Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 334 Russell at Dawn Harbor

The outline of the breakwater is already visible.

The guiding stone piers are lined up in a row, like a line nailing the waterway at the entrance of the harbor basin.

The gear-driven transporter glides along the shore, steadily pushing the heavy wooden beams to their respective bases.

The sliding rail crane swings back and forth on the elevated platform, with thick ropes hanging down to lift and place the granite blocks one by one.

The foreman was directing the queue at one end, while someone in the middle was testing the locking device of the crane boom.

Russell, as the chief technology officer of Dawn Harbor, stood on the high point of the slope, arms crossed, staring at the row of newly driven piles.

He remained motionless until the pile came to a complete stop, then nodded slightly.

The workers on the shore saw him and greeted him, "Lord Russell!"

No one thought there was anything wrong with the name.

Russell did not respond, but simply nodded.

But a subtle feeling arose in his heart; this port and this dike actually gave him a sense of participation... even pride.

Russell was originally a port craftsman under the Calvin family. Although he could be considered a foreman of craftsmen, in the family system, a craftsman is ultimately just a craftsman.

But Russell was quite content as an ordinary citizen, getting married, having children, and gradually building up his seniority.

He had planned to spend his life guarding the dikes in the southeast, and when he got older, he would send his son to Tide City to become a craftsman leader. Such a life, though not glorious, would still be successful.

Until one day, a transfer order disrupted his plans.

The Calvin family wanted to send someone to help the "Eighth Prince" build a port in the North, and he was unfortunately chosen.

On the surface, it was said to be an appreciation, but in reality, he knew that in the eyes of the family, such a task was almost equivalent to exile.

Russell didn't sleep that night, saying goodbye to his wife and children one by one, and even making arrangements for his funeral.

He thought he was going there to his death.

Not to mention what I saw along the way north: frozen soil, ruins, starving people, and endless snowstorms.

It wasn't until he arrived in Red Tide City that he discovered the North was not the barbaric land he had imagined.

That city... was even more orderly and prosperous than many large cities in the southeast.

For the first time, he began to think that things might not necessarily turn out badly.

But when he arrived at the site of the proposed Dawn Harbor, his heart sank as soon as he stepped into the mud.

He had worked on seven port projects in the south, and he could tell how much stone would be needed to pave a piece of land just by stepping on it.

He knows which land can be used to build dikes and which land will collapse.

This area is not land at all; it's a swamp that swallows people.

"This mudflat could probably swallow a whole port." That was Russell's first impression of Dawn Harbor.

What worried him even more was the incredibly young lord, Louis.

Russell was no stranger to the consequences of nobles interfering in construction projects.

Sometimes, a simple statement like "I think the breakwater can be moved over there" can cause a port to take an extra six months to build.

Judging from this location choice, it's clear that Louis knew absolutely nothing about port construction.

Back then, Russell would stand by the muddy water every day, outwardly silent but inwardly already planning his retreat if he failed.

After all, he didn't want to ruin a project based on the assumptions of an aristocrat.

Just when Russell was determined to take things one step at a time, Louis surprised him.

The young lord convened a small meeting with the management team, cutting straight to the heart of the matter without any unnecessary pleasantries, refusing to engage in empty talk.

He broke down the ambitious port construction goal into phased tasks, marking each step with a timeline and responsible person, and even listing contingency plans for each emergency.

The negative atmosphere that was originally caused by mudflats, fish infestations, and social unrest quickly dissipated under that clear plan, and was replaced by a collaborative force that was drawn together.

In the following days, Lord Louis did not overstep his authority or interfere.

Louis still visits the site every day, but never interferes with the details of the construction.

Whenever he had a new suggestion, he would simply write it down in his notebook and let Mike and Russell decide whether it was feasible.

“You guys are the experts at this.”

"If you say you can do it, then we'll do it your way."

Louis spoke calmly, yet with a natural sense of trust.

For the first time, Russell felt a wonderful respect in front of the nobles. It wasn't a show; the craftsmen were truly treated as part of the team.

What surprised Russell next were two new tools that the Red Tide Craftsmen's Group used in the port construction.

A device called a rail crane can slide smoothly along a pre-laid track and use a winch to lift an entire section of timber.

The other is a gear-driven transporter, which, with the help of steam and a gear chain, allows two or three people to push hundreds of kilograms of stones without the need for additional manpower.

