011: INVITATION TO TENDER
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“... Ya budget of 50,000 ain’t enough to build da full-scale machine” Hemlock said, his words scraping my brain like sandpaper against wood.
“But it was enough to build the 1/4th scale model prototype wasn’t it?”
Cecily who had tagged along chimed in, “Does your prototype have an engine?”
“Engine?” Hemlock asked, turning to look at me.
“I’ll explain the whole concept some other time.” I paused and turned to inspect the scaled-down crusher head. Originally it was supposed to be 6 feet long, but now, at one-fourth the scale it sat at an incredibly adorable 1.5 feet. I asked Hemlock to fit the machine with a gearbox connected to a crank to illustrate the point of an engine. It was also fairly difficult to make something this small.
The crusher head was built beautifully. The metal sheets were flattened and welded so smoothly together that one could mistake this to be the work of the 21st century. I'd expected Hemlock to use rivets since they were the easiest way to attach the helical to the connecting shaft.
“I forge welded ‘em. Rivets would make it look like me brother.”
“Do I want to ask how your brother looks?”
“He ‘as a face that even me mother don’t love.”
There was a collective short pause before I continued the conversation, “So, about the materials. How do we go about it?”
“Let's go to the guild. I called a meeting with me steel folks,” Hemlock said, as he took off his apron. “Them folks can get you the amount you need for a good price.”
I agreed with Hemlock. Cecily was off in a corner twiddling with a pair of scissors. I called her over and it wasn’t long before the three of us were in the carriage on the way to the town.
The Metal Guild was a very dramatic-looking building. It was a massive three-storey cobblestone building, surrounded by an iron fence with spear tips. The front entrance had the words “From the heat we forge our souls.” made from iron, attached to a wooden arch. The doors were made of wood but seemed to be very sturdy with various iron reinforcement strips holding them together.
Hemlock walked over to the door and pushed it open, revealing to me how thick the wood was about three to four centimetres. Nobody was breaking it down.
Walking inside, our nostrils were assaulted by arid, metal-laced air, something that I was used to, but Cecily was not. Hemlock’s forge was well-ventilated, allowing a constant flow of fresh air. The guild however was not.
Hemlock gestured for the two of us to follow him, as he walked over to a table where a man seemingly shorter than him sat. Come to think of it. What constitutes short in this world? Asian men typically stood in the five foot four to five foot seven range, whereas Europeans typically stood in the five foot six to five foot nine or ten range. Hemlock was about five foot four, so short for a European, but did the same rule apply here?
The man seated at the table, seeing us stood up (he was most definitely shorter, Hemlock stood nearly a foot above him) and walked briskly over to us. Without any hesitation, he punched Hemlock in the gut, and he did the same.
“‘Ello brother,” the shorter man said, grinning.
Hemlock grinned back, “ Ember, ya’ short sack of shit.”
Cecily and I looked on in horror as the two Hemlocks grinned and grabbed each others’ arms.
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“Ya don’t send no letters ta mum,” Ember said as he stepped back, “Ya don’t answer pa’s ravens,” Ember swung at Hemlock again, he skillfully moved out of the way and tackled Ember. “And then ya send me a letter outta nowhere!”
“What can I say? I don’t have the time ya have.” Hemlock said, getting up to tower over Ember. He took a second to look down on him before offering a hand. “But ya know bother? I don’t get tired of seeing ya’ ulgy face.”
Ember had a chiselled jawline, a perfectly symmetrical face and the clearest skin I’d seen since spawning in this world. By all definitions, he was quite the specimen.
“LIAR!” I exclaimed, causing both Hemlock and Ember to turn their heads to face me and Cecily who’d stepped behind me as cover. “Master, you can’t go saying that your brother has an ugly mug when he’s the most handsome thing in this room,” I paused and continued, “and why are you, the big brother continuing the fight?”
The two stared at me with a puzzled look on their faces, Hemlock finally asked, “Who said anything ‘bout me being older? We be twins.”
Twins? Hemlock seemed to be in his 60s and Ember looked like he was in his mid-20s at best. “How? How are you two twins?”
