02.42: The Enemies We Make

The castle was already celebrating when Reshma and I stepped out of my chambers the next morning. Servants hurried through the courtyards with sloshing barrels of ale. Somewhere near the kitchens a group of soldiers was singing a victory song badly.

The smell of spilled ale and wood smoke was in the air.

Lady Erenna approached us across the courtyard.

Her expression softened when she saw me.

“How are you doing, Jack?” she asked quietly.

“Fine, mother.”

She studied my face for a moment. “Good.”

She hesitated. “I wanted to talk to you about Isanna.”

“What about her?”

“She wishes to join the council.”

I pursed my lips. “That’s… unexpected.”

Isanna was more interested in trading gossip and competing with other ladies for the latest gowns and baubles that were in fashion in the capital than matters of state.

“Mother, our direct vassals are already angry that I’ve chosen three of my councilors myself, while all five of theirs will be elected. I don’t want to rock the boat right now.”

She exhaled. “She will not take refusal well, but you’re right. She is not ready for such responsibility. Where are you going?”

“The infirmary.”

Her face fell.

“I’ll come with you.”

The castle infirmary occupied a large stone hall inside the wall.

The smell reached us before the door had even opened. Crushed herbs, vinegar, boiled cloth and blood.

Two dozen men lay on narrow beds along the walls. Some were sleeping under blankets. Others just stared at ceiling, exhausted from the pain.

Ten beds held men who could never fight again.

Gerrin and Darron stood near a worktable cluttered with knives, needles and clean bandages. The four former monks and nuns were checking on the patients.

The surgeons straightened at our approach.

“How are the injured doing?” I asked.

“One more died at night,” Gerrin replied, not meeting my eyes.

“The rest should recover,” Darron added. “The lightly wounded are already out and about.”

“I hope you insisted they return for check ups and dress their wounds with clean bandages?”

He rolled his eyes. “I did, but soldiers are a stubborn lot. Some won’t listen.”

I shrugged. “Can’t save people from their own stupidity, but they shouldn’t be dying of ignorance either.”

I glanced at the young men and women. “How are your new students?”

He snorted. “If these were the most open minded students in their class, I weep for those their classmates are going to ‘treat.’ They were taught to wait for stars to align before treating a patient. One wanted to bleed a man who was already dying of blood loss.”

I grimaced.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty sad state of affairs. We’ll have to get rid of all that nonsense.”

Gerrin gasped.

“Careful with those words,” Reshma hissed.

“What? I went through our physicians’ books. Their understanding of human body and its ailments is mostly nonsensical.”

Darron nodded in agreement, while my companions looked aghast.

“It’s also endorsed by the Church,” she said quietly. “They don’t appreciate their authority being challenged.”

“Then they should learn some humility. The people’s health is far more important than the priests’ pride.”

She cradled her head in her hands. “Are you actively trying to make an enemy out of the entire Church?”

“No, but I won’t let them kill people due to their arrogance either.”

Lady Erenna put a hand on my arm.

“Jack, dear, even if you are right, discretion is sometimes wiser than truth.”

She hesitated. “Did you truly have to dismiss our physician? Could you not have kept him?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I met the man enough times to know that if he remained, he would try to assert his ‘authority’ over his lessers. I don’t have time to deal with that nonsense. Also, I didn’t dismiss him. I relieved him of his duties. There is a difference.”

“What?”

“A generous severance for serving us faithfully all these years.”

“You should have done it sooner. He wasn’t happy when he found out he was being replaced by a surgeon.”

I shrugged. If saving lives meant angering the priests, so be it.

I’d deal with them once I became the Prince Consort.

The visit was followed by a light breakfast and a meeting with Godwin and his subordinates.

At noon, we came out to a courtyard packed with soldiers. Every participant of the Battle of Blackrain, beside those garrisoning the mining town, was there.

Banners of the Crown and the county snapped in the wind atop the ramparts. The sky was steel gray, clouds hiding in the sun.

Godwin stood by my side. His face was just as scarred as ever, but he had replaced his equally scarred armor for a more comfortable doublet.

I glanced at Reshma. She kept a neutral expression, but she would be shouting at me if she could. If she had her way, I would have to reconvene with the vassals to make a joint decision. But I really didn’t want to deal with the Nordhaven crone if I could. I wanted to be done with all this as soon as possible.

Baron Wulf and his younger son, Brandolf also stood close.

I stepped forward.

“We are gathered today,” I began, “to celebrate our victory over the greedy Ironfelds and to commemorate what it cost us. Forty three men gave their lives to not only restore the border of Nobart, but to ensure the work of equipping the soldiers of our realm doesn’t slow down. They died so our realm may be ready when the Zoran Empire comes knocking.”

Heads nodded in acknowledgment.

“You all displayed valor in the face of a well entrenched enemy. You faced arrows and boiling pots to reclaim Blackrain, and every resident of that town thanks you for it. In recognition of your bravery, every participant of the battle will receive an additional month of pay as bonus.”

The courtyard erupted in cheers.

I waited for the noise to fade.

