Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 67: Prosperity and Decline
Marlon truly had no idea that in this otherworldly realm, long-term “technical workers” like himself—bound by strict “non-disclosure agreements”—were expected, according to the unspoken rules of the trade, to bring their own specialized tools.
Yet, after listening to Old Abbey, Old Shanter, and the others chattering over one another to explain the situation, Marlon found himself unexpectedly cheerful about the matter. After all, this arrangement meant he could save a tidy sum that would have otherwise gone toward buying specialized tools for the blacksmiths and gem craftsmen. Who wouldn’t be happy about that?
Of course, he would still need to build a few iron-smelting furnaces for the blacksmiths…
He had already planned to construct a film city, so why not situate these furnaces along a quaint, old-fashioned street within the city? During ordinary times, the blacksmiths could swing their hammers and wield pneumatic presses at will. Later, when a film required a blacksmith’s workshop as a backdrop, a few decorative touches would instantly transform it into a “Blacksmith Street” for the movie.
Marlon’s mind lit up at the thought—this idea seemed clever and practical.
But soon, worry crept back in. Where should he temporarily settle these goblin gem crafters and dwarf blacksmiths?
The goblin gem crafters could be accommodated in the Blossoming Courtyard; after all, their work didn’t involve open flames, nor did it produce significant noise.
The dwarf blacksmiths, however, would have to make do near the orphanage for the time being, finding a suitable spot to erect the framework for the “Blacksmith Street.”
It wasn’t an insurmountable problem. All Marlon needed to do was make another trip to the city authorities within the next couple of days and secure a land-purchase permit from Mayor Kachibu.
“Old Kang, I’ll need to trouble you again. Help find a few rooms to temporarily house the gem craftsmen. I’ll take the blacksmiths nearby to scout a suitable location for the workshop sheds,” Marlon instructed the Master Claw Druid, his tone both practical and warm.
Then, shifting his gaze toward the dwarf blacksmiths, he said, “Gentlemen, my apologies. With the ongoing projects at the orphanage and the retirement home, the blacksmith workshop for now will have to be nothing more than wooden shacks…”
Thankfully, the dwarf blacksmiths were understanding and nodded in agreement.
Marlon was just about to lead them to a site when the young minotaur, Ester—who had been confined to his bedroom for two full days—suddenly appeared at the doorway and stepped straight in front of him.
“M-Marlon… can I come with you…?”
The boy’s voice trembled slightly. Compared to the brash confidence he had shown a month ago, Ester now seemed to have thought things through. He hadn’t regained the youthful bravado of before; otherwise, he wouldn’t have spoken in such an uncertain, hesitant question.
“Come with us? Of course, no problem!” Marlon replied cheerfully. Deep inside, he felt a surge of happiness—this meant that his minotaur companion was finally willing to rejoin society.
This was a good sign. In the past few days, Ester had not once stepped outside the confines of the Blossoming Courtyard.
Filled with joy, Marlon called out loudly for Adela.
“What is it, Master Marlon?”
Today, Adela wore a crisp white dress and quickly arrived at his side. Her hands were still damp, clearly freshly washed. After all, she was a young woman, and most young women cherished the care of their hands. Hours of painstaking transcription had inevitably left ink stains on her fingers; now that her work was done, she naturally wanted to clean them immediately.
“Later, go to the orphanage and find Musa… Alisa. Bring these items to him. If Alisa approves them, have him prepare the specifications for the charged magic crystals we need, then ask Sir Carnegie, the venerable paladin, to help acquire the crystals,” Marlon instructed, placing two “steel mini-bosses” and more than twenty “crystal memory modules” firmly in her hands.
There was no doubt that “Alisa” was the alias Musa used. Marlon, of course, would never reveal Musa’s true name in front of outsiders.
“Understood, Master Marlon. I’ll head to the orphanage immediately,” Adela replied without hesitation, fully accepting the extra responsibility.
“Oh, and don’t forget to inform Sir Carnegie. Ask him to form a new engineering team as soon as possible, without affecting the ongoing projects—I’ll need their help,” Marlon added.
Whether it was constructing Musa’s research institute or setting up temporary workshops for the newly recruited blacksmiths, an engineering team was indispensable. Marlon, weak as he was, couldn’t do the labor himself. Directing others was one thing; lifting a hammer himself would have been laughable—though today, the weather was splendid!
“I understand. I won’t forget this,” Adela said, nodding firmly, her resolve unmistakable.
“Very well. Then go ahead, Adela. Thank you for your hard work.”
Marlon had long trusted Adela’s competence, and this instance was no exception. With a final wave, he watched her hurriedly leave the courtyard. Only after she had stepped out of the front garden did Marlon realize that sending her alone might not be ideal, so he quickly asked the Claw Druid to dispatch his companion, a giant spotted wolverine named Lucas, to accompany her.
Once the bear-sized Lucas lumbered along, tail swaying and massive body twisting with every step, catching up to Adela clutching the precious items, Marlon could finally relax completely.
Turning back, Marlon called together the waiting dwarf blacksmiths, the young fox-girl Amy, and Ester—the minotaur youth who had expressed his desire to reintegrate into society—and together they exited the Blossoming Courtyard.
Selecting the site for “Blacksmith Street” did not take long. About two kilometers from the courtyard, behind a small hill, the dwarf blacksmiths quickly identified the optimal location.
According to their leader, Old Abbey, “Nowadays, as long as it’s near a water source suitable for forging and close to a main road, any place is good for smithing. It’s just that there are fewer and fewer of us who know how to forge properly… sigh!”
Marlon reflected on Old Abbey’s words and understood the implication.
Indeed, in this steam-powered otherworld, blacksmithing no longer required the proximity to raw iron and fuel that it had in the dark ages.
With the advancement of industry, steel mills capable of producing dozens or even hundreds of tons of steel per day—and able to standardize production of various iron tools—had emerged. Small family-run workshops like the dwarf blacksmiths’ had gradually lost their market.
It was inevitable—the natural progression of history. The rise and prosperity of new industries inevitably accompanied the decline of the old.