The next day, Miguel headed to the brick-making site. The morning was cold, and mist hovered over the work fields. He found Elnar supervising a small team of workers. Most of the men and women had been redirected to the construction of the catapults, leaving only a handful to continue with the brick production.
"Elnar," Miguel called out, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the tools, "where are you storing the volcanic ash we've collected?"
Elnar pointed his head towards a covered structure on the east side of the construction site. "We store the ash there, in sacks," he explained, starting to walk in that direction. "Also, for some reason, we've found small yellow rocks mixed with the ash. We keep them in separate buckets."
Miguel followed Elnar to the makeshift storage. Under the wooden cover, there were piles of sacks marked with volcanic ash. Next to them, some buckets contained the mentioned yellow rocks. Miguel approached the buckets, picking up one of the rocks. It was small, with an uneven surface and a bright yellow color.
Elnar, observing Miguel’s expression, asked, “What exactly is this? I kept these rocks out of curiosity, as we weren’t sure of their value.”
Miguel squeezed the rock in his hand, feeling its texture. He knew these yellow stones were actually sulfur—the last essential ingredient for gunpowder. “This,” he began, trying not to reveal too much, “is something important for what I’m working on.”
Elnar, ever loyal and curious, did not press for more answers. He trusted Miguel and knew that when the time was right, Miguel would share more details. “If you need more of these rocks or anything else, just let me know,” Elnar said, placing his hand on Miguel’s shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.
Miguel nodded, still looking at the sulfur rock in his hand. He now had all the ingredients necessary to make gunpowder: charcoal, potassium nitrate, and sulfur. The next step would be to mix them in the correct proportions and test their effectiveness.
“Thank you, Elnar,” Miguel said, finally looking at his companion with a slight smile. “You did an excellent job storing this. Keep up the good work here. I’ll need every brick we can make.”
Elnar nodded, returning to his work with the remaining few workers. Miguel, holding the sulfur rock, felt a renewed wave of determination. With the gunpowder, he could create explosive projectiles for the catapults, giving his new kingdom a crucial defensive advantage against the approaching armies.
---
Miguel was in his office, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. He had tested the new furnace and was satisfied with the results; it had passed the brick production tests efficiently. Now, the furnace would have an even more crucial role: preparing the sulfur for gunpowder production.
With the sulfur rock in hand, Miguel went to the new furnace, located in the production hall. The place was much quieter than usual, with many of the workers redirected to the catapult construction. However, a few remained, keeping essential operations running.
Miguel lit the furnace, watching as the fire came to life, fueled by a combination of wood and coal. He knew the temperature needed to be high enough to melt the sulfur, but not so high as to cause combustion. He carefully adjusted the air intake using the installed iron tubes, ensuring controlled ventilation to maintain the ideal temperature.
Taking a specially shaped iron container, he placed the sulfur rocks inside and set the container over the furnace’s opening. The heat began to act almost immediately, and he watched as the sulfur started to melt, turning into a viscous, golden liquid.
Using a long rod, Miguel stirred the melted sulfur, making sure it stayed in motion and did not stick to the container. After a few minutes, he transferred the liquid to an iron mold, where the sulfur would solidify again, but this time in a more purified and usable form.
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As the sulfur cooled and solidified, Miguel prepared the next steps. He knew that for gunpowder, the sulfur needed to be ground into a fine powder, similar to the charcoal. He took a mortar and pestle, essential tools for this task.
When the sulfur was completely solid and cooled, Miguel removed the block from the mold. Carefully, he began to grind the block in the mortar, applying constant pressure and circular movements with the pestle. The process required patience and strength, but he was determined to obtain a fine and uniform powder.
After a considerable amount of time, he managed to turn the sulfur block into a bright yellow powder. Satisfied with the consistency, he stored the powder in a well-sealed wooden container, ensuring it was protected from moisture.
With the powdered charcoal, potassium nitrate, and now sulfur, Miguel had all the ingredients needed for gunpowder. Each step of the process brought him closer to his goal: creating explosive projectiles that could be used in the catapults to defend the new kingdom of Drakmoor.
As he stored the sulfur container, Miguel reflected on the next steps. Mixing the ingredients in the correct proportions and testing the mixture would be crucial challenges. But with the new furnace working perfectly and the ingredients ready, he was confident he could achieve success. The impending battle would require all his ingenuity and determination, and he was more than ready to face the challenge.
