Chapter 64
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Impossible Construction and Magical Materials (2)
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Cement.
A mixture used in building structures.
An essential construction material.
"Its etymology comes from the Latin 'cementum,' meaning crushed stone."
"Latin..."
"Yeah, there's a language like that."
"Is it perhaps an ancient tongue?"
"Exactly."
Lloyd nodded.
He smirked at Haviel, who was rowing the boat.
"Anyway, from now on, let's try making that cement. We can't proceed without it in this construction project."
"So you're saying we won't borrow the power of magic."
"Of course not. Why risk bankruptcy over a single construction job?"
Lloyd's retort hit the mark.
And it was true.
Mages were precious commodities.
Naturally, they were exorbitantly expensive.
Especially a mage capable of wielding physical magic powerful enough to influence large-scale construction?
'Even more so. We'd have to empty the entire territory's budget and still couldn't afford one. At that level, they'd already be a royal court archmage.'
Hiring a mage for construction was out of the question.
He hadn't even considered it.
Lloyd continued.
"We don't need magic. From the surveying earlier, my planned method should work perfectly here."
"That friction pile thing... you're talking about?"
"Yeah."
He nodded.
Just as he said, the friction pile method seemed perfect for this site.
Beneath the seabed.
The bedrock layer lay deep in the strata, making it ideal.
'Like the foundations of the countless buildings around Venice's Grand Canal.'
Lloyd suddenly recalled the foundations of Venetian buildings he'd encountered during club activities.
Venice, the city on water.
Its ground conditions were strikingly similar to here.
Thick silt and mud covered the seabed.
The bedrock was far deeper, beyond the reach of ordinary building foundations.
In such conditions, the Venetians had shown their ingenuity.
'They drove tens, hundreds, thousands of long wooden piles into the seabed. Once the piles were firmly fixed in the mud, they built the foundations on top.'
Even those piles driven in back then?
They still supported the structures intact after hundreds of years.
That was the traditional friction pile method.
'Of course, it evolved and is still used in modern times.'
The fundamental principle remained largely unchanged.
Wooden piles were simply replaced with larger, sturdier concrete columns or H-beams.
Lloyd planned to combine the friction pile method with another modern technique.
"I'm going to mix friction piles with the box caisson method. The water here is deeper than in Venice. The thick, soft silt and mud layers make it perfect for the caisson to sink under its own weight."
"..."
"You don't get it, do you?"
"Yes."
"Well, anyway, to properly use the caisson method, we need to make cement. Alright, let's go."
By then, the boat had reached the dock.
The two disembarked onto the pier.
But someone was there to greet(?) them.
"You're here?"
A light, soft voice.
A warm smile of delight.
Even cheeks slightly flushed with shyness.
A woman in her prime, beautiful enough to draw admiration from anyone, stood at the dockside.
She greeted them with a joyful yet bashful expression.
"Hm?"
Lloyd tilted his head.
She was a stranger, not in his memory.
But her attire was anything but ordinary.
She wore an incredibly ornate dress.
It clashed completely with the dreary dockside.
Moreover, her escorts were even more striking.
Five knights in silver-adorned ceremonial armor guarded her.
"Excuse me, but who might you be?"
She was no commoner, no matter how you looked at her.
Lloyd asked cautiously.
But no answer came his way.
The woman's affectionate smile was directed not at him, but at Haviel.
"It's embarrassing to admit, but I've been waiting quite a while, Sir Asrahan."
"Me?"
"Yes. And this... please accept it."
The woman blushed deeply and bowed her head.
She thrust forward something held in both hands.
"It's filled with my feelings."
"..."
Lloyd saw it clearly.
It was a letter in a pale pink envelope.
Even the envelope bore the name 'Kristin Creemo' in elegant handwriting.
'Wait. Kristin Creemo... the Creemo Count's only daughter?'
This lady had shown up out of nowhere to hand a letter to Haviel?
Lloyd felt utterly bewildered.
Meanwhile, Haviel...
"Thank you, milady."
Casually accepted the letter.
Skilled, he tucked it into his bosom.
A gesture so familiar, as if he'd done it many times before.
At that, the Creemo lady's face flushed even deeper.
Overcome with shyness, she spun around.
She hurried away to the other side of the dock like she was fleeing.
Her escort knights, flustered, chased after her, of course.
Thanks to that, only Lloyd and Haviel remained on the pier.
Whoosh, the sea breeze blew fiercely.
"Hey."
Lloyd broke the long silence first.
"What the hell is this situation?"
"I seem to have received a letter."
"I know that. Why did you receive a letter?"
"Probably because of what happened when we left the count's mansion yesterday."
"Yesterday? When leaving the mansion?"
"Yes."
"What happened then?"
Lloyd tilted his head.
Nothing had happened yesterday.
He'd just met the count, proposed a new construction method, secured the contract.
Then handed over the used treasures to the chief steward.
Got them appraised, received a generous sum in gold.
That was it.
That was Lloyd's version of yesterday's memory(?).
But Haviel's version differed slightly.
"It was when we received the gold from the chief steward and were leaving the mansion. That's when..."
"Then?"
"The lady who was strolling in the garden happened to turn our way. Our eyes met for a moment."
"And?"
"That's it."
"...Hold on. Just a momentary eye contact, nothing more, and the next day the count's daughter shows up blushing and hands you a letter—and you think that's normal?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why do you ask?"
Haviel turned to him, tilting his head.
His eyes said, *Why make a fuss over something so obvious?*
His words confirmed it.
