The following morning, Miguel left his mansion, wearing a heavy coat to brace against the biting winter cold. The icy wind blew fiercely, causing the fabric of his clothing to flutter as he walked towards the blacksmith. Snowflakes gently fell from the sky, covering the ground with a white, silent layer. Upon reaching the blacksmith, the sound of hammers and anvils echoed in the air, a clear sign that the work never stopped, even under the harshest conditions.
Miguel entered the blacksmith's shop, where the heat from the furnaces and the glow of molten metal contrasted with the cold outside. Arthur, the master blacksmith, was already in place, wearing his worn leather apron and sweating from the effort. Beside him, some of the new blacksmiths who had arrived in the kingdom were working on their own tasks, but all stopped for a moment to pay attention to the king when he entered.
Arthur approached, wiping his hands on a cloth before bowing respectfully. “Your Majesty,” he said, “we've been expecting you.”
Miguel smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Arthur. We have much to discuss today.” He then pulled out a large roll of parchment from under his arm and unrolled it onto a nearby work table, revealing the detailed sketch of the cannon mold.
The blacksmiths gathered around the table, curious and attentive. Miguel began explaining each part of the drawing. “This mold will be divided into two main parts,” he said, pointing to the diagram. “The first part will be made of hardened clay and must have a uniform thickness to withstand the molten metal. The second part will be the outer shell, made of raw iron, which will keep the mold in place during the casting.”
Arthur observed every detail, his eyes scanning the precise lines of the drawing. “I understand,” he said slowly. “We’ll need to be very careful to ensure that the metal flows correctly and fills the entire mold without creating bubbles or imperfections.”
“Exactly,” Miguel agreed. “The metal alloy needs to be strong but also flexible enough to withstand the impacts of the explosive charges. The cannon barrel must be smooth inside to allow the projectile to exit with maximum force.”
Miguel ran his hand over the sketch, emphasizing the importance of alignment and precision. “The cooling process will also be crucial,” he continued. “We need to ensure that the metal cools evenly to avoid cracks or deformations. We will cool it slowly, perhaps with a bath of fine sand or ashes.”
The blacksmiths nodded, understanding the complexity of the project. “It will be a great challenge,” said Arthur, “but we are ready for it.”
Miguel then explained how he intended to proceed with the tests, starting with a scaled-down mold before moving on to full-scale production. “We will need to conduct some experiments with the casting before we start producing the full cannons,” he added. “This will give us a better idea of how the metal reacts and allow us to make adjustments if necessary.”
Arthur smiled, clearly excited by the challenge. “My men and I will start immediately, Your Majesty.”
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Miguel nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Let’s turn these ideas into reality.”
With the explanation concluded, Miguel rolled up the parchment again and looked around, seeing the blacksmiths return to their work with renewed vigor. He felt a sense of accomplishment but also knew that there was still much to be done. The success of these projects depended on materials he did not yet have, and time was against him. The harsh winter made expeditions difficult, but there was no other choice.
Before leaving the blacksmith’s shop, Miguel looked at Arthur and said, “I’ll organize an expedition to seek the necessary resources. We need brass, lead, and other materials we don’t have yet. We can’t let the winter delay us.”
Arthur nodded. “We’ll keep the forges hot and ready, awaiting your return, Your Majesty.”
Miguel smiled briefly, but his mind was already focused on the next challenge. He knew that to ensure the defense of Drakmoor and the success of his projects, he would have to face the winter and the dangers it brought. Without wasting any more time, he mentally prepared to lead the expedition, determined to find the resources Drakmoor so desperately needed.
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Miguel was sitting at his desk in the office, his eyes fixed on a pile of maps, supply lists, and reports that occupied the entire space in front of him. The light from the fireplace danced on the walls, warming the room as the winter cold persisted outside. Ricardo was by his side, examining the documents with an expression of concern he didn’t bother to hide. John, the defense secretary, was leaning against the wall, silently observing the discussion between the two.
Miguel took a sip of wine, letting the liquid warm his throat before speaking. “We need to make sure we have everything we need before we leave. The expedition will be long, and the winter won’t be easy, but these resources are crucial for our projects.”
Ricardo frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t like this idea, Miguel. The cold is relentless, and the dangers on the road are real. Bandits, assassins... This is not a simple journey.”
Miguel looked at his friend, understanding his concerns but standing firm in his decision. “I know, Ricardo. But we have to do this. These materials won’t magically appear at our doorstep. We need to go out and find them.”
“You’re the king now,” Ricardo insisted, his voice firm. “Your life is more valuable than any expedition. If something happens to you, Drakmoor will be vulnerable. And I’m not just talking about the weather. We know our enemies are out there, waiting for any sign of weakness.”
Miguel gave a slight smile, trying to calm his friend’s worries. “That’s why you’re coming with me. Together, we can face anything. I know the odds are risky, but we’re prepared. I have confidence in our ability to handle whatever comes our way.”
Ricardo was not convinced but knew Miguel well enough to understand that once he made a decision, it was hard to change his mind. He sighed deeply, resigned. “Alright, I’ll go with you. But I still think we should reconsider.”
Miguel nodded, pleased to have Ricardo’s support despite his reservations. He then turned his attention to John, who remained silent, watching the exchange between the two. “John,” Miguel said, “while I’m away, you’ll be in charge as acting administrator. Amelia will be by your side to help with whatever is necessary.”
John straightened up, clearly surprised by the responsibility Miguel was placing on his shoulders. “Your Majesty, it’s a great responsibility. But I’ll do my best to ensure everything runs smoothly in your absence.”
Miguel had noticed something between John and his sister over the past week. There was something going on between the two, but Miguel decided not to touch on that subject now. He had more urgent matters on his mind. “I trust you, John,” said Miguel firmly. “I know you’re capable of keeping everything under control.”
John nodded, showing determination in his expression. “Don’t worry, Miguel. Drakmoor will be in good hands.”
Miguel took one last sip of wine and stood up from his chair, signaling that the discussion was over. “The expedition starts tomorrow. Prepare everything that’s needed. We’re leaving at dawn.”
Ricardo and John exchanged glances before they, too, stood up. “We’ll make sure everything is ready,” said Ricardo, still with a worried air.
John approached Miguel, extending his hand. “Good luck, Your Majesty. And... be careful.”
Miguel shook John’s hand, nodding in acknowledgment. “I’ll do my best to return safely.”
With that, the three men left the office, each mentally preparing for the challenges ahead. Miguel knew that the expedition would be difficult, but he was determined to secure Drakmoor’s future, no matter the cost. As he closed the door behind him, he cast one last look at the fireplace, the flames flickering as a reminder of the warmth he would leave behind. The cold outside was not just a physical adversity but also a metaphor for the challenges he would face. And Miguel was ready to face them head-on.