3.38: Challenges

The next day, I was just leaving the castle when Rowan arrived at the gate, clutching a small sack with a nervous smile.

“Here’s the new batch of saltpeter, Sire.”

“Only this much?” I asked, taking it from his hands.

His face drained of color. “No! This is just a sample. We have large sacks full of it at the site.”

“Relax,” I said to the nervous young man, opening the sack.

I had thought the crystals from earlier batches were white, but these made them look filthy by comparison.

“Good work,” I said in genuine appreciation.

Another step towards a reliable defense system.

I looked at him.

“Do you miss Mondgrove?”

“Um… not really.”

“So you are fine living in Chadom? Forever?”

“Yes.”

“Come, then,” I said, turning my horse around. “I have things to show you.”

I exchanged the horse for my carriage and invited Rowan inside. The wheels rattled over cobblestones of the main road as the carriage left Cradle and began rolling towards the industrial district.

“Is there anyone to whom you can delegate the process of manufacturing saltpeter?” I asked the thin, short man.

His face began to pale again.

“Is this not good enough? I can refine it again—”

“It’s fine. So, can anyone else do the job now?”

“Um…” He thought for a moment. “If it’s just ensuring that it’s made the same way every time, Danel and Levik can do it. They are diligent men.”

“Are they giving you trouble?”

“They… grumble here and there, but they are following your instructions.”

“But not playing nice with you?”

“No.”

“I’d give you advice, but I’m not much of a people person myself. Talk to Harald or Aprilia.” I leaned back in my seat. “Besides, you won’t be spending all your time with them anymore.”

He looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“You will be working on other chemicals, uh, substances.”

“Such as?”

“That.”

I pointed through the window.

Fresh mounds of earth rose next to the stream, piled so high that only the roof of the building they surrounded remained visible.

We had reached the industrial district.

Once the carriage stopped, I led him to the newly erected workshop nestled within the square berm.

“You saw the state of the weapons workshop after the ball mill exploded?”

He gulped and nodded at the same time.

“This is the solution. A building kept separate, meant for only one task; finishing the gunpowder.”

Inside, I showed him the final process of mixing and corning the powder. Whatever Aprilia said, I was not going to let a bunch of teenagers take over such a dangerous process.

It didn’t take the methodical young man even an hour to learn the basics, as he ground the mixture, compressed it and sifted it into grains of different size under my supervision.

We carried the powder outside of the berm, poured it in a thin line across a dry brick and set one end on fire.

The flame hissed as it raced from one end of the line to the other at an even pace, without sputtering.

I looked back at the young man.

He was barely into his twenties and lacked confidence, but he was also smart, diligent and persistent.

As he stood up, I turned to face him.

“Rowan, I promote you to my… Master of Chemicals.”

He blinked.

“Sire?”

“I just made it up. We’ll come up with a better name and formally induct you after the Council is formed. What’s important is that I am entrusting you with the defense of our country. If anything happens to me, you will ensure that Chadom’s defenders have enough ammunition to rebuff any foe.”

He froze.

“Why me?”

“You have what it takes. An eye for detail, diligence, brains and curiosity.”

He started to drop to a knee.

I caught him by the shoulder.

“None of that. We don’t do things that way here.”

He let out a slow breath, then stood up, pulling his shoulders back. When he looked me in the eyes, I saw firm resolve there. He nodded slowly.

“I won’t disappoint you, Sire.”

“Good.”

We finally had quality ammunition.

On the other hand, Kovar was struggling with making weapons.

When we reached his workshop, I found him spewing a litany of curses, as he threw a red-hot rod of our precious Huntsman steel on the floor.

“What happened?” I asked cautiously.

“It has no give, Sire!”

“That’s the point. Whatever you make from it, tools, machines and weapons, they will survive much more abuse than those made of iron and puddling steel.”

“If I can make ‘em in the first place.” He glared at the glowing metal. “It has a very small temperature range where it is willing to listen.”

“That’s why you have a power hammer. To shape it quickly.”

His expression said what his mouth didn’t.

“Kovar,” I said slowly. “Have you been using the power hammer?”

“No,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Why not?”

“I wanted to make it with my own hands.”

I sighed.

“This is not the time to be prideful. Our country needs those weapons. Use the power hammer and make those barrels.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything.

Finally, he nodded silently.

I spent the rest of the day moving from one noisy workshop to another, checking up on Aramid and the three Ducklings, turning another cannon on the lathe, to the poor blacksmiths on the other side of Powerfall working on more crossbows, and men welding the lead sheets into chambers for sulfuric acid.

Everywhere I went, people needed something, be it more time, materials or skilled labor. We didn’t have enough of them.

By the time I returned home, tired mentally than physically, the sun had begun sinking.

Aprilia was already there, with dinner ready.

