Celestial Hymn 9 (Patreon)

Celestial Hymn
Chapter 9

-VB-

“We did it!” I laughed uproariously as the servitors flipped the mold and out came from it a bar of iron.

Our castle blacksmith looked at the iron bar with wide eyes. “This is amazing,” he muttered as he poked at it with a fireplace poker. “You can produce so much more iron this way than with bloomery. We can even mold it right away if we’re adventurous enough.”

I slapped him in the back, a little high from the achievement I’ve just accomplished after a whole month’s worth of effort and work. “That’s the spirit!”

He turned towards me. “What will you do with it, milord?” he asked with wide eyes. Was that a little bit of fear I saw in his eyes?

“It’s only a step towards what I want.”

“A step?”

“Yup,” I nodded. “With high quality iron, we can make better tools. We use those to make even better tools. Then those better tools will let me make some truly spectacular things, either by cutting down on the time it takes for me or you to make a product or make something that can’t be made without those tools. It’ll be great, I tell you!”

“What could possibly need this much iron, though?”

I paused before looking at him. “By the way, how goes what I asked of you?”

“I am really close,” he replied easily. “It’s just that …”

“Yes?”

“I am not sure what it is supposed to be.”

“Ah. Don’t worry. Once I make it, I’ll show it to you.”

He bowed. “My thanks.”

I turned to the servitors. “Clean up the area and lock the doors behind you.”

The servitors moved on, wordless.

In the month that I invested into experimenting with metallurgy, the small area just outside of my keep that I set up the bessemer furnace had been upgraded with proper bricks and motor walls as well as assigning guards to patrol and prevent intrusions.

I also used some of that time to further improve the city by planning and implementing irrigation. Yes, the Stormlands were infamous for their storms and wind and rain, but those were unpredictable acts of nature. What my irrigation did was act as both drainage sites during times of torrential rain or as drought-resistant advantage for my farmers.

The first part was accomplished by linking the irrigation canals to two locations on the same river: one upstream and one downstream. However, the canals themselves were level, which meant that the downstream irrigation canal “exit” was higher up in elevation than the river itself. By closing the upstream input and opening the downstream output, I can help drain the water from farmlands that might be ruined by too much water.

When droughts came by, I could do the reverse to keep the water in. It would, unfortunately, require a lot of water to ensure that the water wasn’t rotting near the fields, but better that than letting the crops die and my people starving, right?

The irrigation network wasn’t a big one right now. So far, there was just a single canal that left the river, curved through the middle of the most productive lands, and then out towards the downstream location. Just that. A single canal. In the coming months, I hoped to expand from that canal-.

I paused as something caught my ears.

“What’s that?” I asked the guards next to that. “Do you hear that?”

It was the middle of the day, so all of the smallfolks should be out farming.

… bandits?!

I cleared my throat hurriedly and then raised my voice. “Ready yourselves just in case,” I said to the guards. The four guards on site nervously gripped their spears.

“Servitors, stand guard indoors.”

I heard them stop cleaning and march up to the doors and then pause.

The sound was getting closer. It was a large group of people.

I winced as the Forge chose just now to activate. Got nothing again.

Ignoring it, I turned back to the approaching group.

I saw …

Oh dear. That didn’t look great.

“Is that … the town folks?” I asked myself with a corner of my lips raised in incredulity.

The source of the sound turned out to be a large group of my very town’s denizens, marching towards me in a large mob. Some carried pitchforks and others torches, in day light.

This looked awfully like a witch lynching mob.

“Who goes there?” I shouted, but I didn’t approach the crowd.

“I am Septon Maran of the Brownspear Town!” the man at the lead yelled back. “And my flock and I are here to confront you, milord, about the witchcraft you practice!”

“What witchcraft?” I asked. “What you see before you is a forge!”

As they grew closer, I saw the man at the front. “Septon Maran” was a man I met before, but he was the lesser septon of the two that served my town. He was the richer of the two, though I wasn’t sure why; normally, higher ranked septons were the ones who were richer mostly because the Most Devout - the ruling council of the Faith of the Seven - sent resources to them so that they could go and distribute that resource to others. By nature of logistics, they were the richer folks.

I didn’t give it much thought before because the workings of the Faith of the Seven weren’t my jurisdiction (people of all walks and ranks got prissy when someone not in the religion’s ranks got involved in its affairs) but now that he was here at the head of a mob, my brain started to bring those oddly suspicious facts about the man that won’t help in this situation to the forefront.

“We have heard from your keep that you keep slaves!”

I blinked.

“No, I don’t have slaves,” I replied slowly.

Slavery was a grave sin in the Faith of the Seven. Accusing me of that might get him a lot of momentum, even if it was false.

“And this is my land,” I growled. “I did not give you permission to be here. Leave.”

The guards formed up behind me. Even if all of them were from this very town, desertion via insubordination was also a very serious issue.

The mob stalled for a moment. They knew who I was. They knew who was responsible for their better life. Before me, they worked with inferior tools and died of diseases too quickly. Even simple treatments I helped to disseminate - balanced diet, replenishing bodily fluids not with pure water or alcohol but with saline, washing hands, and other similar but seemingly small details - had helped to lower diseases and death rate.

‘What were they thinking?’ some of them had to be thinking.

But not all of them.

“You first accuse me of witchcraft and now you accuse me of slavery? It looks like you’re trying to find a reason to pick a fight with me!” I shouted as I stomped forward.

Surprised by my advances, the septon reeled backwards. His back met the first line of mobs, who were also surprised but held their grounds.

“You bring weapons to my land, accuse your lord of things he’s not done, and threaten the same lord who’s made your life better?!”

I was letting my anger get to me, but that was fine.

I am a lord.

They were peasants.

There was a boundary they shouldn’t cross but they did.

It would be completely within my right to have every single one of these peasants here executed… but I wouldn’t.

But right now, I was angry.

I made their lives better, enriched their town, created more jobs, and even made plans to do more for their sake…

And I got this in return?

The septon suddenly jumped forward and stopped me.

“If…” he whispered. “You pay me. I will disperse this mob.”

I didn’t even bother.

“You dare try to bribe me?!” I roared.

I pulled out the dagger I always carried with me and stabbed him before he could retreat. I stabbed him again and again even as he remained still standing in shock.

And then I buried that dagger into his skull.

When he finally keeled over, I stood before the mob, bloodshot eyes wide with anger, blood of the septon sprayed onto my fine tunic and pants, knuckles white from how tight my fists were clenched, and a shadow cast over my front by the setting sun.

“... Go back home. I will deal with you lot tomorrow.”

The crowd suddenly lost their momentum without the septon, and the sudden and brutal homicide of said septon by me left them floundering.

“NOW!”

They fled.

I took a deep breath once there was no one else but me and the guards.

“Take this septon’s body and bury it in an unmarked grave far from the town. Search his residence for any form of wrongdoing and declare it for all to see. Go.”

The spooked guards hurriedly left, running like they were being chased by wolves.

“... Ruined a fucking good tunic,” I mumbled to myself as I left on my own shaking legs at a much more sedate pace.

The day couldn’t be shittier if it tried.