The morning cold bit deep into Alex's bones as he knelt in the garden, his calloused hands moving through the basil with practiced efficiency that came from over a week of repetition. The bruises had faded to yellow-green by now, and his ribs only ached when he bent at the wrong angles.
The overseer watched him from a distance, a whip coiled at his belt like a sleeping serpent. Alex kept his movements steady and his face blank, the perfect image of a slave without thoughts or ambitions beyond his next meal.
Voices drifted from the main house through open windows, frustrated rather than angry.
"It's not working!" Kael's voice carried clearly across the garden. "The water cools too quickly, by the time everything is prepared she can barely walk to the basin."
Kael being ofcourse, the young master of the house.
An older voice responded with patience worn thin by repeated failure. "Young master, perhaps we could assign additional servants to keep the water constantly heated—"
"That defeats the entire purpose, Master Henrik," Kael cut him off. "I want something Lady Elara can use herself, in private, without half the household knowing about her condition and spreading gossip."
Alex's hands continued their work through the herbs, but his attention fixed entirely on that conversation. Lady Elara—the merchant's daughter he'd heard mentioned before, though this sounded far more personal than mere political courtesy between noble houses.
"System," he thought quietly while plucking another basil leaf. "Tell me about keeping water hot."
[Heat transfers through three primary mechanisms: conduction, convection, and radiation. To retain heat effectively, you must interrupt these transfer processes. Air is an excellent insulator when properly contained, as are materials with low thermal conductivity such as wool, straw, and certain clays.]
Alex turned the information over in his mind as he continued harvesting, his movements automatic after days of the same work. Air as insulation—he'd experienced that principle every winter of his previous life. Thick blankets worked better than thin ones not because of the fabric itself, but because of the air trapped between the layers creating a barrier against the cold.
If you had two containers, one inside the other, with air trapped between them...
The lunch bell rang, interrupting his thoughts. The slaves gathered in their designated corner of the kitchen courtyard for their daily ration of bread and watery soup, eating in the careful silence that years of slavery had beaten into them. Unnecessary words drew unnecessary attention, and attention inevitably led to pain.
That afternoon, the overseer gathered all the slaves with an expression that mixed his usual displeasure with something that looked almost like resignation.
"The young master has a project!" he announced without preamble, clearly unhappy about the extra work this would create for him. "He's building something for Lady Elara's comfort, and you lot will provide the labor for it."
The slaves exchanged careful glances but said nothing as they followed the overseer to a workshop near the stables. Inside, several craftsmen were already at work on what appeared to be a large metal basin set into an ornate wooden frame, with a fire pit positioned beneath it to heat the water.
Kael stood to one side discussing something with an older man wearing a craftsman's leather apron—Master Henrik, presumably, the same voice from earlier. Both men looked frustrated, apparently this wasn't their first attempt at solving whatever problem they faced.
"The concept is simple enough," Kael was saying as the slaves filed in and took up positions against the back wall. "The basin holds hot water, and the fire underneath maintains the temperature. But the damn metal cools too quickly no matter what we try. Even with a constant fire burning beneath it, the water loses heat faster than we can maintain it."
Master Henrik rubbed his weathered hands together thoughtfully. "We could use thicker metal, young master. More mass should retain heat for a longer period."
"We already tried that approach," Kael said with barely concealed impatience. "The thicker metal helped somewhat, but the water still cools within twenty minutes. Lady Elara needs something that will stay warm for hours at a time, not minutes."
Alex watched from his position at the back, keeping his face carefully neutral while his mind worked through the problem. The issue was obvious to anyone who understood the basic principles of thermo dynamics—heat was escaping from the water through the metal walls of the basin and dissipating into the surrounding air. A single-walled container, it was the high thermal conductivity in the metal with no insulation whatsoever, that was the problem. The solution was equally obvious, at least in theory.
But speaking out meant risk, serious risk. The overseer's whip hung ready at his belt, a constant reminder that slaves who spoke out of turn rarely enjoyed the consequences.
Yet what was the point of remaining silent? This body already drew eyes whether he wanted it to or not, with its doll-like features and unsettling beauty that made people uncomfortable. He'd caught servants staring more than once, watching him with expressions that quickly turned away when noticed. If he was going to be remembered regardless, he might as well make it count for something beyond being the pretty slave who tended the gardens.
His heart hammered in his chest, fear and adrenaline mixing together into something that made his hands want to shake. One wrong word and he'd feel the whip again, or possibly something worse. The nobles didn't need much excuse to make examples of uppity slaves.