“Tha’ be the ‘Alf Drawf blood boy, me Ma’s a ‘uman, and me Pa’s a dwarf,” Ember replied.
This made sense. Dwarves as a race tend to hit 350 before they died, and humans had a lifespan of 75 to 100 at best. When you cross two species, though unpredictable you can get unique effects. On Earth, my childhood best friend had a Beagle-Shepherd mix called Alphonse. When he initially got Alphonse, had the fur of a beagle, along with a pair of moderately large and floppy ears and the jowls of a Beagle. But he grew to be nearly 60 cm tall, while beagles reach about 30 cm. So he ended up having a big dog, with all the working characteristics of both parents. Alphonse managed to live close to 20 years.
“Right…” I said, trying to steer the conversation from the siblings to the main reason we were here. Steel. “Anyways, about getting steel for this project.”
“Yes. Tha’s wha’ the boy wants. Steel.” Hemlock said, turning to his brother.
“Le’s take tha’ table in da corner. This is going ta take som’ time.”
Ember showed us to a table in the corner of the guild, and Hemlock left the three of us to get something to eat.
“Didya brother intra’duce me brother to ya?” Ember asked.
“You know Konrad?”
“No. I know the pretty boy.”
“Ulrich? A pretty boy? Really?” I asked in sheer disbelief.
“Yes. Tha’ boy knows how ta’ take care of ‘imself.”
“So, how do you know Ulrich?”
“He’s one of the blokes who gets me ma Iron. I make steel ya’ see.”
“This makes a lot of sense.”
Hemlock returned with a small metal sheet the size of a modern smartphone, with the number 18 painted on it. “Da’ missy at the counter gave me dis’ and took ma money. They bet’er give us our food.”
“I’m sure they will Master,” I said, impressed by the ordering system they’d implemented. Truly ahead of their time.
We made some small talk till our food arrived, I learned that Hemlock and Ember were 127 years old. Given how Hemlock seemed to have advanced in age the most, he may have a shorter lifespan than his brother. This was not the most welcome string of thought, but worth knowing.
Soon the food arrived. Hemlock had gotten himself and his brother two pitchers of ale, and apple juice for Cecily and me. We had a pretty good-looking roast chicken, salad and bread to eat. While eating, we began discussing a deal to supply steel.
“I can do 50,000 Soren fa every 4,000 Gelt (approximately 1,000 kg).”
Before I could respond, Cecily stepped in, “Let’s do 12,000 for 4,000 Gelt.”
“Whoa, now Missy, that be daylight robbery.”
“Is it though? You’ll be getting an order of 20,000 Gelt. I’m sure that we can work something out.”
I sat there, shocked by Cecily’s lowball offer. She was ready to bleed this man dry.
“The 20k gelt is fine and all, but this is highway robbery, Cecily,” I whispered to Cecily.
“Relax, I know what I’m doing.”
“Fine. I’ll let you take the lead.”
After some deliberating, Ember countered Cecily’s offer with 45,000 Soren for 4000 Gelt. There was some back and forth until Cecily managed to bring Ember’s offer down to 30,000.
“Okay, fine, can you do 25,000?” Cecily asked.
“Da’ final offer I can give ya’ is 28,000. Anything b’low is not doable.”
“We’ll think about it. Can you give us a quote?”
“Ya drive a hard bargain, but I admire that. I’ll send it over to my brother.” Ember said finishing his Ale and getting up to leave. He turned to me and said “Ya’ have a great friend. Treasure her. Ya’ lives are short.”
Cecily turned to me, “You hear Ember. Treasure me.”
“Yeah yeah,” I said, dismissing Cecily’s comment. I turned to Hemlock, who was enjoying this whole exchange.
“25,000 is what I pay. Ember was takin’ advantage of ya rich folk.”
“You could’ve stepped in at any point you know!” Cecily exclaimed.
“I wan’ed ta see ya’ drive Missy. Ya’ good, butya’ need prac’ice.”
Cecily returned to her apple juice. While I picked up the conversation from there. “I think we need to get a few more quotes. Should we put out an advertisement?”
“There be only 3 steel people in Eis’erk. Ya’ bet’er off goin’ ta’ ‘em.”
“No master. What I propose is to call for tenders.”