Chapter 504: And the short-sighted citizens of Lei Ming City were finally [dealt with] by the devil

The first fire company on the Aus Continent was born in the most feudal place on the Aus Continent; this time, the Ryan Kingdom completely walked ahead of the Campbell Duchy.

By comparison, the fire department in Lei Ming City that belonged to the City Hall was really not that efficient; after all, the City Hall of Lei Ming City itself was born from guilds, and the once-advanced guilds had long since failed to keep up with the ever-changing era.

Until the spring of 1054 Aus Era, extinguishing fires in Lei Ming City still required the help of civilian power.

The value of a small fire pump could be worth three years of blood and sweat of a stonemason or a knight's carriage, and a "large fire pump" could even rival the annual land rent income of a down-and-out noble.

Many remote parishes often went into debt for this to raise funds to purchase firefighting equipment, and the royal family also bore part of the obligations in it, but not many.

And if a merchant could prepare a fire pump to place in his own backyard or next to his factory, he would not only be seen as generous, but would even be called a "guardian of the citizens," even if his original intention was not to protect the citizens, but just to protect his own property.

However, His Majesty Theoden's generosity exceeded Niukasi's expectations. This benevolent feudal monarch actually surpassed Grand Duke Edward, who "made a fortune" in the civil war, in morality!

When the Royal Guard cleared all obstacles for his Roland City Fire Company, the royal family immediately ordered 800 medium-sized fire pumps and 100 large fire pumps!

And this was just the first batch of the procurement plan.

If they were easy to use, they would buy another batch until Roland City was forever free of fire hazards!

In Lei Ming City, the selling price of a medium-sized fire pump was 2100 silver pounds, equivalent to nearly eight years of annual salary for an ordinary worker.

And a large fire pump, the kind that needs a carriage to pull, sold for as high as 4500 silver pounds!

Niukasi just moved these pieces of equipment from his left pocket to his right pocket, and they turned into 40 gold coins and 200 gold coins respectively!

This wasn't just doubling...

It was simply doubling several times over!

Niukasi had his eyes completely opened; he had never thought that getting rich could be so simple. Between clinking glasses, half of the ten thousand gold coin huge investment from the early stage had already been recovered.

If it weren't for the fact that Sir Skedjin's side needed dividends and greasing palms, his early investment would probably have been fully recovered.

There was just one thing he didn't figure out until the end.

Where exactly did the money in his pocket come from?

In the spring of 1054 Aus Era, even though the sudden fire cleared away some useless poor people for Theoden, the per capita income of Roland City's citizens didn't increase much because of this.

In the same flowing river water, with the same cargo boxes falling on shoulders of the same skin color, the blood and sweat that flowed into their wallets was not even half that of the porters downstream.

They were also very puzzled about where their money had gone.

"Saint Xisi above, these Ryan people are simply too capable!"

In the new industrial zone downstream of the Running River, the Horace Textile Factory was as busy as ever, and the roar of textile machines echoed in the workshop.

Listening to that beautiful melody, Horace only felt that the smell of cotton yarn and machine oil permeating the air was so refreshing.

Until he coughed violently because he inhaled too hard, and only then did he fan the dust in front of his nose and leave the workshop in a sorry state.

However, he didn't leave too far, and soon turned to the stairs on the second floor, which connected to his new office.

If the entire factory were compared to a castle, that place was his audience hall, and he was the monarch ruling this castle!

And at this moment, as a "determined and enterprising" lord, Horace was admiring the territory he had just opened up.

As suggested by his accountant who held multiple positions, he acquired the warehouse next to the factory and transformed it into the No. 2 workshop of the Horace Textile Factory.

With the newly purchased equipment in place, this workshop soon began production, competing for orders from the Gana Continent for him.

And in order to meet the new workshop's demand for manpower, he also "generously" adopted Aierxi's suggestion and recruited a new batch of employees.

And not just fifty, but a full one hundred!

