Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Industrial Revolution (4)
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To build a coke oven, I needed manpower.
It had to be large-scale production, so the thing had to be built big.
Of course, I'd already experimented with a small version.
"The small oven worked fine, but a large one is a whole different story."
I might have to build it once or twice and then tear it down.
No, the odds were high that I'd have to.
Even with precise blueprints, mistakes happened—what more in a situation like this where I had to build from the ground up?
That was why I'd made arrangements in advance.
First things first, transport the bricks from the factory to the territory?
Actually, I'd sent a letter ahead of time, so they should arrive any moment now.
In the meantime, I figured I'd get acquainted with the laborers and take another look around.
I spent the time chatting with the fifty laborers who'd arrived at the steel mill.
We ate together and built some rapport.
"It's about time, isn't it?"
I stepped outside to greet them, but there was no one there.
Maybe I came out too early—I waited a bit.
At first, it was just a short wait, but even after a good while, they still hadn't shown up.
It felt off, but there was no way to get news right then.
Sending a letter now would just cross paths with them.
So I had no choice but to keep waiting.
I figured they'd make it by the next day at latest.
"Why are you only showing up now?"
"We're sorry! We ran into bandits on the way!"
Bandits?
I'd forgotten—this was a medieval fantasy world teeming with magic.
In other words, threats like this were commonplace.
Earth had them too, sure, but the scale was on another level here.
To put it simply, everyone passing by was armed to the teeth.
And the atmosphere was such that they swung those weapons without a second thought.
What a terrifying world.
Anyway, how had they made it here?
Running into bandits should've meant death—or at least losing their cargo.
Yet the caravan looked remarkably intact.
A bit worn out, a few scratches here and there, but nothing major.
Just the kind of wear you'd expect from travel.
So I asked what had happened.
"A mercenary band came to our aid. We made it thanks to them."
"Mercenaries?"
"Yes. Strangest thing, though—they wouldn't take any reward. We tried to give them something, but they vanished in the blink of an eye."
He shook his head, calling it a bizarre group.
But I felt a twinge of suspicion.
Bandits?
That was par for the course, honestly.
I'd avoided them so far thanks to being nobility.
Plus, using engine-powered wagons kept most of them at bay.
Bandits were a dime a dozen.
But mercenaries helping out and refusing payment?
That was rare.
If anything, they'd squeeze you for more.
Which meant something was up.
I asked him if there was anything distinctive about them.
Their attire, maybe some unique swordsmanship.
He closed his eyes, arms crossed, deep in thought at my question.
After a moment, he let out an exclamation like something had clicked.
"Come to think of it, they were all wearing cloaks. Full armor too, and a lot of them had their faces covered."
"And?"
"And... well... Oh, right—their swordsmanship resembled House Apontuna's. Though I'm not entirely sure."
House Apontuna?
He admitted he wasn't well-versed in sword styles, so I shouldn't worry about it—he'd get to moving the bricks.
I warned him they were made from expensive materials, so handle with care.
The rest would be handled by the laborers and the caravan.
"House Apontuna swordsmanship, huh."
I'd never seen it myself, but I'd heard plenty from various sources.
One thing everyone agreed on.
"It's distinctive, they say?"
So there was no way he'd misidentified it.
Not when even a layman could tell.
"Could House Apontuna be keeping tabs on me?"
There was no other way to explain this coincidence.
A chill ran down my spine.
I knew their intelligence network was formidable, but experiencing it firsthand was unreal.
I wasn't exactly hiding, but I hadn't been shouting it from the rooftops either.
Still, there wasn't much I could do about it.
Chilling as it was, I had to accept it.
"Next time I see them, I'll have to bring it up."
Assuming I remembered by then—and that we even met again.
Anyway, the firebricks arrived safely.
As they unloaded them, I mentally sorted through my plans.
Once all the bricks were down, I gave instructions to the laborers.
"We'll start by stacking the firebricks. Once we reach a certain height, we'll reinforce the sides with steel plates—like pillars."
"Got it! Let's move, boys!"
The laborers began stacking the bricks in the empty space as instructed.
I oversaw the details personally, giving directions as needed.
About a week later, we finished the first unit.
The structure itself was simple, but I wanted it solid, so it took time.
Now, time to fire it up.
I loaded pitch coal inside and lit it.
Using magic, I gradually raised the flames to burn it slowly.
"Oh, looking good so far."
But I couldn't let my guard down yet.
The temperature wasn't high enough.
It'd soon hit ultra-high temps and go into full operation.
I passed the time waiting.
Before long, the temperature had climbed nicely.
"What's going on here?"
It wouldn't go any higher.
Magic confirmed it—it wasn't reaching the target temp.
"No issue with the magic, though?"
I couldn't measure exact degrees, but I knew the temperature ranges.
And it wasn't hitting the desired zone.
Definite problem.
I used magic to cool the interior.
The fire died down, temperature dropped.
About thirty minutes later, it was safe for people to enter.
I had the laborers clear out the pitch coal and inspect inside.
Soon enough, we found the issue.
"Uh, some of the bricks are cracked?"
"What? The bricks?"
Checking inside confirmed it—cracked bricks.
We pulled out the pieces and analyzed them.
And found the fatal flaw.
"Tch, defectives mixed in."
And the ratio was off too.
Something must've gone wrong at the brick factory.
I told the laborers to take a break and headed to the factory myself.
Two days later, I arrived and met with the factory manager.
"Hah! We're sorry!"
"No need. More importantly, I'd like to take a look around."
"Of course! This way."
We toured the factory together, hunting for the cause.
No issues with the facilities.
Just unavoidable defects, then?
Then, while checking the silica piles, I spotted the problem.
"The purity levels are all over the place here."
"Pardon? Are they?"
Man.
I almost gave him a pitiful look but held back.
He wasn't a silica expert; no way he'd spot it easily.
Partly my fault for not specifying.
We agreed to use only lumps with at least 95% purity.
Of course, we staffed up sorters.
And hired extra final inspectors.
A few days later, new bricks arrived.
"Looks problem-free this time."
I directed the laborers to build a new oven.
We demolished the old one and rebuilt in its place.
A few laborers deserted along the way, and there was a near-collapse incident.
"Whew, finally got the second unit done."
The second one, built over several days, looked sturdier than the first.
I admired it proudly before loading in the pitch coal.
Lit it up and waited—and this time, it hit the target temperature.
Did this really have to take so long?
I let out a sigh of relief and sank into a chair to rest.
All that was left was waiting for the impurities to burn off and turn into coke.
"Gonna need multiple test runs for this too."
How many hours? Best time to pull it out?
Still, easier than building the oven.
That night, we threw a banquet for the laborers.
I even invited the professor, and we partied hearty.
It was his suggestion, actually.
I hadn't felt like it, but people don't run on money alone.
So I went along with it.
A few more days of experiments later, we nailed the optimal process.
"Alright. Next up: extracting iron using the coke."
It'd come out as pig iron, which I could refine into steel later.
With coke in hand, I quickly planned the next step.
This time: the blast furnace.
A massive chimney-like structure where you layer iron ore and coke inside.
Then blast in hot air from stoves to melt it down.
The molten pig iron flows out the bottom hole, which you solidify into ingots and such.
Seems dead simple, but it's a proven method even megacorps on Earth use.
Obviously refined through countless experiments and experience.
"So, time to experiment diligently again."
Iron's an indispensable part of humanity, after all.
On Earth.
And in this world too.
While the laborers rested, I sketched a rough design draft.
Hoping against bad luck this time.