Chapter 50
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Farming on the Sea? (1)
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When survival was all I could focus on, tableware was the last thing on my mind. But after repeated visits to the lord's castle and constantly ordering dishware to run the resort, one thing became crystal clear.
'The pottery development here's barely scraping 15th-century Europe levels.'
The fine china coveted by nobles and the wealthy all came from the Eastern Continent.
The potters of the Western Continent had poured their hearts into replicating that signature glossy white sheen, only to fail time and again—at least, that's what Anton had told me.
[No matter what glazes we tried or what materials we mixed into the clay, we just couldn't get that pure white glow.]
Porcelain craftsmanship had been virtually monopolized by the three East Asian nations for nearly a millennium even in my past life, so I couldn't really blame the Western Continent's potters.
They'd given it their best shot, but without grasping the key secret, it was no wonder they couldn't quite nail it.
'That white isn't from the glaze. It's not from mixing stuff into the clay either. It's just the clay itself.'
Porcelain—true porcelain, at that—wasn't something you whipped up easily.
It demanded temperatures over 1,300 degrees, special glazes, and above all, kaolin clay, also known as high-grade porcelain clay.
Even finding kaolin wasn't enough; it had to be the right blend of feldspar, silica, and clay to produce that exquisite milky white porcelain.
So, did this place—Evergreen—happen to have the perfect kaolin deposits?
'How the hell would I know? It's not like I've been digging holes everywhere.'
I knew kaolin was mainly found in granite regions and had a grayish-white hue close to pure white, but I hadn't gone prospecting, so there was no telling.
Yet Dominic's eyes still sparkled with unshakable confidence.
"Human! No, Dominic! Now that there's no one around to eavesdrop, spill it already. Yeah? How do you think we can make porcelain?"
Once everyone else had headed off to the village hall or the resort, Stonehammer—the lone dwarf left behind—leaned in with a mix of subtlety and impatience.
"You mean that white glow, right? We just need to get something close to it, yeah?"
"Exactly. But that's easier said than done."
"Even with pigments?"
"Yeah. There might be some white pigment I don't know about yet. But listen—even after glazing with every white pigment this dwarf knows of and firing it, anything over high heat just burns the color right out of the dye!"
As if reliving that frustration, the dwarf stomped his short legs against the ground.
'Can't blame him. Pigments that hold their color past 1,000 degrees aren't exactly lying around.'
In reality, only cobalt-derived blue and iron-based black could withstand over 1,300 degrees without burning away.
No wonder blue-and-white and iron-glazed porcelain dominated that era.
"Then what about mixing white-producing materials into the clay itself, Mr. Stonehammer?"
That was enough groundwork.
Time to get to the point.
"Tried that too. What, you think I didn't?"
"What did you try?"
"For that glossy white, I mixed in seashells, lime, glass, eggshells, coral... hell, I even ground up pearls and threw those in!"
"...Grinding pearls would make the material cost more than the damn pottery..."
"Tch."
The dwarf grumbled something about technique mattering more than price, but I let that slide for now.
'We're selling this stuff. Materials can't cost more than the selling price.'
Just learned dwarves had some quirky ideas about economics.
"I get it, human. Pearls were overkill. But how frustrating do you think it was?"
"You've tried a lot, huh."
"Yeah. And still, total failures every time. I threw in every white material under the sun! Even thought maybe the clay was the issue, so I hunted down white clay and fired that—still nothing. How the hell do those Eastern Continent humans do it?"
He'd vaguely sensed something was up with the clay itself, but there were just too many white clays and stones out there.
Looks like none of the countless whites he'd tested were actual kaolin.
'Makes sense. Kaolin isn't soft mud—it's rock. You have to crush it to powder, mix with water... If he only looked for mud, he would've missed it.'
As he droned on about his failures, the dwarf slumped into the dirt yard, sighing heavily over and over.
"Mr. Stonehammer, there's still one material you haven't tried."
"One I haven't tried?"
"Yeah. It's white, lighter than metal, got a decent sheen..."
"I tried coral and pearls already."
"That's exactly what you shouldn't use. Can you afford the material costs?"
"...If not coral or pearls, then what, human?"
"It's right here."
"What is it?!"
Dominic flashed a grin at the exasperated dwarf.
"Bone."
The dwarf shuddered, as if goosebumps had prickled his skin, rubbing his arms.
"Crazy human."
"Not human bones, you idiot!"
"Oh?"
"Of course not! What do you take me for?!"
"I've seen too many humans go mad over porcelain talk. Sorry."
Quick to misunderstand, quick to apologize—that was dwarves for you.
"But bone, all of a sudden?"
"Here's the thing. I buy cow bones and use them to make broth for folks all the time."
