“Bakelite was the first synthetic plastic created on Earth,” Dave said. “It was made by combining phenol and formaldehyde.”

“And these are acquired how?” Remicra asked.

"Phenol can be extracted from coal tar through the destructive distillation of coal. You have tons of coal to spare," Dave said, his eyes alight as he inspected another shaft of bamboo, "formaldehyde can be extracted from methanol, which you get from dry distilling wood."

“Distilling… wood?” The blacksmith mulled.

"Destructive distillation," he began, "is a process in which organic materials such as coal or wood are heated in the absence of air. This causes them to break down into their constituent elements, yielding a variety of useful substances. Coke, coal tar and coal gas are the byproducts obtained during the destructive distillation of coal. Distillation of wood is the process in which wood is heated, but not burned, to form charcoal and other vapors.”

The dragoness tilted her head, gears in her mind turning.

“We will need specifically shaped glass bottles, and an even way to heat and cool them to trap specific vapors which result from distillation,” As Dave spoke he grabbed a parchment and sketched out the necessary beakers. “I saw simple heating and cooling stones at the market powered by a user’s mana that aren’t too expensive,” he added. “From what I was told they can be used to keep temperature very consistent as long as the wielder has an innate skill for such.”

Remicra listened with rapt attention, her gold-violet spirals tracking Dave's animated expression. The very thought of using heating and cooling stones and her innate magic outside of her blacksmith job to distill gases in glass jars seemed to her both fantastical and absurd, an odd alchemy that could only have been concocted in the fevered imagination of a human.

As the sun crept higher in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the floor of the smithy, Dave and Remicra set to work. They gathered coal, wood, sand and various other materials in a manner that could only be described as industrious, if not a little haphazard.

Under Dave's supervision, the dragoness blew the glass containers required for distillation.

Among the clanging of metal and the crackling of the forge, the pair exchanged ideas and laughter. And in the process, they discovered that sometimes, the most powerful magic of all could be found in the unlikeliest of places – in the spaces between atoms, in the resonance of a violin's song, and in the irrepressible spirit of two companions who refused to be bound by the whims of the cruel, uncaring universe.

The quaint smithy, nestled in the heart of Shandria beneath the stars of distant hellfire that extinguished nations, gradually transformed under their care. A thousand ghostly fragments in Dave's soul swayed to Sherlock's melodic and rational guidance akin to an AI language model, allowing Dave to wield the scientific method and knowledge amassed over centuries by humanity.

"Why is it called Bakelite?" The blacksmith asked.

"Because it was invented by a human named Leo Baekeland," Dave replied. "He was a Belgian chemist who was trying to find a synthetic substitute for shellac. You see, shellac was used as an electrical insulator in those days, but it was expensive and difficult to produce."

"What's an electrical insulator?" the dragoness asked.

"Ah," Dave said. "In my world, we harness a force called electricity. It's a form of energy that can power various devices, from simple light bulbs to complex machines. An insulator is a material that doesn't conduct electricity, which means it can prevent the flow of electric current, keeping it contained within a specific path."

Remicra cocked her head to the side. "Electricity, you say?" she mused.

“The power of lightning, captured and directed to do nearly any job imaginable,” Dave nodded.

“And this Bakelite materia, it can control lightning just like a stormancer mage?" The dragoness asked.

“Sort of, but without specialization magic. Pretty much everyone uses electricity on my homeworld,” Dave nodded as he recalled the uses of plastics in his own world. "Bakelite's insulating properties made it an invaluable material for numerous electrical applications. It was used in everything from jewellery to the telephone.

“A telephone is a tool for long distance communication that eventually led to the information revolution," he added.

Remicra nodded. "So, how did Leo come up with Bakelite to begin with?"

“Through sheer determination and trial and error. The result of his work was a new, heat-resistant, non-conductive material that could be easily molded into various shapes."

As he spoke, Dave gestured with his hands. "Imagine that – a lone human chemist, toiling away in his laboratory, driven by nothing more than the desire to create something new and groundbreaking. And in the process, he changed the world forever because the people of my world, Earth, built other tools atop of his invention!"

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Curious what a single individual can accomplish when they set their mind to it," Remicra mused, her own thoughts momentarily drifting to her own potential, her innate forgemancer's abilities and the numerous rules she was now breaking by working with Dave.

"Indeed," he agreed, “and if a man like Leo could create an entirely new material that revolutionized the world, just think of what we might accomplish, working together, here in this smithy and beyond it!"

Remicra's scales shifted to a triumphant violet-red. "You're right," she nodded. "Let's make something that will change the very fabric of Arx, just like your Leo did in yours."

. . .