Half of them were Campbellians, while the other half were Ryan people from outside the Torrent Pass.

These Ryan people included those who had fled from Roland City to here, as well as those from the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng, or from other count territories that were messing around or about to mess around.

Honestly, the lords over there were really not good at managing their own territories.

Horace felt that if they could move half of their passion for horses to their own territories, they wouldn't need Grand Duke His Majesty to wipe their butts.

At least in Horace's eyes, these Ryan people abandoned by the King were not losers at all; they were simply gifts bestowed by Saint Xisi!

They were hardworking and surprisingly nimble, as if they wanted to pour their lifelong strength into the machines.

And what was even more commendable was that each of them was as polite as a gentleman, keeping the foreman's scolding in mind, bowing their heads without a word of complaint.

Just like now.

Horace looked smilingly at the corner of the workshop, where a foreman was standing there, holding an employment contract and explaining something to a new Ryan person who had just entered the factory.

That person looked to be in his thirties, the wrinkles on his face like the abandoned farmland of the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng, but his physique was still sturdy, which was why he could get in here.

Because he was illiterate, he couldn't understand what was written on the contract at all and could only let the foreman read it to him.

"... Do you understand?"

The foreman roared at the top of his lungs, trying to drown out the roar of the steam engine, so that this fellow who had entered the factory for the first time could hear what he said.

"The first month is a trial period, you only have fifteen silver pounds! If you learn fast enough, you can get the full salary in the second month, a total of thirty silver pounds! We provide housing here, but don't count too much on the accommodation conditions; breakfast and lunch are provided, and at night you figure it out yourself or go hungry."

The Ryan person nodded like a garlic clove, but when he heard the wages, he was still stunned, unable to believe his ears.

"Thirty... silver pounds?"

"What, you think it's too little?"

Before the foreman's voice fell, he heard a thud, and the Ryan person actually knelt directly in front of him, grabbing his arm, excited and incoherent.

"No, not little! Saint Xisi above! You are simply saints! May the Holy Light always protect you, and the generous Mr. Horace!"

In Roland City, the copper coins he earned from a month of hard work were only enough for his family's food and clothing, and his wife had to work part-time as a washerwoman to barely manage to raise the three children at home.

And here, even if the first month's salary was only half, it was enough for him and his family to live like human beings!

That snot-and-tears look actually caught the foreman off guard. The wages in their factory were indeed a bit higher than other factories, but not enough to make people this excited, right?

Here, one had to work a twelve-hour shift, just like moving boxes at the dock, basically trading health for wages.

"... Alright, alright, what are you crying for! Go to work! Don't wipe your snot on me."

"Yes! Yes!"

Hearing the foreman's disgusted voice, the man scrambled to stand up, wiped away his tears with his sleeve, and rushed to the workstation assigned to him with great motivation.

According to the production regulations of the Horace Textile Factory, he couldn't operate the machine alone during the trial period and had to follow a skilled worker to familiarize himself with the operation process and do some odd jobs.

After all, this expensive machine was worth more than his life, and even if he didn't care about his own arm, Mr. Horace, who had suffered a big loss once, didn't dare let him take risks casually.

Horace, standing on the stairs, took in this harmonious scene, a smile of extreme comfort hooking at the corner of his mouth.

Thanks to these Ryan people, his factory was thriving, just like the thriving Lei Ming City and Campbell Duchy.

It was worth him throwing all the money he earned into it, and even borrowing a large loan from the bank in the industrial zone.

Seeing that these young fellows were so capable, this investment wouldn't go down the drain.

He turned around, patted the accountant beside him heavily on the shoulder, his smile carrying undisguised approval.

"Aierxi, it's really thanks to you being able to pick out these good people from the crowd; you are truly my lucky star!"

Aierxi, who received the commendation, immediately had a face full of fawning smiles, bowing humbly.

"This is all thanks to your wisdom and trust; I just did my duty!"

