A Hospital in Another World? C.225

The news of increased mithril production spread from the forging area to the Alchemy Guild, then to the upper echelons of the Transmutation School. Through another route, the partially completed research... or at least part of it, had been completed by the polymorphic mages, and the news reached the hands of the legendary masters at Thunder Horn.

Thus, during the weekly review meeting, Garrett’s affairs inevitably came up.

"The magic smelting of mithril... No, has electrolytic smelting been completed?"

"Yes, we can now smoothly produce mithril."

"It’s said that production of semi-finished products is also not a problem now?"

"Yes, the dwarves are working day and night, and it’s said that the output of semi-finished products alone has increased fivefold compared to before."

"So, is Garrett Nordmark’s project finished? Shouldn’t we discuss rewards?"

"Um, well..."

"What’s wrong? You were generous when proposing the project, but now you’re hesitant about rewards? In my opinion, even if we allocate a portion of the increased mithril production to him in proportion, that’s only fair! Hmm, would one percent be enough?"

"...... It’s not that... Mainly, Garrett Nordmark hasn’t submitted the final report yet..."

"Why is he procrastinating? Can’t he write a report? Find someone to help him write it!"

Garrett was almost driven to despair.

Since electrolytic smelting was completed, the workload for the dwarves had suddenly increased, and their working hours had also drastically lengthened. As a result, from working for two hours, taking a break and having a drink, it had become working for four hours, coming out for lunch, taking a break, and then continuing to forge...

"Why is another one fainting! I said this wouldn’t work! —Wait! Don’t give him beer! Stop!"

Another dwarf, red-faced and dizzy, stumbled out, swaying to the bar and grabbing a glass of ice-cold beer, gulp, gulp, gulp...

"Ah! Another one! Bernard! Help me drag him away! Take him to the back and give him sugar water! Aurora, cast a cooling breeze!"

The dwarves were indeed robust, but no matter how strong they were, they couldn’t withstand this. Garrett glanced at his notebook... In three days, the number of people suffering from heatstroke had soared from two cases a day to twenty cases a day!

What about another day? ... And two more days?

As a doctor... even a clinical doctor, not a labor protection officer in an industrial enterprise, Garrett expressed that he could not tolerate such terrible working conditions and the environment where workers were falling down in droves!

More importantly, he had the authority to speak now!

With a serious face, Garrett found Master Talanto. Freed from the grueling work of producing mithril with all his might, Master Talanto’s complexion had improved significantly. Although his hair and beard were still snowy white, there was more color on his face, and the skin on his arms was no longer dry and wrinkled, looking more like tightly wrapped bones.

When Garrett approached, Master Talanto had just finished a healing spell. The dwarf being treated climbed up, dripping wet, poured a bucket of creek water on his head, and then rushed back to the forging area. Master Talanto hesitated to speak, and in the end, he just sighed softly, watching the dwarf walk away.

Garrett sat down beside him. Together, they watched the doors of the forging area until the heat-stricken dwarf disappeared behind them. Then Garrett cleared his throat and spoke softly:

"Master, this can’t go on. —The number of people suffering from heatstroke is increasing. If this continues, everyone will fall ill in droves!"

"Do you think I don’t know? But we’re running out of money!"

"How come?"

The old dwarf sighed. He let go of his hand, and a few broken white whiskers fluttered in the wind. A look of regret flashed across the old man’s face as he looked at his fingertips, his brows furrowed in worry:

"Mithril prices have dropped... The processing fee, from 500 gold coins per pound, has dropped to 200 gold coins... Although semi-finished products can also be sold, they only fetch 20 gold coins per pound — the gap here can only be filled by everyone working harder."

"You know, more than half of the food and ale consumed by our compatriots in the settlement is bought with the money we earn working outside."

The Magic Council held the core technology — high-end industrial product prices plummeted — dwarf income decreased — forced to produce more raw materials and low-end industrial products. Garrett instantly understood the ins and outs of this. He felt as if he had been hit hard, and he felt like two big words were written on his forehead: frёewebnoѵēl.com

Accessory!

It’s the kind that’s red and turns black... Everyone can PK legally, and the drop rate is particularly high...

"But can’t semi-finished products be sold at a higher price? Only dwarves can do the smelting of semi-finished products, right?"

The old dwarf continued to smile bitterly. Using the traditional method of the dwarves, one could produce at most five or six pounds of semi-finished products in a day with one fire pit. Now, they could produce more than fifty pounds in a day, but because they used the gas provided by the Magic Council, the selling price couldn’t go up at all. According to the Council:

"This kind of gas requires three grand mages to work together—"

Garrett fell silent. However, now that the technology of electrolytic smelting had been developed, it was obviously impossible to go back. All he could do was to improve the welfare of the dwarves and strengthen labor protection. For example, he could talk to Mage Denfrees...

"Supply them with ice water?" Mage Denfrees vehemently shook his head when he heard this. "Garrett, I know you care about those dwarves, but... to supply so many dwarves with ice water, a fifth-level mage like me would have to spend all day just casting cryogenic rays!"

"Then... how about supplying them with salt soda water?"

"What’s salt soda water?"