With a spring in his step, Dave descended the steep path that led towards the bamboo forest beneath the cliffside. As he ventured further into the verdant grove, he marveled at the skyward reach of the bamboo stalks, their vibrant green leaves rustling gently in the breeze. The sunlight, filtered through the dense canopy above, cast dappled patterns on the forest floor, creating an atmosphere of tranquility.

Dave carefully selected the strongest and most flexible bamboo stalks he could find. Once he had gathered an ample supply, he used a sharp blade borrowed from Remicra to cut the bamboo into manageable lengths, the satisfying crunch of the fibrous material echoing through the forest.

Upon returning to the smithy, Dave presented his bounty to Remicra, who regarded the collection of bamboo with a look of interest and longing. She really liked visiting the forest growing between her home and the chasm and was missing it fiercely.

She used her razor-sharp claws to slice the bamboo stalks into thin, pliable strips.

"What do these bamboo strands have to do with Bakelite?" Remicra asked.

"Nothing," Dave said. "On its own, Bakelite plastic is tough but brittle. What we are going to make is superior to mere plastic!”

“Sort of like combining different metals?” Remicra asked.

“Yep. Bakelite resin can be reinforced with bamboo fibers to create a stronger composite material. Bamboo fibers are known for their high strength-to-weight ratio and natural flexibility, making them a suitable reinforcement choice. When combined with Bakelite resin, the resulting composite material should have enhanced mechanical properties somewhat similar to an incredibly tough material called carbon fiber armor," Dave affirmed.

. . .

As the days slipped by like sand through an hourglass, Dave and Remicra found themselves consumed by their shared passion, working tirelessly to remodel the semi-abandoned back room of the smithy into a makeshift laboratory for creating Bakelite. The once cluttered, messy space facing the chasm was gradually cleaned up and transformed, taking on the appearance of a sanctuary dedicated to the alchemy of invention.

. . .

The air in the smithy was thick with the scents of coal tar, wood, and the indefinable aroma of creative energy, as Dave and Remicra toiled side by side, their movements harmonious and efficient. The rhythm of their work was a symphony of clanging metal, crackling fire, and the occasional exclamation of triumph or frustration.

Dave's eyes shone with the fervor of a man possessed, their blue depths reflecting the flames of the forge. His pale hands, once those of a programmer, now bore the callouses and scars of a craftsman. Remicra moved with a fluid grace as she deftly worked the materials the pair had gathered to make molds.

Their mutual work remained uninterrupted, as the old smithy at the edge of town was free from the distractions of clamoring customers. When Dave went into town to get more supplies, he asked about the history of the lighthouse smithy and its inhabitant. From his conversations with the townsfolk, he gleaned that Remicra's smithy was regarded as something of a proving ground for newcomers, a place where low level adventurers were sent to be 'toughened up'.

Remicra, in her inimitable fashion, had managed to drive away most potential patrons over the years with her prickly demeanor and biting prices. Her smithy mainly served as a repair site for weapons and armor wielded by Lord Burgundy's security and hunter forces which controlled a third of Shandria’s businesses and real estate.

Despite the hardships of solitary existence, Remicra had shown Dave a side of herself that few, if any, had been privy to witness. Beneath the hardened scales and the fearsome visage lay a heart that yearned for the opportunity to share her knowledge and talent with someone who saw beyond the superficial trappings of her circumstance.

As the week drew to a close, the back room of the smithy had been utterly transformed, its walls now adorned with shelves laden with glass beakers, metal crucibles, and various other instruments of science. The once-dusty floor was now a veritable canvas of experiments, with bits of bamboo, hardened resin, and the occasional scorch mark.

When Overseer came by with a box of semi-rotting sustenance in tow, Remicra's gaze lingered on the unappetizing offering. Yet, her heart held no space for discontent. Behind the forge, where molten metal sang and sparks danced like fireflies, a secret lab lay nestled, safe from prying eyes.

The clandestine creations that she and her human partner had meticulously crafted from glass, wood and heating stones remained concealed.

. . .

In another two weeks’ time, Dave stood triumphantly in the heart of the forge, the flickering flames casting a warm glow on his fully clad form. He was fully adorned in bamboo fiber-reinforced Bakelite plastic and sandwich-constructed composite armor.

Each piece of the armor seemed to meld seamlessly with his body. He spun in it and sent the dragoness a wide grin.

Remicra circled him with an air of pride, her tail swishing gracefully through the air. Her mouth clicked softly as she tapped the armor with her claws to test it.

"Well I'll be. Full body, metal-less armor," she marveled with satisfaction. "You actually did it."

"We did it," he corrected gently. "Without your help I wouldn't have gotten anywhere."

"So, is it done now?" The dragoness queried.

"Almost," Dave quipped as he turned his helmeted head, glass lenses glinting and reflecting the dragoness and the forge behind her. "The next step is to make it invisible."

"What?" Remicra's eye twitched.