A vigorous campaign quickly swept through the Kingdom of Morass, reaching even the common people.
Wilder's move to recruit talented individuals sent shockwaves through the civilian population. Many exclaimed that they had finally found a wise and enlightened ruler. Some saw an opportunity in this and filled out the distributed forms, deciding to take a gamble.
If they succeeded, they would be set for life.
If they failed, the worst that could happen was returning home to manage and develop their few hundred acres of land.
Many people eagerly participated, and most of those who dared to submit the forms had some confidence in their own abilities—in other words, they were educated.
"Give me the current count of applicants."
"Your Majesty, the number of submitted forms has reached five thousand three hundred and twenty-six, and it is still slowly increasing. Currently, two hundred and sixty-three people have passed the interview conducted by acting minister Akira."
"Excellent. Continue the process. Within five days, I want every single person who passes the interview to be accepted, no matter the number," Wilder said, very satisfied with the report.
"Yes, sir." The person standing before Wilder was Flint. He was currently so busy that if it weren't for mandatory progress reports, he likely wouldn't have had the time to be standing here at all.
He looked at Wilder, took a document from the folder at his side, and handed it over. "In addition, this is the preliminary core of the curriculum, which the members of the Talent Development Department worked through the night to create. Please review it, Your Majesty."
Wilder was a little surprised. He hadn't expected them to produce results so quickly. Even though it was only a preliminary draft, their capability and work ethic were worthy of praise.
He nodded and accepted the document. It was three pages long, the content concise and written with clear simplicity.
Wilder began to read it carefully.
The contents represented the very core of what Wilder wanted the Talent Development Department to achieve.
He had already given them a foundation to build upon, and it seemed the six of them had done an excellent job expanding on it.
Loyalty to the King.Loyalty to the Nation.Loyalty to the Guard.Loyalty to Service.Loyalty to Order.Loyalty to the Law.Loyalty to the People.
That was right. This was the core Wilder had given them. However, in the curriculum itself, these were only mentioned in passing. What Wilder wanted them to do was to weave this core into every corner of the books, subtly and silently, like a gentle rain nurturing the soil.
This core was to be reflected in stories and all other aspects—a form of gentle, pervasive propaganda.
"Good. Refine this as quickly as possible, and you must always be in the process of improving it. There can be no slacking," Wilder said, placing the document on the desk. He lit a cigar, a hint of a smile on his face.
So far, the progress on all fronts had been very satisfactory. This was the first step in the nation's development, and everything was moving in the right direction.
Next, it was about time to resolve the issue of the weapons trade with Doflamingo.
From the highest floor of Skyhold Tower, Wilder gazed through the glass window, his eyes like deep pools as he watched the tiny figures of people moving through the clouds and mist below.
After a moment of silence, Wilder spoke into the empty room. "Claire, what is the current production status of the batch of cannons for the Marines?"
As Wilder's secretary and the highest-ranking minister of Morass, Claire's duties were immense. Though she was always by Wilder's side, she was constantly working.
Just like now. Within Wilder's private office, there was a hidden, partitioned-off office, piled high with documents and dozens of Den Den Mushi for communication. Claire was working in this concealed room.
A microphone was embedded in the wall, through which Wilder's words were transmitted. The secret room was soundproofed from the outside world; only Wilder could allow his voice to reach Claire inside.
"Boss, the production of the cannons is currently two-thirds complete. The ammunition is also nearly finished. We should be able to complete the amount required for the trade with the Marines in about four or five days," Claire's sweet voice echoed through the room, its direction impossible to pinpoint.
Wilder nodded silently to himself.
In five more days, eight billion Beri would come in.
But it was far from enough. It couldn't satisfy the kingdom's ever-increasing expenses.
It seems I have to speed things up, he thought. I must complete the first deal with Doflamingo within the next two days.
The deal was for four hundred machine guns, each with sixty rounds of ammunition, for a total of eight billion Beri. The transaction would be divided into four shipments of one hundred guns each. It was a necessary precaution. To avoid Big Mom's attention as much as possible, this was the only way.
