3.12: Progress – 3
I sneezed.
Then again.
Fine sawdust hung in the workshop, dancing in the sunlight.
The sneezing only stopped once I turned down my sensitivity. I turned to the five teenagers.
“Clean your bloody workshop.”
They nodded immediately, without looking me in the eyes.
Aldren cleared his throat.
“Master, Masters Aramid and Kovar won’t allow us in their workshop. They said they’re following your orders,”
“They are.”
“Why?”
“What they are doing is dangerous and they need every scrap of their concentration to finish it in time.”
“Are they done now?”
“Not entire—”
I froze.
Cold realization hit me.
“The soil. Where is all the soil the ship brought?”
“A little ways from the Bay,” Aprilia replied.
My heartbeat kept accelerating.
“Has it just been sitting out in the open?”
She frowned. “Why does it matter?”
“Why—It’s the rainy season!” I almost shouted. “The soil will be useless if the rain has leeched the chemicals out of it!”
She put a hand on my arm. “Relax, Jack. I asked Danel and Levik to look after it. They know what to do with it, right?”
My shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes,” I whispered, as I pulled her into a hug.
Her warmth was a nice balm.
She turned her head away as I tried to kiss her. “There are people around!”
I reluctantly let go of her. “And you thought I would pick Mia over you.”
She couldn’t hide her smile as she squeezed my hand.
“Let’s head back.”
“Master?” Aldren asked as we turned to leave. “Can we enter their workshop now?”
My good mood evaporated immediately.
I looked at the five young pairs of eyes, eager for the next challenge.
The people here considered them adults.
I didn’t.
I wanted them working on harvesters and mills, not weapons. Not for a few years at least, when they could decide their own future with the mind of an adult.
But wants and needs were different matters.
The sad reality was that Chadom needed its best, right now, and these were five of its sharpest and the most flexible minds. To ensure Chadom’s security and prosperity, I had to teach them everything, be it knowledge of agriculture or explosives.
“Jack, are you alright?” Aprilia asked.
“No.”
I met the teenagers’ eyes. “Aramid and Kovar are not done yet, but, there is the other part you can help with.”
Their faces blanched.
Must’ve remembered that meeting at the nitrary.
“It’s not a punishment. I’ll be teaching you how to make the special powder.”
They didn’t relax.
“Ungrateful brats.”
As we left the workshop, the rumble of Powerfall amplified.
We were leaving for the other side when Kovar caught up to me.
“Milord, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”
His tone made me stop. He pointed to the workshop.
I walked away with him until we were out of earshot of others.
“We are having problems with the steel,” he said without preamble.
My stomach tightened. “What?”
“Consistency. At first, Master Baldov was doing the puddling alone. Then he got sick. Now we’ve been changing men after every batch, but every man’s steel is different.”
I waited with baited breath.
“A third of the prods bend when tested. Some have shattered. Almost half go back to the furnace.”
“Then how are they keeping up with schedule? I was told five hundred crossbows would be ready by the time of my departure.”
“The men have been pushing themselves hard; working every hour when the sun is up. They didn’t say anything ‘cuz they’re thankful to you for sending all the grain, cattle and sheep.”
I nodded silently.
The puddling furnace was designed for wrought iron, not steel. Producing steel in it had always been a hack, highly dependent on the worker’s skill. That hadn’t mattered much when we had to make only a hundred crossbow prods for ourselves.
I couldn’t have blacksmiths with the skill of Kovar spending hours stirring and gazing into the glowing puddle of iron, waiting for the right moment it turned into steel. Not to mention how terrible it was for their health.
The Huntsman process was more reliable and produced much higher quality steel. We even had coke for it now. But, developing crucibles that could survive temperatures that could melt steel would take time. Time we didn’t have.
“Shit.”
“Milord?”
“I should have asked Master Almar to focus on crucibles, not pretty glazes.”
I craned my neck up to look at Powerfall, its majesty dominating everything else. White water thundered down the mountainside with enough force to shake the very air.
A massive trompe powered by it should produce compressed air at high enough pressure that it would bubble through liquid iron, oxidizing it.
The Bessemer process.
If we could do it, a Bessemer converter would produce thousands of kilograms of steel in minutes, which would take a crucible foundry or puddling furnace months.
We would jump straight into the industrial age.
A chuckle left me.
