A/N: Enjoy a super long chapter today!
***
The mixture kept changing. It thickened from a thin oily liquid into something heavier. Then, after more heat and stirring, it became denser, almost like a thick paste. The workers noticed it too. Their doubt slowly turned into surprise as the contents of the pot stopped looking like fat and lye and started looking like something else entirely.
The woman stirred once, then lifted the paddle slightly. A thick line dragged across the surface and stayed there before slowly settling.
Kivamus nodded. “Good. Keep going a little longer.”
A short while later, the mixture became heavy enough that he finally raised his hand.
“That’s enough. Bring the molds.”
The workers moved quickly now. The first man lifted the pot with thick cloth wrapped around his hands, while the others used wooden scoops to transfer the hot soap into the prepared molds. The molds were simple rectangular boxes, made from planks and nailed together. They would not last forever, but they were good enough for these first batches.
Once the last of the mixture had been scraped into the molds, the second man looked at it with open curiosity.
“Can we use it now?”
“Not yet,” Kivamus chuckled. “Sometimes the soap does not finish properly, even when we measure everything carefully. If too much lye remains in it, it can burn skin. So we have to test it first.”
He looked toward Syrene. “Can you hand over the testing strips?”
Syrene was already reaching into the small wooden box she had brought with her.
“No,” she said at once. “I’ll test it.”
Duvas chuckled quietly at her eagerness.
Kivamus smiled. “Fine. You do it then.”
The workers watched as Syrene opened the box and took out several dried strips of paper. They looked ordinary at first glance, except for their faint purple staining.
Making them had taken most of the afternoon yesterday. Kivamus had told Syrene that it was possible to make acidity testing paper from red cabbage—a primitive version of pH strips—and she had become excited almost immediately. They had grated the cabbage, boiled it in water, let the liquid cool, strained it into a ceramic jar, then soaked strips of locally made paper in the colored liquid before leaving them to dry overnight. By morning, the strips were ready.
Lucem and Clarisa had been even more excited than Syrene once they saw the colors change after using it. They had spent far too long testing anything they could find around the manor, running from one place to another with new strips in hand until Syrene finally had to stop them before they wasted the whole batch.
Now the workers looked at the colored strips with the same doubtful curiosity they had shown toward the soap.
Kivamus picked up one strip and held it where they could all see.
“This paper changes color when it touches different things,” he said. “You do not need to understand all of it today. Just remember what each color means.”
The three workers leaned closer.
“If it turns red or pink, like wine, that is not right. If it stays purple, the same shade as it is now, that is also not right for soap. If it turns blue or teal, that means the soap is ready and safe to use. That is the color we want.”
He paused and looked at each of them.
“If it turns bright green or yellow, that means danger. Too much raw lye remains. That soap can burn skin, and it must not be used.”
The first man nodded slowly. “Blue is good. Green or yellow is bad.”
“Exactly,” Kivamus said. “You three have to remember that, because I will not be here every time a new batch is made. One of you will have to check it."
Then he nodded at Syrene.
She took a step and dipped the edge of one paper strip into a small dab of the hot soap that had been set aside on a scrap of wood.
Everyone watched.
The purple began to shift.
For a moment it looked dark. Then it slowly settled into a muted blue.
"Is it...?" The workers looked at Syrene for confirmation.
She smiled. “It is ready.”
The woman let out a happy breath, and one of the men slapped the other on the shoulder.
“It worked,” he said, almost laughing.
The other man grinned at the molds. “Is that really soap?”
“It is,” Kivamus said. “But we'll leave it here to cool until tomorrow morning. Then we'll cut it into bars for use.”
The workers looked pleased enough that he continued.
“These first bars will not be suitable for long storage after drying for only one day, but that is fine. This is only a small batch. So you can still use it from tomorrow. Since this test was successful, tomorrow we'll make a larger batch with the same method. There is already more lye being prepared near the dam.”
The woman was still looking at the molds. “Who gets to try it first?”
One of the men immediately said, “I stirred longest.”
“You stirred worst,” the other man replied. “You nearly splashed the pot.”
“I did not.”
“You did!”
The woman folded her arms. “If either of you argue too much, I will take the first bar for myself and tell everyone you were scared of it.”
Both men looked at her, then at the soap, then laughed.
Kivamus smiled. That was good. Doubt had turned into interest, and interest had turned into pride. People worked better when they felt they were part of something important, not just following strange instructions from above. The difference made from that kind of mentality would show slowly in the future in everything around the village.
