Not once in his life had Machao received an honor as great as this. Only yesterday, he had still feared for his life, but now it felt as if all the hardships had been worth it. On yesterday's most fateful day, the new King of the South, Corcopaca Titu Pluritac, son to the great Emperor Titu, had come to Saniya to claim the lands of Chawir as his. Though Machao knew that Lord Sawo had tried to take the land for himself, the usurper had soon been silenced before the might and manner of their new king. Had he been a superstitious man, Machao had believed his son's nonsense chatter, how within the middle of the night, an otherworldly song had descended onto the city to welcome their new king.
On the day after the city had been cleansed, Machao, a simple craftsman, had received the impossible honor of being asked into Rapra Castle. Had it been anywhere else, the craftsman would have shivered in fear, afraid of the king's wrath. Their new ruler might decide to find and remove all men who had been involved in Sawo's betrayal and somehow mistaken him, a simple potter, for a loyalist. However, he hadn't been asked to go anywhere else, he had been asked to enter the great castle in the center of the river. Never before had a commoner been allowed inside, let alone a potter. Machao's chest swelled with pride, or it would have, if not for the fact that not he alone had been called upon.
“Pssst, Machao. You've any notion what this's about?” Ulpi, another potter from the same neighborhood, had whispered the most pertinent question as quietly as he could, but the awe-striking looks from the strange guards found him either way and soon shut his mouth. The king's warriors were dirty, foreign men, but their stature, their walk and their weapons proved their talents in combat. Thus, none of the five Saniya potters their group was comprised of was willing to speak up anymore, not until they had reached their goal.
At last, the soldiers brought them to the goal of their journey, a large yard right inside the castle's outer walls. In here, past a garden more refined than Machao could have ever imagined, beneath an overhang of opulent, lacquered wood and white plaster, sat the king, atop his mighty throne. Even his grand figure still failed to fill the massive wooden seat, but the crown atop his head, beautifully sparkling in the sunlight, still spoke of his noble presence. Rather than the uncouth Sawo, this was what a true monarch should look like. As they stepped closer towards their new king, Machao kept his face lowered, afraid of offending the mighty monarch. Instead, he marveled at the gray stone flow below him, put together with such precision that he could not even find the seams between the blocks, no matter how hard he tried.
At last, a piece of wood entered his vision. One of the handles from those unusual longaxes which the king's warriors held had abruptly entered his vision and put a forceful end to his march. It appeared he had reached the prerequisite distance from the imperial blood before him. In deep deference, Machao went on his knees and bowed his head. At the same time, the rustling all around him told the potter that his colleagues had followed suit. Not one man spoke, or moved, immobilized by the mighty hero in their front.
“It's fine, you can raise your heads,” a sonorous voice spoke out. Again, Machao raised his head to view upon the noble figure. Truly, a much more fitting ruler than the unpleasant Sawo. No wonder the Pluritac name had ruled the lands of Medala for such lengths.
“This servant greets King Corcopaca.” Before he even realized what he had done, Machao had spoken up, on instinct and completely out of turn. In his panic, the flustered potter had repeated the words he had heard spoken in the street theater.
“How dare a common craftsman address the king by himself!” Another man, positioned to the side and away from the throne, stomped his foot and spoke up in anger, only for Machao to recoil back and lower his head once again. With trepidation, he awaited his inevitable fate. He knew the man with the harsh features and the sly smile. The one who had chastised him was Iyo, Lord Sawo's former right hand man. More than once had he come into the Kapra quarters of Saniya and demanded tribute for his mighty lord. However, in the end it was the king's voice which became Machao's salvation.
“That's enough. We're not here for etiquette lessons. Raise your heads and let's get on with it.” The king's discontented voice sounded out, his ire aimed squarely at his unfaithful servant Iyo, rather than the common men before him. Apart from his martial might, it appeared as if the king was also a keen judge of character. After Machao had raised his head again, the king began to address his subjects anew.