“We will also ensure every injured soldier receives proper treatment, and find jobs for those who can no longer fight. You all have my heartfelt thanks.”

Another round of cheers followed.

“I have one more announcement to make. The leaders of the Great Company have decided to dissolve it.”

The courtyard instantly fell silent. Men looked to each other; some confused, some scared.

“This morning, I met with Sir Godwin and his senior lieutenants. I made an offer to them, which they accepted. The Great Company will be absorbed into the new standing army of Nobart. You may either join its ranks and serve the realm, or you may leave freely.

“Those who wish to remain, know that henceforth you will raise your arms only for the peace and prosperity of the county and the realm, not petty vendettas. Together, we will work toward a better future without any pointless wars.”

A hesitant and confused chorus of cheers answered the announcement.

“Every one of you was brave, but some played a pivotal role in our victory. It would be dishonorable of me to not recognize it. Lieutenant Harl?”

The short owl-eyed man came forward.

“Kneel.”

Steel whispered as I took out my sword.

The blade rested on one shoulder, then another.

“Rise, Sir Harl.”

The courtyard erupted in cheers again.

Harl stood stiffly, stunned.

“Another deserved the same honor, but sadly lost his life,” I continued, remembering Sigvald, who had a bright future ahead. “I promise you, I won’t squander your lives for my ego.”

The men nodded in acknowledgment.

My bodyguards looked on with neutral expressions. I had offered them knighthood.

They had declined without hesitation.

While the soldiers celebrated, I slipped away to meet Baron Wulf and the furnace masters he had brought from Blackrain.

He didn’t look very happy.

I’d have to talk to him later.

Four older men followed him into the meeting chamber. They all had leathery skin, darkened by years spent in the heat of furnaces and arms thick with muscle. The youngest of them was in his mid forties. They wore clean clothes, but still smelled of smoke and iron.

I took out the sketches I had drawn and looked the men in the eyes.

“You all know that we face a powerful enemy to the south that has already destroyed many realms?”

They nodded, brows knitted.

“This,” I tapped on the rolled up sketches, “will help the soldiers of Nanon face what is coming. Without it, our realm might not survive. Consider this your battlefield.”

Their eyes widened, then hardened with conviction.

“If agents of our enemies get their hands on it, all this can also be used against us. So it will be your responsibility that this knowledge does not reach their hands. Which means no unauthorized visitors, no gossiping about it, nothing. If any of you leak these secrets, you would be treated like the traitors you would be.”

They looked offended but still nodded in acknowledgment.

I did not like making threats, but given the Zoran Empire's size, every advantage would scale in their favor.

I unfurled the sketches. The same design we used in Chadom.

“This device pulls the air mixed in the water from a waterfall and compresses it.” I pointed to the trompe. “These ovens then heat it. That hot air then rises up inside the blast furnace, burning the mixture of roasted iron ore, fuel and limestone.”

“Is that coal?” one of the masters pointed to the feeder.

“Yes.”

He scoffed. “Doesn’t work. Tried it when I was young. Ruins the iron.”

“If you use it as it is. It must be cooked first, the same way wood is to make charcoal. The impurities that ruin the iron burn away, leaving behind coke.”

“Why not just use charcoal?”

“Coke burns hotter.”

“It’s a needlessly complicated design. Why all these pipes?” one of them asked.

“This furnace needs a constant supply of air, under pressure and very, very hot.”

“We have bellows. Big ones.”

“Not enough. The air needs to be hot enough to almost melt silver.”

One scoffed. “Why?”

I met their eyes.

“To make ten times more iron than any bloomery.”

Their eyes bugged out.

“That’s impossible,” the oldest one said.

I leaned in closer.

“Build it properly and you will see it for yourself. This furnace will produce a glowing river of pure, liquid iron, not slag ridden bloom that you have to hammer for hours. It’s a beautiful sight.”

I raised a finger. “It is a very brittle iron. Useful for only a few purposes.”

The oldest one narrowed his eyes at me. “Why would you want that?”

I just smiled. “I have my reasons.”

I wasn’t going to give them the secret to making steel.

Blackrain would produce pig iron.

Chadom would then refine it into steel.

One wrung his hands. “Even if it works, it will take weeks, maybe even months just to build it.”

“The sooner the better,” I replied.

They turned to the Baron instead of answering me.

He hesitated, then nodded.

“The guild won’t like it,” one of them said quietly.

“Then you don’t inform them.”

They looked at me as if I was mad.

“This is a matter of nation-- realm’s security. Nanon’s interests come before the guild’s.”

“If it’s for our realm’s safety,” the oldest master said hesitantly, “we’ll do it.”

“Thank you. Although making it will be only your first challenge.”

Puzzled eyes looked at me.

“Unlike a bloomery, this furnace must be run continuously. If the fire stops, its insides will crack. You must have roasted ore, coke and limestone ready at all times.”

The men exchanged looks.

Then nodded, accepting the challenge.

I could still see reluctance in their eyes, but also determination.

Men like them would make Nanon strong enough to face the challenges lying ahead.

And there would be those who would try to stop them.

I would have to deal with the enemies, external and internal, soon.