But he'd already died once in his previous life, wasted twenty-eight years on comfortable mediocrity that led nowhere and meant nothing. What was the point of a second chance if he spent it the exact same way? keeping his head down and achieving nothing worth remembering?
"Fuck it," he thought, and opened his mouth before fear could stop him.
"Young master..." Alex called out, his voice carrying across the workshop with more confidence than he meant to show.
Everyone in the room turned to stare at him. The other slaves looked absolutely horrified, their eyes wide with the certainty that he'd just signed his own death warrant. The overseer's hand moved immediately toward the whip at his belt, fingers closing around the handle. Master Henrik's expression promised swift and painful violence for this interruption.
What a welcoming bunch they were.
But Kael simply looked at him with mild curiosity, as if a garden tool had suddenly started speaking and he wanted to see what it would say. "Yes? What is it?"
Alex's mouth had gone completely dry, but he forced the words out anyway. "Forgive the interruption, young master. I had a thought about the cooling problem you mentioned."
The overseer took an aggressive step forward, whip already half-uncoiled. "Insolent wretch, speaking out of turn—"
Kael raised one hand casually, making the overseer froze mid-motion like a puppet with cut strings. "Wait. Let him speak." His eyes remained fixed on Alex with a curious expression. "Go ahead, slave. What thought did you have?"
This was it—time to either prove himself valuable enough to keep alive, or die for wasting a noble's time with useless ideas. Possibly both, if today went really badly.
"The metal is conducting heat away from the water and into the air around it, young master," Alex said, keeping his voice respectful and his eyes properly downcast like a good slave should. "But what if the air couldn't reach the metal to steal that heat?"
"What are you babbling about?" Master Henrik demanded, his tone suggesting he'd already dismissed whatever Alex might say as nonsense.
Alex risked looking up slightly, just enough to meet Kael's eyes for a moment. "In winter, young master, we slaves wear thick clothes when we can get them. Two layers with air trapped between them keep us much warmer than a single thick layer of the same total weight. What if the same principle was applied to the basin? Two containers, one nested inside the other, with air trapped in the space between them?"
The silence that followed his suggestion stretched out uncomfortably long. Alex could feel his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest, could hear the blood rushing in his ears. he was almost certain of seeing that whip.
Then Kael laughed—not mockery, but genuine surprise mixed with something that might have been delight. "That's actually clever! Why didn't any of us think of something so simple?"
Master Henrik looked personally offended by this reaction, as if Alex's suggestion had insulted both his professional skills and his family heritage, maybe Alex killed his sheep or something. "Young master, I must protest! This slave is wasting your valuable time with fantasies. Using two containers when one will suffice is needlessly wasteful and completely unnecessary!! "
"Is it wasteful if it actually solves the problem?" Kael moved closer to Alex, studying him with renewed interest that made Alex's skin prickle with wariness. "Explain in more detail. How exactly would this arrangement work?"
Alex felt every single eye in the room boring into him, but he pushed forward with his explanation. "The outer container would provide the structural support and decorative appearance, young master. The inner container would actually hold the water and Lady Elara's feet. In the space between the two containers, the trapped air—or perhaps wool packing to prevent the air from circulating—would create an insulating barrier. Heat from the inner container couldn't escape as easily because air is a very poor conductor of heat, similar to how stone houses stay noticeably cooler inside during summer because their thick walls trap air."
"Where exactly did a mere slave learn about principles of heat conduction?" Master Henrik's voice had taken on a sharp, suspicious edge that made Alex's instincts scream warnings.
This was dangerous territory, the kind of question that could expose him as something other than what he appeared to be. Alex chose his next words with extreme care. "I don't know the proper scholarly terms for these things, master craftsman. I simply notice patterns in the world around me. How things function. How things feel in different types of weather. I thought perhaps the same underlying principle might apply to keeping water warm."
Kael nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as he worked through the logic. "Could this actually function as you describe?"
"I don't know for absolute certain, young master," Alex admitted honestly, because claiming perfect confidence would be suspicious in itself. "It's merely a thought I had based on my curiosity. I would need to test it to be sure."
"Then we'll test it." Kael's decision came immediately, a grin forming on his face, he seemed quite confident in the young slave. He took a proper look at Alex. "You there. What do they call you?"
