Chapter 63 — An Unforeseen Disturbance

Construction of the Magic Web No. 1 proceeded remarkably smoothly. In part this was because Rebecca genuinely had a gift for such work, but it was also because the "Magic Web" employed only the most basic rune arrangements. Relying on his own calculating power and ingenuity, that wild mage had simplified this incredible formation almost to its limit—he had even lowered the grade of the required materials to an absurd degree, using quartz sand, which even commoners could afford, as the primary material, while the key nodes required only a tiny bit of mithril and obsidian as conductive material. The cost was entirely within the Cecil Territory's present means.

After all, that wild mage had been utterly destitute back then. Had he not simplified the Magic Web to this degree, he could never have built the thing at all.

But the smooth progress of one project meant that the pressures tied to it would follow close behind.

In Gawain's vision, the territory first had to secure sufficient steel production. With steel came weapons, equipment, tools for labor, and the infrastructure for producing the next tier of goods. Yet merely erecting the smelting facilities was only the first step; what mattered more was completing construction of the eastern mining district and ensuring a steady, unbroken supply of ore.

Building the mines, in turn, required yet more materials. Lacking heavy machinery and able to rely only on human labor to break rock and dig mountains, this also demanded more hands.

At the same time, construction at the camp had to be accelerated. Replacing the tents with plank houses was only a stopgap measure—a truly sturdy and dependable camp could not be built from wood. But what more convenient and efficient building techniques and materials did this era have to offer?

Only after laying every matter out before him one by one did Gawain feel just how difficult it was to build something from nothing. Even with the aid of magic and a treasury that was, for the moment, untroubled, raising a new home out of bare ground was no easy task.

At such moments he could not help but look forward all the more to the aid Francis II had promised. Grain and cloth were one thing, but what mattered more was those hundred craftsmen and apprentices. A hundred people—even if many among them were unfortunate souls forced south to break new ground after being squeezed out elsewhere, they were still a hundred skilled talents!

For the Cecil Territory, whose total population currently stood at just over eight hundred, what did a hundred skilled talents even mean?

It meant Gawain could fall asleep, grin in his dreams, and startle the soldier on night watch at the door.

Unfortunately, at the fastest, it would still be more than half a month away.

Speaking of talents, Gawain thought of Amber, who had set out two days ago... and there was still no sign of anything. That shameless disgrace to all living things—she hadn't actually run off with the gold bars, had she?

In the great tent at the center of the camp, a welter of thoughts churned through Gawain's mind as he struggled to focus his attention on the blueprints and tables before him, while Betty sat on a cushion not far away, her head nodding as she dozed.

On the blueprint before Gawain was a new-style furnace he was designing. It resembled Earth's blast furnaces in form and in parts of its structure, but its inner workings were an entirely different matter. He had to reserve space for the magic circle to do its work, consider how to place the furnace's magic-conducting structures as close as possible to the buried "Magic Web No. 1," and also ensure that the molten iron would not damage the magical patterns on the furnace body...

This was something wholly different from the Magic Web and the waterwheel. Gawain had to fuse the knowledge of two worlds to complete this design. If the "Magic Web" was the cornerstone of the Cecil Territory, then designing such a peculiar "hybrid furnace" was Gawain's own "cornerstone."

Gawain understood clearly that only by completing it could the many wild ideas in his head have any hope of becoming reality—and in this, no one could help him.

He finished the design of the combustion chamber and the molten-iron channeling section, then, drawing on Gawain Cecil's knowledge, reserved space for inscribing the magic circle. After that he rubbed his temples and reached out to the side: "Betty, bring me that leather parchment bag for the blueprints... the one with the red cord."

There was no response from beside him—only faint snoring. Turning his head, he saw that the weary little maid had curled herself into a tiny ball on the cushion and was fast asleep.

Sitting here doing nothing while keeping him company must indeed have been rather boring for her.

Not knowing whether to laugh or sigh, Gawain shook his head and was about to get up and fetch the bag himself when he saw Betty suddenly scramble up with her eyes still closed, then grope her way toward the corner of the tent, open the chest, take out the leather bag, and wobble back to stand before him...

She had hardly opened her eyes the entire time...

Amused beyond measure, Gawain took the leather bag, and as he put the blueprints away he watched Betty struggle to open her eyes: "If you're sleepy, just go to sleep. Heaven knows how much longer I'll be busy."

By now Betty had finally come fully awake. She forced her eyes wide and shook her head vigorously: "I won't sleep! The master hasn't slept, so I won't sleep!"

Then she lowered her head and looked at the drafts spread across the table, putting on a thoroughly earnest expression. Seeing this, Gawain was a little curious: "Can you understand any of this?"

"No..." Betty shook her head. "I can't read..."

"Oh, then this must be terribly dull for you," Gawain said with a laugh. "No wonder you fell asleep just now."

"I wasn't asleep!" Betty shook her head hastily, then her gaze drifted involuntarily back to the drafts covered in writing. "Master, you know so many words..."

She had been dead sleepy a moment ago, yet now, looking at the drafts strewn across the table, her drowsiness seemed to have passed entirely. Gawain found this rather interesting and ventured to ask: "Would you like to learn to read?"

Betty nodded instinctively, but then at once shook her head nervously, fingering a button on her maid's uniform: "Mrs. Hanson says maids mustn't learn to read—just do their work well."

"That's nonsense. Everyone can learn to read!" Gawain corrected her at once, then, on a sudden whim: "If you want to learn, I can teach you a little."

Betty's eyes drifted toward the papers again, but this time, before nodding, she shook her head: "But Sir Philip says paper and pens are precious in the territory, and I mustn't waste them..."

Gawain was taken aback. He had been about to say that there was plenty of paper here anyway, but then he realized that Sir Philip had a point. With the territory unable to support itself and all traffic with Tanzan Town dependent on messengers riding back and forth, such supplies truly grew scarcer with every use. Giving Betty paper to practice writing on was indeed a bit of a luxury.

And besides, who was to say whether the girl would really stick with it? What if she was only playing around?

Still, looking at the little girl's muddle-headed expression, Gawain could not help but smile: "Wait here a moment."

He went and picked up a branch, ran his hand along it—and under the power of a knight, every burr and twig was scoured away clean. Then he trimmed one end roughly with a small knife and handed it to Betty: "Practice on the ground first. We'll see how it goes."

Betty took the branch blankly, then watched as Gawain turned to his desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and began writing with a flourish. Soon he had finished a "copybook": on the yellowed, coarse paper, the basic alphabet was written in large strokes, and beneath it a single big word.