"What's Brufrei mean?" Oliver asked, confused. He was well-versed in the languages and cultures of different nations across various Extraordinary Spaces, but he was still helpless against Lucian's habit of coining new words.
Lucian's expression was serious and earnest. "Although the concept for this type of school was inspired by the old apprenticeship system, it is undoubtedly a completely new form. Not only does it eliminate the relationship of personal servitude, but graduates who enter alchemical workshops will still receive wages — just slightly lower than average, with longer contract terms. That's why I've created an entirely new term for it: Brufrei. It serves as the designation for this type of school, and it carries the meaning of dreams."
"What does everyone think?"
Atlante had kept his eyes closed the whole time. He chuckled. "I'm fully in favor of promoting general education schools and these specialized schools, but there's one issue. In the old apprenticeship system, once a workshop trained an apprentice, that apprentice would work for the alchemical workshop for ten years without pay — all they needed was room and board. But now, these Brufrei schools require alchemical workshops to invest in training costs upfront and also to pay wages to graduated apprentices. I don't think they'll accept that willingly, unless the Council and the Kingdoms apply pressure."
"Mr. Atlante, times have changed," Lucian said. "The old one-on-one or one-to-many apprenticeship system simply can't keep up with the current development needs of alchemical workshops. I don't even need to spell this out — you should understand it just as well. After all, the Council's own apprentice training has already been largely converted to a school-based system."
"I'll lobby the companies I have shares in to invest Gold Thalers in building the first Brufrei school. Then, in two or three years, when they've lowered their costs and expanded their markets with a steady supply of skilled workers, other alchemical workshops will likely still be struggling with manpower shortages. Meanwhile, the training costs the companies invested upfront will be recouped from the profits those workers generate. It's a necessary cost."
Lucian made a show of not forcing anyone. Getting others to pay was never easy, but fortunately, he was no longer the young man who'd first begun lobbying for environmental protection — lacking authority, influence, or powerful backing. He was now a member of the Supreme Council with decisive voting power, possessed his own faction and wealth, and could completely bypass others' opposition. He would set the example first and let others follow.
And the actual costs weren't that high. Natasha could designate a surplus monastery for the school grounds. He himself would spend some Arcane Points commissioning tasks to have mages and graduated apprentices serve as instructors, with outstanding teachers gaining the opportunity to enter the Atomic Research Institute or study under him for a period. This way, there would be no shortage of appeal. Furthermore, starting from the second year, the school's apprentices would be arranged to "intern" at alchemical workshops during their free time, recouping part of the initial investment early.
Seeing Lucian's attitude, Atlante and the other skeptical mages were actually relieved. He nodded slightly. "True — times are different now. Old things should be buried in the past. I suggest the Supreme Council pass a resolution on 'Brufrei,' encouraging alchemical workshops to invest in building them, but not forcing them. Evans, if you're going to build one, count me in."
Douglas lightly clapped twice. "I'm in favor. Council-affiliated companies like the Arenne Telephone and Telegraph Company will be the first to invest, as a model."
Since there was no compulsion, one by one, the Supreme Council members raised their hands in approval. The atmosphere was quite harmonious.
"There's another question," Atlante continued. "Will financial support from the Council and the Kingdoms of Holm and the like be enough to make universal education truly widespread? Will apprentices who graduate be unable to find work? You have to understand that the current apprenticeship system can already more or less meet the needs outside of alchemical workshops. And those apprentices aren't pre-trained to fit a specific workshop the way Brufrei apprentices are. If they spend a great deal of money only to see no change in their lives, they might end up resenting the Kingdom and us — throwing themselves into the arms of the Church of Truth, which completely goes against our original intentions." Atlante was a master at reading people's hearts.
Lucian smiled. "Mr. Atlante, the changes of the times trigger chain reactions. Once there are so many alchemical workers, once social wealth increases, once all manner of alchemical products bring cities closer together, the entire social structure will inevitably undergo fundamental change. Perhaps one job will split into many more refined and specialized roles. Perhaps things will emerge that were previously unimaginable. Of course, the initial scale of universal education will definitely need to be controlled — we can't expand recklessly. It has to match our financial resources and social conditions."
"Then I have no objections. Evans, you're very level-headed — not reckless at all." Atlante hadn't done much research on the changes of social development, but his old partner, the Transformation Grandmaster Erika, was an excellent historian. She strongly agreed with Lucian's argument that social division of labor would become increasingly refined. After a silent exchange with Atlante, she got him to abandon his earlier skepticism.
The discussion on universal education schools continued for a while longer. Under the dazzling banner of striking at the Church's religious foundations, the Supreme Council ultimately passed the resolution, though they emphasized it should be done in moderation.
"Let me add a couple more points." Lucian found himself increasingly having the bearing of a leader delivering a speech. "I suggest we promulgate regulations governing alchemical workshops, imposing constraints on overtime and the use of child labor. We can't let alchemical workshops exploit workers too ruthlessly — creating scenes of human hell would only drive more people into the Church's embrace. Ideally, working hours should be kept within ten per day. Child labor can be permitted, but work must be assigned according to age..."