"Huh? Cow bone broth?"
Pity started clouding the dwarf's eyes.
How broke do you have to be to boil bones instead of meat or organs? It was written all over his face.
"It's delicious! I'll make some next time, so don't complain it's bland then. Anyway. If you simmer cow bones in plain water for about ten hours, know what happens?"
"You get bone-boiled water, duh."
"Obviously. The color."
"Color? Bones change color when boiled? They don't turn black or anything."
"Not the bones—the broth!"
"...The water changes color?"
"Yep."
"For real?"
"Swear."
"What color?"
"White."
"......"
"Not clear white—milky white, like milk."
In truth, the milky white of beef bone soup came from calcium and phosphorus in the bones, while adding bone ash to porcelain for whiteness worked differently.
'Whatever. I'm not a science teacher.'
Get there any way you can—as long as Stonehammer fired some pots with cow bones, I'd be golden.
What Dominic was nudging the dwarf toward was none other than bone china.
Bone china.
Literally porcelain made from ash of calcined bone mixed into the clay.
Europe, which imported mountains of porcelain from China and Japan, desperately tried recreating the 'white gold.' Even the Medici family, who sparked the Renaissance, failed—porcelain tech wasn't conquered for centuries.
But Europe didn't give up. Early 1700s, finally...
An alchemist named Böttger in Saxony, Germany, cracked the porcelain code.
[Importing kaolin's too pricey. Isn't there another way?]
Britain lacked kaolin, so one entrepreneur started mixing ash from nearby slaughterhouse cow bones into clay.
The birth of bone china.
Bone china was lightweight and durable thanks to bone fiber, boasted that stunning milky white, gleamed with a natural luster, and was even translucent enough for lamps.
'Sure, later they switched back to kaolin-plus-bone ash, but it proved you could fake it decently without kaolin.'
Earth's history eventually settled on kaolin for bone china too, so clay was still key.
But this world differed from Earth in one way.
'East and West Continents are farther apart than China and Europe ever were.'
Porcelain here was priceless—even money couldn't always buy it.
Unlike old Europe's rich commissioning custom pieces from China.
'Even if it's not perfect, demand will be huge.'
That was Dominic's ace in the hole.
'And we can hunt for kaolin later. I know what it looks like.'
If not, no sweat.
If I can't make it, neither can competitors. Can't get worse.
"Bone... bone... cow bones... right, that's white too. Yeah."
Stonehammer mumbled to himself, arms crossed, plopped on the dirt.
"Why not give it a shot? You know how to build a kiln, right?"
"Obviously! What do you take me for?!"
Dwarves who melted steel for fun? Heat was no issue.
'Gave him the hint. A few months of failures, and he'll get it.'
Harbor construction would take till next spring anyway, even with mages. Plenty of time for small boats to test runs.
"I'm off, human. All-nighters start today. Woohoo! This'll be fun! Glad I came here!"
I couldn't fathom why all-nighters thrilled him, but his glee made Dominic chuckle too.
After the dwarf left, he quickly melted sugar into syrup and thinly coated small, fist-sized apples, letting them harden.
Firm, high-sugar, perfectly balanced tart-sweet apples—ideal for occasional Chinese-style tanghulu.
With his quick dessert in hand, he headed to the village hall.
"All academy-related docs go here, Miss Perot."
"We'll need a fresh census. Ledgers too—official city formats now..."
"Construction bids too. Can't handle it all with locals anymore!"
Perot, Raki, and the others handling admin were already done chatting; the five newcomers had claimed desks and were scribbling away.
"Chief—no, Mayor?"
"Oh, Mage. Here, share these."
"Whoa! Candied apples!"
Crunch!
Perot, who'd tried them before, bit into her tanghulu with a snap; the thin shell shattered crisply.
"Always delicious! Raki, pass 'em out?"
"I'll make 'em often. Already putting the newbies to work?"
"Nah. Old Lord introduced 'em, so we were just greeting and showing quarters. They insisted on starting right away."
"Voluntarily?"
"See for yourself."
Perot was spot on.
The five dove into papers and pens with manic focus, eyes and mouths beaming joy. No one was forcing them.
"Weirdos."
Dwarves, these five—same vibe.
Dominic couldn't wrap his head around why anyone loved work that much.
"What's fun about grinding like that?"
"Right? Heading to the resort now, Mayor?"
"Nah, Fishing Cooperative workshop."
"Workshop?"
"Fall's here. Time to prep for seaweed farming."
"Seaweed? What for?"
"You'll see. Keep up the good work!"
Dominic's steps were light as he left.
"He's having fun too, huh."
Perot muttered at his retreating back.