The CLANG! CLANG! of the smithy's heavy hammer was less the sound of industry and more the sound of Elias's last two servants preparing their final, dramatic resignation. The situation was dire.
"The Domestic Fatigue is at 90%," Elias announced to Kaelen, his voice strained from yelling over the rhythmic percussion. He pointed to his MAOI display, which had dedicated a large warning banner to the state of the cook's nerves. "This is a higher failure risk than the entire mine was! We must prioritize the household comfort over the ingot schedule!"
Sir Kaelen was already dressed in a tunic—no armor—and looked genuinely miserable. He had spent the morning dutifully stacking every spare piece of wool and blanket into a makeshift wall, per Elias's frantic instructions.
"My Lord, the wall is nearly complete," Kaelen reported, adjusting a threadbare tapestry. "We have used all the Baronial wool. It should absorb the vibration."
Elias stepped back, surveying the ridiculously thick, multi-layered textile wall that covered the stone. "Excellent. Let's test the Acoustic Absorption Coefficient. Hit it, Gark!"
Gark, the lead miner, now moonlighting as the head smith, swung the heavy hammer.
K-KA-CLONK!
The sound was instantly lower in frequency, but the stone structure of the manor immediately transmitted the vibration. A vase on Elias's bedside table shuddered and fell.
"No!" Elias screamed, slapping his head. "The mass is the problem! Stone is an excellent conduit for low-frequency vibration! The sound didn't stop; it just turned into a terrible, bone-shaking hum! Kaelen, your beautiful wall is useless! We need an Air Gap!"
Kaelen stared blankly at the ruined vase. (Internal Monologue: "I spent three hours stacking blankets, and he calls it useless. Yet, the enemy is silence, not sound. I must endure this shame.")
Elias pulled out the chalk and began drawing furiously on the remaining stretch of the smithy wall. He designed a double-panel partition: two walls made of rough-sawn lumber, separated by a four-inch space.
"We can't have the sound waves touching the second wall!" Elias explained, practically vibrating with renewed obsession. "The air itself must be the insulator! We fill the air gap with a light, non-dense medium. Kaelen! I need the largest volume of straw in the barony, and you are supervising its installation."
"Straw, My Lord?" Kaelen asked, trying to retain his dignity.
"Yes! And this is critical! The straw must be packed with a precise density! Too tight, and it becomes a conduit. Too loose, and the air gap is useless! Kaelen, you will stand inside the four-inch gap with this crude density stick and ensure the fill rate is exactly 40 kilograms per cubic meter! Do not fail me, or the cook will starve us both!"
And so, the handsome, highly-skilled knight, Sir Kaelen, was forced to spend the next two days standing awkwardly inside a narrow wooden partition, sweating profusely and patting down straw with his hands, all while the heavy CLANG of testing hammers echoed around him.
The miners watched, utterly bewildered by the nobleman's methods.
Gark leaned over the partition. "Sir Kaelen, why does the Baron make you do the packing? I can do it faster."
Kaelen sighed, his voice muffled by the straw. "Gark, this is not mere labor. This is the application of Optimized Density to Prevent Wave Transmission. It requires the absolute focus of a knight, apparently. Now, please, the upper corner is only at thirty-eight kilograms per cubic meter. Pack it tighter!"
After two days of work, the double-panel, straw-filled wall was complete. Elias stood in the manor courtyard, his heart pounding. Gark swung the hammer.
Clink.
The sound was barely audible. Success! The cook cheered, and the groundskeeper wept tears of joy.
Elias grinned, a terrifyingly successful scoundrel. "We beat the laws of acoustics, Kaelen! Domestic Fatigue Crisis Averted!"
However, the victory was short-lived. The sound-dampening wall worked too well. The heat and smoke from the furnaces, now trapped inside the sealed smithy, were unbearable.
"The heat! The particulate matter is too high!" Elias yelled, fanning his face. "We fixed the sound but created an Atmospheric Toxicity Event!"
Elias frantically consulted the MAOI. The blueprint for a solution appeared: a simple Air Displacement Fan powered by a gear-driven hand crank.
He turned to the one man in the barony who could be trusted with the constant, mind-numbing labor of turning a crank.
"Kaelen! Your next assignment is crucial! You will sit outside the smithy and turn this crank exactly sixty times per minute to maintain optimal airflow! You are now the Chief Air Quality Control Officer! Your focus must be unwavering! The Baronial prosperity depends on your wrist strength!"
Kaelen looked at the hand crank, then at his glorious silver sword, which was still strapped to his side. He let out a long, silent sigh that only a truly honorable man forced to operate a ventilation crank could produce.
(Sir Kaelen's Internal Monologue): "My grandfather protected the King on the battlefield. I am protecting the cook from carbon monoxide poisoning. My shame is boundless. Yet, the air quality is important."