"Haha, you are too modest!" Horace laughed and patted his shoulder hard, the more he looked at this clever young man, the more he liked him.

"Hehe, it is my honor to share your worries."

Looking at his boss in a great mood, Aierxi took out a roster from his bosom and turned the topic to the real business.

"Also, boss... the parliamentary election has officially started. As you can see, our factory already has over three hundred workers, and they are all your staunch supporters... we have quite a few 'chips' in our hands."

Saying this, he paused for a moment, winked at his boss, handed over the roster in his hand, and said in a pleasant tone.

"Please give some guidance for the future of Lei Ming City!"

"Then let the future Sir Horace take a look, let me see what we are still missing for Grand Duke His Majesty."

Horace nodded with satisfaction and took the candidate roster.

However, the moment he saw the names on the roster, the smile on his face instantly vanished.

"What kind of messy stuff is this?"

Before Aierxi could explain, he frowned, pointed at a name, and cursed loudly.

"Pikexi who runs the biscuit factory? Does he think managing a city is adding flour when there's too much water, and adding water when there's too much flour? Besides sugar and butter, what else can fit into that flour-covered brain of his? Is he even worthy of talking about the future of Lei Ming City?"

Continuing to look down, his face became even uglier.

"And this one... that bastard from the Yokawen Textile Factory! I recognize this face, my competitor! Damn it, how are these bugs worthy of attending the Grand Duke's meeting?"

Advocating for a tax on towels?

This is simply a precise strike at his No. 2 workshop, preventing the benevolent Mr. Sak Jifeng from letting the lizardmen in the southwest swamp wipe their faces clean!

To put it nicely, this is preventing lizardmen from heading toward civilization; to put it harshly, this is hindering the relationship between the Campbell Duchy and the Gutav United Kingdom!

Clearly, he committed treason!

He should be arrested immediately!

Looking at his indignant boss, Aierxi shrugged helplessly.

"Boss, we are in the new industrial zone here, so most of the candidates are naturally factory directors; you can't let those poor people who just learned to write their own names be councilors, right? Not to mention what proposals they can come up with, they still have to work... Of course, there is one joining in the fun in the neighboring block, he is not your peer."

"Who?"

"A bumpkin who runs a tavern. I heard his proposal is to exempt all beer from taxes, and quite a few drunks support him."

Horace laughed like a pig upon hearing this, as if he had heard the funniest joke of the epoch.

"Absurd to the extreme! He might as well ask the Grand Duke to subsidize his beer barrels! If this kind of proposal could pass, wouldn't my textile workers get dead drunk in broad daylight? Who would work for me then?"

Aierxi gave two dry laughs.

"Haha... I think so too, no devout believer would vote for him."

In principle, the church does not encourage drinking, at least not drinking anything other than wine.

Although the Campbell Duchy today no longer has priests who can strictly enforce the oldest religious laws, no devout believer would support such a blasphemous proposal.

This has nothing to do with politics, but faith.

Even Mr. Horace is a factory director with faith, at least he thinks he is.

"Vote for him? If I were sitting across from him, I would definitely throw my shoe at that stupid face of his!"

He threw the roster back into Aierxi's arms, not hiding the disdain on his face.

This candidate list really made him more displeased the more he looked at it, and looking at it too much just made him angry.

"... Baking biscuits, running a tavern, and my competitor! How can these bugs represent the interests of the Horace Textile Factory, how could the hundreds of workers under my command vote for them?"

Can't sit still and wait for death anymore.

Horace paced back and forth in front of the office door, suddenly gritted his teeth, stopped, and looked at his accountant.

"Aierxi."

"Present, boss." Aierxi immediately stood at attention, gripping the small booklet in his hand tightly.

"My factory, I'm afraid I have to trouble you to watch it for me." Horace's voice carried a trace of reluctance, but he finally made up his mind. "For the sake of our Duchy, I have more important things to do next, and I might not be able to attend to this side for the time being."

