May 25, 219 AD, Northern Frontier, Gallia.
Exactly four days had passed since the formation of the frontier syndicate. Lucius sat in the silence of his study, a piece of fine charcoal pinched between his fingers, recording the production yields into his ledger.
He tallied the daytime production first. During the daylight hours, the blast furnace operated under the guise of legitimate, benevolent commerce.
Decimus and the furnace crew had adapted to the standardized clay casting molds Lucius had designed for agricultural implements. Without the need for archaic, time-consuming hammering, the volume of their output was unprecedented.
They were casting exactly 24 tools every single day...
Lucius ran the pencil down the column. In just four days, the newly constructed warehouse on the eastern ridge had accumulated an inventory of 96 pristine agricultural implements.
These were not the easily warped tools currently sold by the local guilds. Even though they were forged from the furnace’s secondary, lower-carbon yields, they possessed a structural density and durability that the Roman farmers of Gaul had never experienced.
There were deep-tilling plowshares, reinforced hoes designed to easily break the hard, clay-heavy soil, and razor-sharp scythes that would not dull after a single harvest.
A standard, low-quality hoe in the provincial markets fetched roughly 15 silver denarii, while a heavy plowshare could easily command up to 35.
By undercutting the local blacksmiths and establishing a median bulk price, Lucius estimated a gross revenue of nearly 1,900 denarii.
If the bidding became competitive among the wealthier landowners, it could easily eclipse the 2,000 denarii mark.
2,000 silver denarii. That single influx of silver was enough to insulate his enterprise. With 2,000 denarii, he could pay the exorbitant wages of all sixteen of his laborers, purchase the shipments of specialized coal and timber required to keep the blast furnace roaring, and easily secure enough grain and salted meat to feed his entire workforce and his family.
And it would cover all of these overhead expenses for a full six months.
Four days of labor to secure half a year of absolute financial invulnerability. Cassius would undoubtedly view this as the pinnacle of patrician success. But Lucius knew that the agricultural tools were nothing more than a smokescreen.
When the sun dipped below the horizon and Cassius retired to his bedchambers, the estate shifted into its shadow economy.
Under the cover of night, lit only by the roaring glow of the fifteen-foot blast furnace, Decimus and the core crew ceased pouring agricultural molds and switched entirely to the production of steel weaponry.
They were currently focusing exclusively on the spatha... the longer, heavier straight sword favored by the Roman cavalry and increasingly adopted by the elite infantry.
It was a weapon that required superior tensile strength to prevent snapping upon heavy impact, a quality that Roman bloomeries routinely failed to provide.
In four nights, despite the careful, meticulous temperature control required for the steel, they had successfully forged, quenched, and tempered 28 flawless spathas.
Twenty-eight blades that could cleave through standard Roman chainmail. Twenty-eight instruments of martial superiority, unregistered by the imperial quartermasters, and invisible to the tax collectors of Rome.
However, unlike the agricultural tools, these weapons would not be traded for the debased, rapidly depreciating silver of the Empire...
For those 28 steel spathas, the frontier syndicate could demand tangible, rapidly appreciating assets.
Valerius estimated that the shipment could easily be traded for nearly fifteen strong, able-bodied slaves captured from rival northern tribes... a massive influx of untraceable human capital that Lucius could instantly funnel into the mining terraces to exponentially increase the extraction of hematite.
Alternatively, if the estate required agricultural infrastructure, the blades could be traded for twenty head of prime, northern cattle, beasts capable of pulling the new steel plows Lucius intended to introduce to his father’s farmlands.
The tools paid for the overhead, ensuring the Roman authorities saw nothing but a profitable, taxed, and legitimate farming supplier.
The weapons, hidden in the shadows, purchased the raw labor and livestock required to scale the operation to a monstrous size.
Lucius closed the ledger.
He rose from his desk, smoothed the creases of his tunic, and exited the villa, walking toward the warehouse situated on the eastern ridge.
The two carts Cassius had recently purchased were parked in the center of the courtyard.
The caravan crew... comprised of the two freedmen traders Lucius had hired from the lower markets, alongside one armed caravan guard personally vetted by Valerius was working.
The local carpenters, paid highly for their discretion and lack of curiosity, had installed deep false bottoms into the reinforced wooden beds of the wagons.
Currently, the guard and one of the traders were carefully laying the 28 steel spathas into the hidden compartments. Each blade was wrapped in oiled leather.
Once the blades were nested within the hidden compartments, the floorboards were slotted back into place.
The floor of the cart was then scattered with a layer of loose straw and dirt.
Only then did the real labor begin...
The warehouse doors were thrown wide open, and the men began to haul the 96 agricultural implements from the racks.
The plows, the broad hoes, and the bundles of scythes were loaded onto the top of the carts.
If a Roman patrol stopped them on the roads leading north, the legionaries would see exactly what they expected to see: an ambitious, productive patrician estate transporting agricultural tools to the provincial farming hubs.
The guards would see the plows, demand their standard toll, and wave the caravan through, oblivious to the fact that they were standing mere inches above a shipment of weaponry that would soon be used to slaughter their fellow soldiers on the Rhine.
Valerius, clad in his legionary armor and a cloak, walked over to Lucius. The Security Chief carried a rolled piece of parchment.
"The cargo is secured, Dominus," Valerius reported. "The false bottoms are sealed, and the weight distribution is balanced to avoid stressing the axles."
"And the middleman?" Lucius inquired.
"He is already waiting," Valerius confirmed, a smile touching his lips. "A connected Germanic wine merchant who holds a Class-A imperial transit pass. He brings bulk wine from the southern vineyards to the border forts, making him invisible to the garrison commanders. We finalized the contract yesterday afternoon. He expects the shipment precisely as the sun breaks the horizon."
Lucius nodded slowly. "Then do not keep our new business partner waiting, Valerius."