Back to the North (2)
Estiang headed straight to his reception room and summoned the slaves Helena had sent as gifts. This was the last item on his packed agenda for the day: an interview to verify exactly what skills these slaves—procured through Helena's personal efforts—possessed and whether they had the abilities needed for his plans.
Helena had sent three in total. One clockmaker and two former glass artisans bowed their heads deeply.
"Right—one clockmaker, and the other two made their living blowing glass."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Perfect timing. Berg has been in dire need of craftsmen like you."
Estiang's cool gaze swept over the three men. "You might've racked up gambling debts, or maybe committed some crime. Otherwise, able artisans with real skills wouldn't end up as slaves. But your past doesn't matter much."
"……."
"What matters to me is what you can do from here on out."
"……Just give us your orders, Your Grace. We'll carry them out."
"The moment we return north, you'll become free citizens of the Grand Duchy."
Color immediately bloomed on the men's faces.
"But make no mistake—this is an advance on performance incentives."
"Of course, Your Grace."
"We thank you for your grace, Your Grace!"
Estiang waved them off dismissively. "Spare me the scripted flattery. You're the clockmaker, right? Spent your life tinkering with springs and gears. You can machine precision parts or build clocks, no problem?"
"It's what I've done my whole life."
"First thing when we get back: install large clocks on the church and bell towers. You'll be in charge of that."
"Entrust it to me."
The man thumped his chest proudly.
Mechanical clocks weren't some groundbreaking invention. Cities had long followed the trend of erecting public clocks. Installing one now might even put Berg a step behind the curve.
Estiang's gaze shifted to the glass artisans. "You two won't be making glass. You'll be put on something else—for now, churning out bricks and kilns nonstop."
"Bricks and kilns...? We can do that, sure."
"I know glass can't touch direct flame. We'll use crucibles for indirect heating, so the kiln design will differ a bit from standard."
"Exactly! How does Your Grace know this?"
Their eyes widened in surprise.
"Let me lay out the tasks simply. Start with those high-temperature-resistant bricks you used inside your glass kilns. Can you make them?"
"Hard to say for sure. We usually use kaolin clay—if we can't get that, the kiln won't hold up and'll collapse."
"Of course. I'll provide whatever you need."
"If we can source the kaolin, bricks are no problem. Not that tough."
"Then crucibles for molten metal should be straightforward too. The real challenge is the kiln. Not burning coal directly—we need indirect heating, like coking it in a sealed environment."
The glass artisans blinked in confusion. "Coking coal? What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Burning coal outright just leaves ash. Like firing glass, no direct flame—purely indirect heating, with the kiln fully sealed."
"Indirect heating's easy enough... but we've never fully sealed a kiln, so not sure."
Estiang pondered. High-quality steel required coke. The principle was simple: heat coal in a completely sealed space, indirectly, depriving it of oxygen to leave pure carbon. Not rocket science—China had low-grade coke since the Song Dynasty, inspiring those half-joking tales of Southern Song industrial revolutions.
But copying early Chinese or Western methods would yield poor quality and inefficiency.
If only I could introduce beehive coke ovens...
Unfortunately, Estiang didn't know how to build them. Like most isekai heroes who knew lever-action rifles were great but couldn't craft one from scratch.
Tricky.
His plan was straightforward: Use Oto's prospectors to find coal mines. Coke the coal for massive fuel efficiency gains. Adopt crucible steelmaking—something India used ages ago, while stuffy Brits only figured it out whimpering in the 18th century. Boost fuel efficiency, refine steelmaking, produce god-defying supreme steel, arm every soldier with it.
These glass artisans, skilled in refractory clay and indirect kilns, were pivotal.
As he mulled, Estiang's thoughts expanded. Trial and error would yield the tech. He knew the principles and end goal—throw manpower at the process?
"Your Grace...?"
The two artisans spoke cautiously, sensing an ominous vibe.
Ignoring them, Estiang thought: Provide eight hours' sleep and three meals a day.
Far better than Britain's tea-sipping laborers. Work them to death figuring it out?
A chain of ruthless ideas. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Then figure it out this time."
"Pardon?"
"I'll give clear direction and goals. Provide anything else you need. Isn't that enough?"
"Y-Your Grace...?"
"Just learn to fully seal the kiln. Don't overthink it. Take pride—you'll pioneer new tech as trailblazers."
Make 'em work till they get it. He was the boss, not the hands-on guy. Pointing the direction already put him in the top 1% of this era. Good enough.
Enlightened, Estiang's face brightened. Channeling King Sejong's tears as he ground his officials for the people.
He'd realized: I don't need to do everything myself from start to finish?
Obvious, really. Past folks weren't dumber than moderns. Estiang's edge was decades or centuries of accumulated knowledge.
Unfamiliar concepts demanded his deep involvement. But indirect heating like glassblowing, with full kiln sealing? Just something no one had bothered trying—not alien.
People of this era could crack it through trial and error.
Even if I don't know the perfect method, knowing principle and outcome makes it feasible.
Doing it all solo was for Sejong-level geniuses. Little birds imitating storks tear their legs.
He'd told the Emperor five years—plenty of time. Estiang was young; time was on his side.
"Fully sealing the kiln..."
"No clue on the design. Never tried it, sir."
"What if we load it up, then seal the entrance with clay before lighting?"
"That'd mean reapplying and removing every batch. Inefficient."
"As long as we seal it right like His Grace said. Gotta try something."
The two artisans were already huddled, brainstorming. Seasoned pros, quick to adapt from initial shock.
Estiang provided direction and support. Craftsmen experimented toward the goal. History's progress in a nutshell.
They'd chatter forever, so he clapped lightly to refocus. "Love the enthusiasm already meeting expectations, but we can't linger."
"Ah, sorry, Your Grace. Got carried away..."
"No crime in diligence. But the Founding Festival ends soon—you've got a long trek north."
Standing, Estiang added casually, "Heard you were sold at the slave market."
"......Yes. Shameful, but true."
Their excited faces darkened instantly.
"How'd it happen?"
"Debts piled up."
"Gambling?"
"......No."
One glass artisan muttered bitterly. "My glass had a good rep. Quality praise fueled greed—overexpanded the business... Next thing I knew, this."
The clockmaker jumped in. "Mine's unfair. Supplied clocks to Graf Margrave's domain—then they nabbed me, claiming the city bell tower clock was faulty. Accurate to the second—where's a perfect clock exist?"
One overexpanded into debt and slavery. Clockmaker: noble frame-job. The other glass artisan scratched his head. "Debts got me sold too. Clients dried up—'no skills to repay,' they said."
"Hm."
None seemed criminally enslaved. The clockmaker's tale rang especially absurd if true.
Estiang paused, then said, "You all have families, right? Sold with them?"
"Thankfully not—but without me, my wife and kids are lost on how to survive."
"Good. Submit their details and addresses to my adjutant. I'll send for them."
"Pardon? Your Grace, what...?"
"Head of household moves, family doesn't follow? That's weirder. You planned going north solo?"
Their eyes bulged. Estiang shrugged it off.
Fetching families for relocation? No big deal. North always needed people; these were skilled. Boosting morale with family reunion? Win-win.
"Y-Your Grace..."
"Thank you, Your Grace!"
"Save thanks till your families arrive. Tell the adjutant any pre-departure gear or materials needed too."
He patted their shoulders lightly and exited.
Worked out well?
Recycling the Emperor's gesture—seemed to land, faces full of awe.
Clockmaker vital, but glass artisans crucial for leaping Berg's steelmaking. Big roles deserved big treatment.
Estiang nodded to himself. The Founding Festival's first day—his long one—was finally done.