He has to find a way to lobby Grand Duke His Majesty to raise the threshold for the parliament a bit higher.

1 silver pound tax...

No matter how you look at it, it's too little.

Aierxi was dumbfounded, the pen in his hand dropped to the ground with a clatter.

Coming back to his senses, he hurriedly picked up the pen and said in a hurried tone.

"Boss? You, have you decided where to open a new business?"

Aierxi's heart skipped a beat; he sincerely hoped the boss was just joking.

On the entire northeast coast of the Whirlpool Sea, where else is there a better investment opportunity than Lei Ming City?

Throwing money into the Ryan Kingdom is like beating a dog with a sausage. Throwing it into the Aus Empire, you won't even hear a sound!

Only here, their respected Grand Duke Edward, although greedy for money, is at least not so obvious.

He is even willing to let them, these factory owners, sit at the same table with him and discuss the future of the Duchy together.

Of course—

After saying so many high-sounding words, what he was most worried about deep in his heart was still his own future.

Horace's career had just started, and his career was the same, and he had long been tied to the same boat as this gentleman.

He had just gotten two followers and an office of his own; high-spirited, he promised his partner that in three years at the latest, they would be able to move into a house that didn't need to pay rent, and it would even have a front yard.

If he changed to another factory, he would have to start from a small role and climb up step by step again.

After all, Mr. Horace has him, and Mr. Yokawen also has his own "staff," including the biscuit baker and the beer seller; the sloppy ones before are not sloppy now.

There will be a group of people surrounding them to give bad ideas.

"What nonsense are you talking about!"

Horace righteously interrupted Aierxi's speculation, that serious face forgetting who was shouting about closing the factory and going somewhere else before.

"This is my hometown! I grew up here from childhood to adulthood! Here I have my favorite pumpkin soup, and roasted... beef intestine!"

He thought for a while before remembering what he ate yesterday, couldn't help but bite his lip, shivering and sucking in a cold breath, and continued.

"Listen, Aierxi, only losers leave their hometowns; are we losers? We are Campbellians, we just ended the ambition of the rebellious ministers! Horace is here, he stands with Grand Duke His Majesty, he is going nowhere!"

Aierxi's pen, just picked up, stopped in mid-air; he looked blankly at his boss's impassioned nonsense, not knowing how the boss got excited.

A few seconds later, his brain finally turned the corner—

His boss wasn't leaving.

This is... running for office himself!?

Aierxi, who realized this, had his eyes light up like magic crystal lamps.

He hurriedly opened the last page of the small booklet and wrote furiously on the blank space, copying down that blood-boiling campaign speech.

But having this wasn't enough.

They still had to bring out something more practical to make the citizens of Lei Ming City believe they were people who got things done, not just waiting to share the cake.

Aierxi, who had been recording for a long time, suddenly raised his head and asked excitedly.

"Boss, what you said is simply too good! I will definitely vote for you! So, what is your campaign platform?"

Campaign platform?

What kind of thing is that?

Horace was confused by Aierxi's question; what did he need that thing for?

The parliament doesn't pay him a salary, he is too lazy to offer advice for the parliament, as long as it doesn't hinder him from making money.

However, just as he was about to say so, he suddenly realized Aierxi's meaning from that hopeful gaze.

Wait, does this little clever guy want to incite himself to be this councilor?!

This sounds too damn... reasonable!

Horace's eyes suddenly lit up, and his train of thought opened up.

Instead of letting that group of idiots go up and give blind commands, why not let the future Sir Horace command that group of idiots himself?

He has managed hundreds of people, does that biscuit factory owner have half as many people as him?

And that beer seller, he knows shit about urban construction!

Yokawen, that old guy, might manage about the same number of people as him, but he is a traitor who attempted to tax towels!

The future of Lei Ming City must not be handed over to this group of bugs!

"Campaign platform... let me think."

Horace walked to the railing of the stairs, touched his greasy nose, and looked at the Ryan refugees who were working hard in the workshop downstairs... those gifts Saint Xisi sent him.