Before leaving, he looked at the three workers more seriously.
“You were selected for this because you can follow instructions and keep quiet about your work,” he said. “For now, you are not to tell anyone the process. If anyone else from the manor asks, you can say we are making soap, but not how. For those who don't work at the manor, you have never heard that word soapmaking before. Understood?”
All three nodded quickly.
“Of course, milord,” the woman said.
“Since this is specialized work,” Kivamus continued, “you will each receive one extra copper a day while assigned here, the same as the paper workers. That means five coppers a day after the food and lodging deduction.”
That got their attention at once.
The first man straightened. “Thank you, milord!”
“We won’t say anything,” the second added quickly. “Not to anyone.”
The woman nodded. “You can trust us.”
“Good,” Kivamus said. “I know you’ll handle it well.”
With that settled, he left the shed with Duvas and Syrene.
They walked along the gravel path toward the manor house. There was no one close enough to overhear them now, and the sounds of the workers behind them faded quickly.
Syrene looked back once toward the shed, then turned to Kivamus.
“I still cannot believe how fortunate you were to live on Earth,” she said. “You came to know about so many things there. I wish I had been born in a place like that...”
Kivamus glanced at her. There was no envy in her voice, not really. Mostly wonder, and perhaps a little frustration that such knowledge had existed somewhere beyond her reach.
“That is not in our hands,” he said. “But we have enough knowledge to create many of those things here. Science, technology, better tools, better medicine. This is only a start.”
Syrene looked ahead again, toward the manor house, and nodded slowly. "We'll get there one day. And I'll help you take Tiranat there."
Kivamus smiled as they reached the manor house, his mind already on the final steps for the tenement block blueprint, and the new clay-firing kiln that needed to be made for it.
***
Four days later, Kivamus stood on the southwest watchtower with one hand resting on the wooden parapet.
The tower stood right beside the southwest gate, which made it one of the most important points in the village wall. If anything tried to break through that gate, the guards on this tower would have a clear view of it. That was why the second finished scorpion had been mounted here. The first one had already been placed on the northeastern watchtower, where it could cover another large section of the wall, and now they had scorpions covering both the main approaches to the village—from Kirnos and Cinran.
It was a little after four bells in the afternoon.
The villagers had been given early leave today. Most work outside the walls had stopped at two bells, and by three bells nearly everyone had returned inside. Kivamus had used the excuse of safety and rest, which was true enough. With adzee sightings becoming more frequent, no foreman had argued against bringing workers in early, even if just for a day. The workers themselves had been more than happy to go home earlier and get some much needed rest, especially since they wouldn't get a cut in their wages for this.
But the real reason was the scorpion testing.
Kivamus did not want villagers, merchants, or visiting wagon drivers standing outside the walls and watching exactly what this weapon could do.
The air was still hot, though the worst heat of the day had begun to pass. From the top of the watchtower, Kivamus could see the empty fields on the left and the road stretching away from the village toward the west. A few guards had been sent outside with target boards and long ropes for measuring. They had already placed the first target made with three planks near a newly-placed stone—neither too big nor too small, and having a rough shape common in this region—100 meters away from the wall. Further out, other stones had been set in place at 250 meters and 400 meters, which was the maximum range scorpion was supposed to hit with at least some accuracy, even if its theoretical range was higher. To anyone passing by later, they would look like ordinary leftover rocks. To the tower guards, they would become distance markers.
Hudan stood beside him, looking down at the scorpion with obvious satisfaction. Darora was crouched near the frame, checking the mounting bolts and the wooden supports one more time.
“It moves fine even after fitting it here,” Darora said. “The base is fixed to the outer side of the tower like you wanted, right ahead of the parapet. Its rotating mount can turn enough to cover the gate and this whole corner. It can even bend a little lower to target any enemies who come close, but not too much. Giving it any more freedom of movement would have meant weakening the whole mount.”
Kivamus looked at the weapon.
It looked more dangerous now than it had on the ground. Mounted at the edge of the tower, with its front pointed outside the palisade, it had a better line of sight and a clearer purpose. The heavy wooden frame had been bolted to a pivoting base, and the steel parts Cedoron had made gleamed faintly in the late afternoon light.
“Looks good,” Kivamus said. “Let’s test it.”
