image [https://i.imgur.com/reJVpwy.jpg]

Since commissioning the market, the Hawkhurst labor pool enjoyed a two-day weekend in their seven-day week. On Marketday, the equivalent of Saturday, I couldn’t expect to see progress on either the barbican or my sword without dire drops to morale for a couple more days. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t discuss it or set up priorities.

Rockthane took Marketday and Idolday off, but his staff supplied rolls and jam-laden pastries, showing off their cooking and baking skills. Rocky’s sovereignty over the town hall’s cooking area featured no Arlington cuisine. The potluck breakfast gave other cooks a chance to shine. They auditioned for chef positions in inns and eateries, which local entrepreneurs discussed. The variety made weekend meals special.

Hanging out in the town hall, I beckoned Fin and Angus Hornbuster to my table when they entered.

Angus greeted me. “Mornin’ Guv. Where’s the squawker?”

“He’s out hunting or preening his feathers. He only does it in the sun.”

Fin arrived from the buffet, juggling a cup of tea and biscuits topped with caramelized fruit. Angus shook his head at his brother’s gluttony. “Did you leave no scran for the rest of us, Fin?”

“Shut your gob, you. At least I’m working it off. Besides, you’re one to talk. It looks like you’re smuggling wineskins.”

Angus patted his sides. “You’re off your head! That’s braw muscle under there.”

“Stomach muscle, more like. You should have seen him pack away stovies last night. Nary a tatty survived the onslaught.”

“You two seem to be in a fine mood.”

Angus waved at Fin. “Don’t mind him. He’s raging because he’s minting money all weekend.”

I turned to Fin in astonishment. “Are you working today?”

“Aye, I’m hopping all hours—catching up on orders from Mack and Janneth. Angus taps me whenever he hears my pockets jingle.”

Angus elbowed me and rolled his eyes. “Extra helpings of tatties don’t pay for themselves, ye know.”

“Oh. You’re taking private orders.”

Fin nodded. “Nothing class, I’m afraid—just chains, nails, and brackets. Hinges offer a wee challenge to break the pace. Was it true about ye finding darksteel? I bet you’re tapping Rory for that.”

“I think we’ll need your furnace to smelt it.”

Fin’s expression brightened. “Is that so? May I see it?” He cleared a spot on the table while I presented a chunk of ore.

Fin gasped and scrutinized the metal while Angus observed with detached interest.

“Is that supposed to be rare? The Guv and I pulled better than that from the worm room?”

Fin gave Angus a scornful look. “Rare? Nay, it’s more than rare. Steel doesn’t form naturally, and yet here it is. This nugget isn’t rare. It’s blooming unique.”

I pulled out its sibling nuggets, aligning them on the table.

Fin gasped again. “I could help, but you better get Rory to handle this job. I’ll likely pollute the harvest.”

Before I could ask what he meant, Rory sat beside me, picked up a chunk of ore, and inspected it. “Is that a call for help already, Fin? I told ye not to summon me afore noon.”

Fin ignored Rory and slapped the table. “I still can’t believe it. The Guv found darksteel!”

Rory scrutinized the metal. “I must admit, I doubted me ears when ye said so last night. I see loads of slag here.”

“Is that bad? Is that the blue marbling?”

Rory nodded. “Aye. We’ll need gobs of anthracite to melt this down.”

Fin thumbed another nugget. “How will ye do it?”

Rory shrugged. “It won’t be pimps. We’ll need a bloomery first.”

“What’s that?”

Fin quickly answered. “It’s a smelting furnace to separate metals from quicklime, an impurity.”

Rory didn’t sound as enthused as Fin about the project. “Fin’s furnace is big enough, but it has a side access. We’ll need a top access to add anthracite with the ore and bottom access to collect the bloom.”

“What is bloom?”

“Bloom is a mix of slag and metal. When it cools, I’ll wallop off the slag, leaving metal that looks porous like a sponge. It’ll take several passes to knock off the impurities.”

Making a special furnace didn’t sound like making a darksteel weapon would be a quick project. Rory piled on his concerns when he described the process.

“Anthracite will be hot enough, but I’m worried about the vapor poisoning.”

“You can poison yourself?”