When Russell first saw the crane lift a heavy foundation stone and place it steadily on the positioning line, he stood aside and almost thought he was seeing things.

He examined the counterweights and pulleys closely and confirmed that it was neither magic nor a clever trick, but a solid product built from components and calculations.

For Russell, who had spent his entire life as a craftsman, this was a miracle without magic.

"It actually...works." He muttered to himself, unable to find the words to express his opinion.

What surprised Russell even more was the source of these tools.

It is neither a family tradition passed down by any craftsman, nor a private modification by any old craftsman.

The artisans from the Red Tide made it very clear that the original design drawings for these two devices were drawn by Lord Louis.

“The sliding rail crane was personally tested and developed by the adults last year,” Mike told Russell.

Mike was a bit older than him and was the head of the Red Tide Workshop's artisan department. He had a loud voice, even a bit rude, but he always spoke of the lord with respect.

"The toothed chain of the transport vehicle was originally used on the wheat sorting machine; it was a structure that Lord Louis devised and modified."

Russell initially dismissed these claims as just Mike boasting.

But the more he saw it, the clearer it became, and he began to ask Mike how to use it, gradually accepting these Red Tide-style technologies.

However, what truly made him feel different was not the technology, but the system.

There are daily inventory reports on the construction site.

Who is in charge of the task? What is the progress? Has the handover been completed? Have any errors been reported?

The forms were posted at the entrance of the workshop, and anyone could see them.

"What's the use of this?" he couldn't help but ask once.

Mike took out several documents and showed him examples: "Lord Louis said that technology should be valued, and so should the system."

But Russell didn't take those so-called process sheets and responsibility cards to heart.

He's worked his whole life and knows what truly makes a project move.

It's not a plan written on paper, but rather on-site experience, feel, and shouts.

Russell even felt that this practice of listing the craftsmen's work in tables was somewhat pretentious.

“A construction site isn’t a school,” was his thought at the time. But Russell had no right to stop Mike from applying the system to port construction.

At first, none of the craftsmen from the southeastern provinces were able to adapt.

The craftsmen complained about the tedious paperwork, the team leader complained about the fragmented tasks, and some simply continued to dispatch tasks from memory.

No major problems occurred over the next few days.

Until a significant mishap occurred, a batch of foundation stones was delayed due to a scheduling conflict, forcing a day's work to stop on an entire section of the wall.

Mike simply pulled out the table, marked the tasks of the relevant individuals according to the schedule, and instructed them to change the schedule, make up for any missed work, and impose reasonable penalties.

So no one took those forms seriously anymore, and in less than two days, the process was caught up, actually half a day ahead of schedule.

Russell stood aside and watched as the functions of the form were revealed one by one, making it clear who was responsible for what, and ensuring that no one could shirk responsibility if problems arose.

A clear handover ensures no one shifts blame, and allows for faster remediation.

Moreover, everyone involved understood the true meaning of their work.

Instead of being pushed to do the work, they proactively considered themselves as part of the entire project.

This was more stable, efficient, and less contentious than any construction site he had ever seen.

Russell had to admit that this thing was very effective.

That night, he sat in his room and looked at the process card from that day over and over for a long time.

Not only in his work, Russell's life was also far more respectable than one might imagine.

We are currently living in a semi-buried red tide dome house allocated by Dawn Harbor.

It looks unremarkable from the outside, but the interior is dry, well-insulated, and fully equipped, several times better than my brick house in the south.

There was hot water for showering at night, and occasionally you could hear music and lines coming from the stage in the port area.

"A show every day?" Russell couldn't help but mutter.

Russell didn't take it seriously at first, but later, when he had nothing to do at night, he leaned against the outside and listened to a few clips.

Later, he simply squeezed into the crowd.

Most of the plays depict the old stories of the North, while some are newly adapted, telling how the Red Tide Knights repelled barbarian raids and how the Red Tide City granary preserved its food during the insect plague.

And it always comes back to that young lord.

Lord Louis on the stage is the great sun of the North, fighting on the battlefield and protecting the North.

He sat in the crowd, watching the play on stage, and for some reason, his heart tightened slightly. He thought to himself, "Lord Louis is a different kind of lord."

Needless to say, salaries.

The basic salary is three times higher than in the south, settled monthly, plus quarterly bonuses, special post allowances, and work risk subsidies.