If he sent them all at once, the transport ship would be too large and easily discovered.
And if they were discovered, the loss would be all four hundred machine guns. Doing it this way greatly reduced the risk.
"Two days is too long."
Wilder muttered to himself. The cigar in his hand had burned down to the end. Without turning his head, he flicked his finger. The remaining stub traced an arc through the air and landed perfectly in the ashtray on the desk behind him.
Wilder lingered at the window for a moment, then, thinking it over, decided not to disturb Claire. He took out a Den Den Mushi and dialed General Kuchiel, the head of the Transport Unit. "Kuchiel, prepare a small vessel for me."
The headquarters of the Transport Unit was not located in the capital but near the kingdom's only port. Most of the ships docked there belonged to the unit, ranging in size from large to small.
"Of course, Your Majesty." Kuchiel was more formal than the others. He believed it was no longer appropriate to call Wilder "Boss." Despite Wilder repeatedly telling his original followers that they didn't need to call him "Your Majesty," Kuchiel refused to change, insisting on the address of a monarch and his subject.
"Right, do you have any particularly fast small boats?" Wilder suddenly thought of it. This was no small matter, after all. The munitions were heavy, and if a small boat wasn't fast enough, it would be in serious trouble if it encountered danger.
"..." There was a silence on the other end, as if he was thinking. After less than ten seconds, he replied in his aged voice, "Your Majesty, we don't have that kind of ship. Most of our ships were seized and then simply modified and standardized by the carpenters in the Construction Department. The rest were purchased. We simply don't have the kind of small, fast ship you're describing."
"Never mind then." Wilder hung up and fell into deep thought.
After a while, Wilder left Skyhold Tower and headed towards an uninhabited area on the outskirts of the Direct Rule District.
This was the location of the Munitions Department's headquarters. This flat, barren land had been chosen for the convenience of testing weapons.
The current scale of the Munitions Department was more than ten times larger than it had been in the East Blue. It covered a vast area, a sprawling, dark expanse of neatly arranged single-story buildings.
In the center stood a massive chimney for the steel mill, and the entire compound was enclosed by a high wall. Security was tight; everyone entering or leaving had to be inspected by soldiers.
When Wilder arrived at the massive, cast-iron gate at the entrance, the guards on duty recognized him immediately. They hurriedly saluted and shouted, "Your Majesty!" before moving to open the gate.
Wilder, however, did not step inside. Instead, he stopped beside the officer who was opening the gate and stood there, frowning at him.
The officer instantly felt a chill run down his spine. His body went rigid with tension, and cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He had no idea what he had done wrong. Why was the king's reaction so different from what he had imagined?
It's over! he thought. I must have missed something. I'm dead for sure. Is His Majesty going to kill me?
Wilder's fearsome reputation was not just a story told by outsiders. For the low-ranking soldiers within his own ranks, it was a deeply ingrained reality. Every one of them had seen Wilder when he was enraged. No one wanted to die a torturous death, suffocating as swamp mud was forced down their throat.
And now, seeing Wilder standing motionless, staring at them with a blank expression, the guards at the main gate felt their doom was sealed. Within minutes, their backs were completely soaked with nervous sweat.
Gulp. The officer kept his head down, his eyes filled with terror, and swallowed hard.
Wilder stared at him for a long time before finally, slowly, withdrawing his gaze.
"Remember, in the future, no matter who it is—including me—you must verify their identity before allowing them entry. I can give you a suggestion. Next time you see me approach, you can first ask me if I've eaten. If I answer 'yes'... or 'no,' then it's a fake. The correct answer is 'electric fan.'"
As his words faded, Wilder had already stepped through the gate and was walking away.
The guards lifted their heads and stared blankly at Wilder's retreating back. The officer, in particular, felt his body go limp, as if all his strength had been drained away.