“Not me, the metal. Vapors can mix impurities into the material. With anthracite, we’ll need flux to keep it clean.” Rory turned to Fin. “Do we still have some limestone left from Grayton?”

Fin nodded to the master blacksmith, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“How long do you think this will take?”

Rory picked up another piece of ore and squinted at it. “Without me specs, it’s hard to know for sure. I’ll have to experiment. Smelting iron with charcoal takes a one-to-one ratio, but darksteel and anthracite will need testing.”

I grunted at his answer. If I pushed the town to build a temple to give me Holy Smoke, I certainly would push the blacksmiths to make a weapon.

Angus, who seemed unimpressed by the conversation, changed the subject. “What manner of weapon are you eyeing?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“We have plenty of magic hammers and maces. My spear is gone—and I miss it. But going with a longsword seems like the safest route.” I turned to the blacksmiths. “Is there enough ore here for one?”

The pair mulled over the question and shared a gaze. Rory answered. “Aye. I suspect there’s enough here for a stout longsword. Ye have gobs of time to change your mind. It’ll be weeks before I pour or pound anything. There’s no telling how long it will take to remove impurities.”

I looked to Fin, who confirmed Rory’s estimate with a nod. “If it’s a blade ye want, it’s all about ridding your metal of impurities.”

Rory stood up. “We won’t get anywhere yammering all morning. I’ve got to finish up me scullery.”

“Scullery?”

“I promised Freya I’d make her a hinged cooking crane for the inn. After that, I’m making a spit and a soup kettle. And everyone wants baking pans and bowls for cakes.”

I grunted. It sounded like another side contract the town could do without. Even though weekend time belonged to Rory, and he had obligations. Sweeping into town without notice and expecting everyone to drop their routines wasn’t tactful, but my blade served the whole town.

“When can you begin on the bloomery?”

Rory combed his fingers through his beard. “I’ve only got chains for the gate’s counterweight left—it’s my last task for the barbican. But a new blade served the common weal. I’ll stow everything else on the holding shelf.” He looked at Fin.

Fin shrugged. “I’m on the barby as well. I’m hammering bolts and studs to reinforce the portcullis. At least three days’ worth.”

“Thanks, guys. I look forward to seeing your work when the barbican finishes.”

Marketday was, on the whole, a cheerful occasion. Not quite a holiday or a fair, but Ida’s rotation of merchants kept a steady interest in who sold what every week, flushing the booths with fresh sellers and shoppers every week. Because of the limited access to sales space, sellers sold only premium wares—and made-to-order items became a standard practice. Outfits, furniture, and desserts became common requests.

Mass-produced modern conveniences like combs or cups weren’t as trivial as in wilderness life. Without plastic factories and worldwide economies, handmade items brought remarkable comfort to those who braved Hawkhurst’s relative isolation.

With mud becoming an issue, footwarmers became a popular device. Footwarmers weren’t articles of clothing but wooden boxes containing heated stones. They looked like footrests, but small holes in their top allowed the heat inside to waft upward where a person rested their toes. They grew more prevalent during the brisk winter months.

Hand carts became the newest hit in town. Mass-produced by the woodshop, they came in sizes suitable for dwarves and humans. They looked like waist-high wheelbarrows that rolled on large cartwheels. People customized them to their liking. Some bore cupboards and hatches. A single person could comfortably transport lots of goods without straining. The wooden contraptions made pleasant creaks and clacks when pulled along the ground and became a ubiquitous trapping of everyday life.

Even the colliers worked in their own time to sell cords of wood and charcoal. Two of them, Archie and Baird, had the reddest hair among the dwarves, enough to stand out in town hall gatherings. They often covered their hair with cloth caps to keep it clean when harvesting from the charcoal pits.

Archie approached me as I strolled through the marketplace. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. May I bend your ear for a mite?”

“How are you, Archie? What can I do for you?”

“The boys have been asking who’s serving time in the watchtower. With the patrols so far away, we wondered if Lloyd were available these next couple of weeks.”

I could see what he meant. Lloyd’s high lookout skill extended the range of the watchtower by 50 percent. News of orcs and goblins made everyone a little jumpy.