"Because our eyes met."
"..."
"Surely you've never experienced that, Lord Lloyd?"
"Cough."
"The confession letters I've received so far... let me see."
"Don't count them."
"Forty... sixty... a hundred... hundred fifty... hmm..."
"I said don't count."
"Including the one just now, it's about 537 in total."
"..."
This was why he hated good-looking guys.
It genuinely pissed him off.
'Dirty, unfair pretty boys.'
Lloyd snorted.
"Whatever. Back to business."
"Business?"
"Cement."
Lloyd turned toward the inn.
"I'm heading back to the inn like this. So you go to the count's chief steward."
"What should I do there?"
"Tell him to send 10 kilograms each of limestone, sand, and volcanic ash to the inn. Oh, and don't forget to ask him to introduce a smithy we can rent as a workshop."
"Understood. Is that all?"
"No. One more thing."
"What is it?"
"On the way, keep your eyes down and cover your face."
"Pardon?"
"Don't go seducing innocent girls, man."
"Are you perhaps jealous of me?"
"What?"
"You've been subtly envious of me since earlier, so I thought I'd mention it."
"Hah, nonsense. As if."
Lloyd shrugged leisurely.
"The guys I pity most are the ones who hit on women in the street, you know?"
"Hit on?"
"Yeah, like that. It happened before too. Some guy in the university district tried asking a girl for directions. She yelled super loud, 'I have a boyfriend!' and bolted away at lightspeed. How embarrassed do you think that guy was? It was hilarious from my view, but honestly, for him, it was so humiliating and empty he probably couldn't sleep, kicking off the covers every night but still wide awake... damn..."
"...That was your story, Lord Lloyd."
"Sigh, if you get it, go already."
"Good luck."
"Shut up. Scram."
"...I'll be off."
With that, he sent Haviel to the count's mansion.
By evening, the items requested from the chief steward arrived at the inn.
Unfortunately, no volcanic ash.
The message said it was hard to procure.
"Tch."
Lloyd smacked his lips in disappointment.
Volcanic ash.
The most crucial material hadn't come.
'Without it, I can't make Greek or Roman cement.'
It was a shame.
Not just because he admired Roman civil engineering.
Roman cement had clear advantages.
'Among the cements I can make now, it'd be the toughest.'
Cement's history was ancient.
Nearly 5,000 years by historical reckoning.
Around the time Dangun founded Gojoseon, primitive cement was already used in Egypt's pyramid construction.
Among them, the sturdiest and most reliable was Greek and Roman cement.
'They mixed pozzolanic lime, sand, and volcanic ash, kneaded with seawater.'
The result was incredibly durable.
Durable enough that breakwaters made with it back then still stood firm after 2,000 years.
The secret lay in the volcanic ash.
'Thanks to the pumice in it. It mineralogically binds aggregate and mortar, preventing cracks from spreading.'
That's why he wanted to use Roman cement for this project if possible.
Hence the request for volcanic ash.
But it hadn't arrived.
'Well, no volcanoes nearby, and no one would stockpile it on purpose. Should I try Portland cement then? That seems even harder.'
Portland cement, the start of modern cement.
Lloyd knew the production method roughly.
'Crush and dry limestone, clay, silica, iron oxide. Mix with water, filter, add coal dust, bake, cool, mix with gypsum, and grind.'
He knew the process in outline.
But he'd have to experiment and repeat it endlessly.
From then on.
Lloyd devoted himself to cement production over several days.
He ground and mixed materials supplied by the count's family.
Baked them in the smithy, dried them in the early winter sea breeze.
Ground again, mixed, added water.
But the desired cement wouldn't form.
'No good. It keeps crumbling.'
Wrong mix ratios?
Or defects in baking, cooling, drying?
Even seemingly successful cement failed to perform.
It looked fine mixed with water and sand.
But during curing and drying, cracks formed—zzzt.
'Can't proceed with construction like this.'
Ten days passed, then a fortnight.
As time flowed, impatience grew.
'If only I could get volcanic ash. I wouldn't have these worries.'
With ample volcanic ash.
He could've just experimented with ratios to lime and sand.
Made cement far more easily, tested, and obtained satisfying results early.
That regret gnawed at him.
He even considered seeking volcanic ash himself.
'But... no. No good sources nearby, and transport costs would kill efficiency. It'd take forever too.'
It seemed realistically impossible.
'Guess I have no choice but to push these experiments.'
Success would come with tries and retries.
He couldn't stop until then.
Lloyd resolved as such.
He even skimped on sleep to focus on experiments.
But results were elusive.
Even with bloodshot eyes.
Eventually, nosebleeds started.
Drip.
"...Huh?"
In the dark corner of the smithy, grinding silica, Lloyd suddenly felt stickiness under his nose and paused.
Absentmindedly, he wiped below his nose.
Fingers covered in blood.
"What the—"
He plugged it with his sleeve.
A wry smile came unbidden.
Memories of the past surfaced.
'Just like back in Korea.'
The days of nosebleeds seven times a week.
Yet he burned with will every day.
*Hang in there today, tomorrow will be a bit better.*
*Survive tomorrow, next month will be even better.*
*One day, I'll live like everyone else.*
With a proper job, stable income, marriage, a warm family.
He'd believed and endured, striving to overcome.
Thanks to those memories.
'Let's keep going.'
Don't give up.
Don't back down easily.
Lloyd vowed and gripped the silica again.
It was then.
An unexpected solution presented itself.