May 20, 219 AD, Northern Frontier, Gallia.
The following morning, before the sun had even illuminated the vineyards of the estate, Lucius was already putting his next phase into motion.
He did not possess the stamina to operate the leather bellows of his newly constructed blast furnace, nor did he intend to ruin his hands hauling molten slag.
However, Lucius was acutely aware that he could not simply hire the established blacksmiths of the local provincial guilds.
Those men were entrenched in their archaic ways... they had spent decades mastering the primitive bloomery methods, pounding soft iron into shape. If Lucius hired them, they would constantly question his methods, stubbornly clinging to their superstitions and flawed metallurgical instincts.
Thus, after securing a remarkably pouch of silver denarii from his father’s rapidly circulating lockboxes, Lucius bypassed the affluent artisan districts entirely.
Instead, he ventured into the plebeian quarters where the lowest rung of manufacturers operated.
His first targets were the makers of simple agricultural tools... men who forged crude horseshoes, iron nails, and plowshares.
These men were accustomed to the grueling, repetitive labor of striking an anvil, but they lacked the prestige of the weapon-smiths.
More importantly, Lucius sought out the master potters and the brick-makers.
The men who operated the kilns required to fire Roman terra sigillata understood how to manage airflow, measure ambient heat without modern thermometers, and maintain a roaring fire for days at a time.
Throughout the day, Lucius utilized the silver to poach the most able-bodied and disciplined workers he could find.
He offered them wages that were 50% percent higher than their current meager earnings, with the strict stipulation that they would follow his exact, unquestionable instructions.
By the time the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, Lucius returned to the family estate with exactly eight men in tow. They were a rugged assembly of plebeians and freedmen.
Lucius immediately marched them to the eastern ridge, halting before the imposing, fifteen-foot-tall structure of the newly cured blast furnace.
"You four," Lucius commanded, pointing to the muscular men he had procured from the tool-forges and the largest of the kiln operators. "You are the furnace crew. Your sole purpose is thermal maintenance and the operation of those dual-chambered bellows. The fire within this stack must never be allowed to die once it is ignited. You will pump the bellows in alternating shifts to maintain a continuous blast of oxygen. When I give the order to tap the lower chamber, you will guide the molten flow exactly into the casting molds I have prepared."
He then turned to two of the broader, heavily built men. "You will haul the refined charcoal and the crushed hematite ore from the mining terraces to the furnace feed at the top of the stack. When the steel is cast, you will manage the quenching troughs and assist with the heavy lifting."
Finally, Lucius addressed the last two men. "And you two will manage the loading, the ledgers, and the transport of our goods."
The men nodded. However, as Lucius was organizing his new hierarchy, Cassius arrived at the mining site.
The patriarch of the family had just returned from auditing their daily ledgers, only to discover that their liquid assets had been vaporized.
"Lucius!" Cassius gasped, grabbing his son by the arm and pulling him away from the laborers.
"Have you lost your mind? I gave you access to the lockboxes to buy supplies, not a small army!
You have drained us! Every single denarius we earned from selling the raw ore over the past three days is gone.
We have nothing left to pay the original miners at the end of the week. If this forge of yours does not produce the silver you promised by tomorrow, we will default on our labor agreements and the men will riot!"
Lucius calmly removed his father’s hand from his arm. "Yes, our immediate liquidity is zero, but look at the throughput I have just established."
Lucius gestured toward the two men he had assigned to the caravan. "While my furnace crew operates the forge to fulfill the contract for the Tribune Gaius, the caravan crew will take the excess raw iron we mine and bypass the local city markets entirely. They will transport the ore to the neighboring settlements and agricultural hubs, selling it at a premium without the local middlemen taking a cut."
Cassius blinked. "Bypass the markets? But the logistics of running a continuous trade route..."
"Are already solved," Lucius interrupted. "In fact, I need you to expand it immediately. First thing tomorrow morning, you will take the very first profits the caravan generates and you will purchase three sturdy draft horses and hire more men to guard and drive the carts. We must increase our transportation capacity to match our extraction rate. The caravan will continually fund the raw operations, insulating the experimental costs of the blast furnace."
Cassius stared at his son. "Three horses," Cassius repeated, wiping the sweat from his brow. "And more men. Very well, Lucius. I will make the arrangements at dawn."
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, bathing the Roman province of Gaul in the cool twilight, the laborers were dismissed to their quarters.
...
Later that evening, after a hearty meal of roasted fowl and watered wine in the villa’s dining atrium, Lucius sat across from his father.
"Tell me, Father," Lucius began, setting down his silver goblet. "Earlier this week, you mentioned your intentions regarding the adjacent Julianus lands. You stated you wished to purchase them once they enter foreclosure and transition our wealth into farming. What is your plan for those fields?"
Cassius leaned back on the dining couch, pleased that he was finally discussing a subject he loved and understood. Land and agriculture were the traditional lifeblood of the Roman nobility.
"The lands are vast and fertile, situated perfectly near the river," Cassius explained, "I intend to employ the traditional two-field rotation. We will plant half the estate with winter wheat and barley to sell to the legion’s granaries, and we will leave the other half fallow for the year so the soil may recover its strength. The following year, we will swap them. It is a reliable income that will anchor our sudden wealth in respected property."
The two-field system was standard agricultural practice in the Roman Empire.
Leaving half the arable land fallow for a full year was a wasteful squandering of spatial resources.
If this world were left to its own devices, it would be over a thousand years before they naturally developed a proper crop rotation capable of sustaining a large population.
"It is a noble ambition, Father," Lucius said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "And purchasing the land is indeed the correct maneuver. However, your methodology is archaic."
Cassius frowned, slightly offended. "Archaic?"
Lucius sighed. He looked at his father.
"Go ahead and purchase the land, Father," Lucius commanded quietly. "But don’t plant a single seed until I’ve examined the soil and assured you I can help."