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FLTL Ch 357. A Letter
🕑 Added 2025-11-11 14:30:03 +0000 UTCJoin up as the Duke of Tiranat to read more than 450 pages ahead.
***
Sometime before noon, Kivamus was sitting in the manor hall with Duvas and Pydaso. Two reliable guards stood silently in the corners—as usual when there was a guest here. The air still felt mild now; but it was warm enough that lighting the fireplace—which was rarely extinguished in the colder months—would have made it unbearable.
“Is it ready, milord?” Pydaso asked.
Kivamus nodded and handed him one of the ceramic jars. “Take a look.”
The merchant opened it and lifted a single red tablet, turning it between his fingers. “So this is what you meant by a tablet… It looks impressive,” he said. “I think I can keep selling it at the same rate, though it’ll only reach nobles and rich merchants. The price is already three times higher than the fresh losuvil paste sold by the herbalists in Ulriga—and even that’s quite costly for commoners.”
Kivamus knew that selling a single tablet for twenty silvers—nearly a month’s pay for a laborer or a miner—had simply priced them out of this new medicine. However, the production costs for the tablets were fairly low, including from the wine and ceramic jars they needed to buy, and in the future, the wages for the potters to make the big clay pots, hunters to bring the leaves, and workers who made the medicine. So, once the encampment in the eastern hills began producing at a steady pace, and when they were making a lot more tablets than now, he could afford to lower the price and still get some profit.
He leaned back slightly. “It'll have to do for now. The medicine should keep well for at least six months, and probably close to a year, so as soon as the news about its efficiency spreads in Ulriga, the rich people will want to stockpile it before their rivals can. Still, I plan to make a cheaper version in the future for the commoners, but that will take a while."
Pydaso tucked the jars safely into his satchel and stood up. “Then I’ll take my leave.”
Kivamus raised a hand. “Before you go, take this.”
He handed over a folded envelope which had been kept on the side table. He had made it himself from their locally manufactured paper, and after writing the letter, he had closed it with wax and stamped it with his seal from his ring. “This is for my sister, Astela Ralokaar. You need to deliver it in the Ulriga Palace.”
The merchant froze. “Milord, with respect, I’d do anything to help you out, but there’s no chance I’d get anywhere near the Duke’s daughter. I wouldn't even get entry inside the palace without a very good reason.”
Kivamus nodded, already expecting that reply. “I know, and you don’t need to take it to her directly. You just have to deliver the letter to a guard I trust at the palace, and he'll take it to my sister. His name is Rutanmo—he’s usually on duty at the eastern gate during the day. When he's off duty, you’ll likely find him in a nearby tavern called The Crooked Dagger.”
“I know the place,” Pydaso said. “I’ve been there myself.”
“Good. Then look for him there. He has a big scar running on his left cheek—gotten while trying to save my life in the past—so you’ll recognize him easily. If you still don’t recognize Rutanmo, just ask the barkeep to point him out in the evening. Once you've found him, give him this letter and tell that it’s from me. My seal will be enough to verify your words.”
Pydaso took the envelope carefully, studying the seal before slipping it into his satchel. “I’ll make sure it reaches him. If needed, I can pass him a few coins for his trouble so he gets it safely to your sister.”
“No need,” Kivamus said. “He’s one of the very few men in that city I trust completely. He won’t need a bribe.”
“As you wish,” the merchant said quietly.
“The captain’s already assigned two men to accompany you as escorts—Calubo and one other. They're ready to leave whenever you want. Both of them are reliable and you can trust them with your life and with the acelos tablets." Kivamus smiled. "I wish you a safe journey ahead.”
Pydaso gave a quick bow. “Thank you very much for that, Milord.”
When the merchant left, Kivamus stayed seated for a moment, staring at the door. He hoped the letter would find its way to his sister soon—and that she would be safe and happy. He’d also added an invitation in there for her to visit Tiranat, or to stay here permanently if she wished, saying she would find the village far more surprising than she thought it'd be.