Most importantly, no one treated him like a servant.

Even the knights from the Red Tide addressed him as "Lord Russell".

He was used to working with his head down, and at first he didn't feel comfortable with it. Several times he turned around and thought he was being called to someone else.

Russell privately asked Mike, and also asked several craftsmen from the Red Tide.

Mike, sipping his drink, said earnestly, "The Red Tide area is better. There are detached houses, kids can go to school, and there are work subsidies..."

What shook Russell even more was that one evening, Louis called him to his side:
“If you’re willing to stay in the North, not just as the chief artisan of Dawnport, I’d also like you to join the Red Tide’s Artisan Bureau as deputy director, to assist Mike in managing a wider range of workshops. Of course, I won’t force you; think it over carefully.”

That night, after Russell returned to his room, he sat at the table in a daze for a long time.

Russell wasn't after a position of power or a few more gold coins; he simply saw how he could truly be needed.

Russell began to consider bringing his wife and two children to the North. He knew that the North was unstable and that Dawn Harbor had only just begun to take shape, so he needed to observe the situation further.

But he has already started to seriously consider it.

…………

On the east side of the port area, cranes and pile drivers roared incessantly.

Meanwhile, in the southwest inner bay on the other side, another quieter but still vigilant area has quietly taken shape.

That was the shipbuilding workshop in Dawn Harbor.

The inner bay has calm waters and gentle waves, is high in elevation and not prone to flooding, and is only a hundred steps away from the main harbor road.

When Louis first planned the project, he designated this site as the "slipway workshop base" for building the first batch of trial ships.

The two long slide rails have now been firmly buried under the sand by the craftsmen.

The slide rails, with oak grooves and animal oil lubrication, extend all the way to the shallow water area. Once the hull is completed, simply pulling the anchor chain will allow the ship to smoothly enter the sea by taking advantage of the slope.

The workshop itself is still under construction, but five workstations have been marked out in the core area, arranged in sequence as four types of work areas: keel splicing, cabin sealing, mast erection, and steam testing.

The open space closest to the inner bay has been reserved as a storage yard, which is currently filled with specially selected oak and pine wood, neatly stacked, with the smell of stale wood and tar.

Oak is a key material for the keel and is fundamental to shipbuilding. Initially, Louis thought it could only be transported from the southeastern provinces.

But that meant long-distance transportation, doubled costs, and, more troublesome, the Calvin family monopolized almost all of the timber.

Even though Louis was the Duke of Calvin's son, he had a hard time controlling the supply schedule, and any slight change would cause him to be hampered.

This is precisely the situation he did not want to see.

But just days before the Calvin caravan was about to set off for the southeastern front to discuss timber matters, Louis learned through daily intelligence that there was excellent natural oak in the North.

He then dispatched a special envoy with grain from the Wheat Wave Territory to that remote and desolate land.

There was no haggling, no mention of a long-term contract; they simply offered a direct and enticing condition: "Grain in exchange for oak."

Now the lords there don't even have time to hesitate. Axes are being swung all over the territory, and strips of whittled oak are being transported to Dawn Harbor.

In the empire's coastal ports, the most common type of ships were still two-masted or three-masted sailing wooden boats.

The structure is a typical grease-coated wooden shell, relying on the wind to billow the canvas, and with a few skilled boatmen, it can cross the sea.

Several noble families in the south had tried a newer approach: installing magic furnaces on ships.

It is indeed fast, but too expensive, and most importantly, too unreliable.

If the wind and waves are strong, fire will burst from under the mast, and the ship's planks may even crack.

Caravans that had used it dared not mention it again, preferring to spend twice as long on the voyage.

Therefore, many craftsmen were actually skeptical when Louis proposed a steam-powered ship that did not require magic.

"Use fire to boil water and make the wheel turn?" This is the most common question heard in the port.

But Louis didn't explain much.

He only mentioned three words: steam engine, gear transmission, and paddle wheel propulsion.

This is not a copy of any particular ship design, but rather the prototype of a distinctive red tide-style long-range ship that he hopes to build in the North.

It may be clumsy, or it may be immature, but it can still cross sea breezes and undercurrents without relying on magic or wind power.

“I don’t expect it to succeed on the first try,” he told the craftsmen, “but at least we have to take the first step. This is our ship.”

(End of this chapter)