Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 014
Chapter Title: Franz and the Emperor's Metal
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The next day at dawn.
I picked up a book containing my secret knowledge and headed to the laboratory that Wolf had prepared for me.
As promised, all the equipment I'd requested was perfectly in place.
I'd already mastered how to refine platinum.
Thanks to the knowledge I'd accumulated in the modern era and the useful insights I'd gained from debates in my one and only hobby club, the Western history society.
The latter was less about raw knowledge and more about narrowing down its applications, but it had still been undeniably helpful.
In the first place, the reason I'd joined such a club was to unravel the question: "What should Franz I have done in that situation?"
"The ventilation is perfect, and they've even stocked hydrochloric acid, nitric acid, and ammonia. This is going to work."
Not only that, but they'd prepared more materials than I'd asked for, and the facilities were even more complete.
I couldn't help but feel the truth of the saying that money makes the world go round as I sat down and opened my compendium of compiled knowledge.
-Platinum Refining-
: Platinum's melting point is over 1700 degrees, making it impossible to smelt with early 18th-century furnace technology, which can't exceed 1500 degrees. Must use chemical reactions with aqua regia, ammonia, and borax...
I already knew all this inside out, but I double-checked just in case my memory had faded.
As I'd noted, the reason platinum was derisively called "fake silver" in this era was simple.
Unlike gold, which melts at around 1000 degrees, platinum refused to melt no matter how much heat you threw at it with current technology.
But chemistry changed everything. No need to push the furnace to 1700 degrees.
Just lower platinum's effective melting point below 1500 degrees, and you're done.
"Careful with the ratios... It's been ages since grad school that I've done something this straightforward."
Mixing nitric acid and hydrochloric acid produces aqua regia, a substance cherished since medieval times.
True to its name—water of the kings—it could dissolve even gold, though the ideal ratio for aqua regia was still only vaguely known.
For melting platinum, the perfect mix was 1 part nitric acid to 3 parts hydrochloric acid. Maintain about 60 degrees and immerse the platinum, and it would dissolve into a chloride complex.
"Good, good. Smooth sailing so far."
Next, add a touch of diluted ammonia solution—about 10% concentration—to raise the pH to around 2-3.
Too fast, and the reaction could go explosive, so precise control was key.
This caused the platinum complex to precipitate out as an insoluble platinum compound. Collect it, remove the solution, dry it, and the groundwork was complete.
It might seem simple, but every step was the culmination of dozens or hundreds of failures—not something to take lightly.
Just as the precipitate was finishing drying...
Knock knock knock.
"Your Highness, I've brought the artisans you requested. May we enter?"
"Perfect timing—I've just wrapped up. Come in."
The lab door opened, and Wolf entered with two middle-aged men in tow.
"These are the furnace and metalworking experts Your Highness requested. This is the furnace master, Andreas Steiner—he's spent his life at Bohemia glassworks and metal refineries, a true craftsman."
"Andreas Steiner at your service. But Your Highness... are you really going to melt fake silver? I've tried it myself. It's impossible."
"Andreas, hear the explanation first and save questions for later. Your Highness, this is Johann Kessler. His family has four generations of goldsmithing under their belt, and he's tight-lipped. They supply nobility, so no doubts about his skill."
"Whatever form Your Highness desires, I'll craft it to perfection."
They looked the part—stubborn artisans brimming with that craftsman's spirit. I liked it.
I looked them over and spoke.
"You've heard, I assume: once we start, you can't work with anyone but me. You'll earn money and honor as craftsmen, but there's no turning back. Think it over."
"What if Your Highness fails to refine the fake silver?"
"Contract's void. You take your pay and go home."
"Then we're in. Who'd hesitate at the chance to be the first in the world to refine fake silver?"
Satisfied, I shook their hands and moved to the workshop with the dried precipitate, where the furnace awaited.
"We've upgraded to the latest coke and bellows for much higher temperatures than usual. But fake silver still wouldn't budge. Among us craftsmen, it's common knowledge—it's not something that melts with fire."
"Common knowledge changes. The sun once 'circled' the Earth, remember?"
That's science for you.
Even in the modern world, it's no different—old certainties shatter, new ones form, and humanity advances.
That's what we call scientific progress.
I'm just retracing those ancestors' footsteps in reverse.
"Andreas, raise the heat slowly. Until I say stop."
"Y-yes. Let's give it a go."
First, heat the dried platinum precipitate to 800 degrees to drive off moisture and volatile compounds.
Then the crucial step.
Add no more than 10% of the platinum's weight in white borax powder, sourced from Italy and Central Asia. It acts as flux, dropping the melting point to 1200 degrees.
As the borax-mixed platinum began coalescing into a single lump, Andreas's eyes widened in shock.
"Wha... what? It's melting so cleanly... this can't be...?"
"That's it. Once it's fully lumped, cool it rapidly and wash. Borax dissolves in water, so you'll be left with pure crystals."