“You're the best potters of the city, or at least that's what Iyo here tells me. Is that the case?”
Star-struck, the potter nodded his head with great vigor. With anticipation, he wondered what sort of divine piece of stoneware the great King of the South would ask from a tiny mortal such as himself.
“Good, that's helpful. There's something I want you to take a look at.” The king leaned towards his left and then motioned his head towards the kneeling potters. However, not even Corcopaca's figure could hold Machao's attention at this moment. The one who reacted to the king's actions, the one who now walked towards him with slow and measured steps, was a beauty beyond any he had ever laid eyes upon.
Her bronze skin shone in the sunshine overhead, as her long, pinned-up hair threw playful shadows across her shoulders, to accompany the two short strands of black, lightly curled hair which had escaped the needle's discipline. Her black eyes streaked with gold were like the stars across the sky. Together with her fine, noble features they were too much for a simple potter to handle. Unlike the women in Saniya, this was what a real lady looked like, of that Machao was certain. Once again, for the third time since he had entered the yard, the potter lowered his head, this time to hide the blush on his face.
After seconds of anticipation, a pair of hands as smooth as silk entered his view, never burdened by the pains of hard labor. When they retreated again, they had left behind the object the lady had carried, a shabby something Machao had to reluctantly admit as pottery. The malformed, white bowl simply sat there on the perfect, gray floor, to be judged by the master potter.
“So, what do you think? I made it myself,” he heard Corcopaca's giddy voice say. At once, all grandeur had fallen off the great king. How could this misshapen creation have come from the hands of the greatest royalty?
“This, that's...” Trapped, Machao labored to find the words which would not insult his new ruler, the words which would save his head. He considered whether or not this was be a sick joke, just an amusing play for their new lord to kill some commoners and with them some time as well. Luckily, the king alleviated his concerns right away.
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“Look dude, I know it's crap. It was supposed to be an ashtray, but even that didn't turn out well. Ignore the shape and look at the material instead,” the king said with a crooked smile and a gesture towards his creation.
Curious, Machao raised up the object to observe it more closely. As soon as he touched the glaze, his eyes widened in surprise. With a beating heart, he held the object into the sunlight, to find it almost translucent. Once he gazed upon this wonder, any thoughts about beauties had flown away. This was impossible.
“Porcelain,” he whispered. He didn't even realize when the other potters behind him took the bowl to observe it for themselves, or how they had reacted. All of his attention was focused on the king alone.
“That's right. This is porcelain. And I know how to produce it. Wanna know how to make it? I'm sure you'd all like to learn the secrets behind this treasure.” With a widening smile, the king observed as Machao nodded his numbed head. “Of course you would. We're close enough to Chutwa, and all of you are experts in the field. You should know how highly Chutwa pottery is desired in Medala. Just consider: How much value and prestige would be involved in the production of the first Medala porcelain? I can teach you, all of you, the secret methods of its production.”
A short commotion behind Machao was swiftly broken by the king's raised hand. Again, Corcopaca's royal demeanor had returned and silenced the riled-up crowd.
“However, there are conditions attached.” Again, Machao nodded. Of course, this secret treasure would not be handed to them for free.
“First, should you agree to my offer, all of your children under the age of sixteen will enter the school I will establish here in Saniya very soon. They will attend school every day, no excuses. If you have extra work to do, go get an apprentice instead.”
Since the condition was more than just fair, Machao consented without question. Normally, their children would only be allowed to learn some fundamental language from the priests, but it was nothing at the level of true study. Since the first condition was closer to a second reward, the potter felt that the true cost would be hidden within the final conditions.
“Second, to guarantee secrecy and protect the formula for porcelain production, you and your families will have to move to one of the two islands surrounding Rapra. You will work here, and you will not be allowed to leave Saniya within the time of our agreement.”
Again, the potters nodded their heads. Under current laws, they were not allowed to leave their lord's lands anyways, so it made no difference where in the city they would live.
