Monte Gazleu, merchant prince of the Baille-Fonds cartel, studies the working conditions of Gobelins in factories, mines and other facilities. His work makes him realize that the workforce is exhausted, the machines are of poor quality and the working conditions are deplorable, which systematically slows down production and harms the well-being of the workers. Worse still, every supervisor shares the same opinion: “That’s the Goblin way!” Hard ! Only the best deserve victory! » But is this really the Goblin way, or the way Jastor Gallywix wants?
From a platform above the southern district of the mine, Monte Gazleu sighed, looking out over a vast mining operation. This was the fifth time this week that he had made an “inspection visit” to take stock of the deplorable working conditions of the Gobelins, something he felt like he had been doing incessantly for months. This was by far one of the worst, even if Marin Brouillecaboche, Gazlowe’s host and guide, claimed that everything was fine.
Brouillecaboche waved his hand to attract his attention, his miraculously immaculate and sparkling white outfit almost clashing with the smoky air of these foul-smelling and damp places. Obviously, he had taken charge of this operation recently. ” This way ! » he called out. Then he turned to one of his bodyguards for help. “Both teams use the… uh…”
“The shearer? » suggested Gazlowe.
Brouillecaboche smiles. “Yeah, like you said.” The Three Thousand Goberoche. Nice machine, right? » His smile widened as he pointed to a steam-powered behemoth further down the immense mine. Its formidable metal teeth dug relentlessly into the rock to reach the vein of iron ore, the lifeblood of this operation.
“You have to lean over the railing a bit to see clearly, unless you want to go down and take a closer look,” he added, inviting Gazlowe to come forward.
He approached the guardrail and chased away Vak’kan, his Orc guard, with a wave of his hand. Unlike some Goblins, including Brouillecaboche, it seemed, Gazlowe was not afraid of heights.
As the shearer brought ore to the surface, he leaned on the railing to watch the workers, mostly Goblins and a few Orcs, who moved around using mechs with steam shovels and loaded the ore into wagons that took it to the processing plant. Several of the workers had bandaged limbs, no doubt from the unused pieces of machinery littering the floor, and some were letting out fits of wet, guttural coughs while pressing filthy rags to their mouths.
Brouillecaboche gave him a nervous smile, nodding his head as if to say: “Not bad, eh? »
Gazlowe glanced down again… and part of the railing came loose with a screech before toppling over. Only the void separated him from a fatal fall.
He wobbled for a moment before regaining his balance thanks to Vak’kan who reached out a strong hand and grabbed him by the collar to quickly pull him back.
Gazlowe glared at Brouillecaboche, his pointed ears erect. Was it there
his goal ? Stage some sort of accident? As new leader
of the Baille-Fonds cartel and representative of his race to the Horde, Gazlowe knew he had enemies. But he never thought that someone would attempt his life so quickly, let alone in such an ill-advised way!
