Miguel was mounted on his horse, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders as he prepared to leave Drakmoor. Beside him, Ricardo adjusted the reins of his horse, a serious expression on his face, ready for what was to come. Behind them, five loyal soldiers, all handpicked for the expedition, waited in silence, immersed in the anticipation of what they might face. The morning was cold, and the horses' breath created small white clouds in the chilly air.

John was there, standing beside Amelia, waiting to bid farewell to Miguel before the departure. He approached the king with a mix of respect and determination. “Your Majesty,” John began, his voice firm, “I want to thank you for the trust you place in me. I promise I will do a great job while you’re away. Drakmoor will be safe in our hands.”

Miguel nodded, appreciating John’s loyalty and commitment. “I know it will be, John. I trust you completely. I know you’ll handle whatever comes your way.”

Amelia, standing beside John, didn’t miss the opportunity to make a remark with her usual irony. “I hope the city is still standing when you return, little brother. But honestly, I should be the one wishing you good luck, not the other way around.”

Miguel laughed, well aware of his sister’s teasing nature. “We’ll be fine, Amelia. But take care of yourself too, alright?”

She rolled her eyes with a smile, but there was a glimmer of concern in her gaze. “Believe me, I know how to take care of myself.”

Ricardo, observing the interaction between the siblings, gave a slight smile, but his mind was focused on what awaited them outside the gates. He knew the journey would be tough, but he was determined to protect Miguel at all costs.

“Let’s move on,” said Miguel, breaking the farewell moment with a nod to the guards at the city gate.

John and Amelia stepped back, standing side by side as they watched Miguel and his small company begin to move toward the gates. The sound of the horses' hooves echoed through the silent city, and Miguel took one last look back, waving briefly before passing through the gates.

Amelia crossed her arms, watching until the group disappeared into the distance. “He’s changed,” she commented, almost to herself, but John heard.

“Yes,” John replied with a tone of approval. “He’s becoming the leader Drakmoor needs.”

They stood there, watching until Miguel and his men were completely out of sight. The snow was beginning to fall again, covering the ground with a white blanket, as if the whole world was on hold. Amelia sighed, pulling her cloak tighter around her to ward off the cold. “I hope he returns safely.”

“He will,” John said confidently. “And until then, we’ll keep things in order.”

With those words, the two turned and began walking back into the city, ready to take on the burden Miguel had left behind. The cold wind blew gently, but there was a sense of determination in the air, a silent commitment to do whatever it took to protect Drakmoor and the dream Miguel was building.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

---

In the Drakmoor workshop, the forge burned intensely, spreading a welcoming heat that contrasted with the severe winter cold outside. The rhythmic sound of the hammer against metal echoed throughout the space, mingling with the hissing of the embers and the occasional hum of the manual machines, all powered by the strength and ingenuity of the blacksmiths. Arthur, the master blacksmith, watched the work closely, his trained eyes analyzing every detail, every movement of the men under his supervision.

Miguel had left precise instructions, a detailed sketch of what could become one of the most revolutionary weapons in history. But before moving on to large-scale production, Arthur decided to follow Miguel’s advice and start with a smaller prototype, a scaled-down version of the cannon to test the concepts before committing to a bigger effort.

The prototype, though smaller, demanded extreme care. The cannon was a cylindrical piece with a slightly conical internal diameter to allow better compression of gases when the gunpowder was ignited. Arthur knew that any mistake, no matter how small, could compromise the entire project, turning the cannon into a useless weapon or, worse yet, a threat to those who attempted to operate it.

The first step was to create the mold. Arthur opted to use a green sand mold, a mixture of sand, clay, and water, compacted around a model of the cannon that he and his son had carved out of wood. Green sand was ideal for capturing the model's details while withstanding the extreme heat of the molten metal. They split the mold into two halves, forming a "coquille" that allowed the removal of the wooden model before pouring the metal.

With the mold ready and reinforced by a wooden frame to ensure its stability, the next step was to prepare the metal. Arthur chose an iron-carbon alloy, a primitive form of steel that would be strong enough to withstand the internal pressures generated by the gunpowder explosion, but still manageable for the blacksmiths of Drakmoor to work with. He knew the key to the cannon’s success lay in the quality of this metal.

Beside Arthur, the other blacksmiths worked in sync, adjusting the furnace and heating the iron ingots until they turned into a glowing liquid mass. The air was thick with the smell of hot metal and the sound of the bellows, which were operated constantly to maintain the ideal temperature.

When Arthur judged that the metal was ready, he signaled the other blacksmiths. With extreme care, they began to pour the molten metal into the sand mold. The operation required steady hands and precision; any spill could cause problems, and any contamination in the metal could weaken the cannon's structure.

The metal flowed into the mold, filling it completely, as Arthur and his son watched closely. The vivid, incandescent color of the metal filled the room with an orange glow, and the bubbling sound indicated that the iron was settling properly. After filling the mold, the blacksmiths covered the top opening with sand to prevent air bubbles from forming and to ensure the metal cooled evenly.

With the mold filled, the metal began to cool and solidify. This process required patience; there were no shortcuts. The iron had to be left to cool naturally to avoid cracks or warping that would compromise the cannon’s structure. During this time, Arthur inspected other parts of the project. He and his apprentices worked on the pieces that made up the cannon’s base, which needed to be robust enough to absorb the impact of the shots.

After several hours, the metal was finally cool enough for the mold to be dismantled. The blacksmiths carefully removed the wooden frames and began to separate the two halves of the green sand mold. With a dry crack, the halves opened, revealing the small cannon prototype.

The piece was still rough, covered by a thin layer of sand residue and marks from the casting process. Arthur picked up the cannon with both hands, feeling the weight and texture of the alloy. He could tell that the first step had been successful, but there was still work to be done. He turned to the blacksmiths, who were already preparing the tools for the next stage: finishing.

Using a combination of files, hammers, and other precision tools, the blacksmiths began to remove the imperfections from the cannon’s surface. They smoothed the sides, ensuring that the barrel was completely smooth, with no remnants that could interfere with the shot. Arthur, vigilant, supervised every detail, ensuring the final result was flawless.

At the end of an exhausting day, the cannon prototype was complete. Arthur stepped back a bit, observing the outcome. It was a masterpiece of engineering, something he never imagined he would one day forge. He ran his hand along the cannon's barrel, feeling the coolness of the now perfectly polished metal. The prototype was ready for testing, and everyone in the workshop knew that what they had created was just the beginning of something much greater.

As the prototype rested, awaiting the moment of testing, Arthur wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and looked at the blacksmiths, exhausted but proud of their work. The small cannon they had created could be the precursor to a new era in Drakmoor, an era where knowledge and innovation would combine to protect the kingdom and ensure its future.