Elias's latest obsession was communication. The near-disaster of the 'Oil Scare' had proven that human language—with its dialects and misinterpretations—was a critical structural flaw. He needed a system that was binary (yes/no, up/down) and independent of the fallible human voice.
"We are building a Mechanical Data Transmission Network!" Elias announced to his bewildered workforce. "Forget carrier pigeons! We are going to send messages thirty miles using rope, bells, and code!"
His plan was simple: run a taut, thin rope from the Ironspur manor all the way to the first merchant contact point. At specific intervals (every half-mile), he would station a small, crude repeater station manned by a trustworthy local. A hard pull on the rope would ring a bell at the station, and the operator would instantly relay the pull to the next station.
The initial construction hit an immediate snag: Rope Elasticity and Friction.
Elias watched in horror as the first ten-pound weight he tied to the rope barely moved the rope a hundred yards down the path.
MAOI Alert:
[Data Transmission Failure]
Signal Loss Rate: 95%.
Critical Flaw: Rope Stretch and Ground Friction.
"No! The signal is decaying!" Elias screamed, throwing his hands up. "The tensile strength is too low! The rope is absorbing the pull instead of transmitting it! We must eliminate all variables!"
He immediately shifted resources. The new construction project wasn't just laying rope; it was building a perfectly straight path to support the rope, along with hundreds of low-friction repeater posts using the last of the ball bearings from his cart project.
This grueling, detail-oriented task consumed days. The miners, led by Gark, were forced to meticulously dig holes and stabilize posts every fifty yards. The entire barony was focused on building a silent, invisible communication line.
Sir Kaelen, having secured his reputation as the Chief Air Quality Control Officer in Chapter 8, was given a new title: Lead Tension Calibration Specialist.
"Kaelen, your immense strength is required!" Elias ordered, handing him a rudimentary spring scale he'd jury-rigged from old wagon parts. "The rope must be taut enough to transmit the signal, but not so tight that it snaps! You will measure the tension at every post! It must remain at 85 Newtons, plus or minus 2!"
Kaelen spent two miserable days traveling back and forth, squinting at the scale and adjusting tiny wooden tension-pegs. (Internal Monologue: "I used to measure the power of my swing. Now I measure the tension of twine. My skills are a mockery. But a slack rope is an inefficient rope. I must ensure optimal tension.")
With the rope finally laid and calibrated, Elias had to devise the communication protocol.
"A simple pull means nothing! We need coded data bursts!" Elias announced.
He created a simple Binary Mechanical Alphabet:
Action — Meaning
Short Pull — Dot (⋅)
Long Pull — Dash (—)
Two Bells — End of Letter
Three Bells — End of Word
Elias had, through pure engineering efficiency, invented a very basic form of Morse Code.
"Observe, Kaelen! A short pull is 'dot'! A long pull is 'dash'! Dot-dash-dot-dot is the letter 'F'! Flawless! Simple! Irrefutable!"
He attempted his first transmission, sending a test message from his manor to Gark at the first repeater station a half-mile away: "O K" (Dash-dash-dash, followed by a pause, then Dash-dot-dash).
Elias yanked the rope according to the code, sending Gark's bell into a frenzy.
Two minutes later, Gark returned, huffing and puffing. "Baron! The bell rang seven times fast, then three times slow, then the rope snapped off the post!"
Elias slapped his forehead. "No! Human Error! You mistook the three separate dashes for one long one, and then you yanked the line instead of pulling! The system is solid, but the human processing unit is flawed!"
Elias realized the true crisis was the cost of human labor. Manning twenty repeater stations for simple communication was financially suicidal.
"The labor cost of this system is unacceptable!" Elias wailed. "Every human repeater station is an ongoing wage sink!"
He scrapped the manned repeater stations entirely. He redesigned the entire route to run the rope high above the path, using his cement posts and the remaining low-friction ball bearings to allow the rope to glide for miles without touching the ground. The transmission point was now directly between the manor and the final receiving merchant.
It required three more grueling days of high-altitude rope work, but the result was perfect: one long, continuous, high-tension rope.
He pulled the rope once. Thirty miles away, the merchant's bell—now directly connected—rang with a clear, single chime.
"We did it, Kaelen! We eliminated 90% of the friction and 99% of the labor cost! This is the most efficient data transmission system in the world!" Elias crowed.
Kaelen looked at the single, simple rope disappearing over the horizon. (Internal Monologue: "He built twenty miniature forts and calibrated them all with a spring scale, only to realize he needed just one long piece of string. He is brilliant and catastrophically wasteful in equal measure. My shame is now tied to a rope.")
Elias smiled a truly satisfied, greedy smile. "Now, Kaelen. We have the communication. We have the steel. It's time to send the final, massive shipment and secure our future. And we are going to send it with an armed guard—but only because the wages of a knight are cheaper than the potential loss of inventory!"