---
The next day, Miguel was determined to test his first gunpowder mixture. He had separated the ingredients and carefully measured the proportions. In total, he prepared a 50-gram mixture, with 50% powdered charcoal and the remainder equally divided between 25% sulfur and 25% potassium nitrate.
Miguel meticulously mixed the ingredients in a small wooden container, stirring with an iron rod until the mixture became homogeneous. He knew the balance between the components was crucial for the gunpowder’s success. After a few minutes, he felt confident that the mixture was ready to be tested.
He chose a vacant lot near the city walls but outside the limits for the test. The area was safe, away from any structures or people who could be affected. Miguel was accompanied by a few soldiers and the young servant João, who decided to watch the experiment with a mix of curiosity and admiration.
Upon arriving at the site, Miguel knelt on the ground and carefully placed the gunpowder mixture inside a folded piece of paper. He compacted the powder well, trying to ensure efficient combustion. He then left a small piece of cord sticking out of the paper, which would serve as the fuse to ignite the mixture.
Miguel lit the fuse with an improvised match and quickly moved to a safer position with the soldiers and João. They all crouched down, watching with anticipation as the fuse burned slowly toward the paper. The silence in the air was palpable, each person holding their breath in expectation.
The fuse finally reached the paper and extinguished with a faint sizzle. Nothing happened. Miguel stared intently at the spot where the gunpowder should have exploded, but all he got was a strong burnt smell in the air.
Miguel took a deep breath, feeling a mix of disappointment and determination. He knew that the process of making gunpowder wouldn’t be easy, and adjustments to the ingredient proportions would be necessary. He pulled out a small makeshift notebook from his pocket that he had created and began writing his observations. Determined not to give up, he knew he would need to test other proportions until he found the right formula.
“Let’s try again,” Miguel said, looking at the soldiers and João. “I need to adjust the ingredient proportions. I’m not far off, I just need to make a few more tests.”
The soldiers nodded in agreement, and João looked at Miguel with renewed admiration. The first attempt may have failed, but everyone knew Miguel was determined to succeed.
As they prepared to return to the city and adjust the formula, Miguel reflected on the next steps. He was more determined than ever to create effective gunpowder. He knew each failure was just a step toward success.
Back in his office, Miguel began thinking about the correct proportions to divide the ingredients. He knew that the correct ratio was essential for the success of the experiment.
While he was thinking, someone knocked on his door.
“May I come in?” It was his sister’s voice.
Miguel gave a faint, incredulous smile that his sister had come to see him again. “You’re here already, aren’t you, Amélia?” Miguel asked sarcastically. “Then come in…”
She entered with a sarcastic expression on her face.
“You’re a party pooper, you know?”
Miguel laughed. “Well, it seems like there are two of us now, doesn’t it?”
Miguel picked up a wine glass. “Would you like some?” he extended the glass to Amélia.
“I’ll have some. But there’s no poison in there, right?” she asked with a playful tone.
“You’ll only know when you drink it,” Miguel smiled as Amélia accepted the glass. Miguel then filled his own glass, and they both toasted, looking out the window with the sunlight shining on their faces.
Amélia caressed one of her fingers on the glass, contemplating how to approach the topic with Miguel.
Miguel noticed this and went straight to the point. “If you have something to say, now is the time, Amélia.”
She took a deep breath and then looked at Miguel. “I…” The words came out slowly from her mouth. “I’m sorry for all the harm that I and my brothers have done to you…” her eyes started to tear up.
Miguel took another sip of wine.
“Listen, Miguel, I never liked you... But that doesn’t justify what I did to you for some time. And I know that you might not forgive me, and that’s okay.”
Miguel felt a lump in his throat with Amélia’s words. He knew she was being sincere. But he didn’t need to hear this... Not him, but the real Miguel. He would certainly be crying now if he were here. But not Miguel. Miguel continued standing, listening to Amélia vent and eventually start crying in front of him.
He set the glass on the table and hugged Amélia, who was initially taken aback but accepted the embrace.
“Listen, Amélia... I don’t want you to die here. If something happens to me, flee to fight another day. I didn’t want to say this, but you’re the least worst and you should take over the management of the duchy.”
Amélia was silent for a few moments and then said, “I won’t let you die, Miguel.”
She stepped back, wiped her tears, and began heading toward the door. But not before saying one last thing.
“If you tell anyone about what happened here, I’ll deal with you myself.”
Miguel smiled and nodded.