“Third, you will work for me, exclusively, for the next ten years. As you can see, the porcelain I made was... crude. I know the recipe to make the material, somewhat, but I'm not a potter. It will be up to you to figure out the details. For ten years, the duration of the agreement, I will provide you with all the materials you will need for your production, and enough money for you and your families to live comfortable lives. Once you understand the recipe and start to produce the valuable porcelain, each one of you will receive half the profits from every sold piece you produce.”
This time, the potters were less enthusiastic. In all their years, they had worked for themselves, without the lords taking any kind of tax from them. Suddenly, they would have to share their profits, and could only sell to the king directly. Still, in return for the secret of porcelain, the offer was more than fair, so no one complained.
“What about teaching our boys?” Terrified, Machao took a look to his side, over to Ulpi, the idiot who had just dared to question the great king. However, in his benevolence, the ruler had decided to humor the moron's audacious complaint.
“After ten years, the formula will be yours as much as it will be mine. At that time, you will be free to do with it as you like and can teach your sons or whoever else you want to teach. However, I will require you to leave behind a written record of your personal formula and techniques for the royal archives.”
This time, no one interrupted the king, all of them satisfied with the generous answer.
“Any more questions? Comments? Jokes? Yes, No?” The king looked around the craftsmen before him, giddy like a child. Their wise ruler must have looked forward to the wealth his endeavor would bring to Saniya, to the improvements it would bring to all of their lives.
“In that case, you're dismissed, since I've got a lot more people to meet today. You guys have no idea how long I've been waiting for this.” Again, the mask of noblesse had fallen off the king. Machao began to realize that maybe, King Corcopaca was not as typical a ruler as he might have thought at first. As the years went on, this impression would only deepen ever more, together with his respect for their unusual king.
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Once the fingers lifted again, Qispi found a dirty blob of glass on the seamless, gray floor. Though it was riddled with bubbles and almost opaque, he still realized at once how precious the glass before him was.
“Yeah, I know it looks shit,” he heard King Corco's excuse from the front. “Still, it's proper clear glass, as you'll find upon inspection. Wanna know how to make it?”
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With a clang, the heavy piece of metal fell before Asiro's feet. Unsure of the lord's meaning, the blacksmith carefully reached out for the object with his calloused hands.
“Okay, before you say anything: Blacksmithing is hard. But you can still see the pattern all around the metal. This is genuine damask steel,” the king's self-satisfied voice rang out. 'Childish' would be how Asiro would describe his new ruler. Somewhat endearing as well, as his new lord reminded him of his own son, whenever the boy found something new to play with. However, upon the king's last words, Asiro's hands stiffened around the cold metal. He knew of damask, a method to meld copper and tin in beautiful patterns, but he was unaware of its method of production and had never seen it done with steel.
“Truly?” he asked in a breathless voice.
“Yup. You got no idea how good this steel is, but you'll find out soon. Wanna know how to make it?”
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Full of expectation, Wasikato had stepped before his new ruler. All day he had heard of the king's benevolence, how he had gifted the artisans of Saniya with great treasures, one by one. Now, at last, it was his own turn.
“So I hear that you're the guy who built all the new houses for Sawo's warriors.”
Upon the king's first words, all hope left Wasikato as he fell onto his knees in desperation. “Please, great merciful king, forgive this worthless mortal,” he shouted, but was soon interrupted by the loud thunk from a poleaxe of the king's warriors.
“Get up, you idiot. All that sitting around is getting on my nerves, so I wanna get on with it.” Though he was still deathly afraid, the chagrin in the king's voice forced Wasikato to lift his head, lest he meet an even more dire fate. Once his eyes met those of his new ruler, the king simply stomped his foot on the ground, onto the strange, smooth stone below them. With a widening grin, the great king of the south asked the question which would change Wasikato's life forever.
“Ever heard of cement?”