Point Of View: Perucia
We were at the outskirts of the city, in a small wooden warehouse built near a clearing surrounded by trees. It was a long walk to the city. I didn’t like walking. Mister Roosevelt was outside the warehouse, next to a large copper pot filled with dirt that smelled like poop. He was placing firewood beneath the pot.
"Alright, I’m going to take off my clothes. Kids, please turn around." I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Could it be that Mister Roosevelt was a pervert? "Okay, you can look now." He had tied a cloak around his waist.
"Perucia doesn’t want to work," I said, making it clear that I had no interest in any kind of physical or intellectual work. I wasn’t born for this life. I was a lady. I didn’t want to dirty my hands or let them get calloused.
"I understand you, Perucia, but guess what? I don’t care." Mister spoke in a cold, emotionless voice, as if he truly didn’t care. "Now go fetch water from the well. We need to finish this quickly. Seven, do you see that large pot with two chambers and some holes? Help me light a fire under it. Inside the warehouse, there’s a bag of powdered metal. You must gradually add it through that small hole." He kept giving more and more instructions. I didn’t fetch the water; ladies don’t work.
"Pyrite is considered a worthless material because of its sulfur content. It has a yellowish tone and is often mistaken for gold. Brat, why haven’t you fetched the water yet?" He raised his eyebrows as he stared at me. I huffed and crossed my arms. I wasn’t going anywhere.
"Girl, if you don’t want to miss dinner, you’d better fetch the water." His gaze seemed serious, but I needed to make my message clearer.
"Dad used to say that a lady of my caliber shouldn’t work." With my response, he closed his eyes and sighed, a smile forming on his face.
"Fine, but I’m not going to support lazy people. Seven, before starting, please fetch a bucket of water." He redirected my task to Seven. That was fine by me. As far as I knew, Seven wasn’t of noble blood.
Point Of View: Magnus Bridge
'Let me get this straight: you’re going to mix the crystals obtained from boiling and filtering that fertilizer with this sulfur?' I was trying to understand how we’d get to the explosive I had seen in Roosevelt’s mind.
"Actually, most of the compound, surprisingly, is saltpeter, which comes from that soil. About three-quarters of it. The elemental sulfur, which will be obtained by burning pyrite, makes up about one-tenth. Although these methods are inefficient, we can improve our production processes later." He seemed pleased as he explained this, adding a bit of crushed pyrite to the clay pot he had ordered to be made.
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'But wait, you also mentioned we use wood. Where exactly?' I tried to recall if I had missed something. Was it only used as firewood? But why so much of it? Then I remembered that when we entered the warehouse earlier, there was a sack filled with black powder.
"Yes, the wood. Wood can be used as fuel for the fire, charcoal for gunpowder, and raw material for paper." Roosevelt paused, stretched his back, lit the fire with a flint, and headed toward the large metal pot. From a distance, I noticed the boy returning with a bucket of water. "Do you remember I asked you to order a pestle, a mortar, a large pot, a clay vat, a fine-mesh wooden screen, a wooden press, and finally, a frame to place in the sun? Well, all those items are stored in the warehouse. We’ll use them to make paper."
"Who is Boss talking to?" The boy stared at Roosevelt curiously while handing him the bucket. Roosevelt gently took the bucket and poured the water into the metal pot. He crouched and lit the fire.
"I’m talking to the voices in my head. Seven, I’ll be boiling this fertilizer. Do you see those barrels over there?" Roosevelt pointed to the barrels. "You’ll take the plates stored in the warehouse, fill them with water from the barrel, and place them somewhere sunny to dry. This will speed up our process."
"S-sure, Boss." Great, now the boy thought Roosevelt was crazy. Half the town already thought so—what difference would one more kid make?
While Roosevelt stirred the boiling fertilizer, I couldn’t help but notice how hard the boy was trying, while Perucia… well, the little elf didn’t like to work. The day went by in an exhausting work routine, with a break only for lunch. As expected, Roosevelt didn’t give her food and lectured her about needing to work.
By late afternoon, Seven fetched a few buckets of water, and the three of them bathed one by one near the warehouse. Roosevelt looked exhausted. He repeated the process of boiling and filtering the fertilizer several times and was apparently finished. Now, according to him, we had to wait for the crystals to form and the water to evaporate in the sunlight. Seven was equally tired. Even though his work was light, he had walked back and forth constantly. As for Perucia… well, she was...
"You guys are so weak. You can’t handle a single day of work." I couldn’t help but laugh inwardly. This girl was a little pest. Roosevelt was completely out of patience, unsure of what to do with her.
We were approaching the tailor. Roosevelt had ordered some clothes for the two children, but I could feel his reluctance about buying things for Perucia. The shop was a cramped space with shelves full of fabrics and a large worktable covered with patterns and spools of thread in the center. The setting sun lit up the room.
"Excuse me. I’m here to pick up the clothing set." Roosevelt raised a 10-Lyndor coin to catch attention. A young man came over with a folded set of clothes. Roosevelt took the clothes, looked at Perucia, and spoke.
"Look, girl, I’m giving you these clothes and letting you eat today. But if you don’t work tomorrow, you’ll go the whole day without food." I was a bit annoyed by how soft he was being.
'Roosevelt, your heart is too soft. This girl will keep throwing tantrums,' I commented, knowing he wouldn’t listen.