Isomi, one of the experienced female guards, stepped forward with the first bolt. She had been chosen for this round because the whole point of the gear mechanism was that any trained tower guard should be able to use the scorpion, not only the strongest men. She looked serious, but not afraid.
Hudan gave her space. “Take it easy. Better slow and right than fast and wrong.”
Isomi nodded.
Under Darora’s instructions, she set the string in place and began turning the side handle. The gears moved smoothly. The string pulled back bit by bit, drawing power into the torsion springs. From here on the tower, the mechanism was at a much better height than before, so she did not have to bend awkwardly the way Kivamus had during the earlier test on the ground.
When the string reached the marked point, Darora told her to stop.
She pushed the small holding lever, then placed the bolt into the groove. It was one of the three-foot bolts with an iron tip. Kivamus watched closely, not only the bolt and the string, but the steel parts taking the strain.
No bending. No shift in the mounting. No groan from the frame beyond the normal tension in the wood.
Isomi leaned into the sight, adjusting the scorpion by small amounts until the target board sat in line, asking Darora for instructions a few times. Eventually, she looked at the captain and nodded.
“Ready?” Hudan asked.
“Ready,” she said.
“Shoot.”
Isomi pulled the trigger lever.
The scorpion shot the bolt with a hard snap. The sound was sharper from the tower, and Kivamus saw the bolt cross the open ground in a blink before it struck the target board.
Accurate at first try! She was going to give Hyola a good competition at this rate.
The impact cracked loudly enough that even the guards standing on the ground just outside the wall cheered in response.
The bolt had punched straight through the planks and kicked up dirt behind them.
Hudan grinned. “Nice."
Isomi beamed at the praise.
Darora let out a breath he had probably been holding. “The mount held.”
Kivamus nodded, then looked at the steel parts again. “Check everything before the next shot.”
Darora did exactly that. He ran his hands near the fittings, checked the bolts, and looked closely at the places where the frame took the load. Kivamus checked the metal parts too. The last thing he wanted was for hidden damage to build up during testing and hurt someone later.
Everything looked fine.
They continued.
The next shot was taken by another guard, this time a man who had worked tower duty often. His bolt struck on the left side of the target but still hit it. The third shot was taken by one of the women Hudan wanted trained on the weapon, and hers hit low but punched through the planks cleanly.
Each time, they checked the scorpion.
Each time, it held.
Hudan looked at Kivamus. "Targeting seems easy enough till the distance of the first marker."
"It does. Let's try farther now," Kivamus said.
Once the 100-meter target had been shot enough to satisfy Kivamus, Hudan had the guards outside shift the next board close to the 250-meter marker. That took longer. The men outside had to carry the planks into place, then hurry back out of the line of shooting.
The distance made a difference at once.
The first shot at 250 meters missed and struck the dirt several paces behind the board. The second hit the outer edge. But the third struck properly and drove cleanly through the three planks, though with less force than at 100 meters.
“That’s still enough for bandits,” Hudan said, looking pleased. “Especially if they’re packed together.”
“Against unarmored men, yes,” Kivamus said. “Against armor, we’d want them closer if possible. But from a tower, even this range gives us a real chance.”
Darora shaded his eyes and looked toward the target, after his shot missed by a wide margin. “It is harder to aim from up here than I expected.”
“That’s why the guards need practice,” Hudan said. “A weapon like this is wasted if they only know how to reload it. We might have to create some more half-days once in a while to allow the guards to practice. But it's good to know that the scorpion works just as expected even at that distance. You've done good work on this, Darora."
The young carpenter just grinned in response.
Kivamus agreed. The scorpion was powerful, but power alone was not enough. If the guards could not judge distance, correct the angle, and stay calm while something charged toward the wall, the weapon would do far less than it should.
They tested a few more shots at 250 meters, including some at six-plank thick targets, to simulate an armored knight. The guards couldn't always hit the target, but whenever they did, the iron tip of the bolt always came out of the back of the last plank. More than enough to kill a knight at that distance. Kivamus' own try also succeeded, and he hit the target nearly at the center, whether by luck or skill.
Finally, they placed a three-plank target at the 400-meter marker, and made a fresh attempt at it. That shot missed the board entirely by a wide margin, though it still landed far enough beyond the target board which made it clear that the power of the scorpion was not in question even at that distance, but it would be much more difficult to hit a moving target there.
Hudan snorted. “At that range, we’ll need either a hell of a lot of practice or a very unlucky enemy.”
Kivamus smiled. “Both would be better.”
The captain only laughed.