The faint noise of hammers shaping stone and men grunting, as they built the castle wall, rang through the shutters as she ladled hot lentil and vegetable pottage into my bowl. Every evening, the men worked until the very last ray of sunlight had gone out. We would need space to store the grain after the harvest. The castle wasn’t the best place for it, but constructing silos, meant to house nothing but grain, was out of the question.

We didn’t have enough hands.

“How are the preparations for the election?” I asked, as I dug into the hearty meal.

“Fine,” she said quietly, not touching hers.

“Jack, people aren’t happy about how slowly the houses are being built. And you keep taking more craftsmen away for your projects every other day.”

“I’m not happy about it either, but they are necessary.”

“The twelve insulae under construction will house only a thousand people. If the castle is finished in time, a thousand more.”

“Fifteen hundred,” I corrected her.

“That still leaves eight hundred people homeless.”

“They’re not homeless. They have tents.”

“It’s the same, especially when the immigrants will have proper houses before them.”

“Fine, I’ll prioritize it. But your father’s workshop has to be extended. It’s making the steel for our guns. The work on the buildings related to weapons and ammo can’t be stopped. I could postpone the work on the sulfuric acid facility, but… what if I need it?”

“And people need sturdy houses. Most of them are still living in tents. In the rainy season.”

“I’ve seen trenches dug around them. Don’t they keep the ground dry?”

She shook her head.

“They keep the tents from flooding. They don’t stop everything from becoming damp. Have you visited the people lately?”

“Haven’t had the time.”

“I have. Their clothes are getting moldy. If they weren’t so thankful to you, they wouldn’t be so silent.”

I cringed.

That could be a serious problem.

I didn’t want anyone to get sick. We still didn’t have antibiotics.

“And the harvest is almost upon us,” she continued. “With so many of our people mining, logging and building, the rest are somehow barely managing to tend to the fields. Either the construction of the houses or the production of weapons will have to be put on hold for the harvest.”

She paused.

“People won’t be happy if you choose the first one.”

I sighed, scratching my neck.

Without machines, harvesting crops would require thousands of strong hands.

“I remember you saying you could make something for the harvest,” she said hopefully.

“A mechanical harvester. It will reduce the number of people needed significantly, but it’s a complex machine. Not something that I can whip out in a day. Or a week. Not if I want something that doesn’t constantly jam.”

Only after arming the soldiers could I or my people spend weeks or months tinkering to make a reliable version.

“I’ll postpone whatever project I can,” I said in defeat.

“That won’t be enough.”

“Fine!” I snapped. “We’ll pause the manufacturing of crossbows, then.”

Her anger faded.

“What about the Queen? Won’t she be furious if she doesn’t get all five hundred bows?”

“No… maybe. She’s not like other nobles. I’ll appease her somehow. Besides, we might not need as many people for the harvest.”

“But you just said—”

“Not the harvest itself, but there are other parts that can be mechanized with much simpler machines, and those are already under construction. The prototypes should be finished by tomorrow.”

Her expression softened.

“Thank you.”

The next day, I took Aprilia and the Elders to the industrial district under gray skies.

I had the carriage stop besides one of the field and stepped out to pluck a small bundle of wheat.

“What is that for?” Erickson asked, as I climbed back inside.

“A demonstration.”

We stepped into the Ducklings’ old workshop, where Frida, Fennar and one of Kovar’s apprentices were sweeping the floor.

“Is it ready?”

They almost jumped in response.

“Yes, Master,” Fennar pointed to the two tall wooden boxes.

“Let’s see if they work,” I said opening the flap of the first machine.

Fennar stepped to the side and began turning the handle.

I shoved the stalks of wheat into the thresher, the iron spikes of its rotating drum beating against the stalks, knocking the grain loose in a rapid clatter.

Everyone looked suitably impressed as seeds rained down into the container beneath.

Then we took the grain and poured it into the winnower, with Fennar turning the iron handle with all his strength. It whooshed to life as the fan inside created a strong draft that flung the chaff away from the heavier seeds.

Well, some of it.

Below, less than a third of the seeds had cleanly separated from their hulls.

“Um… uh,” Frida began to stutter nervously.

“Not your fault.”

I picked up a handful and squeezed the hulls between my fingers.

“They’re a week or two away from ripening. They won’t separate easily until then.”

Then I turned to the Elders.

“With these machines, two men can do the job of half a dozen people. The others can then focus on building the houses.”

They all looked at me cautiously.

“I won’t steal those workers, I promise,” I said, raising my hands.

“How?” Aprilia asked.

I narrowed my eyes at her.

She knew I couldn’t take my words back afterwards.

“The work on the sulfuric acid facility will be postponed until everyone has a sturdy roof over their heads.”

“And?”

“The crossbow production will be paused once the harvest begins,” I forced the words out.

I didn’t like it.

But people needed homes.

Laira would have to wait a while for the rest of her crossbows.