I couldn’t help but grin as I stared at the sight in front of me.
I supposed this was how a parent would feel when their child says their first word or takes their first steps.
Before me, the dragon stirred to life for the first time.
Its body stood several meters tall, its skin a patchwork of fire-resistant brick and cast iron plates. From its belly, a deep, low groan continuously echoed outward, making both air and ground tremble around me. Its mouth breathed out regular shimmers of heat, invisible except for how it made the people around wobble like reflections in a puddle.
And then came the roar.
The dragon’s blood, fed by the river’s endless flow, ran hot through iron veins and screamed its pressurised hymn into the mass of glowing charcoal and ore.
I watched the interior through a peephole no larger than a copper coin. Inside was a swirling storm of white and orange, sloshing against the refractory walls. Bubbles of gas burst on its surface, sending up brief but violent eruptions of sparks. Watching it made the afterimages linger in my sight for minutes.
It looked like one of the Suns had cracked open like an egg and poured itself into a stone cup.
“Suns above…” Lili whispered, her arms trembling in rhythm with the molten iron. “It’s so loud. I can feel it in my chest…”
“My father used to say the Suns were forges," one of the blacksmiths from the surrounding villages muttered to himself, as the furnace blasted off another puff of heated air. “I always thought it was just a story…”
“Thirty years…” Otto mumbled into his beard as he sat in his wheelchair, his remaining hand tightly gripping the armrest. “It makes it look so meaningless…”
Looking around me, I could see that the others also shared a similar sentiment—one of awe at the blast furnace’s sheer size and power.
It was a hungry beast capable of devouring hundreds of kilograms of ore each day.
However, its scale was both a blessing and a curse.
The two mining villages under my control produced only around a tenth of the ore needed. And while the various improvements I planned to implement—rails, trip hammers, more efficient drainage, maybe even letting them use gunpowder for breaking rock—would probably raise the output several times, they all also needed time to be implemented.
Time I didn’t have.
I had heard rumours that the Count was gathering another army to take back his castle, so I needed the iron as soon as possible.
Which meant I would have to find some other way to keep this dragon fed for now.
***
I frowned as I looked over the gaggle of men and women gathered in the temporarily cleared great hall. I could see their greedy eyes already sizing up the goods exhibited on the long table, no doubt thinking how to take as much advantage of my situation as they could.
Guild merchants.
They were another element of this world’s rotten status quo.
Through their web of laws and regulations, they established local monopolies and restricted market access that stifled competitive trade. They also suppressed any innovation or efficiency improvements in order to avoid threats to their established profits. And finally, their membership was limited and came with high membership fees and arbitrary votes, creating an artificial scarcity of merchants and therefore a smaller volume of trade.
Why invent a better cart if you can’t use it to offer faster delivery than the other guild members, so as not to poach their customers?
Why use a new, cheaper sailing route if you had to share it with everyone to avoid a competitive advantage?
Why use a more accurate measurement system if the guild will declare it illegal in favour of their established system?
I wanted nothing to do with them, but at the moment, I had little choice.
I needed them to import the iron and charcoal to feed my blast furnace. I needed them to commission several parts that my new domain had no capacity to make. And finally, I needed them to get more coin as my Marks were not received as well as I had hoped.
I sighed. Let’s get this over with.
“Ahem,” I coughed to draw their attention before they could start fingering the displayed wares. “If I may have your attention please.”
The dozen or so men quickly ceased their whispering and turned their judging eyes towards me.
“Thank you,” I faked a smile and continued. “I am pleased to see so many of you have heeded my call for this business meeting.”
“Ah, Your Grace,” one of the merchants answered without hesitation. Judging by his colourful clothes and the expensive gem set in his necklace, he was no doubt someone high up in his guild. “We are indeed thankful for your invitation to do business. I, Adalbero, and my guild always made sure to cultivate good trading relations with the Count… Though where is he, if I may humbly ask?”
My smile twitched for a moment. There was no way he didn’t know about it. For merchants, information was as valuable as coin itself.
Which meant this was likely some attempt to capitalise on my situation.
“The Count is no longer the owner of this domain,” I explained through a strained grin.
“Oh, I see…” the merchant replied with a concerned look. Or at least his best attempt at it. “Well, it matters not I suppose. We congratulate you on your victory. And we shall, of course, do trade with you. To the victor go the spoils, as they say. Though… we sadly must do our trade with you by regular market rates…”
There it was.
“We are sure the Count would not look upon us favourably in case he returns to his castle and finds out we gave his discounted rates to his enemy. You are, of course, not our enemy, but it’s the price of us weak commoners doing business with powerful nobles.” Adalbero rubbed his hands and smiled. “Surely Your Grace understands…”
I bit my lip before I ordered one of the guards to run him through.
“Of course.” I nodded. “Price of doing business…”
“Perfect!” the merchant clapped his hands with a wide grin. “Now, onto what we came for. What does Your Grace have to offer to us?”
“We have prepared a selection for you to sample,” I announced as I gestured over the selection on the long table. Linen fabrics, bars of soap, sheets of paper, and a selection of the Count’s valuables.
The merchants descended on the table like crows on a carcass. Adalbero made straight for the Count's valuables while the others spread out, running their fingers over everything on display.
One of them, a thin man with ink-stained fingers, held up a sheet of kraft paper and turned it against the light.
“What is this? It feels like... very thin linen?“
“Paper,“ I explained and demonstrated with a quill. “It can be used instead of parchment for writing. Won’t last as long, but it’s a lot cheaper.“
The ink-stained merchant's eyes sharpened with immediate interest before he remembered himself. “Hm. Unusual. Though I wonder if buyers would trust a document written on something so… light. Parchment has a tradition behind it. Courts expect it. Temples expect it.” He set the sheet down carefully. Too carefully for someone uninterested. “There may not be much of a market. A copper per imperial pound.”