The manor house couldn't offer any kind of luxuries which were available in the palace, but at least she’d be safe here and would have the freedom to decide her own future, instead of their older brothers marrying her away to some undeserving bastard for political gain. He knew that such a marriage arrangement hadn't taken place yet, since news about an impending marriage of the Duke's daughter would be huge and would spread around immediately, but that didn’t ease the worry.
Giving a sigh, he turned to Duvas. “Give Feroy the remaining losuvil powder from the first batch. Tell him that he can leave for Cinran with Hyola. They can travel together with Pydaso’s group through the forest road for safety, since it's the same route till Cinran, and then each group can go their own ways.”
Duvas stood up. “I’ll find him.”
“Good.” Kivamus stood up as well. “I’ll go with Hudan to the smithy and talk with Cedoron about how we can start making some steel here.” He noticed the hesitation on the majordomo’s face and snorted. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about that conversation we need to have. We’ll talk later in the afternoon when I’m back. Gorsazo doesn’t have classes at that time, and Pydaso and his driver will also have left by then.”
Duvas let out a small laugh. “Well, I’m getting more and more curious with every passing hour. But I’ll wait.”
Kivamus smiled, then left the hall with the sound of his boots echoing against the wooden floor.
***
The clang of hammers filled the yard, sharp and rhythmic, mixing with the hiss of quenching metal and the thick scent of smoke and oil. Kivamus stood just outside the smithy’s wide doorway, the heat from the forge washing over his face even though he was several paces back from the edge of the workshop. The forge smoke clung low to the rafters, slowly moving towards the open side on the left, while the ground was blackened from years of coal ash. Hudan and two guards waited nearby, keeping an eye on any curious passersby. Duvas had also wanted to join them but had been needed somewhere else for his duties.
Inside, Cedoron’s voice easily rose over the noise. At the moment, the blacksmith was scolding a young apprentice who looked close to melting from both heat and embarrassment. The boy was holding a half-finished crossbow latch, its edge bent way out of alignment.
At the next workbench, another apprentice shaped a pickaxe head, the hammer ringing out a steady rhythm. Near him, one of the older men flattened the blade of a shovel, the glow of the iron fading as he struck. Both of those things were required to increase their coal output in the near future. Another muscular man was forging a sword, which would be needed for the latest recruits the guard captain was going to hire. A young man suddenly called out for him to step aside, before he pushed a wheelbarrow full of charcoal and deposited it in a pile to be used later in the forge.
Away from them, in the sunlight, a woman was checking the finished parts spread across a wooden table—iron hooks, nuts, bolts, saws, and so on—turning each one in her hand and squinting at them, before she put it in one of two small stacks on the table. Someone else was weaving the mesh of a safety lamp in the sunlight, while another was applying oil on a recently made dagger, its faint smell drifting across the air.
The whole place felt alive, packed to the corners with noise and movement, and it made Kivamus feel happy to see all the work under progress. Even so, there was no doubt that it felt cramped. However, it would have to do for now. The sawmill construction had been given more priority, but once that was done in a few more days, Taniok would begin working on the triphammer on the far bank of the eastern stream, and then some part of Cedoron’s workload would shift there. No point expanding this workshop if half the crew would be moved in a few weeks.
Cedoron finally dismissed the apprentice with a swat on the shoulder and a few muttered words, then walked to Kivamus with a grin. “Milord, is it finally time for me to work on something new? That has to be why you found time to visit here. I've been holding off making iron components for the next scorpion, until Darora gives me the go-ahead that all the parts are working properly in the first one, while my apprentices can make the crossbow parts themselves. Apart from some of my own work, I've also been supervising everyone, but it still makes me bored when I don't have something interesting to work on. So, is it time for that?”
Kivamus smiled at the enthusiasm of the bulky man. “It is. I’ve finished the overall design for the lathe I mentioned to you in the past. But we’ll need a better quality of iron for making its metallic parts. So we need to make steel first.”
"That sounds interesting." Cedoron gestured toward a nearby bench. “Mind if I sit? I may be bored but I've still been hammering one thing or another since dawn.”
“Of course.” Once the blacksmith had sat down, Kivamus joined him, brushing the soot from the seat before sitting down.
***
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>> FLTL Ch 358. Steelmaking - I
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Eriach
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