"I-is this really fake silver? Not actual silver?"
"You've handled plenty of metals. You can tell this is fundamentally different from silver."
Andreas swiftly pulled out the platinum lump, quenched it in a cool vat, and rinsed it with clean water.
Finally, beholding the world's first pure platinum crystals, his eyes sparkled with indescribable joy.
Johann, who would actually work this metal, was even more ecstatic.
"Andreas! Does this look like silver? The luster, the color—totally different! Look here! Deeper shine, cooler tone, and the hue's subtly off. Even a layman could tell it's a unique metal!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just couldn't believe it."
"Y-Your Highness! Can I really work this?"
"Yes. It'll take time since it's all handmade, but we've got ore to spare, so take it slow. No pressure."
"Oooooh! Thank you! I'll craft a masterpiece for the ages!"
The first jewelry from this metal would adorn the emperor and archduchess of this land.
For a goldsmith, having his name etched in history—nothing more glorious.
With that fire in their eyes, I had no worries about the results.
All that remained was luring in as many big spenders as possible to open their wallets—but that was beyond my control.
Here's hoping you gentlemen deliver.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The Holy Roman Empire bore the name "Empire," but it was fundamentally structured around seven electors who voted for the emperor.
Thus, the electors wielded immense power—even the emperor couldn't treat them lightly—and ruled their territories like kings.
Among them, the Electorate of Brandenburg had risen sharply after ascending to the Kingdom of Prussia in 1701.
Formally subordinate to the emperor, it was also Prussia, steadily carving its own path.
"So, they want a representative at the treaty signing with Spain and Archduchess Theresa's birthday celebration."
Friedrich Wilhelm I, second king of Prussia and Elector of Brandenburg in the Holy Roman Empire.
The epitome of frugality with zero interest in luxury, he cherished his soldiers like children and threw himself into administrative reform. He read Emperor Charles VI's letter with a sour gaze.
"They threw a New Year's gala not long ago, and now another party? Tsk. No wonder Austria's stagnating. Isn't that right, Friedrich?"
Even at a family dinner with the king and his children, the fare was Spartan.
To a monarch whose life's goal was national progress, other countries like Austria seemed like wastrels.
Yet, for all his noble convictions, his reputation among family, retainers, and subjects was abysmal.
And small wonder...
Crack!
"Why no immediate answer? You don't actually admire Austria's weakness, do you?"
He lashed out at those around him at the drop of a hat.
The crown prince, face smashed into his plate mid-bite, clutched his head and shook it frantically.
"No, sir! I just had food in my mouth, so I couldn't—"
Thwack!
"Pathetic excuse! What'll you say on the battlefield?!"
Absurd by any measure, but when the abuser was the king, no one dared intervene.
Unable to just watch, Crown Prince Friedrich's sister Wilhelmina pleaded softly.
"Your Majesty, Friedrich surely despises Austria as much as anyone. Just yesterday, he told me he wants nothing to do with their weaklings."
"Hmph... Then speak up faster. Wilhelmina, don't coddle him just because he's your brother. A future king needs a spirit of steel."
It sounded reasonable on the surface, but the crown prince was only fourteen.
Beating a boy that age senseless while preaching—what sense did that make?
To Wilhelmina, her brother's mind was steel enough for enduring such nonsense without snapping.
The king, oblivious, kept glaring at Crown Prince Friedrich.
"Be that as it may, Charles VI is Holy Roman Emperor. Can't ignore him outright—we'll send someone. Wilhelmina, will you go?"
Wilhelmina longed to nod eagerly, but her utterly deflated brother tugged at her heart.
If she left for Vienna, how much hell would their mad father wreak on him in her absence?
"Well... Your Majesty, don't you think it's time Friedrich gained some real experience? The other electors' heirs will be there—perfect chance to build ties."
"Friedrich's still a green boy who has much to learn. Send him to Vienna, and he'll come back softened by their weakness."
"B-but he's always loved military matters and believes in Your Majesty's methods. Seeing Austria's frailty firsthand might solidify his path."
The king pondered, stroking his chin, then turned to the crown prince.
"Can you conduct yourself as Prussia's heir there?"
"Y-yes... Just give me the chance..."
Thwack!
"Speak up! Want the other princes looking down on you?!"
"N-no, sir! I'll show unbreakable resolve! Believe me!"
Despite the endless fists and blows, Friedrich shed no tears.
He knew crying would only make it worse.
Wilhelmina gazed pityingly at her brother, their eyes meeting.
He gave a subtle nod of thanks, and tears welled in her eyes.
She prayed for peace in his heart, if only while he was in Vienna.
"Good. A Prussian prince must show such resolve. Never trust other nations. Never show weakness. Etch that in your soul."
Soon after, word arrived at Hofburg Palace: Friedrich of Brandenburg would represent the elector as proxy.