In an inconspicuous warehouse in Backlund's East Borough.
Wearing ordinary work clothes for ease of movement and a peaked cap as a disguise, Lorne looked at the mountain of wooden crates before him and nodded slightly.
Over the past two days, through Ted's investigation, he had acquired the backlogged inventory from several bankrupt small-scale munitions factories in Backlund at a very low price.
He walked to a wooden crate filled with ammunition and casually opened it. From a pile of gleaming golden bullets, he randomly picked one out and examined it closely under the light filtering through the warehouse's ventilation window.
"There are already some signs of oxidation on the casing; looks like they weren't stored very well—"
Afterward, he briefly checked the rest of the crates.
"They didn't even wrap them in oil paper; that's not moisture-proof at all—" Lorne couldn't help but make a classic joke as he looked at the somewhat rusted firearm parts in the crates.
The manufacturing craftsmanship of the stock from these other factories wasn't a major issue, but the storage had been far too haphazard.
"Then again, the factories are gone. Who would bother taking care of stuff piled up in a warehouse—"
"However, it's not a big problem."
Although the quality of this batch wasn't as good as those produced in his own factory, it was still much better than the discarded firearms phased out by the military—selling them shouldn't be an issue. At worst, after they were shipped to Danitz, he could have them do some simple processing.
The only thing that concerned Lorne was—
"There are competitors—"
During the process of acquiring these stocks, Lorne discovered that besides himself, there seemed to be another group also going around buying up weapons and ammunition. Furthermore, their influence was not small, and they were suspected of having many connections with high society. He did a brief investigation but found no useful clues.
"The profits from arms smuggling are so high—it's only natural to have competitors."
"There's a high probability the other party has some connection with the military—" Lorne guessed to himself.
That group of competitors was likely a major player who had been in the arms business for many years. To be able to start operating before such a large fluctuation in the arms market, the most likely scenario was that they used military channels to take over many weapons that should have been destroyed.
"Competitors are enemies. My current scale isn't large yet, so I probably haven't been noticed by them—"
"However, even though I have the identity of a munitions factory owner as cover, I still need to be more low-profile in the future—"
"Mr. Scott, you're back." As soon as he returned to the factory, the Gatekeeper, Old Kohler, immediately came over to greet him.
"Sir, someone just came by and delivered an invitation for you."
"An invitation?" Lorne was somewhat surprised, but he still took the invitation, which looked quite high-class and had a wax seal, from Old Kohler's hand.
"Oh, Dela Negan—" Lorne realized. It was the nephew of Duke Negan whom he had met at the Charity Gala, a member of the younger generation among the conservative nobles.
"A common social banquet—perhaps Duke Negan himself will be present—"
Looking at the contents of the invitation, he fell into deep thought.
"A typical aristocratic salon? An invitation from a conservative noble—but I don't seem to have any reason not to go—"
Being able to come into contact with the kingdom's top power circles had potential benefits for his current career and future plans.
"However, to specifically deliver the invitation to the factory—" The corner of Lorne's mouth couldn't help but twitch.
It was quite embarrassing to think about. The attendant who delivered the invitation probably asked around everywhere and couldn't find out where he actually lived, and eventually had to hold his nose and run to the harsh environment of the East Borough to deliver the invitation to the factory.
"But there's nothing I can do—" Lorne sighed helplessly to himself.
Because of the ancient ruins suddenly discovered beneath the Williams Street villa and the subsequent evil spirit problem, the renovation project had been forced into an indefinite suspension.
To prevent unsuspecting workers or future visitors from being caught up in Beyonder events, he had to do it himself. For several nights in a row, along with Maric and his team of taciturn "Living Corpse" friends, they used cement and rebar to completely seal off that underground entrance.
But this also meant his plan to move into the new house was delayed once again.
"By the way, Mr. Scott." Just as Lorne finished greeting Old Kohler and was about to head to the workshop, the latter suddenly called out to him again, a look of gratitude on his face.
"Sir, the medicine you gave before was truly useful!" Old Kohler's face was filled with heartfelt gratitude and admiration. "Several workers in our factory who were so sick they could barely get out of bed were all better within two days of taking your medicine! Thank you so much!"
