Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

...

The old blacksmith had once wished to see the black smoke rising from the furnace through his window. Winters went a step further, directly inviting the old man to participate in the lighting ceremony.

The old blacksmith gladly accepted, first by carriage, then by stretcher, taking great effort to reach the foot of Tie Feng Mountain—his first departure from Revodan in eight years.

And then there was Caman.

The young Priest was now reluctantly sprinkling Holy Water on the high furnace, holding a gold bowl in one hand and a small broom in the other.

The Paratu People have a morbid love for "blessing ceremonies." Men can be blessed, weapons can be blessed, agricultural tools can be blessed... Anyway, splashing some Holy Water never hurts.

So Winters spent quite some time impressing upon Caman the grand principles, dragging him along to consecrate the high furnace.

All Caman did was carelessly sprinkle twice; the remaining Holy Water in the bowl he briskly splashed against the furnace wall, then turned back to Winters, "Done, that's it."

"You're not going to recite a few verses?" Winters asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Recite verses? Would you like me to carve a holy emblem for you, too?" Caman was instantly riled up, "Tell me which scripture or gospel deals with stoking fire."

"Alright, then let's leave it at that," Winters did not insist, "If this works out, the people of Iron Peak County will benefit immensely. Thank you, Mr. Caman."

Caman pursed his lips, staring fiercely at Winters for a while and then, in a huff, turned back to the furnace, leaning against its wall to perform a benediction, muttering under his breath.

Carlos had already prepared the preliminary work. Charcoal was neatly stacked into a funnel shape inside the furnace chamber, just awaiting Winters to light it.

Winters was not planning on "saying a few words" himself; once Caman's blessing ceremony was over, he slowly closed his eyes, entering a state of casting.

When he opened his eyes again, the torch in his hand "pfft" flared into flame.

Under everyone's gaze, Winters solemnly lit the hopeful flame.

Two oxen slowly chewed their half-digested fodder, casually operating the bellows.

As the air was steadily pumped into the furnace chamber, the charcoal gradually heated to white-hot, the heat wave palpable even several meters away.

Seeing the fire at the right temperature, Carlos fed initial-refined iron ore and limestone into the high furnace from above.

The raw ore extracted from old mines, after being screened, roasted, crushed, and washed, resulted in what Carlos called "initial-refined iron ore."

And then?

And then, there was no "then."

Amid the long, tedious wait, only the dark red slag and a small amount of golden molten iron fell to the bottom of the furnace. No matter how devoutly Carlos prayed, the iron wouldn't flow out.

Carlos was frantic with anxiety, Senior Mason was quite disappointed, and Andre had already grown impatient.

But Winters felt nothing—he had never expected success on the first attempt.

"You lad insisted on waiting for me to come back before starting the furnace," Winters teased the young blacksmith, "Were you afraid Captain Mason would thrash you if I wasn't here?"

Carlos was about to cry on the spot for Winters to see.

"Your Excellency, it's fine to leave Mr. Soria here. In the early years when we used block furnaces, starting it up meant a whole day's work; it wasn't this quick," the old blacksmith, Poltan, was very calm.

He suggested to Winters, "There's no need for you to wait here. How about I accompany you to Forging Village and introduce you to some of my old mates?"

Winters thought the old man made sense. Whether it worked or not, they would know the outcome tomorrow; waiting around was pointless.

"Then I'll trouble you." Winters nodded with a smile.

Senior Mason had come with great hopes and heard that they'd only have results by tomorrow, his disappointment written all over his face.

"I'll go back first," Senior Mason said listlessly, bidding his farewell, "They're organizing people to cut grass at the racetrack, I'll go check it out."

"I'll go, too," Andre said, ready to leave.

Hearing the word "racetrack," Winters quickly held back the Captain, "Join me on a trip to Forging Village. The matters at the racetrack can wait till tomorrow."

As he said this, Winters gave Andre a meaningful glance without uttering a word.

Andre understood and immediately changed his tune, "Exactly! Exactly! Let's go to Forging Village and look around. Maybe someone there knows about cannon casting!"

The reason for not letting Senior Mason leave was that they hadn't yet dared to discuss the matter of [racetrack steward] with him; now was a perfect opportunity.

The more Andre talked, the more Senior Mason's heart ached, "I've asked around, no one in Forging Village knows how to cast bells or cannons."

"But what if they're hiding something?" Winters didn't let go of the Captain, "With Mr. Poltan accompanying us, their attitude will be different."

Senior Mason sighed and agreed unwillingly.

The group set off for Forging Village, leaving Carlos with a few apprentices to watch over the high furnace. With no one to supervise, Carlos finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Forging Village was located at the foot of Tie Feng Mountain, next to St. George River, very close to the high furnace.

On the way, the old blacksmith, Poltan, chatted with the security officers about various major and minor matters regarding iron smelting.

"The principle behind iron smelting is actually quite simple—just place wood charcoal and iron ore together and set it on fire," said the old blacksmith, Poltan, leaning back energetically as he talked about iron smelting, "From the earliest I can remember, that's what blacksmiths have done."

"The simpler it sounds," Winters commented wistfully, "the harder it might be to execute."

"Exactly," the old blacksmith clapped and laughed heartily, "The same iron and charcoal put together to burn—some can smelt excellent sponge iron, some can smelt steel, yet others can only manage to produce crumbly, charred lumps. Iron smelting isn't difficult in principle, but in the craftsmanship—that is, the formula, experience, and process."