Chapter 67: The Steel Project and Amber’s Return

More often than not, Rebecca found it hard to wrap her head around the old lord’s way of thinking. But the good thing about a stubborn girl like her was that she never forced herself to understand what couldn’t be understood. After all, the old lord’s words were never wrong—just follow orders and get on with it.

Watching Rebecca happily take the task and leave without even asking why she had to burn stones, Gawain couldn’t help but stroke his chin thoughtfully. It really was true that everyone was born with a limited set of innate talents, and how much or how little you got was just a roll of the dice. Rebecca, it seemed, had maxed out on math and imagination, but everything else was a big fat one.

But that didn’t matter. He’d already handed her the blueprints and basic instructions—let her tinker on her own. The first Magic Network project had proven that despite her bluntness, stubbornness, low emotional intelligence, and occasional reckless ideas, Rebecca had an astonishing talent for math and creative problem-solving. Talent like hers was meant to be thrown into the deep end—if she didn’t drown, there would be unexpected breakthroughs. Putting too many rules and restrictions on her would only stifle results.

Besides, even Gawain himself wasn’t sure how many of the old-fashioned methods he’d reconstructed from Earth’s memories would actually work…

After assigning the “burning stones” task to Rebecca, Gawain went to check on the progress of the farmland reclamation and confirmed that the waterwheel was already under construction. Then he headed to the blacksmith’s workshop, where he handed over the blueprints for a new-style furnace to the old blacksmith, Hammer.

Hammer’s reaction was one of barely concealed shock.

He was genuinely surprised.

He knew the lord was interested in the new furnace project and remembered that a few days ago Gawain had asked for his input on building a new furnace. But in Hammer’s mind, a noble lord going this far was already exceptional. Usually, the lord would just gather a few craftsmen to help build the furnace and occasionally check on progress. He never expected Gawain to come with detailed blueprints in hand.

When the lord said the furnace design was already finished, Hammer’s first reaction wasn’t joy or gratitude—it was a mix of anxiety and headache.

After all, a duke, a high-ranking noble who should be comfortably dining in his castle, really knew how to forge iron and build furnaces? Could the design he’d drawn up actually work?

What if it didn’t? Who would dare point out the flaws? And if they forced it and something went wrong… who would take responsibility?

With a worried frown, Hammer took the blueprints from Gawain, silently resolving: if this furnace was too far-fetched, he wouldn’t say a word. He’d just nod along and try to build something that looked similar on the outside but was completely different inside. If the lord asked, he’d blame the illiterate apprentices and slaves for being too dumb to build the new furnace properly.

That thought lasted only until he took a closer look at the intricate, well-organized design.

Gawain noticed Hammer’s reaction and smiled.

He wasn’t a blacksmith himself. Honestly, even in his past life, he had no experience with steel smelting or forging. But which keyboard warrior from the information age couldn’t spout a bunch of theoretical knowledge?

Of course, a keyboard warrior with only theory wasn’t much use in practice—but that didn’t matter. He also had the memories of Gawain Cecil.

Gawain Cecil wasn’t a blacksmith either, but the first Duke of the Western Lands was, and his favorite bragging topic when buying drinks was his knowledge of steelmaking. Plus, they were close friends, and Gawain Cecil had been dragged to the furnace many times to practice, so he naturally knew what a proper furnace should look like.

Combining these two layers of knowledge, along with suggestions from Rebecca and Hetty and a slight sacrifice at the hairline, drawing up the blueprints was doable.

Still, confidence aside, Gawain wasn’t blindly arrogant. He understood the pitfalls of an outsider leading experts and knew his status might intimidate the real specialists from speaking up. So he said, “These blueprints are based on some furnace modifications from the Gondor era. They might not fit our actual conditions perfectly. They’re just to give you an idea. How to get this furnace running—that’s up to you. Feel free to modify it as you see fit, as long as it meets my requirements.”

“No, no, no, this design is already very reasonable,” Hammer hurriedly replied. “It has all the necessary furnace structures, and they connect well. And this idea of continuous smelting… as long as you keep feeding in ore and clearing out slag, it can keep burning nonstop?”