And at this very moment, those greedy little eyes lit up again, and he blurted out.

"... Got it! We need more Ryan people, we have to find a way to import a few more."

Aierxi, hearing this, almost choked on his own saliva, and the pen in his hand almost dropped to the ground again.

"Cough, boss, I must say your idea is very constructive, but it sounds too harsh!"

This sounds like talking about goods.

They can indeed treat them as tools, but they can't shout like this during the election.

Otherwise, whether his boss has a chance to throw his leather shoes at someone else's face is hard to say, they might be drowned by beer bottles first.

Horace also realized that his impromptu performance wasn't very good, and coughed dryly.

"Nonsense! Can I not know? Aren't I letting you help me perfect it? What am I hiring you for?"

I'm a damn accountant.

Who could have thought that besides calculating accounts and recruiting people after entering the factory, one also has to do this work?

Aierxi was clearly choked, but he was a clever young man after all, having experienced many difficulties, so he wouldn't be knocked down by one sentence.

He first lowered his head to admit his mistake, then a flash of inspiration appeared in his brain, and he raised his head excitedly.

"The future Sir Horace can say it like this! Your platform is... using municipal funds to expand the area of the refugee camp!"

"Refugee camp? What do I care about that?"

Seeing Horace raise his eyebrows, Aierxi hurriedly added the most critical second half.

"Don't rush, I haven't finished yet... this is to 'continue the benevolent will of Princess Ailin, to accommodate and save more poor Ryan refugees'!"

Aierxi's train of thought was crystal clear.

Princess Ailin's prestige among the lower-class residents of Lei Ming City, especially the workers in the new industrial zone, was so high that even His Majesty couldn't help but look sideways.

Nowadays, many councilors put re-discussing the No. 6 Act in their windows when running for office, as a cherry on top of the cake.

Now, tying the boss's platform to Princess Ailin's "benevolence" undoubtedly equals giving wings to the boss's dream.

As for what the benefits of expanding the refugee camp are?

Isn't this sentence just a more euphemistic way of saying "import more Ryan people"?

Moreover, saying it this way makes it easier to gain empathy from the bottom-level masses; after all, they really might move into the slums.

To this day, the refugee camp outside Lei Ming City still has serfs who have lost their lords moving in one after another, but the population that has moved in over the past few months is mostly Ryan people.

Especially in the past month, due to the fire in Roland City during the Winter Moon, that camp is becoming increasingly dirty, messy, and crowded.

Although expanding the scale of the refugee camp won't immediately make Ryan people grow out of the ground, the goodwill they release will always spread along the trade route to the upper reaches of the Running River, bringing a steady stream of labor to Lei Ming City's factories.

Horace was clearly also a man who understood, and after a little thought, he understood the deep meaning behind this sentence.

"Makes sense!"

His eyes shone with bright light, and he clenched his fists excitedly. "Aierxi, you make a note! When the time comes, we'll say it like that!"

"Rest assured, boss, I've already noted it." Aierxi breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the boss was a man who listened to advice; this time he shouldn't be blocked in the office and unable to get out.

Having solved his political future problem, Horace only felt refreshed and in a great mood.

And it was at this moment that he suddenly remembered a matter that hadn't been settled before.

Since he decided to start the second spring of his career, he might as well take this opportunity to finalize this matter too.

"Aierxi, I told you before that I wanted to expand the factory's management layer. Now that the No. 2 workshop has started production, it's time to put this matter on the agenda... our factory is no longer a small workshop and must be managed by a more professional management team."

Horace cleared his throat, making his voice sound solemn, and announced his appointment in Aierxi's unexpected and expectant gaze.

"I have decided to recruit a real accountant and a manager in charge of personnel for the Horace Textile Factory."

"As for you, I think the position of factory director is more suitable for you... letting you be an accountant is truly a damn waste of talent."

Aierxi held his breath, unable to speak for a moment, almost stunned by this sudden good news.

