Barton strode into the former textile workshop, the humming of hundreds of people at work merging into a single, powerful roar.
Assembly lines were formed from long tables pieced together. Over a thousand workers in different colored smocks were hunched over their stations, engrossed in their work.
Grinding, filtering, blending... Fifty separate stations, fifty repetitive steps.
They didn't need to understand Alchemy. They just needed to follow the simple diagram in front of them and repeat the process, over and over.
Only the twelve steps that required blending with Magic Power were reserved for the alchemists.
"Hey! Barton!"
A voice called out from the side.
Barton turned to see a burly man with a grease-stained face struggling to operate a furnace. It was old Sam, an old buddy he used to haul sacks with back in Newly Town.
"What are you doing here?" Barton walked over and clapped him on the shoulder.