Due to issues with both simplification and expansion, alchemical workshops were currently in a state of having energy but nowhere to direct it. Dwarven craftsmen and human workers alike could still maintain relatively good health conditions. Therefore, Lucian believed they should take the lead in setting regulations — suppressing this inevitable trend before alchemical workshops could exploit workers, reap the benefits, and form entrenched interest groups. That way, it would be relatively much simpler.
As for the use of child labor, Lucian could only compromise helplessly. There was currently no adequate relief system, and for many orphans, finding a job to survive was the most important thing. One couldn't blindly pursue ideals while ignoring reality — that would only end up harming others. Going too far was as bad as not going far enough.
"I don't think such minor matters are suited for discussion at the Supreme Council," said "Absolute Defense" Artuman, cutting Lucian off. "Regulating alchemical workshops and treating workers well is perfectly aligned with the Council's goal of building a new image for mages, but we only need to set the broad direction. The specifics should be left to the Affairs Committee to flesh out, and we review and approve the final version."
Oliver also chimed in. "Evans, you're a Supreme Council member now. You can simply instruct the Affairs Committee to draft regulations according to your ideas, then bring them to us for review. As long as the core principles are right, they'll basically all pass. No need to discuss specific articles with us right now — everyone's time is precious."
Lucian nodded slightly, signaling that he was still adapting to the change in his identity. He was no longer the one executing tasks — he was the reviewer, the decision-maker, and the overseer.
But hearing Oliver's words, Lucian was reminded of the old days when he'd lobbied for pollution control. To get the Affairs Committee to pass similar regulations, he'd run around everywhere, lobbying one important figure after another, and in the end still had to stand before the Affairs Committee meeting room to present his views and accept questioning — without even being able to participate in their discussions or decisions, forced to passively await the outcome. And now, Oliver casually told him to instruct the Affairs Committee to draft regulations, as if it were the most natural, trivial matter in the world.
"Is this what it feels like to stand at the very top of all mages..." Lucian thought to himself with a sigh.
Within the Supreme Council, the Affairs Committee was chaired by whichever Grand Archanist was serving a rotation in Arenne, with the position changing every five years. The vice chairs were permanent appointments, held by the more action-oriented Oliver, Artuman, and Sun King Manuel, who each led during external operations or Extraordinary Space explorations.
Since the regulation of alchemical workshops didn't involve any loss of current interests, none of the other Supreme Council members objected. The agenda moved forward to discuss the issue of controlling the Four Nations of the Strait and the Northern Coastal Corridor, the construction of the three major fortresses along the Storm Strait coast, and the question of airship numbers.
On these matters, Lucian didn't have enough information and quietly listened without offering further opinions. After all, even the seemingly bulky airships turned out to be different from what he'd originally imagined — while somewhat slow, they used a multitude of materials to construct Magic Circles and Divine Arts Arrays on board, making them true aerial fortresses. Ordinary attacks couldn't even scratch them, giving them advantages that planes simply couldn't match. They couldn't be dealt with through simple bombardment.
As for large passenger aircraft, they served no purpose for mages above the High-tier, and for those below, promoting magic steam trains would be better — connecting more places with railways.
Before he knew it, the meeting was drawing to a close. Lucian spoke up once more. "Everyone, currently the highest honors in the major fields of Arcane Magic belong to individual organizations and nations, not the Council. This doesn't make sense. Since the most glorious title in Arcane Arts and Arcane Magic is the Grand Archanist granted by the Council, the highest honors should also be awards given by the Council. Moreover, with Arcane development accelerating and more and more achievements being made, our standards should be even stricter — not only should the achievements be worthy of being recorded in the annals of history, they should also come with their own theoretical explanations."
"If the Council is willing to establish such awards, I'm willing to sponsor a third of my annual share dividends each year, to encourage the development of Arcane Arts and Arcane Magic."
After becoming a Legendary Magician, materials of sufficient rarity often had to be obtained through barter, so annual dividends weren't actually that important to Lucian anymore. It would be better to offset some of the impact the Exploding Head Demon had caused.
"You'll give a third of your share dividends?" Douglas looked at Lucian with some interest.
Because the Arenne Telephone and Telegraph Company was still in its investment phase, Lucian's current annual income was roughly ten-odd thousand Gold Thalers per month — about 150,000 to 160,000 a year. A third of that was a massive sponsorship.
Lucian nodded earnestly. "Yes. It is my sincere wish."
"What about the rest of you — any objections?" Douglas looked at the others, mainly Hathaway, Atlante, and Helen.
Hathaway said succinctly, "Having a Council award would be fine."
Since it was the Council's money being spent, and the standards were very high — likely only one recipient every decade or so — the others saw that Douglas was interested and didn't object.
Douglas chuckled. "Since everyone agrees, then let us establish this award. It will encompass all eleven major schools. As for the name — how about the Lucian Evans Award? Divided into the Evans Elemental Award, the Evans Astrology Award, and so on. The prize will be an eighth-tier Perfect-grade magical item."
P.S. — Posted first, edits to follow.