Factory director...

Saint Xisi above, he is only in his early twenties, and he actually made it to the position of factory director!

Coming back to his senses, he cried with joy, his voice even choking up. "Boss! I will definitely not live up to your expectations!"

This mushy voice made Horace feel uncomfortable; he raised his hand to scratch the back of his head and waved it casually.

"Work hard, I think highly of you... just like you think highly of me becoming a future knight. Of course, if I don't get elected, you can be the manager... the factory still has to be managed by me."

"Boss! Rest assured!" Aierxi's eyes were bright, he clenched his fists, and showed unprecedented motivation. "Even if I have to risk this life, I will definitely help you sit in the position of councilor!"

"Cough... that's not necessary, the future Sir Horace hopes you use your life in more meaningful places, like his factory."

Horace laughed, finding that he unexpectedly enjoyed this feeling of being flattered, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curling upward.

Perhaps this is the fourth revelation Saint Xisi gave him; praise that omnipresent Holy Light, perhaps compared to a textile factory director, the position of councilor is more suitable for exerting his shameless face.

And at the same time, looking at the young man grateful to tears in front of him, a different kind of emotion rose in his heart.

He always felt that Campbellians were ungrateful white-eyed wolves who would slack off if he pressed their wages for two days.

But now he suddenly discovered that there were good young men like Aierxi among them.

Or to be more precise, they were actually all great young men.

As long as he responded positively to their positivity, they would use their cleverness to respond positively to him, instead of the other way around, throwing their belly full of resentment at him...

In early February of 1054 Aus Era, Councilor Luo Yan was completely speechless about why the winter vacation in hell was so long.

And Factory Director Horace and Factory Director Yokawen of Lei Ming City broke their heads over a small city councilor position.

That wasn't really breaking their heads.

It was Yokawen's manager who had a flash of inspiration and dug up the old account of the Horace Textile Factory causing a young man to break his arm, making a big fuss about it, taking the opportunity to expose Horace's hypocritical "benevolent" mask.

The crowd was in an uproar.

They also remembered that it seemed to have happened, it was before Princess Ailin went on an expedition.

Unfortunately, Aierxi was one step ahead, having long expected that the insidious and cunning Factory Director Yokawen would dig up old accounts, hyping up that arm that was rolled into the textile machine, letting that arm be rolled again.

He had been waiting for him to bring this up!

Just when public opinion was rampant, he invited that young man out again, let him stand in front of everyone, showed the new arm he had grown, and personally said what happened after that day.

"My name is Braken, I heard that you have started discussing me again recently, digging at me, feeling sorry for that arm of mine... I think as the person involved, I should say something."

At the street corner of Road 4 in the factory street of the new industrial zone, a slightly uneasy young man stood in front of the crowd.

Under the instigation of Aierxi's eyes, he thought of the banknotes in his pocket and finally summoned the courage.

"Mr. Horace sent me to the church, instructing the priest to be sure to cure my injury, saying not to worry about the money, he would pay it, even if he had to mortgage his factory... I can testify for him, he is a truly good person, although sometimes he doesn't speak very nicely."

Sending him to the church was the truth, and the arm being cured was also the truth; after all, Horace didn't dare disobey Princess Ailin.

On the Aus Continent, besides congenital disabilities, I'm afraid only poverty can make people disabled.

The arm grown from the Holy Light, although not as good as the one born from parents, didn't affect daily life.

He doesn't go on adventures in the labyrinth anyway.

As for the rest... I believe Saint Xisi won't blame him; anyway, he didn't say which priest heard these words.

Looking at that young man who was lying through his teeth, Yokawen was so angry he almost vomited blood.

He wasn't the person involved, but he knew Horace too well; would that miser who wouldn't even change his clothes when they were torn say such things?

If this greedy undead had said it, he would eat the church in Lei Ming City!

Eat as much as there is!

