480 Iron Puppets

"This is…"

It's the first time that Abel has seen an industrial-use puppet. In fact, he never expected them to be this nimble.

Wizard Cyril explained, "These are iron puppets. Only the dwarves can produce them. Even then, we don't make a lot of these because of how complicated they are. The ones you are looking at now are for construction work. If you're talking about the ones we use in wars, they are a lot bigger and stronger."

"Incredible!" Abel called out. He'd always thought that the technology of the Holy Continent was backward, but it did have certain aspects that he was aware of. Unlike planet Earth, these puppets were like robots that could move just as well as any living animals.

Wizard Cyril said as his eyes suddenly spun for a bit, "If you're interested, Grandmaster, I do know people who can sell a few to you. If you do, however, you might have to find their energy sources on your own."

"Sure. What do you power them with?" Abel asked. Just like Wizard Cyril thought, he was very interested in making a purchase.

"For those ones over there," Wizard Cyril said as he pointed at one of the iron puppets, "It takes about ten intermediate gemstones to power them for an hour."

"Sure. That's not a lot," Abel said in a way that fitted the rich man that he was.

Wizard Cyril continued, "If you're talking about the war puppets we have, you'd have to use advanced gemstones to power them. You can be savvy with them, though. If you use one advanced stone and one hundred intermediate gemstones together, and you switch the one hundred intermediate gemstones every hour, you can effectively save enough energy to use the puppet for one hundred hours without switching the advanced gemstone."

"So it really is a dwarf-only thing," Abel commented. It's not just that only the dwarves could produce these things, they were, essentially, the only race that was resourceful enough to be able to afford using them. If he didn't have the Horadric Cube, he would've had no chance to use the iron puppets.

"So," Abel turned to ask, "How much for each one of them? The small ones for industrial work, I mean."

Wizard Cyril said with a smirk on his face, "To be honest with you, these things are off sale to non-dwarves. I can make an exception for you, though, because of your special bond with us."

"Eh, hehe," Wizard Cyril said with a giggle, "How about this? I'll make the deal. If you trade two barrels of the master's wine with me for each one of them."

Abel was speechless for a moment. He'd expected something more expensive, but to these alcoholic dwarves, the only things that were valuable to them were the liquors that he brewed. He supposed that it'd make sense. After all, the dwarves owned their own mines and everything. Since they could almost buy anything that was on the Holy Continent, they would naturally care only for things that they couldn't buy.

"Once I've bought the industrial puppets, can I connect them to my magic tower spirit?" Abel asked the most important question he was wondering.

"Of course!" Wizard Cyril said proudly, "All our puppets can be connected to tower spirits. Come to my tower one day, if you like. I even use the puppets to do my housework for me!"

Abel said with a satisfied smile, "Fine; I'll sign the receipt now. I want one hundred industrial puppets and one hundred giant ballistas. For the exact price, I'll let my butler do the negotiating."

"Oh, oh. You got it, Grandmaster. I'll bring the words to my colleagues shortly," Wizard Cyril replied. He suddenly had a sour look on his face. To be honest, he'd never expected Abel to make such a huge order. If he'd only wanted, say, ten puppets, he could make the deal right now and take the win barrels with him.

There was something that Abel didn't know about. To the Goff Family, master wine was a "military resource" reserved to only its most important figures. They were used to form diplomacies with other important people, and not only as a leisure drink for the family's leaders. If Wizard Cyril could get the wine now, it was most certainly a bargain to him.

Wizard Cyril raised a question to Abel, "Why the huge demand, Grandmaster? And the ballistas? Are you planning to make the puppets maneuver one hundred ballistas?"

Abel smiled and explained, "Yeah, can't you tell? You know how strong the ballistas can be. If I can have one hundred puppets to point them at an entire area, I'd be pretty invincible against other wizards. You know, even if they are in intermediate or advanced ranks. I'm not saying that I'm guaranteed to win every time, but you do need a lot of luck to dodge all the arrows."

"About that, Grandmaster," Wizard Cyril was quick to point out the fallacy in Abel's thinking, "You'd have to excuse me, but I don't think that it works so easily like that. With a normal tower spirit, it wouldn't have enough intelligence to control one hundred puppets simultaneously."

"I know that, of course, but you did mention the word "normal" there, didn't you?"

Abel looked quite confident. Wizard Cyril became even more confused. As a fellow wizard, he knew how expensive tower spirits were. He also knew that there were no other places that sold them except for the Wizard Union. So where could Abel find himself a, hypothetically speaking, tower spirit that could control one hundred industrial puppets simultaneously for him?

While Abel was still doing business negotiation with Wizard Cyril, Isiah was already moving all the soil to the giant platform. As simple as it looked, it was very costly work. The platform was about 1500 acres, and since the soil had to be about one meter thick, if it weren't for the industrial puppets, it might just take a whole year to get all the areas covered.

Right now, a total of eleven industrial puppets were moving the soil. They were quick, strong, and, most importantly, they were smart. Soon, the entire platform was layered with soil that was about one meter thick.

Abel watched the entire time. The whole work took two hours, unthinkable even in the world that he originally came from.

"You dwarves sure are good at building stuff, aren't you?" Abel praised.

Isiah called out from inside his industrial puppet, "Where do you want your tower, Grandmaster? I can build it now!"

"Oh, right," Abel responded, then coughed a bit as he turned to Wizard Cyril, "Apologies. There are some secrets that I'd like to keep regarding this tower, so I'll have to turn on the seclusion effect first."

Wizard Cyril made a gesture to show that he would keep this a secret, "Rest assured, Grandmaster. Your secret will be safe with me."

Abel replied to that statement with a smile. Obviously, he couldn't take his words at face value, but since Wizard Cyril was a prominent figure of the Goff Family, he deduced that there was some credibility to his promise.

Abel placed his hand at his chest. Soon, a giant black hole appeared out of his body. If the whole platform wasn't being secluded, the appearance of this endless pit would've caused a massive panic inside Harry Castle.

Wizard Cyril asked half-jokingly, "Blessing of the Moon Goddess! Which elven prince did you rob?"

Abel turned to ask, "Blessing of the Moon Goddess?" Is that a special phrase or something?"

"No, Grandmaster!" Wizard Cyril shook his head, "It's the name of the equipment you're using! There are four of the "Blessings of the Moon Goddess," though. Do you mind if I check which one of it is for you?"

Abel declined the request, "Uh, sorry, but no thanks. I just need to know its name. As for which one, I'd like to keep it to myself."

Wizard Cyril laughed loudly, "Ha! It's fine, Grandmaster! Your secrets are safe with me, remember? You know, I did have a lot of beef with the elves when I was younger. Now that you've shown me a legendary elven item, I just think that it's, well, it just makes me wholesome to see that they've lost another one of their precious items, you know?"

Abel said with a reminding tone, "I would get in trouble if this leaked. Wizard Cyril. Please make sure you don't spill out my secrets."

"You can count on me, sir!" Wizard Cyril patted himself on his chest, then turned to speak to Isiah, "Hey, you and the rest of you! Remember to sign your contract when you go back! We can't let anyone else know about this; you got that?"

What Wizard Cyril was talking about was about signing a magic contract, a safeguard to make sure nothing confidential was leaked. Still, if Abel didn't take out his "blessing of the Moon Goddess," just then, they would've never thought that the work today was serious enough to be kept as a top-secret.

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