[Chapter 191. The Measure of a Master]

"Jürgen, I have to apologize, but Lord Searanox is currently not available," Samantha said. Her posture remained rigid and professional as she stood behind an information desk in the Atrium.

"Ah, I see," Jürgen said. He kept his tone neutral and adjusted the rolled-up blueprints clutched under one arm. "Do you have any idea when he might return? We have a rather urgent proposal for him regarding the city's industrial production capabilities."

Samantha offered a tight, practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The Lord's schedule is not something I am privy to. I can, however, get you in contact with Iris. I'll let her know that you wish to speak to her."

"Thank you. That would be most appreciated," he said. He gave Samantha a polite nod before stepping aside to allow a young man to approach the desk.

Samantha turned her attention to the newcomer, her expression shifting into a mask of calm efficiency. "Name and business."

"Marcus," the young man said. He tried to project a confidence he clearly didn't feel. "My party and I just cleared the Courtyard of the Dead. We're here to turn in the loaned gear and log our contribution."

Samantha's fingers moved with practiced speed across the glowing interface of her console. "Understood. Place the gear on the transport pad to your right. The Tower will automatically catalogue its condition." She then accessed another window, her eyes scanning the data. "The party of four, correct? No fatalities?"

Marcus couldn't hide the spark of pride in his eyes. "That's... that's correct."

"Dungeon rewards are being processed by the System itself. Your individual contributions have already been logged."

As Marcus moved to the transport pad, Samantha’s attention shifted back to the main screen. Her eyes scanned the endless stream of names, contributions, and point totals. The raw data of a society being forcibly reshaped. She saw the arduous climb of individuals like Marcus and his party, a path she herself had no need of walking. She also saw the vast, yawning gap between their progress and the stratospheric point totals generated by their Lord. It was a silent, terrifying proof of the absolute, unbridgeable chasm between ruler and ruled.

An hour passed. Within that time, several teams came and went towards the spire. Amongst them, only a couple wore expressions that spoke of the horrors inside the dungeon.

Then came a familiar voice behind Jürgen. He had not heard anyone approach.

"You have a proposal for Searanox?" Her tone was measured and carried a subtle, predatory undertone.

Jürgen turned smoothly, unflinching. He met the piercing silver eyes of the wolf-woman, taking in her tall, muscular frame and the massive, two-handed greatsword strapped to her back.

"That's correct," he said, holding up the roll of blueprints. "It is good to see you in good health. This concerns establishing a dedicated, more efficient production facility for the city."

Iris's gaze dropped from his face to the blueprints and back again. "Searanox is currently indisposed in a Grand Labyrinth. All internal city matters are to be routed through me in his absence." Her clawed index finger tapped once on the hard surface of the information desk. It made a sharp, impatient sound that echoed in the quiet hum of the Atrium. "Present your proposal."

With deliberate, slow steps, Iris moved away towards the currently empty desks that stood in one of the side sections of the Atrium. The two men followed her over towards the less crowded area. As soon as the three of them stood outside the usual crowd, Jürgen began to speak.

"We need dedicated workspaces. With the right equipment, we could produce armor. Simple armor at first, but I can already see that this won't be for long after we amp up our production in the future."

"Leather seems to be much more durable now than it was before the time of the System. Nonetheless, it is far away from armor crafted out of metal. But as master craftsmen, we have a feeling that it has potential beyond the capabilities it had prior," Wolfgang cut in. He held a piece of cured leather in his hands and began to point out its structure and potential applications to Iris.

Iris raised her clawed hand, stopping him. Her expression had not changed, but they could feel a shift in the atmosphere.

"Master craftsmen?" Iris scoffed. She extended her claw and pierced the leather he held, sliding through the tough material without resistance. "I'm aware that the System gave you and the ones that worked under you in the ruins of the city a job class. You are no masters of anything... Are you even aware what the title Master Craftsman stands for under the System?"

She let go of the leather and turned to face them fully.

"A Master Craftsman is someone who has not only mastered their craft to a near-impossible degree, but has also contributed a vast amount of time into their craft. They produce the highest quality of goods that money and reputation can buy. Their work is beyond what you can currently even fathom." Iris's silver eyes held a chilling emptiness as she looked at the two men. "The job you have is closer to a laborer who has learned the trade of leatherworking, not a master."

She let her gaze wander over their plain clothes and the rolled blueprints of the small workshop.

The two men stood in stunned silence. The pride in their craft, a skill that had defined them for decades in the old world, had just been casually dismissed by the woman standing before them. The casual way she had pointed out their insignificance in this brutal reality was a far more devastating blow than any simple refusal of their plans.

"A Novice Tanner..." Wolfgang uttered quietly. His usually booming voice reduced to a harsh whisper. His gaze fixed at the piece of pierced leather on the floor.

"As for the workshop, Androxis is a young city. In its current state, it will not provide these types of facilities. Androxis itself is something I would describe as an irregularity, not only in the fact that it exists in the first stage of the System's Integration, but its entire design..." Iris cut herself off as she slid back into her persona of a System guide. "Let's continue this conversation when Searanox returns. Until then, you should continue to work as you have been in the last few days."

With a final, dismissive glance that swept over them both, Iris turned and walked away. Her boots struck the pristine stone floor with a soft, rhythmic confidence. She did not look back.

Wolfgang watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Novice Tanner..." he repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "That... that creature, that glorified dog, doesn't know the first thing about a lifetime of work."

Jürgen remained silent for a long moment. His gaze stayed fixed on the empty space where Iris had stood. He slowly bent down and picked up the pierced leather, his fingers tracing the neat, impossible hole left by her claw.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and devoid of its usual calm. "She knows more than you think, old friend. She knows about the System."

He rolled up the blueprints with a slow, deliberate motion. The heavy paper crackled in the tense silence. "And she is right. In this new world, our decades of experience mean nothing. We are novices again."

The walk back to their makeshift workshop carried a suffocating silence. The faint, pulsing light of the city's conduits felt cold and judgmental against the hard lines of their faces. Wolfgang's anger had cooled, leaving behind a bitter, hollow resentment that festered deep in his gut.

Back in the cluttered workspace, the familiar scent of curing chemicals did little to soothe their troubled minds. Without a word, Jürgen unrolled the blueprints on a clear section of the workbench. He spread them flat with the palm of his hand and stared at the carefully drawn plans. The layout for a proper, industrialized tannery and forge.

"Iris was wrong about one thing," he said. His voice regained a sliver of its former strength. He pointed a finger at the schematics. "She said the city would not provide these facilities. She was wrong. The city will. We just need to present the Lord with a plan he can't refuse."

Wolfgang looked from the schematics to Jürgen's resolute face. For the first time that night, a flicker of their old determination returned to his eyes. "And how do you propose we do that? By showing him drawings and asking pretty please?"

"By showing him value," Jürgen countered, a new fire kindling in his expression. "By giving him a demonstration. We will craft something that even he cannot dismiss."