Looking at the people who were starting to waver, Yokawen finally couldn't hold back. This decent gentleman pushed through the crowd, came to the front of everyone, stared at the young man, and asked.

"Saint Xisi above, how much money did he spend to buy your soul!? Have you thought about what kind of disaster your lies might bring us? You sent a real devil into our parliament!"

"2000 silver pounds, sir."

The young man didn't hide it either, telling this decent gentleman straight, which actually choked Yokawen, who was staring with wide eyes, speechless.

"To tell you the truth, this is the compensation Mr. Horace gave me, because... he felt that I had lost something after all. Money cannot replace the flesh and blood my parents gave me, but money is the only price he can pay. He begged me to accept this money, saying it would make him feel better."

Yokawen had never heard such a shameless statement; he could even feel that miser squeezing out a victorious grin at him while clutching his chest and dripping blood.

'Didn't expect it, right? I calculated long ago that you, this insidious villain, would play this hand!'

The crowd was indeed boiling.

Especially those workers who had joined in the fun and besieged the textile factory with Horace's workers before.

That simple and pure resonance was more useful than how many newspapers, because the person involved was right here!

"Saint Xisi above..."

"We... actually misunderstood Mr. Horace again."

"I knew he was a generous person! Don't forget he was the first to build a big dormitory for us, and the first good person to pay us wages in silver pounds!"

Looking at that group of stupid guys, Yokawen let out a desperate cry.

"Wake up! Where did silver pounds come from a year ago!"

"Don't you all see it? This guy's compensation was just given, damn it!!"

However, that righteous cry was ultimately too small.

Just like Horace, who was shouting to close the factory in the square that day, his cry was also drowned out by the heartfelt feelings of the crowd.

It wasn't that Yokawen's voice was too small.

After all, delaying compensation isn't a big deal; who among the fellows working here hasn't had their wages owed?

At least he gave it.

And that was indeed a very large sum!

Just like this, relying on Aierxi's "clever plan," Horace easily defeated his most powerful competitor.

As for the biscuit factory owner, that wasn't on the stage at all.

It was indeed as he mocked, that little sparrow was too small, didn't even understand business, how was it worthy of being his opponent?

Amidst Yokawen's curses, the stingy devil sat into the Lei Ming City City Council Hall as he wished.

He wore a formal suit and tie, drank free black tea, participated in the discussion and voting on the No. 6 Act, and decided the fate of the sheep.

Horace thought for a long time, and finally didn't vote against it mindlessly; after all, this was a recorded vote.

Considering that this reputation was bought with 2000 silver pounds, he still had to cherish that expensive feather.

At least don't let it get dirty too early.

Another thing, ignoring people's calls requires paying a price; the tightened string will break one day.

Still harboring a trace of faith in his heart, he always believed that Saint Xisi should have given him some kind of revelation.

Otherwise, why was it a God-Chosen who came to save him?

As Aierxi said, this act had little impact on the Horace Textile Factory, which had already formed a scale. The only ones who would actually feel the pain were those "old craftsmen" who exploited apprentices in the name of tradition.

This group of guys was best at pretending to be sanctimonious, as if they wouldn't even bear to hurt a fly, when in fact they had even swallowed flies into their stomachs.

Horace considered it again and again, and finally participated in the revision of the specific content of the proposal as an industry insider.

Three decrees were adjusted after multi-party consultation, finally forming a version that met the interests of most people, and passed the final vote by a narrow margin.

The first article was the minimum wage standard for Lei Ming City, adjusted from a monthly salary of 2000 copper coins to 12 silver pounds, and it must be paid in silver pounds.

Factories in Lei Ming City could no longer use increasingly worthless copper coins to whiten the blood and sweat of Campbellians, which was indeed a pity.

However, compared to the average wage of 20 silver pounds, the minimum standard of 12 silver pounds didn't seem so hard to accept; after all, many people were already paying higher wages than this...

Except for those guild craftsmen who didn't pay any wages to apprentices at all.

