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The house we had been assigned to was quite dirty, but at least it was decently built. I knew I couldn't demand construction standards from centuries in the future, so as long as it didn't collapse on us while we slept and managed to keep the cold out during winter, it was all one could reasonably expect from a house of that time.
It had twelve rooms. Apparently it had once belonged to a large family that had fallen into Bulgarian hands, so we had more than enough space to cover all our basic needs.
We had access to a well, which was a blessing. The river water flowed downhill and passed through several communities before reaching the area, so it had to be full of filth, especially considering that it was common practice to dump waste directly into rivers.
With winter already approaching, there was a lot to do. I helped my father repair the roofs, we reinforced weakened structures, and we set about gathering firewood from the nearby forests. Anyone was allowed to cut trees, since doing so widened the line of sight along the frontier and made it easier to spot raiding parties.
Fortunately, we still had Bulgarian-made axes. With them we felled five trees and spent an entire week turning them into firewood as temperatures began to drop. After that, we left the wood to dry properly.
With most of the repairs finished and our situation more settled, I decided to finally take inventory of all the loot. I had a rough idea of some amounts, but not everything we had stolen.
The final count was clear: four hundred solidi, one thousand miliaresion, and nearly ten thousand bronze coins. With that sum, we could live comfortably for several decades if we spent carefully. And of course, we would use salt or other spices to improve our food, because there was no way I was going back to eating grains or vegetables boiled in tasteless water.
Since winter was practically upon us, I began using part of the money to build a workshop. I had more than enough experience to dedicate myself to producing weapons and armor, and on an active frontier I would never lack customers—especially if I managed to produce steel, something I had noticed was quite rare due to the lack of technology, time, or capital.
I observed that the Evros River, near Adrianople, was completely devoid of smithies. After the sack carried out by Khan Krum, which had nearly depopulated the city, it seemed that all forges were concentrated within the walls. Perhaps they lacked the technology to use water wheels to power hammers or automatic bellows, or perhaps they simply feared a Bulgarian incursion. I didn't blame them.
Whatever the reason, I managed to contact several craftsmen who had workshops inside Adrianople and began planning the construction of a smithy outside the city, as modern as possible within the technological limits of the era.
I had several designs very clear in my mind—ideas I had developed years earlier, when I tried to set up a forge on the lowest possible budget before moving on to absurdly expensive equipment. I had studied many ancient techniques, but the one that interested me most was the method used in India and Central Asia to produce steel, capable of generating a material far purer than anything else available in the region.
Since there were several forges inside the city, it wasn't difficult to acquire surplus materials by buying them from master smiths. I obtained tongs, crucibles, hammers, pliers, mandrels, shears, and everything necessary to work steel once it was processed.
I also tried to obtain mineral coal instead of charcoal, since I needed to reach temperatures far higher than charcoal could provide. At the same time, I contacted clay workers and we began building a furnace powered by a water wheel. This wheel would drive both a heavy automatic hammer and a hydraulic bellows, ensuring a constant flow of oxygen into the fire.
By the beginning of the following year, everything was ready to begin steel production in sufficient quantities to start the business. The furnace was the most expensive part: we had to obtain high-quality clay and river stones and let them dry properly to prevent them from exploding at high temperatures due to internal moisture.
Finally, the forge was complete. I managed to have a merchant procure mineral coal for me, and considering everything that had been built, the total cost came to about thirty-five solidi. A building, a forge, and a fully equipped workspace for metallurgy—relatively cheap, at least by my standards. The sale of weapons should allow me to recover the investment without difficulty.
The first thing I did was hire workers. Unlike Bulgaria, where smiths were few and highly valued, here there was a surplus. Supposedly, every year around twenty apprentices from Adrianople alone went looking for work in other cities or set out on their own. The best forges hired only the most talented, but I only needed people who knew the basics of the trade.
January was a slow process. I had to teach them almost everything, since many had only worked as civilian smiths—tools, sharpening, horseshoes. Only a few truly understood what producing weapons and armor involved.
Using mineral coal and clay-sealed crucibles, we introduced iron, glass we produced ourselves, and powdered coal. With the hydraulic bellows—and some manual support—we managed to keep the fire hot enough. When we removed the crucible from the furnace, the contents were completely molten. Breaking the clay seal, we removed the impurities floating on the surface: the glass had bonded with them, leaving the metal clean.
The result was steel of good hardness.
We then poured it into molds I had designed to produce rods. From there began the repetitive work: using the mandrel to form rings, while another worker cut them, restarting the cycle again and again.
When the steel cooled, I stood there observing it in silence. It wasn't the quality I would have wanted, but it was probably the best steel one could find in the entire Byzantine Empire.
The manufacturing process progressed well. Winter was already drawing to an end, and at home we didn't talk much about what would come next. For now, the first business opportunities were beginning to appear. We started with the production of hoes. With planting season approaching, their price rose, as did that of plowshares. I made sure all the horses were in good condition, knowing they would be useful. I didn't want my father destroying his back working the land.
That was, at least, my immediate duty: to prevent him from breaking his body any further. Since leaving Bulgaria, I had no clear purpose. I felt empty. I didn't feel there was anything else I was supposed to do.
"Oh… that's a fine hoe, Basil. I have to admit your work is better than the blacksmith Grigor recommended to me," my father said, carefully running his fingers along the edge.
"It's not complicated to shape them. Besides, I have twelve smiths working. Some produce the steel, others shape it, and two handle the wood for the handles. That's how you get this level of precision," I replied.
"Yes… do you want me to try offering them to others? I think you could sell them easily," my father said.
"I didn't make them to sell. They're for us. Same with that heavy plow we finished," I replied, pointing at what stood outside the house.