If only it was that easy.
Perfecting a Bessemer converter would take time.
Experiments and failure.
I looked at the waiting machinist.
“I’m sorry Kovar. I don’t have the answer to your problem. Not a timely one.”
He wasn’t pleased, but nodded in acceptance.
“We’ll keep doing what we’re doing, then.”
“Thanks.”
Patting him on the shoulder, I walked back to my companions.
“I just got a project for you, Ansel,” I told the glassmaker.
He blinked. “M’lord?”
“You’re going to work with Aprilia’s father to develop crucibles that can survive a furnace.”
“I know nothing about making crucibles.”
“No, but you do know about working with materials at very high temperatures, and master Almar worked on the refractory lining of our furnaces. Together, you two will figure it out.”
He nodded hesitantly, with a hint of excitement.
The ride back was quieter. Aprilia remained glued to me, her fingers interlaced with mine.
Warm and comforting.
When we got back to Cradle, she rebuffed the others’ attempts to talk to us and dragged me to our house.
Once inside, she locked the door behind us and whirled on me.
“Why are you sulking?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I let go of my breath.
“The craftsmen are pushing themselves very hard. It’ll take years off their lives.”
Her eyebrows furrowed in a scowl. “They know that. You’re not forcing them.”
“They are working for me.”
“In exchange for what you did for them. For their families. Don’t belittle their dedication. Not everything is about you.”
“Yes, mother.”
I didn’t get the expected reaction. Instead, her eyelids grew heavy.
“We don’t know if I am going to be one.”
Oh no.
“Why don’t we make sure?” she whispered, stepping closer.
“Please God, save me from the succubus!” I pleaded, while my body betrayed me.
It was wonderful being young.
An hour later, we stood next to the door, again
She adjusted the collar of my tunic.
Her eyes occasionally flicked up to me, until they remain there. “What happened between you and Lothar?”
I drew in a breath. “That… is not my secret to tell.”
She gave me a stink eye.
“Don’t give me that look.”
Her glare intensified.
I shook my head. “You’re not getting anything out of me. And don’t speak of it to anyone.”
“Speak of what?”
“That it’s his secret.”
She huffed. “Fine.”
“What about you and Emma?”
Her face fell.
“She… she stole from us.”
My heart leapt into my mouth.
“What did she steal?”
“The bag of Amlain tea.”
My shoulders sagged in relief, as a long exhale left me.
“You’re not mad?” she asked.
“It’s petty theft, not civilization-changing, which it would have been if she had taken my blueprints.”
“The tea is worth ten gold!”
“I know. A large amount to a commoner, but nothing in the grand scheme of things.”
“I could never understand you nobles.”
“I’m not one, remember?”
“You sure act like one.”
“It’s called being entitled. So,” I said, enveloping her into a hug. “What happened with her?”
She leaned onto me, resting her head on my chest.
“She… she didn’t steal it just for the sake of it. She wanted something special. Something like what I have. She’s lonely, Jack. No man wants her.”
I frowned. “Why not? She’s cute and smart.”
“Men don’t want smart women. And it’s kind of you to call her cute.”
I looked at her with genuine puzzlement.
“What are you talking about? She is attractive.”
“She would be, if she didn’t have those marks.”
I snorted. “Those faint marks?”
“They’re from a pox.”
“When did she get them?”
“When she was eight.”
“She’s what, twenty? If it was something that came back, it would have done by now.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Well, most likely.”
“It doesn’t matter. Men see them and dismiss her.”
“That… is terrible.”
“It is.” She pulled back to look up at me. “She was barred from visiting the castle, the industrial district and the Bay as punishment. Could you lift it?”
“Hmm… she did try to warn us about the poison. You sure she won’t steal again?”
She nodded hesitantly.
“You know what? I’ll pardon her, but not yet.”
Her hopeful smile vanished.
“Why?”
“Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”
“What?”
“After the first floor of the castle is finished, we’ll have enough rooms to keep guests separate from our private quarters.”
She considered that, then nodded.
“Fair.”
We came out of our house together.
Late again.
The guard failed to hide their smirks. Aprilia didn’t even have the decency to blush.
In the short few months my innocent refugee girl had vanished, replaced by an insatiable succubus.
My mood dampened again as we approached the common hall for lunch.
It was time to decide the future of Chadom.
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