The return trip to the Pendelton Estate took three days. To Arthur, every bump in the road was a personal insult.
"Three days," Arthur muttered, staring at the carriage ceiling. "72 hours. In that time, I could have printed 4,000 sheets of 'Landlord' currency. This latency is unacceptable."
When they finally arrived, Arthur didn't go to the manor to rest. He went straight to the Smithy.
Hammerhead the Dwarf was busy making horseshoes. He looked up, grinning. "Young Master! Heard you made a fortune in the capital! Are we making more toilets?"
"No," Arthur said, taking off his travel cloak. "We are making a pressure vessel. But iron is insufficient. It is too brittle. If I pressurize it to 150 PSI, it will fragment like a grenade."
Hammerhead frowned. "Iron is all we have, lad. Unless you want to use Mithril, and that costs more than the castle."
"We don't need Mithril," Arthur said, rolling up his sleeves. "We need Steel."
"Steel?" Hammerhead scratched his beard. "The high-grade stuff? Only the Royal Armory can forge that. Takes a master smith a month to fold the metal enough to purify it."
"Folding is inefficient," Arthur declared. "We are going to blow air through it."
...
Arthur directed the construction of a strange, pear-shaped cauldron lined with heat-resistant clay. At the bottom, he installed tuyeres (nozzles) connected to a massive set of bellows powered by the water wheel.
"Load the pig iron," Arthur commanded.
The apprentices dumped molten iron into the vessel. It glowed angry orange.
"Now," Arthur checked the pressure gauge on the bellows. "Inject the oxygen."
The water wheel turned. The bellows pumped. A blast of air roared into the bottom of the molten iron.
ROAR.
A geyser of fire erupted from the top of the vessel. Sparks showered the smithy like a volcanic eruption. The apprentices screamed and dove behind shields.
"It's exploding!" Hammerhead yelled, grabbing Arthur to shield him. "The metal is angry!"
"It is not angry!" Arthur shouted over the deafening noise. "It is oxidizing! The air is burning off the carbon and silicon impurities! Observe the flame color!"
Arthur watched with clinical detachment. Yellow flame… Silicone burning. White flame… Carbon burning.
"Now!" Arthur signaled. "Cut the air! Add the Spiegeleisen (manganese-iron alloy) to stabilize!"
The roar died down. The liquid metal settled. It wasn't the dull orange of iron anymore. It was a blinding, fluid white-hot soup.
Hammerhead approached cautiously. He dipped a ladle and poured a sample into a mold. As it cooled, he hit it with a hammer.
CLANG.
It rang like a bell. It didn't chip. Not only that, but it didn't dent.
"By the Stone…" Hammerhead whispered. "It's… it's True Steel. You made a ton of it. In twenty minutes."
He looked at Arthur with fear and awe. "You didn't fold it. You… you purified it with the breath of the wind."
"Industrial Metallurgy," Arthur noted, marking his clipboard. "Now we can build the pistons. Hammerhead, I need tolerances within 0.01 millimeters. If the steam escapes, we lose torque."
[System Notification: The Iron Age has ended.] [You have ushered in: The Age of Steel.] [Reward: Blueprint — The High-Pressure Piston.]
End of Chapter 11