Garrett fell silent. Fortunately, he still remembered the recipe for salt soda water. It was just water, sugar, salt, citric acid, and baking soda. Everything else was easy, but if he couldn’t make citric acid right away, he could just use vinegar instead. After experimenting in his laboratory for half a day, he finally made satisfactory salt soda water and went to find Mage Denfrees again—

"It’s a good idea, but where does the money come from? According to your calculation, if each dwarf drinks four bottles of salt soda water a day, okay, let’s halve it and make it two bottles per person! All the dwarves in the forging area will need four pounds of salt, four pounds of baking soda, and two pounds of sugar every day!

Even if the water is drawn from the stream at the door, and the firewood is chopped directly on the mountain, let’s not count the cost of labor, add it all up, it will cost at least one gold coin per day. The Council doesn’t have this extra budget, will you pay for it, or

will I?"

One gold coin per person per day. Thirty gold coins per month. This money wasn’t a lot, but it definitely wasn’t a small amount either. Garrett was now a second-level mage, a fourth-rank arcanist. His monthly fixed income, which was the allowance given to him by the Magic Council, was less than thirty gold coins...

If there were a fixed budget, it would be fine. Without a fixed budget, pulling money out of personal pockets could only be done occasionally—such as hitching a ride on a research project of the Council and getting a small amount of funding. Spending this way year after year was not a solution.

"Um..."

Garrett was stumped. In the end, it was Master Talanto who solved this problem. With the prestige of a master, he solved it in a straightforward manner:

"Just make them drink less alcohol! Each person, deduct two glasses of ale money from their daily wages, and hand it all over to the tavern owner. Let him be responsible for hiring people—there are women in the forging area too—make salt soda water and deliver it every two hours! It has to be fizzy!"

The forging area couldn’t drink alcohol, but they could drink salt soda water. Guzzle down a big bottle, burp, and release a large amount of gas, feeling refreshed all over. The number of people suffering from heatstroke dropped from twenty cases a day to two cases a day, immediately.

Everyone was happy. The tavern owner solved the jobs of several kitchen maids, the dwarves solved the problem of heatstroke, the production efficiency of the forging area increased, and Mage Denfrees added a shining point to his resume. Only Garrett gained nothing—

The salt soda water business simply didn’t make money. The tavern owner supplied salt soda water at cost, without making any profit...

From beginning to end, Garrett paid for the research and development expenses, not even earning a penny.

Oh, if you could barely say there was a gain, it was the thick golden stroke added to his title as "Friend of the Dwarves." If friendship could be quantified, his reputation had probably jumped from "friendly" to "respectful"...

But Garrett didn’t care about making money. With the heatstroke problem solved, he turned back to his laboratory and resumed his research. The next goal was to produce penicillin—oh, tuberculosis bacteria weren’t particularly sensitive to penicillin, so he might also need to produce streptomycin...

"Ah—why does bacterial culture take so long—"

Garrett stood in the middle of his full laboratory of culture dishes, holding his head and wailing.

At this moment, he missed his teacher immensely: during the epidemic of dysentery back then, Elder Elwin had released divine magic to selectively cultivate various bacteria. If Elder Elwin had been by his side, this divine magic would have been enough to speed up the experimental process by 100 times!

Unfortunately, Garrett couldn’t do it. Not only could he not do it, even Matthew, who had advanced to the fifth level, couldn’t. As for Elder Wood, he was far away in Oak Ridge, dozens of miles away, and Garrett didn’t want to bring him over just for his own experiment...

"Cultivate, cultivate, cultivate..."

Garrett muttered weakly with his oak staff in hand.

Half a year had passed, and the two green leaves on the top of the oak staff had become identical, deep green in color and hard in texture. Judging from the shape of the green leaves alone, Garrett had accumulated to the peak of the second level priest, and he could think of ways to upgrade.

But upgrading might not necessarily be useful. Garrett pointed his finger, and a faint green light fell, and several small mushrooms grew in the culture dish. Seven or eight pale yellow clean little umbrellas covered the entire culture dish, looking particularly pleasing.

However, Garrett’s face darkened. It was like this again, just like this!

Ever since he learned to use vine to cultivate a straw, there was no threshold for him to cultivate plants. As long as he held the seeds in his hand, he could always produce a piece of straw or a piece of wood. As for plants that didn’t grow into complete plants, Garrett said it was not a problem, anyway, he didn’t care.

But it didn’t work for cultivating bacteria. With a divine spell, the entire culture dish could be filled to the brim, and if luck wasn’t good, it might even affect the neighboring dish. How could he separate and purify them?

They were all squeezed together!

With such a rapid growth rate, if there was penicillin... Wouldn’t they be squeezed to death too...

Garrett began to tug at his hair in frustration. He hadn’t cut his hair for half a year, and his originally close-cropped hair had grown past his ears, feeling quite different when pulled. Garrett pulled out a strand and twirled it around his fingertip, his gaze unfocused, passing through the gaps between his fingers.

This caliber of shooting is a bit too big... If only it could be smaller... If only the impact point could be controlled to the size of a needle, the size of a hair...

"Hey!"

Garrett suddenly jumped up. He rummaged through his spatial bag in a panic, found the silver bell given to him by the polymorph master, shook it twice, and uttered an incantation:

"Time is money, my friend!"

"Wow, it’s not easy, you finally remembered me?"

The quirky voice of inquiry, along with blue smoke, emerged from the bell.