Shamefully, even in Lei Ming City, which had begun industrialization, such employers who still remained in the feudal era were not few, and perhaps it would still take time to completely eliminate them.

If serfs were slaves of lords, serving the castle system, then apprentices were slaves of craftsmen, serving the huge guild system, rooted in the blood of every city on the Old Continent.

The second article was about compensation for dismissing employees, which also had specific compensation standards.

If an employer dismisses an employee without cause, they must pay three months' wages as compensation for employees who have worked for three months, and an additional one month's wages as compensation for employees who have worked for less than three months.

As for the third article, it was the "guarantee fund" in Ailin's mouth, which was the "extra tax type" that everyone cared about.

Ailin hoped that employers in the new industrial zone would take 10% from their income as a guarantee for workers, paying them compensation when they were injured.

However, in fact, not all industries had such high profit margins, and not all industries bore such high risks.

For example, workers in steel mills and pastry chefs clearly bore different risks, and the value they produced was also different.

Employers would eventually pass on part of the costs to employees, and whether it was fair or not for pastry chefs to share half of the risk costs of steel mill workers was open to question.

The City Hall's solution was to establish an additional "Work Injury Insurance Act."

The law stipulates that manual laborers in high-risk industries such as factories, mines, railways, and shipyards are subject to this act, and clarifies the basic principle of "no fault of the laborer."

Simply put, Campbell workers a hundred years ago needed to provide evidence themselves to prove the "employer's fault" and defeat the almost unbeatable employer in court.

And now, they don't need to prove it, and they don't need to go to court, because employers must purchase insurance for employees, and ensuring that employees receive insurance compensation will be the duty of the regulatory department under the City Hall.

This act is still unpopular.

But it is better than everyone paying a 10% "special tax" together to establish that fund that I'm afraid even Ailin herself hadn't thought about how to execute.

Just like this, the sloppy "No. 6 Act" became thicker and thicker, turning into two acts: the "Factory Act" and the "Work Injury Insurance Act."

The former clarified the working hours of child laborers and female laborers, and made clear provisions for supervisors of production safety and the installation of protective facilities in production workshops.

As for the latter, it is actually the prototype of the "national social security system," but the people present didn't realize it for the time being.

After all, in their minds, the "nation" was still just a vague prototype, just born in the curses of textile workers against the King and the red-faced arguments of councilors.

Summarizing the past is the work of historians, and anyone at the conference table is just a passenger on that ship, and no one knows where they will eventually go.

Including Horace.

As a slightly larger gear on this machine of the Campbell Duchy, all he could do was run with the ball bearings.

In order to run faster, or rather to become "respected Sir Horace" sooner, he finally put forward his long-brewing platform before the meeting ended—

Lei Ming City needs to expand the refugee camp, and the City Hall should establish a "technical school" for the expanded refugee camp to ensure they can learn a skill faster and enter the factory to support themselves sooner.

"... This city doesn't just belong to decent people, but also to those who are not decent enough."

"They are our past, they are us in the future, and they are even more our future. Besides letting them wait for relief, we should let them learn something, like literacy, so they can find jobs themselves. Or learn to use a loom..."

This guy, who frequently made outrageous remarks, could occasionally burst out one or two golden sentences.

If Ailin were here, she would definitely look at this miser's change with new eyes.

At least the tavern owner sitting next to him was indeed surprised and widened his eyes, and reluctantly gave him applause.

This proposal started a head for the new act.

Although whether it could pass was still unknown, its appearance indeed earned Horace enough applause.

In February of 1054 Aus Era, a famous miser sat in the expanded conference hall and made a generous sound that made people drop their jaws for expanding "the welfare of the poor."

However, Mr. Horace ultimately failed to make the headlines of the Lei Ming City Daily.

After all, compared to the two acts passed on the same day and another major event concerning the fate of the Duchy that happened at the same time, this little thing indeed seemed not worth mentioning... ===== CHAPTER 505 =====