“How about you, Martin? How is the brewing of the monthly 300 doses of Frost Potions?”
Martin was a short old man, and when his name was called, he seemed uneasy as he stood up.
“Si… Sir, you know it. I am having a shortage of manpower… Also, recently, the apparatuses have…”
“I don’t care what your reasons are, Martin. Isn’t this the third time already?” Decarte’s face darkened.
“Please… Please forgive me, Sir!” Martin’s face reddened.
“It’s timely that you’re lacking in manpower. Leylin will first be assigned to your team, and I will provide you with another 3 synthesizing machines. If you are still unable to complete your task by next month, your allowance for this year will be greatly reduced!”
“Yes, Sir!” Martin could not help but to wipe the sweat off of his face.
Leylin, who heard his name being called, got up.
Next, Decarte called on several other magicians, inquired about their progress, and made the necessary arrangements.