The success of the blast furnace immediately created a massive, physical problem: the sheer weight of the pig iron.
The riverside furnace was now producing hundreds of heavy, crude ingots, far more than the refining forge at the manor could handle. Moving the black lumps along the three miles of muddy, rutted track that passed for a road required four oxen and two men per trip, and they averaged barely two trips a day.
Alex stood by the river, watching a cart axle snap under a moderate load. He pulled out his charcoal stick and a scrap of parchment, already calculating the throughput deficiency.
"Garth," Alex called to the blacksmith, who was happily designing the new refining furnace. "We have optimized the production function, but the transport subroutine is failing catastrophically. Our current Cost Per Unit Distance (CPUD) is unacceptable."
Garth shrugged, already obsessed with his molten metal. "The carts are what they are, My Lord. Old. We need bigger oxen."
"No," Alex sighed. "We need better geometry."
The current Arren carts were medieval disasters: solid, non-rotating axles fixed to the body, forcing the entire structure to twist against the wheels. The wheels themselves were thick, heavy, and often mismatched.
Alex began sketching. His design was so simple, it should have existed a thousand years ago.
"We start with standardization," Alex instructed the confused cartwright. "Every axle must be the exact same width. Next, the axles must be smooth and lubricated with pig fat, so the wheel turns around the fixed axle. This dramatically reduces rolling resistance."
He then focused on the wheels. Instead of cutting a solid, heavy circle, they would build a spoked wheel—lighter, stronger, and more flexible. To manage the muddy ground, he designed a simple swivel-axle system for the front pair, enabling tight turns without breaking the chassis.
"The new cart is not just a box on wheels," Alex explained with clinical passion. "It's an optimized piece of engineering designed for maximum payload with minimum kinetic friction. We will call it the 'Efficiency Cart.'"
The workers were mystified, but the numbers didn't lie. When the first Efficiency Cart, rolling on its lighter, slick-axle system, was tested, it was able to carry 50% more weight using the same two oxen and one fewer man. The throughput instantly doubled.
The Problem of Shared Infrastructure
The new carts were wonderful, but the road was not. The heavy, sharp iron bars and the constant rain turned the main artery leading to the fief into a churning river of mud, negating half the efficiency gains.
"The cart is 80% efficient," Alex fumed. "But the road is 30% efficient. The net result is still a failure."
He realized the true issue was drainage. He instructed Silas's farmers to stop viewing the road as a flat surface and start viewing it as a piece of infrastructure. They dug trenches along the sides and began mounding the center slightly higher than the edges—a cambered road design. This simple change ensured water ran off the road, rather than pooling on it.
Then came the bigger problem: the road extended far past the Arren lands, straight into the territory of their primary creditor, Baron Tarsus. Alex needed Tarsus's cooperation to fix a road that didn't technically belong to him.
Alex rode out to Tarsus's heavily guarded estate, ignoring the gasps of his own nervous retainers. He did not ask for aid, nor did he beg for patience on the debt. He presented a cost-benefit analysis.
"Baron Tarsus," Alex stated, unrolling a clean ledger sheet. "Your tax revenue comes from trade. Trade relies on speed. Your current road requires merchants to replace cart wheels at least twice per journey, slowing delivery by two days, and costing you revenue in delayed taxes and damaged goods."
"So?" Tarsus grunted, unimpressed.
"So, I will pay for the materials and labor to repair and maintain a three-mile stretch of the road within your territory," Alex proposed. "In exchange, I require a three-year toll exemption for all my steel shipments. You receive an improved asset, permanent tax revenue from faster trade, and your estate receives a functional road. I receive maximized efficiency for my output."
Tarsus stared. He wasn't accustomed to nobles offering him free improvements and presenting it as a shared profit structure. It was cold logic, not feudal subservience.
"A free road?" Tarsus asked slowly. "And you only take a toll exemption?"
"It is optimal for both of our ledgers, Baron," Alex confirmed. "A mutual benefit subroutine."
Tarsus, unable to find the catch in the transparent logic of shared profit, accepted the deal.
Within weeks, the new Efficiency Carts rolled smoothly over the dry, cambered road, delivering mountains of pig iron to the manor for refining. The throughput bottleneck had been broken. The Arren Steelworks was now poised to flood the local market.
Next priority: Production is flowing, but we lack the skilled manpower to operate the refining furnaces. We need workers. And this world desperately lacks an educational system.