Chapter 284. The Submarine's Design
The old man was escorted out by the guards as he continued to protest at a high volume.
"An industrial chain, huh..." Charles muttered to himself.
Of course, he wished for an industrial network as mature as the Albion Isles, but the problem was that he didn't have one as of now. And starting from scratch would take forever.
With hundreds of heads being put together, they should be able to come up with other solutions, right? They're all designers who hail from the Albion Isles, after all. Technically, they are the cream of the crop when it comes to shipbuilding in the whole Northern Seas. Charles thought to himself.
If there was truly no other way, he had no choice but to send his men to gather the necessary materials from other islands. However, this approach was laborious and time-consuming, and there was no guarantee that the other party would be willing to sell such items to them.
As the once industrial hub of the Northern Seas, the complete destruction of the Albion Isles affected the entire seascape in all aspects.
Without those bloodsucking evil factories, Charles could foresee the rapid increase in the price of shipbuilding materials.
At the thought of the factories, Charles was reminded of the child worker who had tried to grab Lily that day.
With the annihilation of the Albion Isles, that boy is probably dead, too, right?
Charles wondered why he had suddenly thought of a random stranger. He was never this sentimental in the past. Standing at the door of his bedroom and looking at the large, welcoming bed within, Charles suddenly turned around and dragged his weary body back toward his office.
"Summon Leonardo. I have instructions for him," Charles instructed the butler.
Soon, the Minister of Administration of Hope Island appeared before him.
"Governor, what do you need me to do for you?" Leonardo asked as his eyes flashed with a hint of curiosity. He also wanted to know what happened on the Albion Isles. Everyone shared the same desire for gossip, but Leonardo knew Charles' temperament.
If it weren't his place to ask, he knew not to ask.
"Do we have schools on our island?" Charles asked abruptly.
"Yes, of course, we do. The central islanders had jointly funded a school. All their children go there. Governor, if you have children in the future and don't wish to homeschool them, you can send them there too."
"I wasn't asking about them. I'm asking about the other people on the island."
"The poor? The children of the poor don't need education. They usually follow their parents and go out to start working from the age of eight. Basic reading and arithmetic are taught by their own families," Leonardo replied.
Charles instantly understood. Education was treated as a commodity, a business in this world. Like any other good, knowledge was sold for profit.
He held his hand to his forehead and pondered for a brief moment before he instructed, "Issue a decree. The Governor's Mansion will establish a Governor's School. All children aged 6 to 14 on the island must attend. A major point to note: it's mandatory."
Leonardo was taken aback.
Why is the Governor suddenly interested in this commercial venture?
"Governor, pardon me for being honest, but a venture like this won't make much profit. Besides, they don't have much money to begin with."
"School fees will be waived."
"Waived?! As in free of charge?"
"Yes, free of charge. As long as they attend, the school will also provide them with free lunch every day."
"But, Governor, why? This is a loss-making decision." Leonardo couldn't hide his confusion.
"Just do as I say," Charles commanded and looked up at Leonardo with a chilly gaze.
Startled, Leonardo immediately bowed his head and replied, "As you wish, Governor."
Hope Island had the funds, and spending a little on education was a trivial matter. Other island governors squandered much more. Governors like Charles, who didn't indulge in women or drinks and were living almost like monks, were rare.
After Leonardo left, Charles didn't allow himself to rest. Compulsory public education was just the start. The students would need jobs after they graduated, or all that learning would be a waste.
Charles started to jot down various plans, and after placing his pen down, he looked through the list. With every line he read, he realized that he was really treading the old path of the Albion Isles.
Was the bloody history of an industrial revolution truly unavoidable? Charles didn't think so, or at least not on Hope Island, where he could intervene in time.
The moment the decree was issued by the Ministry of Administration, it spurred a sensation on Hope Island. The islanders didn't know much about their Governor, apart from the fact that he was strict with laws and liked exploring islands.
He also rarely participated in social events, which further enhanced his mysterious persona.
The entire island was abuzz with discussions about the new decree.
The majority of them were against it as that would mean one less earning member in the family.
However, once they realized that school attendance was compulsory, they could only suppress the dissatisfaction in their hearts.
After all, everyone was well aware of the consequences of breaking the laws on Hope Island.
Fortunately, the inclusion of a free meal at school did mitigate some of their discontent.
Time ticked by, and Charles had thought that the designers would take a really long time to come up with an alternative solution, but it seemed that their desire to return home was a much more powerful motivator than he had expected.
Merely two days later, the bespectacled old man burst into Charles' office with a stack of hastily drawn blueprints in his arms.
Staring at his haggard appearance and bloodshot eyes, Charles could deduce that the elderly man hadn't slept for the past two days.
"Governor, your ship is an animated vessel with a certain level of intelligence, isn't it?" the old man posed a rather unusual question.
"Huh? What does that have to do with the submarine I requested?"
"Of course, it's related! Take a look at this," the old man said as he spread the papers out. Hastily scribbled text filled up the pages.
Charles could see that it was a hurried sketch of the Narwhale. However, the version on the blueprint had added steel plates and various mechanical gears.
"I went to examine your ship, and its animated force is significant. This inspired a new direction to work on."
Charles was immediately intrigued. He was also eager to know more about the plan.
"The ship itself is perfect, so we do not need to make any changes to the lower half. We only need to fully enclose the upper part, add a sonar system and control ballast tanks for submerging and surfacing. That would convert the ship into the perfect submarine," the designer explained.
Charles silently nodded. He had to admit that it was a brilliant idea, as expected from the top-notched designers from the Albion Isles. Proceeding with this method would spare the need for various complicated materials, and a remodification would take much less time than a new construction from scratch.
"Don't forget the underwater attack system," Charles reminded.
"Understood." The bespectacled designer looked at Charles, and his voice held a hint of agitation as he asked, "You said that you will let us return home once we complete the building of the ship. You will keep your word, won't you?"
Charles looked at him with a calm gaze. Just as fury started to surface on the designer's countenance, Charles nodded and said, "Yes, I will."
"Great! I would need the support of everyone at the docks! One month, at most! We will have your ship modified!"
With that, the designer packed up the blueprints and turned to leave.
"There's no rush on the time as long as you can complete it. I'm not in a hurry."
"I'm sorry, Governor. You might not be in a hurry, but I am. My grandson is waiting for me at home," the old man said and left the room.
Charles drummed his metallic fingers against the table, deep in thought.
He really had no idea how to break the news about the Albion Isles to them. He could only hope that they would be strong enough to handle it when the time came.
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