Lorne nodded; this news brought him a sense of relief. His original intention in developing that cheap Potion was to solve the workers' health problems, and it seemed the initial results were good.
But Old Kohler's next words made his brow furrow slightly: "However—sir, because of the weather lately, many more workers have fallen ill. And some workers who were treated before haven't fully recovered—so they hope to get some more medicine."
Lorne felt something was wrong. After the first batch of medicine was sent out, he had Old Kohler deliver a second batch. Although the Potions he made didn't have a long shelf life, the speed of consumption was far too fast.
"Old Kohler," Lorne looked into Old Kohler's eyes, his tone calm but with a hint of scrutiny, "you haven't... been going around advertising the medicine outside, have you?"
Old Kohler immediately shook his head. "No, sir. You specifically instructed me before not to be too high-profile. I've been very careful. I only briefly explained the situation to the workers who received the Potion—"
Although he didn't understand why Mr. Scott was unwilling to publicize such a great deed, which would clearly enhance his prestige and reputation, as long as the master explicitly requested it, he would never do anything extra.
Mr. Scott must have his own reasons for doing this.
Furthermore, he understood the principle that "fame brings trouble." In a place like the East Borough, the more conspicuous one was, the easier it was to be targeted by gangs.
"I see."
"I'll find another way to handle the medicine situation." He looked up at Old Kohler's weathered face, which was noticeably more ruddy than before.
"Additionally, there's something else I'd like your help with."
"Mr. Scott, whatever you want me to do, just say the word! As long as it's within my power, I will do my best!"
"Besides internal factory news, I also need you to help me keep an eye on various rumors, Urban Legends, gang bounties, and so on—a whole range of news occurring throughout the East Borough lately."
"I will pay you a corresponding wage," Lorne added.
"I will help you gather information! But as for the money, I really don't need—"
Before Old Kohler could finish, Lorne interrupted him. "Take what I give you. I'm not the kind of black-hearted boss who likes to exploit employees."
"Scott, are you trying to ask if there have been any strange rumors in the East Borough lately?"
After leaving the factory, Lorne found Hugh.
While Old Kohler could provide information from the perspective of the factory and the low-level workers, because he mostly lived in the factory now, most of his sources were limited to the factory's interior and had a certain lag.
To obtain information faster and more comprehensively, it was quicker to find a professional bounty Hunter.
Hugh took a sip of the black tea in her cup and fell into thought.
She first mentioned some recent movements among the gangs and some newly posted high-amount bounties.
Lorne took a sip of coffee and listened quietly to Hugh's intelligence sharing.
He learned from this that some gangs had seen his factory resume operations and were starting to harbor ill intentions.
Hearing this made Lorne speechless for a moment.
Daring to target a munitions factory—these guys must be crazy. Aren't they afraid of being riddled with bullets on the spot?
"Wait—" Complaining aside, Lorne suddenly realized a problem he had overlooked: his factory seemed to—indeed lack any decent security forces!
Aside from Hugh, who occasionally came to help, there was only the Gatekeeper Old Kohler in the entire factory, along with some "security guards" who were workers working part-time in rotation—
Although these workers who dealt with firearms daily weren't to be trifled with, they weren't professional security personnel after all. If some reckless thugs really charged in, something might actually happen.
"Heh—this really is a case of both sides being afraid." Lorne lamented with a bit of self-deprecation. Outsiders thought a munitions factory must be heavily guarded and wouldn't dare act rashly, while in reality, the internal defenses might be full of holes.
"Should I set up a dedicated Security Department? After all, my industries are growing—" He made a mental note of this.
"By the way," Hugh leaned forward slightly as if she had suddenly remembered something. "Over the past two days, there's a new Urban Legend in the East Borough that's spreading very quickly."
"An Urban Legend?" Lorne immediately became interested. He knew very well that most Urban Legends in this world were more or less backed by some Beyonder factors.
"I heard from friends at the bar that recently in the East Borough, a type of—supposedly Universal Medicine that can cure any disease—has appeared."
"Although this news has only just started to spread and not many people know about it yet, some are already secretly offering high prices to buy it."