"They don't really call me anything specific, young master. Just 'slave' or 'you' or 'that one' depending on which person needs me for something. My previous owner used to call me Alexander.... or Alex"
"Alex then. Fine." Kael gestured sharply at Master Henrik, whose face had gone an interesting shade of red. "Provide him with whatever materials and workspace he needs to construct a small working model. We'll test whether this 'trapped air' concept actually functions as he suggests."
Master Henrik looked like he'd just been forced to swallow something particularly foul-tasting. "Young master, surely you don't mean to have a mere slave working here, on my grounds!! i must obj-"
"He conceived the idea, so he'll be the one to prove whether it works or doesn't work," Kael cut him off with obvious impatience. "If it fails completely, I'll punish him for wasting my time appropriately. But if it succeeds..." A slight smile crossed his face. "Then we'll have finally solved this persistent problem. You have three days, Alex. Build me a working model that demonstrates your concept."
Three days. Seventy-two hours to either prove himself valuable or die for failing. Alex bowed deeply, hiding whatever expression was trying to force its way onto his face. "Thank you for this opportunity, young master!! I won't disappoint you."
The overseer, having enough of the slave's impudence, roughly grabbed his arm and led him toward a corner of the workshop, Alex felt the burning weight of the other slaves' stares following him. They thought he was completely insane, and maybe they were right. Maybe he'd just made the single stupidest decision of his second life.
"System," he thought while the overseer shoved him toward a workbench and stalked away muttering. "I'm going to need information."
[I can provide relevant data when you ask specific questions. But the actual work of building and testing is entirely yours to handle. I cant physically provide you support]
"I wasn't asking you to." Alex began examining the materials the craftsmen had available—clay pots of various sizes, tools he barely knew how to use properly, wool scraps from the textile workers. "I just need to know when I'm heading in completely the wrong direction before I make a complete idiot of myself."
[That's precisely what I'm here for, though you seem quite capable of the latter without requiring my assistance.]
Alex almost laughed at the System's dry tone, but managed to suppress it. Instead he selected two clay pots from the craftsmen's supplies, one noticeably larger than the other, and began measuring the gap that would exist if he nested them together.
His hands shook slightly as he worked—leftover adrenaline still coursing through his system from the confrontation.
The workshop continued its normal rhythm of activity around him, craftsmen working on various projects and slaves performing menial labor tasks, but Alex felt oddly separate from it all. In this corner with his clay pots and half-formed ideas, he would either prove himself valuable enough to rise above his current station, or he would die for the crime of impudence.
"No pressure at all," he muttered under his breath while examining the potential gap between his two selected pots.
[You placed yourself in this position through your own choices. Now you must deliver results, or face the consequences of failure.]
"Thanks for that helpful reminder."
[You're quite welcome. Now stop engaging in unnecessary internal dialogue with me and start actually working. Your deadline is already counting down.]
Alex took a slow breath to steady himself and began working in earnest. The first critical step was understanding exactly what materials he had available and determining how to shape them into something actually functional. He'd failed at plenty of things in his previous life through simple lack of effort or interest, but this time failure carried a rather permanent penalty.
Funny how the imminent threat of death focused the mind so wonderfully.
Master Henrik glanced over regularly with an expression of total blasphemy, how dare a mere slave intrude here? The other slaves had been assigned various menial tasks, shooting him looks that ranged from pitying to resentful.
Alex ignored all of it. Three days wasn't much time when you were learning entirely new skills from scratch, and he had quite a lot to figure out from what it seems. The System could explain that air functioned as an insulator, but it couldn't teach him how to properly work with clay, shape spacers that would maintain their integrity under heat stress, or seal gaps effectively.
That knowledge would have to come from his own hands, his own mistakes, and his own learning through repeated trial and error.
By the time the evening bell rang to signal the end of the work day, Alex's hands were cramped from unfamiliar labor and his back ached from hunching over the workbench. But he had accomplished something concrete—crude and untested, but something tangible that represented actual progress.
Tomorrow he would fill his prototype with hot water and discover whether theory matched reality, maybe this world had different principles of the universe? after all, magic was real.
'Explosion!!!' he muttered to nothing
The other slaves filed out toward their quarters, and Alex followed on exhausted legs. he lay down on his thin mat and stared up at the ceiling while his mind continued racing despite his body's fatigue.
Alex closed his eyes and tried to quiet his churning thoughts. Gosh, could the system not just tell him as he was making it, what was the point of it having an ai if if did not answer his questions? he was tired, sleepy.
And he wanted to use magic.... so unfair