“Exactly, it’s continuous,” Gawain nodded. “But that means the old way of one blacksmith with a few apprentices working around a single furnace probably won’t work anymore, right?”

Hammer hadn’t thought of that. Lost in admiration for the new furnace’s clever design, Gawain’s reminder suddenly made him realize what such a highly efficient, never-cooling furnace implied.

Like a professional instinct, he saw a deep chasm opening between the noisy, clanging blacksmith shops of the past and this new furnace.

Thinking of the vast courtyard, hundreds of meters wide, capable of holding dozens of furnaces, he widened his eyes and looked at Gawain. “My lord…”

“Steel is the foundation of everything—though here, we’ll also need all kinds of strange metals,” Gawain said, pulling something else from his pocket and handing it to Hammer. “I’ve checked—you can read, so you should be able to understand this.”

Blacksmiths were upper-class commoners. Though still commoners, wielding a hammer put them on a similar social level as family warriors or apprentice knights who carried swords and whips. Hammer’s family had been responsible for smelting steel and forging weapons for the Cecil family for generations, so his status was special. His father had been quite progressive in this regard.

Hammer glanced over the papers Gawain handed him and was stunned.

“This… is this still a blacksmith shop?”

“No, this is the Cecil Steelworks,” Gawain said, looking Hammer in the eye. “I want a massive amount of steel—more than you’ve ever seen in your life. The new furnace and Magic Network Project One are just the basics, and all of this requires a new, modern production system to support it.”

This was the shift from workshop to factory. Even Gawain didn’t know what effect this top-down, rigid restructuring would have, but he couldn’t afford to wait.

He couldn’t wait for society to slowly develop capital and industrial revolutions—because even if he wanted to wait, the forces in the sky certainly wouldn’t.

When you’re still buried in farming and haven’t even set up your base, and suddenly waves of aliens and magical storms hit you at once—how could you keep playing around?

The progress of Magic Network Project One showed him the opportunity for a huge leap in productivity—or rather, productivity was already at a point where it could explode, but in this magic-filled world, it was stuck. Magic Network One was the hope to break that shackling.

Magic was both the cause of failure and the key to success.

Hammer fell into deep thought but found himself at a loss—this was beyond his worldview. After a lifetime of forging iron, this was the first time he couldn’t find his place in steel. “My lord, if we really follow your plan and build so many steel furnaces… how many blacksmiths will we need? Right now, I’m the only blacksmith in the territory…”

“Smelting ore and steel processing will eventually separate into two parts. I have plans for that,” Gawain glanced at Hammer. “After seeing the new furnace design, you should know I’m not just daydreaming.”

Hammer had briefly entertained that dangerous thought, but Gawain’s words reminded him of the bold yet sensible furnace design.

After a few seconds of silence, Gawain deliberately spoke slowly: “Do you think I’m some foolish noble full of naive ideas and wild fantasies who doesn’t understand reality?”

Hammer broke out in a cold sweat. “N-no, how could you be…”

“It’s normal for you to think that, because over ninety percent of the other nobles in this era get the same judgment,” Gawain laughed. “They live in castles, high and mighty, luxurious and naive, clueless about how grain grows, or how to forge iron, build houses, or fell trees. Yet they love to issue impossible orders, right?”

Hammer stared at Gawain, dumbfounded, struggling to find the words “kindred spirit.”

How could a duke from seven hundred years ago be so sharp in his critique of nobles?

“You must be curious why I’m so insightful about them. It’s simple—I’m Gawain Cecil. Seven hundred years ago, when this land was still wilderness, I led people to reclaim it,” Gawain looked Hammer in the eye. “We didn’t live in castles back then. When it came to hard work, many craftsmen in this territory probably couldn’t match me.”

Hammer’s expression shifted slightly, and he slowly nodded.

Gawain placed a hand on the old blacksmith’s shoulder. “So just do as I say. The first step is to complete the new furnace.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Betty running up.

“My lord!” The little maid gasped for breath, then clumsily and exaggeratedly bowed. “Miss Amber is back! And she brought… a dirty old man!”

Betty thought hard, then shouted, “A dirty old man!”

(End of chapter)