"I'll try, Your Majesty. I'll do everything in my power. But I'll need land to build the factories."
"Splendid, darling," the Queen's delighted voice came through the phone. "You'll have your land. Well then, I won't distract you from your studies any longer..."
Hermione looked at her friend's pale face and realised that something very serious was going on.
"Richie, what's happened?" she asked anxiously.
"Hang on." Grosvenor raised a hand to stop her. "Matters of national importance!"
He dialled Arthur's number. As soon as the call was answered, he launched straight into his instructions:
"Mr Weasley, start recruiting wizards immediately—British, foreign, anyone you can find, even the thickest ones. Set up an assembly line, teach each worker a single spell. We urgently need to assemble a thousand giant humanoid combat robots! URGENTLY! Within a year, that is."
"But, my lord," Mr Weasley replied, completely taken aback by the sudden onslaught, "we'll need at least two thousand wizards, preferably all three thousand. Besides, we don't have anywhere to... erm... accommodate them."
"Mr Weasley, you'll have the land. Get factories and housing built there as quickly as possible and establish production. Our builders have a tremendous amount of experience, so I'm confident you can manage it. Oh, and one more thing: over the next few years, we'll also need to build around three hundred power stations. Get started on that too. I'll call the Minister for Magic and ask her to give you whatever assistance you need."
"WHAT?!!!" Mr Weasley howled like a wounded seal. "Power stations as well?! My lord, we'll need even more wizards for that! And money! Lots of money!"
"Mr Weasley, you'll have everything you need: money, land, government support. Do whatever you have to, but we need those combat robots and power stations desperately. And preferably without disrupting the spaceflight project."
"But how?!" Arthur exclaimed. "How are we supposed to train an entire army of wizards so quickly?"
"The assembly line is the answer, Mr Weasley! Set up a training team, choose a few masters to serve as instructors, and have them teach the foremen several spells. The foremen can then train groups of workers. The enchantments will be applied in sequence, with a different wizard casting a specific spell on each component. I know the design of our combat robots allows for that. This way, you'll be able to produce at least one unit a day, which means two every twenty-four hours. Get to work, Mr Weasley. If you can't handle everything yourself, bring in assistants. Hire them."
"If we do it that way..." Arthur replied quietly, still stunned. "With three shifts, we might even manage three robots a day. My lord, I'll do my best."
***
It seemed to Richard that this dreadful Monday would haunt his nightmares for years to come. Every spare minute between lessons, he had either his mobile phone or his wizardphone pressed to his ear. The calls came one after another. First he had to speak to his father, then the Grosvenor Junior office, then Arthur Weasley, then Millicent Bagnold, and then the whole cycle began again.
Once again, Grosvenor Junior was speaking to Mr Weasley while walking along:
"...So what if they're black?! Mr Weasley, we're not asking them to become godparents to our children. Can they cast spells?"
"Yes, my lord, but at Uagadou, wand magic is merely an optional subject. Those savages mostly rely on crude, wandless, gesture-based magic, directing their spells with nothing more than a finger!"
"Mr Weasley, I've heard that Uagadou is the largest and one of the most popular schools of magic in the world. It's even considered prestigious. Are you seriously telling me that graduates of such a school couldn't master a single spell with a wand?"
"My lord, I suppose they could," Arthur replied thoughtfully.
"Well, that settles it!" Richard declared cheerfully. "I don't give a damn what kind of magic they practise. They'll do just fine as workers. Africa has the largest wizarding population and the highest unemployment rate among wizards, so that's where you should look for recruits."
"And the Russians?"
"Hire them too, but keep a particularly close eye on them. They'll steal anything that isn't nailed down, even if they don't need it. And if something is nailed down, they'll pull out the nails so they can steal that too! Right, get to work."
No sooner had Richard ended the call than his phone began ringing again.
"Speaking."
An anxious young man's voice came through the receiver:
"Your Lordship, we have a problem."
"Who's speaking?" Richard asked in surprise, failing to recognise the voice.
"It's Billy."
"Billy who?!" Grosvenor asked, dumbfounded.
"Well, Billy, the trainee from the Magical Space Division."
"A TRAINEE?!!!" Richard was so shocked that he was momentarily lost for words.
"Yes, yes, Your Lordship. A trainee."
"Billy, where did you get my number?"
"Erm... You see, I'm monitoring the Phoenix expedition. There's been a serious incident on Mars that violates the Statute of Secrecy. I reported it to my supervisor, and he told me to call management. Well... I rang the Grosvenor Junior office and asked for your number. That's how I ended up calling you."
Richard stared into space, his eyes wide with shock. In his head, he was swearing furiously.
What the hell is going on over there? Some bloody trainee is calling me! Have they all completely lost their fucking minds? They'd better get themselves a bloody great tub of Vaseline. Quite a few of them are going to need it.
Out loud, however, he asked calmly:
"Billy, what happened on Mars?"
"Erm... Your Lordship, the wizard astronauts have built a castle on Mars, enchanted it, and set up enormous magical greenhouses beside it. They've also installed a portal to Earth in the form of a huge stone archway. They've brought loads of things over from Earth, furnished the castle with all the comforts of home, and planted and grown crops in the greenhouses."
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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