It was only after Wilder had been gone for some time that they looked at each other and let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Is this the king's aura? That was terrifying. I honestly thought I was going to die," one soldier said, clutching his chest, a look of lingering fear on his face, mixed with a sense of release.
The others nodded in solemn agreement, their faces still showing the aftershock of the scare.
At that moment, the officer finally came to his senses. He exhaled sharply, turned to the others, and asked, "Did you... did you hear that clearly? What His Majesty said."
"Ah, I was scared to death, but I was still trying my best to listen."
The others all indicated that they had heard clearly, which was a relief to the officer. He had been the closest to Wilder, and no one else could know what he had felt. It was like he had taken a trip to the gates of hell and back. The feeling had almost made him faint. He had managed to hold on, but because of it, he hadn't paid any attention to what the king had actually said.
By the way... can one person really possess such an overwhelming presence? Or am I just such a coward that I almost fainted under the king's aura?
For a moment, the officer began to doubt himself.
But he quickly shook his head, banishing the terrifying thought.
After asking the others what the king had said, the officer was completely bewildered.
"...So... w-why... why 'electric fan'?"
The question made the others freeze.
Yeah, why electric fan?
"The king must have a profound reason for saying so."
Everyone nodded in fervent agreement. They stroked their chins and fell into deep contemplation.
"Could it be..."
"What?" The others looked curiously at the soldier who had spoken, his expression serious.
"Could it be that the king is trying to tell us that 'electric fan' is equal to 'paper towel'?"
"???"
The others looked as if their heads had just been run over by a truck. In other words: What?
They looked at him, completely baffled. After a moment of hesitation, one of them asked uncertainly, "So, 'paper towel' is...?"
The man held his chin with two fingers, meeting everyone's gaze with a very serious expression. He frowned in calm thought, analyzing the situation. "...Which is to say, 'mulberry leaf'?"
What the hell?
The others were stunned. What was the connection between any of these things?!
This is insane!
Is this guy messing with us?
They exchanged glances and saw the same anger of having their intelligence insulted reflected in each other's eyes.
Just as they were about to make a move, the man grinned, looking at them with an expression that said he knew everything.
This look of absolute confidence immediately made them hesitate.
Could it be... that my IQ is the problem?
"Heh..."
"Still don't get it?"
"In other words, sand! It's sand!"
!!!
The others' anger surged. Was this guy crazy?
Exchanging another look, they saw a single word in each other's eyes:
Get him!
"If you still don't understand after I've said this much, then I have no choice but to explain it clearly!" At that moment, he pushed up his glasses, his face growing grim.
The others were taken aback again. They stopped in their tracks, having taken only two steps, and stared at him intently.
They swore inwardly. This is your absolute last chance, buddy!
"Think about it. Why did His Majesty say 'electric fan'? And not 'sand'? Or 'paper towel'? Or 'mulberry leaf'?"
"Why? And besides, you're the one who just said sand, paper towel, and mulberry leaf. What do they have to do with an electric fan?"
"Heh..." He let out a small laugh, then suddenly pointed a finger at the officer who had just spoken and declared loudly, "Foolish!"
"You bastard! Don't hold me back! I'm gonna kill this idiot today!"
"Calm down, calm down, let's give him one more chance. See what he says next," the others quickly restrained the furious officer.
He sighed softly, pushed his glasses up again, and said calmly, "What if... the king hadn't said 'electric fan,' but 'paper towel' instead?"
Huh?
Instantly, the struggling group quieted down, looking at him, waiting for him to continue.
"If that were the case... wouldn't you ask, 'Why paper towel'?" He glanced at his superior, the officer. "That's why I said your question was foolish."
"Because... no matter what... there has to be an answer!"
"His Majesty negated the two answers of 'have eaten' and 'have not eaten.' Isn't that obvious enough?! It means! The correct answer is anything except 'have eaten' or 'have not eaten'! And since that's the case! What's wrong with casually saying 'electric fan'!?"
His impassioned expression, combined with his soul-piercing words, left the others completely stunned.
They were shocked!