed the blueprints and personally escorted the old man to the door.
In the hallway, the lighting was soft, footsteps echoed on the empty stone ground.
Orland stopped at the door, again tidied his bow tie, as if making final preparations for an appearance long predestined.
The door closed.
Louis stood at the original spot, watching that silhouette disappear at the end of the hallway, and only then did the corner of his mouth imperceptibly curl up slightly.
The reason he wanted to do this was not due to Orland’s loyalty, nor because of his noble character.
It was because the current Red Tide had reached a stage where it must look towards the waters for the future.
The Northern Territory lacks neither ore nor coal nor manpower.
What truly restricts it is transportation.
Inland rivers freeze over in winter, carriages are unable to move in mud and snowstorms.
Grain, coal, steel, all are stuck on the road. Even if there were railways, they could not cover all river networks and harbors.
But water power is the most economical, yet also the most ruthless passage on this continent.
As long as ships still rely on sails, voyages depend on weather, dispatch depends on luck, that is not a variable an industrial system can accept.
The significance of steamships was never just running fast.
But turning rivers and coasts into transport lines that can be precisely calculated, like gears embedded into the entire production system.
And Orland is precisely the most suitable person on this chain.
He did not climb to that position by luck.
In the age of sails, over half of the Southeast Province’s ocean-going main ships originated from docks that he presided over or personally shaped.
What he excels at has never been fancy design, but how to make a ship not disintegrate or deform even when fully loaded, facing harsh waves, or sailing for days on end.
Which places can save materials, which places must be reinforced, which rib endures long-term fatigue, which keel segment is most prone to breaking before returning to port.
These things do not exist on paper, but in his decades of experience.
His craftsmanship, his habits, his entire logic of shipbuilding, still solid despite being eliminated by the times, would be passed down through apprentices layer by layer.
Today it is one ship, tomorrow it is an entire shipbuilding system.
An industry that can take root, replicate, and spread in the Red Tide’s harbor.
And for a true top-tier artisan, the most stable shackles have never been orders or money, but reputation.
As long as that ship bears his name, Orland could never abandon it.
He would strive harder than anyone to ensure the ship’s success.
Because it’s not just Red Tide’s ship, it’s also his, although it’s only a name.
And his apprentices and their successors also will live their whole lives on this voyage route.
Louis then slowly exhaled, turned back to his desk, leaned against the back of the chair, and closed his eyes to rest for a while.
Not due to exhaustion unable to sustain, just needed to let the tense thoughts relax.
These days, he practically never truly had free time.
The door was gently knocked, Bradley walked in.
"Anyone else today?" Louis asked casually, without opening his eyes.
"There’s no one." Bradley checked the itinerary in his hand, "The others are all scheduled for tomorrow."
Louis nodded: "Then let’s end here."
Bradley did not immediately leave, but stood aside, waiting for instructions.
Louis opened his eyes, looked at the documents on the table yet to be cleared, his gaze returned to its usual calmness.
These days, he has been doing the same thing, meeting talent from the Old Empire coming from the South.
As of today, various technical officers, legal officers, and craftsman leaders been formally absorbed, settled, and reactivated by the Red Tide have surpassed a hundred people.
This number itself is not eye-catching, but the impact it brings has already begun manifesting in the Empire’s talent market.
Workshops and institutions of Southern provinces are quietly hollowing out.
People with reputation, experience, are disappearing one after another from sight, the remaining ones are either apprentices yet to be shaped or mediocre people only clinging to outdated practices.
And rumors about Red Tide also continue fermenting along these people’s circulation routes...
It doesn’t ask about origin, only looks at ability... As long as you can create value, someone will back you with a way out, and there’s generous compensation.
Once this signal forms, it becomes difficult to contain.
To many marginalized, cleansed, excluded talents of the Old Empire, Red Tide has become the best choice.
They come from various backgrounds, have different dispositions, some crave fame, some crave profit, some only adhere to their already outdated philosophies.
Thus, how they are utilized cannot be the same.
To people like Orland, talking philosophy is a waste of time.
He needs to be remembered, needs a place where his name can once again stand at the forefront of the era.
Hence Louis gave him honor, gave him a stage, and conveniently put on him a pair of unbreakable shackles.
And to those like Varius, money and status are secondary instead.
What he truly craved is a cohesive, world-explaining philosophy, an order no longer easily distorted by the powerful.
So Louis gave him thoughts, logic, a new system he can personally participate in building.
Everyone’s heart has its price; what he has to do is just calculate the price right.
Place each person in the most suitable position, letting them willingly burn for the same goal.
"Continue tomorrow," Louis said finally.
"Yes." Bradley replied quietly, softly closed the door.