Baird echoed his coworker’s concern. “Stone buildings like the barbican and temple have eased the need for tree line security. But two blacksmiths double the charcoal demand.”

Their concerns were legitimate. I opened the interface and changed Lloyd’s assignment from working on his second ferry to watchtower detail. It meant another conversation, but security became the town’s top need.

“Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I adjusted Lloyd’s schedule and will help patrol when you guys chop trees. The press to keep a hundred workers busy is only a temporary measure. When the pinch is over, we’ll have more personnel for patrols.”

Wringing their hands, they bowed and thanked me, a gesture which I returned.

When I sorted through my interface, I noticed a newly unlocked ability.

Power (ability)

Divine Favor (tier 2)

Prerequisites

Heavenly Favor, Governing rank 13

Cooldown

Once per day

Description

You inspire militia and workers in a one-mile radius with a 20 percent increase in morale for 8 hours.

This tempting little ability raised the workforce’s efficiency from 61 percent to 84. I could maintain it as long as I stayed in Hawkhurst. Affecting my militia also seemed worthwhile, except I didn’t know how better morale translated into combat performance.

Divine Favor wasn’t a last-minute purchase to lift me out of trouble. I ought to buy this ability now if I decide it to be worthwhile. The sooner I took it, the more benefit it gave.

It didn’t further my game enough to justify a power point. Waiting weeks on a magic sword and Holy Smoke wouldn’t be unbearable. After grinding through the logistics of running a settlement, I suspected it would take a lot of time to mobilize an army against Hawkhurst.

Seeing a newly unlocked ability perked me up for some training. I wasn’t a newbie anymore. These days, additional levels and powers appeared rarely, but babysitting Hawkhurst afforded me more time to train. Perhaps I could improve my position in the battle royale by discovering a high-ranked power.

Aside from my promise to help patrol while the colliers built or harvested coal mounds, I had time on my hands and a few ranks of melee skills left to grind through before reaching 30. Perhaps I would unlock something pertinent to combat.

After resolving to return to the battle college, I spotted a strange dot on the roof of a roundhouse.

Name

Darkstep Improved Eye (1,796)

Level

1

Difficulty

Trivial (gray)

Health

1/1

I looked for someone familiar and spotted Eren, one of the Fort Krek privates. He browsed through the market with a woman I didn’t recognize. “Eren, can you come over here for a second?”

Sensing my urgency, he didn’t introduce me to Kathrine Tanner, whose nameplate appeared to me anyway. He seemed off-duty, but I only wanted to ask a question. “Good afternoon, governor. How can I help you?”

“Do you see that little eye?”

He searched the thatched rooftop for a second, then nodded. “Yes, sir. They’ve been popping up all over town.”

“What’s the policy with them?”

The guard smiled nervously at his companion.

“You’re not in trouble. What is the standing order regarding them?”

“Captain Yula says to crush them, sir. But we’re not actively looking for them. We’re off-duty when we’re around town. We found one on the riverbank, but we haven’t seen them in the forests. If that’s what you mean,”

I considered asking him to sweep the town, but doing so would probably gum up whatever rotation Yula and Iris had worked out between their staff. Besides, we’ve already stretched our guards, escorts, and scouts thin. Anyone in town could destroy these 1-health point pests.

“Thank you, Eren. You and Kathrine enjoy your day.”

Eren’s eyes widened in surprise when I mentioned his weekend companion’s name, but I ignored him and turned to the market crowd. Casting Hot Air, I lifted myself into the air.

A few gasps rippled through my audience, mainly from Arlington humans who hadn’t seen Hot Air before.

“Attention, please. Can I have everyone’s attention? If anyone spots these spy eyes, please give them a good whack or tell a town officer if you can’t reach them.”

Tara, one of our first outfit designers, peered in the direction where I pointed. “I’ve been seeing peepers all over town. Disgusting things—what are they?”

“I don’t know, but they’re up to no good. Pop them if you can, and please spread the word.”

When I dropped at the end of Hot Air’s duration, I Slipstreamed to the roundhouse rooftop and kicked the eye until it winked away in a wisp of smoke. These prying eyes weren’t helping my thought process. Whoever Darkstep was, he grated on my nerves.