The discovery of his great-grandfather's secret lit a fire under Kaelen. The knowledge that his plan wasn't just a wild guess, but a rediscovery of lost technology, filled him with a new sense of grim determination.
He didn't wait until morning.
Torchlight flickered as Gideon led him to the forge. It was quiet, the main fire banked to a deep, pulsing red. Borin was cleaning his tools, his massive form a silhouette against the embers. He looked up, surprised, as his Baron strode in.
"Borin," Kaelen said, his voice urgent. "I have a new task for you."
He recounted Finn's story—the tale of Baron Alistair, the Red Swamp, and the 'heavy, red rocks.' He spoke of the secret forge that 'roared like a beast.'
Borin listened, his arms crossed, skepticism warring with the pull of a good story. "Fairy tales, my Lord."
"Is it?" Kaelen challenged. "I have reason to believe it's true. Tomorrow, a team will begin excavating this 'red rock.' I need you to be ready to smelt it. To turn it into steel."
The blacksmith let out a short, harsh laugh. "My Lord, if this ore is as poor as the stories say, my fire won't be hot enough. We'll get nothing but slag."
"Then we'll make the fire hotter," Kaelen replied instantly. "I have a design. A way to upgrade this forge to burn hotter than you can imagine. For now, just be ready to test the ore. When it fails, I'll show you the solution."
He was planting the seed, preparing the proud craftsman for an inevitable failure so that he would be more receptive to a radical solution. Borin just grunted, but Kaelen saw a flicker of curiosity in the blacksmith's eyes.
✧✧✧
The next morning, the sun had barely risen when Kaelen forced himself out of his lumpy bed.
Every muscle in his body screamed in protest. The previous evening's "training" with Seraphina had been a brutal lesson in his own physical inadequacy. He was weak, his stamina was pathetic, and his coordination was nonexistent.
Unacceptable. A CEO can't be the weakest link in his own organization. Physical deficiency is a critical point of failure.
He donned a simple tunic and trousers and headed out into the crisp, cold air of the castle bailey. His lazy dream of a peaceful retirement would have to wait.
First came survival, and survival required a body that could at least run away without collapsing.
He started with a slow, painful jog around the perimeter of the bailey. His lungs burned, his legs felt like lead. It was pathetic.
As he completed his third lap, panting and drenched in sweat, a familiar voice cut through the morning mist.
"My Lord?"
He stopped, leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
Seraphina stood there, already dressed in her leather armor, a practice sword in hand. She had clearly been on her way to her own morning training. She was looking at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated confusion.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Improving... operational fitness," Kaelen gasped out between breaths. "Yesterday's performance... was subpar. A deficiency... that needs to be corrected."
She stared at him, her head tilted. Most lords, after such a humiliating first lesson, would have given up. They would have blamed the sword, the teacher, or the weather. They certainly wouldn't be out at dawn, torturing themselves in the cold.
"Your form is terrible," she stated bluntly. "You are leaning too far forward. It puts unnecessary strain on your knees."
"Noted," he wheezed.
She didn't leave. She simply stood there, her arms crossed, watching him with those sharp, analytical eyes. He felt like a piece of faulty equipment under inspection. After a moment, he straightened up, his breathing evening out slightly.
He had her attention. It was a good time to broach the day's main task.
"Captain," he said, his voice now more steady. "Today, I'm leading a small expedition to the Red Swamp. I want you and two of your guards to accompany me."
Her expression hardened slightly. "The swamp? My Lord, the villagers avoid that place. It's considered dangerous."
"Which is precisely why I need my best soldier with me," Kaelen replied smoothly. "We're not going on a hunt. We're going on a geological survey. Finn's story has given me a lead on a local iron source, and I intend to confirm it myself."
Seraphina processed this. He wasn't just sending others to do the risky work. He was going himself, and he was requesting her, his only Knight, as security. It was a practical, logical decision. It was a sign of trust.
And it was an order.
"Of course, my Lord," she said with a crisp nod. "When do we leave?"
"In an hour," Kaelen said. "Gather your men, and a few villagers with shovels. Tell them they'll be well-compensated for a morning of digging in the mud."
She nodded again and turned to leave. Kaelen watched her go, then took a deep breath and started jogging again, this time trying to correct his posture based on her feedback.
The path to his retirement was proving to be far more strenuous than he had ever anticipated. But with every painful step, every aching muscle, he was taking control. He wasn't just the Baron of Greylock anymore. He was its lead engineer, its CEO, and its most reluctant new trainee.
✧✧✧
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading!
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Even better: a review! I'm completely open to criticism and your pointers will really help me improve.