Day 14.
The construction of the greenhouse foundation had hit a wall. Literally.
"Dammit!"
Torin threw the handle of his shovel onto the snow. It had snapped in half. Again.
"My Lord," Torin looked at Rian, frustration etched on his face. "The ground is frozen solid. These wooden shovels are useless. The stone picks shatter if we hit a rock. We are digging with toothpicks!"
Rian picked up the broken wooden handle. It was the third one today.
He looked at the serfs. They were exhausted, hacking away at the permafrost with tools that belonged in the Stone Age. At this rate, the greenhouse wouldn't be finished until summer.
"Stop," Rian ordered.
The digging stopped. The serfs looked up, afraid they were in trouble.
"Torin, take your men to the courtyard," Rian said, throwing the broken wood aside. "We are done scratching the earth. It's time to cut it."
The Blast Furnace
In the center of the courtyard, the 2-meter tall "Tower of Mud" stood silent. It had been waiting for this moment.
Kael, the potter, was standing next to it. He looked thinner, and his hands were still bandaged from the frostbite, but his eyes were clear. He had recovered.
"Are you ready, Kael?" Rian asked.
"Yes, My Lord," Kael bowed. "The molds are ready."
On the ground lay ten wooden boxes filled with tightly packed, damp sand. Kael and the 'Assembly Line' team had spent the morning pressing shapes into them.
They weren't making swords. They were making Pickaxe Heads and Shovel Blades.
"Light it," Rian commanded.
The serfs shoved burning torches into the base of the furnace. The charcoal inside ignited.
The bellows team began to pump. Whoosh. Whoosh.
[Ding! Daily Intelligence Report - Day 14]
[1. Metallurgy Process: Smelting]
Current Temperature: 800°C.
Warning: The "Black Iron" swords you threw in contain high Sulfur.
Action: Add 20% more Limestone (White Rocks). The Calcium Carbonate will bind with the Sulfur to form Slag, leaving the iron pure and strong.
"More white rocks!" Rian shouted over the roar of the fire. "Throw them in the top!"
The guards climbed the ladder and dumped baskets of the crushed limestone Rian had collected from the cliffs.
To the serfs, it looked like madness. Why was the Lord cooking rocks with rusty swords?
One hour passed.
Two hours.
The mud tower began to vibrate. A terrifying, deep rumble came from its belly. The heat radiating from it melted the snow for ten meters around.
"Temperature?" Rian muttered, squinting at the color of the flame. It was blindingly white. "Over 1500°C. It's time."
"Kael! Prepare the trough!"
Kael used a long iron rod to smash the clay plug at the bottom of the furnace.
ROAR!
It was like a dragon had slit its throat. A stream of blindingly bright, orange-yellow liquid shot out.
"Liquid fire!" a serf screamed, scrambling back.
"Hold the line!" Rian barked. "It's not fire! It's iron!"
The molten metal flowed down a channel Kael had dug in the sand, branching off into the ten wooden boxes (molds). It hissed and spat as it touched the damp sand, filling the empty spaces where the pickaxe shapes were.
The heat was intense. Rian felt his eyebrows singeing, but he didn't blink. He watched the impurities—the black, glassy slag—float to the top of the channel, while the heavy, pure iron sank into the molds.
Chemistry had done its job. The limestone had eaten the sulfur.
Two Hours Later
The red glow had faded. The sand boxes were smoking.
Rian walked up to the first box. He picked up a hammer.
"Break it."
Kael swung the hammer and smashed the sand mold. The sand crumbled away, revealing a dark, gray metal object.
It wasn't pretty. It had rough edges and a sandy texture.
But it was solid.
Rian picked it up with thick leather gloves. It was heavy. Dense.
He dunked it into a bucket of water. HISS! Steam exploded upward.
When he pulled it out, he held a Solid Cast-Iron Pickaxe Head.
He didn't stop there. He took a wooden handle, fitted the iron head onto it, and hammered a wedge to lock it in place.
Rian walked over to Torin.
The one-legged miner stared at the tool. He had seen iron tools before in the Iron Kingdom, but he had never seen one made from "garbage" swords and white rocks.
"Try it," Rian handed him the pickaxe.
Torin balanced himself on his crutch. He raised the heavy pickaxe and swung it with all his might at the frozen ground that had broken his wooden shovel earlier.
CLANG!
Sparks flew.
The ground didn't win this time. The iron point smashed through the ice and sank six inches deep into the frozen soil.
Torin pulled it out. The tip was still sharp. It hadn't chipped. It hadn't shattered.
"By the Gods..." Torin whispered, running his thumb over the cold metal. "This isn't brittle Black Iron. This is... this is High Steel."
The serfs watched in awe. They realized what this meant.
No more struggling. No more breaking tools.
Rian looked at the glowing furnace, which still had enough heat to melt another batch.
"We don't stop," Rian announced, his voice echoing in the courtyard. "Make axes. Make shovels. Make saws."
He looked at the "Stone Forest" on his map.
"Tomorrow, we don't just scratch the dirt. Tomorrow, we harvest the forest."
[Ding! Technology Unlocked: Iron Casting]
[Kingdom Production Speed: +300%]
Rian smiled. The Industrial Age had officially arrived at Fort Blackiron.
End of Chapter 12