“Of course,” I said with a smile.
He blinked. Clearly, he had expected haggling.
“And this?”
Another merchant, a broad man with a reddened nose, had found the soap. He was turning the pale block over with genuine puzzlement.
“Soap. For washing. It removes dirt and grease from skin, cloth, and surfaces far more effectively than ash and water.”
He sniffed it cautiously. “It smells... nice.”
“That is generally the point.”
“Hm.” He set it down. “Interesting novelty. Though I'm not certain common folk would pay for something they can make themselves already for much cheaper.”
“Common folk can't make this,” I said. “And noble households would certainly pay considerably more than common folk.”
The man puffed, turning to discuss with his assistant.
Meanwhile, the fabric drew the most attention. Three merchants examined it simultaneously, rubbing it between their fingers, holding it to the light, checking the weave with focused expressions.
“The weave is unusually consistent,” one of them admitted. “Whoever your weavers are, they are skilled.”
“It's not skill,” I said. “It's a process. Every weave is identical.”
“How is that possible?” another one asked as he brought the sheet close to his eye.
“We use a special mechanism to make it such. A machine.” I answered. I could explain the intricacies of a spinning jenny prototype I had cobbled together, but I felt it would be lost on him.
“Identical fabric...” the merchant murmured to himself. He glanced at the others. “Still, we can’t guarantee its origin to the buyer, if it was made by this… machine you say. Surely you understand we can’t offer more than 6 coppers per sheet.“ It was, as Lili would later confirm, nearly the price of raw flax needed to make it.
“Maybe, if you could let us see this mechanism, it would increase our confidence, and we could work out a better price…” the second merchant offered as I was about to shake hands with his colleague.
“Sorry, I can’t do that.” I shook my head and agreed on the deal, much to the merchants’ surprise. “It’s a trade secret, as they would say in your business. Surely you understand.”
The merchant scowled but moved to the side once the deal was made. Behind him, Adalbero had finished his inspection of the Count's valuables and straightened with a sympathetic expression that had clearly been rehearsed.
"Your Grace, these are fine pieces. Truly. I can see why you thought of us." He paused. "However, you understand our difficulty. The Count is a known man in this region. Were it to emerge that we had purchased and resold his family heirlooms, he would not look favourably upon us. The risk to our guild relationships must be factored into any price we offer. I'm afraid we could only go as high as—" he named a figure that was, by my rough estimate, a quarter of actual value.
"I understand completely," I said.
Another blink.
However, Adalbero recovered faster than the parchment merchant had. "Wonderful. Then we have an agreement on those pieces."
“We do.” I folded my hands on the table. “Now. To the matter I actually called you here for.”
The room adjusted. This was the part they hadn't expected — that the goods on the table were the appetiser rather than the meal.
“I require a steady supply of iron ore and charcoal. Substantial quantities, delivered monthly. In exchange, I am prepared to offer your guilds exclusive trading rights in my domain on all the items you see here for the next year.” I let that sit for a moment. “Everything.”
Adalbero's expression turned careful. “Exclusive rights are a significant offer, Your Grace. But the Count could retake the castle at any moment, and the quantities you describe, iron ore in particular, would require us to coordinate with several suppliers with little security. It will raise costs.“
“I'll also need several items commissioned. From craftsmen outside this region.” I produced a list from inside my doublet. “A set of fine glassware made to specific dimensions and shapes. A large iron cauldron, double-walled, with a removable base fitting. And a leadscrew along with a set of precision gears, both made to a standard I'll supply.”
The ink-stained merchant peered at the list with professional curiosity. “Glassware like that would have to come from the east. Expensive.”
“And only the locksmiths in the capital can make something with such precision…” Another merchant added.
“It is all very expensive, yes.” Adalbero agreed. “And for making such commissions, we would have to take a collateral for our own security. Maybe the Count’s jewels…” he proposed as he glanced at them greedily.
“That is reasonable, I suppose. Add it all to the ore invoice.” I nodded. “And in order to make things more convenient, I propose we exchange goods directly at the already agreed-upon prices. You take all the soap, paper, and linen we produce, and we will take all the ore and charcoal you can supply. And any remaining difference will be covered in coin.”
Adalbero rubbed his hands together slowly with a wide smile.
“I believe,” he concluded before I could even take out my quill, “that we can come to an arrangement.”
***
Once the merchants had left, Erika and Lili turned to me.
“Why did you agree to sell them these things for such a low price?” Erika questioned with a confused expression. “I know little of trade, but even I can see those rates are like giving away a gold coin for a copper. And agreeing to cover the difference is—“
“I know a bit more about trade, and it is certainly one of the worst deals I have ever heard of. The price they offered for fabric is almost the same as for flax itself,” Lili added with a frown. “You should have sent them away and just sold these things yourself.”
I chuckled at their earnestness. “I wish we could do that, but right now we cannot afford to fight on so many fronts at once. We already have pretty much every noble poised against us. We don’t need the guilds coming for our necks, too. For now, at least.”
“But still—“
“Besides, remember how they pledged to take any amount of goods we send their way?” I held up one end of a linen sheet as I continued. “Well, they are in for a fun surprise…”
The two looked at me with doubt in their eyes.
“Because once our carpenters finish their new tasks and we install a new waterwheel, we will be able to produce ten times the fabric you saw on this table today. With a single person. Each day.”
Though Lili remained doubtful, I could see a spark glow in Erika’s eyes at the mention of it.
And I wasn’t lying.
Such was the power of a flying shuttle, the spinning jenny and the water frame all working together.
It was time to let loose yet another dragon.