"That's too many tools for us, son. We only need three for the fields, maybe one spare," my father said.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Are you going to work the land yourself?" I asked, looking at him
"Of course. What do you expect me to do?" he replied, puzzled.
"Have others work it. We have coins. We can easily pay five peasants to work our land, and you could devote yourself to… I don't know… something you actually like," I said, trying to convince him.
"Well… I suppose I could ask to enter service in the thema. Grigor arranged for me to start in three years, but maybe it would be more convenient to do it now," my father replied.
"That contract… Father, I don't want to see you dead. Can't you just pay someone to replace you in the thema? I doubt Grigor would object. We have plenty of money—why not use it? You just have to put it in the right pocket and you won't have to risk yourself so much," I said, genuinely worried. He seemed determined to chase an early grave.
"How can you say that, son? You can't go around bribing your way through life. Problems aren't solved by throwing gold and silver coins at them," he replied, shaking his head, clearly disappointed.
"They are solved that way… unfortunately," I answered.
"No, son. An oath is an oath. I know I couldn't educate you the way I would have liked, but this is the most basic thing, my son: loyalty," my father said.
"I'm not dealing with this. I'll take care of hiring people and paying them wages to work our land," I replied, and went back to the forge.
The truth was, I didn't want him to die. But every day he seemed to care less about his own life as long as he fulfilled that stupid oath—one that would probably never be repaid with the same loyalty.
March finally arrived. I hired five men and three women to work my father's land. I promised to pay one miliaresion per week, and more people showed up than I needed. I chose the strongest for the heavy labor.
My father returned to the army under Grigor's command, who turned out to be a droungarios. Apparently, he controlled part of the local garrison, so he had far more power and influence than one might expect. I had always thought most important positions would be held by Greeks, but there were exceptions. Grigor was Armenian, and Armenian was his native tongue.
For the next three months, I devoted myself entirely to producing weapons and armor. I made sure to equip my father with the best I could produce: a good steel mail shirt for the torso and legs, a Byzantine-style lamellar armor, a solid sword, a spear, a well-padded nasal helmet, and mail to protect the neck and face. I had turned him—literally—into a damn medieval tank.
I tried producing plate armor, but for now the process was far too slow. Making a proper steel breastplate took too much time.
So I decided to make a personal suit of armor first. I wasn't entirely confident in the final quality of what I'd made for my father, and I also wanted to test improvements on my own body. It might not have been the smartest idea, because in the past few months I had grown considerably—enough to be taller than several adult men.
I armed myself completely to evaluate what could be optimized. The armor was heavy, but the steel over mail and the lamellar plates did their job. In the end, I managed to produce a decent plate breastplate and good set of armor.
As I was finishing adjusting the armor, I heard shouting and a commotion in the forge.
I went out immediately.
There were three… Bulgarians. They were yelling at my smiths. One of them was bleeding, clutching his arm.
My workers barely had anything to defend themselves with.
I grabbed one of the axes I kept and moved forward.
"Hey… watch that one," one of the Bulgarians said, pointing at me.
"Shit…" another muttered.
The disparity was obvious. They wore padded jackets and carried swords. I was completely covered in steel from head to toe. Still, there were three of them, and I didn't expect help from the smiths—boys barely over twenty who had never had to fight.
"Back off… we can't surround him. Let him come out and then we jump him," the third Bulgarian said.
"There are more weapons in the storage! Grab the spears, now!" I shouted to my smiths.
Only a couple dared to move. The rest were frozen in fear.
I took a few steps forward. The Bulgarians backed away, but I stopped at the forge doorway. It was obvious they'd try to rush me all at once.
We stared at each other.
Then the other smiths finally returned with spears and swords, handing them out. The Bulgarians grew nervous. One of them stepped forward and struck me with his sword. The blade hit my breastplate and simply bounced off.
Without losing my composure, I raised the axe—but instead of risking a wide swing, I stepped in and smashed him in the face with the haft. The impact made him cover his face and stagger back. Then I completed the motion and brought the axe down on his leg. The cut was clean.
The Bulgarian screamed like an animal, collapsing to the ground and clutching his leg as blood poured out, soaking everything around him.
With one out of the fight, I stepped out of the forge doorway and pressed myself against the wall, making sure they couldn't surround me.
The other two Bulgarians looked at their wounded companion, then at the now-armed smiths. They didn't hesitate. They turned and ran.
"Oh no," I said, and lunged after them as fast as I could.
One of the Bulgarians stumbled while fleeing. I changed direction instantly, caught him, and brought him down. I started punching him. At the first blow I heard his nose crunch. At the second, I felt his teeth come loose. At the third, I raised my elbow and drove it into his mouth. He was already covered in blood. He spat out a broken tooth as he began to cough.
Then the third Bulgarian jumped on me.
I fell on my back. The combined weight of his body and my armor slammed me into the ground. He drew a dagger and tried to slip it through the openings in my helmet, aiming for my eyes. I managed to deflect his attacks as best I could and punched him in the face, but I couldn't get him off me.
He tried to drive the dagger under my armpit. He nearly succeeded.
At that moment, a spear pierced his side. The Bulgarian screamed in pain, the shaft jutting out between his ribs.
I seized the opportunity. I grabbed his weapon hand and dragged the dagger's edge up to his neck, plunging it into his throat. Blood sprayed across my face.
I shoved him away and he rolled off me.
The Bulgarian whose face I had destroyed already had a spear through his heart. He was dead. The one with the severed leg was still bleeding out on the ground, unconscious.
"Thanks," I said, looking at the smith who had driven the spear into the second Bulgarian. Then I wiped the blood from my face with my forearm. "Take the day off… but help me move the bodies. I don't yet know where we're going to leave them."
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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