Free Web NovelChapter 1114: A Spectacle
The situation was, unfortunately, rather dire.
As someone who had practically dedicated his entire life to mechas, Master Quinn understood better than most just how important it was to protect the absurd advancements these youngsters had brought into existence.
Some people would call that selfish, but Master Quinn preferred to call it realistic.
In a perfect world, knowledge would be shared freely. Innovations would be celebrated openly. Everyone would work together toward better lives, better technology, and a brighter future.
And if the world actually worked that way?
Then they would’ve bragged about their Young Lord until their voices gave out.
Unfortunately, they weren’t living in such a world.
Groundbreaking advancements were rarely treated as gifts but rather as double-edged swords.
And considering how willing both their enemies and supposed allies were to manipulate a young aspiring mechanic for their own gain, those people were obviously asking for death.
At that thought of the foolish involvement of those gullible geezers, Master Quinn released a long sigh.
He looked genuinely exasperated.
At the same time, there was a trace of remorse as he turned toward the younger generation gathered around the table.
"I’d like to apologize for that," he said.
The old mechanic pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I genuinely didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to fall for such obvious provocation."
His expression darkened as he remembered receiving the most random call from Colton informing him that they might need to bail out several older masters after they got into a throwdown with Dwarven engineers.
At an age where even their dentures probably had personalities of their own, how did they still have the confidence to square up against other people?
And yet they did.
Over verbal arguments that could’ve ended far earlier if they’d simply thought of better comebacks, of all things.
Bah!
"And because they’re all idiots, there’s no need to consider their opinions after we’ve already shown them far too much."
The familiar bite returned to his voice, and Master Quinn scoffed.
"They’re still hung up on polishing anyway. And really, they’re already lucky they were even allowed to witness that much."
The old mechanic shook his head in irritation.
"And because I arrived late, the only thing I could do was propose moving the licensure exam ahead of their ridiculous event."
He threw both hands into the air.
Honestly.
Sometimes he wondered whether the greatest enemy of technological progress was hubris or politics. Or maybe ignorance of both.
Because had those creaking bones cared to see past the mecha manufacturing part, then they would’ve seen through this entire farce.
"The new joint committee is likely holding out on the tournament changes and new rules until they see how we’ll react..."
"But what we can be certain of is that, since he’s not yet an officially licensed mechanic, we likely won’t be able to come up with a valid excuse to keep him out of that absurd additional Astral Cup event. Unlike Young Lord Luca, who is now a recognized professional and could reasonably be argued to be an unfair opponent, Young Lord Oliver would remain fully eligible—practically obligated—to participate."
Master Quinn’s expression became increasingly sour as he raised a finger.
"And if he builds an actual mecha there?"
"He’ll likely be expected to explain every step in detail as part of some unusual rule... for approximately twelve sessions."
"..."
"..."
The room collectively grimaced.
"Not only would we be required to let an international panel scrutinize every aspect of the build, effectively opening the entire thing to everyone beyond the Empire, we’d also be giving them enough lead time to attempt replication."
The old mechanic paused.
"Not that they’d succeed without the necessary resources."
Then he immediately pointed at the table.
"But that’s not the point!"
Bang!
His fist struck the tabletop, and the listening heir of House Kyros couldn’t help but flinch.
Master Quinn looked genuinely offended by the entire scenario he’d just imagined.
"Science and innovation aren’t supposed to be used for political nonsense like this!"
"Then Master Quinn... is that why you suggested taking the licensure exam first?"
"Yes. There are probably better stop-gaps, but at that moment it was the first and most logical one that came to mind."
The answer came immediately.
"Not only would it limit the judges to the Empire’s Masters, similar to your own examination, but it would also allow us to bypass the standard twelve-session format."
He raised a finger.
"Then instead of being forced to follow the deliberately slow tournament pace, the official licensure exam could simply end when the mecha is completed."
A second finger followed.
"Furthermore, the materials selection isn’t limited, and the resulting mecha would not have to be sequestered by any committee for alleged safekeeping."
That immediately caught everyone’s attention.
"The competition would likely require participants to use standardized materials. And because of that, the techniques you’ve taught us would stand out even more."
That was the opposite of what they wanted.
"Meanwhile, during an official licensure examination, creative freedom is practically expected."
He sighed again.
"But because they’ve already turned this into a spectacle, we can’t simply allow them to observe something that could one day be used to stab us."
At this point, Master Quinn felt like he was developing his third headache of the day.
Possibly his fourth, who knows?
The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong.
Those responsible for this entire mess had already made sure information about the dispute found its way onto Star Net.
To ordinary citizens, it likely seemed like little more than entertaining gossip—something that occasionally spiked their blood pressure while quietly stoking their patriotic urge to come out on top.
But to those who actually understood politics?
The intent was painfully obvious.
By tying the Empire’s reputation to the challenge, they effectively forced the examinee to showcase something impressive.
Something worth seeing.
Something worth the support of all those people rallying behind the young mechanic.
Oh, and something that would make him a professional that couldn’t possibly be asked to join a competition between amateurs.
"..."
"..."
Then what if the examinee chose to play it safe instead?
If he deliberately produced something average or outright declined to participate?
Then they would simply shift the narrative.
Aside from insisting that Oliver Mylor remained a perfectly valid participant because his abilities still fell within acceptable bounds, they would also use the opportunity to push several other insidious arguments.
The Empire’s young genius wasn’t actually revolutionary. fгeewebnovёl.com
DG was overhyped.
Maybe they’d even claim that all those advancements couldn’t have possibly been attributed properly.
That the Empire’s recent achievements may have been exaggerated.
In other words, even failure would benefit them.
The trap had been designed carefully.
Reveal something valuable or damage your reputation.
Either way, there would be some sort of profit for all those sly parties and some sort of damage for Ollie, DG, and the Empire.
How disappointing.
