Chapter 6 - Year 659 Day 50
I stood in the Village Hall of Pine Ridge. There were people from every walk of life present. From Harold the farmer to Preston the chief chemist among the black powder creators. Emily, of course, represented the paper makers, and our chief engineer, Sanders, was sitting with a sketch pad on one of the benches. Benjamin and Edward were there to take the minutes and collect signatures.
"Men and Women of North Cove. I am glad you have heeded my summons. Today, we begin something amazing. Today, we lay the foundation for the future progress of North Cove. You have all been selected not just for your intelligence and knowledge in your field, but due to your loyalty towards a cause greater than yourself. Today, we are creating the 'Order of the Reality Benders.'" I said dramatically. Unfortunately, the room remained silent.
"The purpose of this order is to change the world as we know it. To bend reality to our will and accomplish things that others would think impossible. Whether it be creating a new tool to help with farming or a carriage that can move without an animal to pull it, in doing so, you will earn yourself a place in history.
"I will now read the codex of our order."
The Codex of the Order of Reality Benders
Preamble
Let it be known to those who take this oath: the Order of Reality Benders is founded under the hand and authority of Count Amos Bicman of North Cove. By his vision and command are we gathered, and by his will are we guided. We are bound not by public charter nor by royal sanction, but by secrecy, loyalty, and the pursuit of truth. The world beyond our walls is not yet ready for what we will forge. Thus, our works shall be hidden until the appointed hour.
I. The Mission
To seek out knowledge wherever it may be found—whether in earth, flame, glass, or ink—and to shape that knowledge into tools that uplift our people.
To bend reality to our will, not for idle curiosity or vanity, but to strengthen the realm of North Cove, preserve its people, and secure its future.
To guard fiercely all discoveries, concealing from outsiders that which would be twisted for greed, tyranny, or ruin.
To preserve our knowledge against the erosion of time, so that even if one hand falls silent, the wisdom shall endure in the Order.
II. Membership
Admission into the Order is granted only by Count Amos Bicman. No man, woman, or child may claim a place save by his voice.
Each member must prove worthy through skill, craft, or knowledge. Mediocrity has no place here; only those who advance the purpose of the Order shall be sworn.
Membership is for life, save in cases of betrayal, wherein expulsion and ruin shall follow.
III. Obligations of Members
Secrecy – No word of the Order’s existence shall pass to outsiders. A careless tongue shall be deemed betrayal.
Loyalty – Allegiance is to the Count of North Cove, sole master and protector of this Order. His word is law, his will is command.
Sharing of Knowledge – All discoveries belong to the Order. No knowledge may be hidden for personal gain. What is learned must be recorded and entrusted to the Count.
Protection – Members shall guard one another and their works as if guarding their own blood. To abandon a fellow in peril is to abandon the Order itself.
Restraint – In matters of destruction—gunpowder, poisons, engines of war—none shall act without the Count’s sanction. The power to end lives lies not in the hands of craftsmen but in the judgment of their lord.
IV. The Oath
Each initiate, upon being received, shall kneel before Count Amos Bicman and speak thus:
“I swear by the Endless One and by my honor, to guard the secrets of the Order of Reality Benders. I will not betray nor forsake my fellow members. I will surrender all knowledge to the Order, and I will hold nothing back for greed or gain. I bind my life and my craft to Count Amos Bicman, who is master of the Order, keeper of its secrets, and judge of its destiny. This I swear, upon pain of exile, ruin, and dishonor.”
When these words are spoken, the initiate is marked as a Reality Bender and bound until death.
V. Penalties for Betrayal
Any who break their oath shall be cast out and named traitor. Their name shall be stricken, their works seized, their honor blackened.
Should betrayal endanger the lives of members or the secrecy of the Order, death shall be decreed by Count Amos Bicman without appeal.
Let it be remembered: betrayal once given cannot be undone. The stain endures beyond the grave.
VI. The Legacy
The Order shall live beyond the span of men’s lives. Though its works be hidden, though its scrolls be buried in secret places, the Order shall endure. Should the Count fall, his heir shall inherit both the authority and the burden of command. If the House of Bicman itself be extinguished, the last sworn member shall guard the secrets until another patron is deemed worthy.
So it is written, and so it shall be kept, by the will of Count Amos Bicman, founder and master of the Order of Reality Benders.
Fortunately, I did not write this myself. Benjamin came up with it. To me, it sounded pretentious, but Benjamin said it was necessary. I have no idea what he meant by that.
After reading off the document, I explained that this was all voluntary. Despite the consequences I had outlined for breaking the oath, each individual came forward and swore themselves to secrecy. This was going to be the start of something grand, and nobody wanted to miss out on it.
A chill suddenly ran down my spine as I was getting Illuminati vibes. The secret organization of the Age of Enlightenment sought to advance secular knowledge and later became part of the conspiracy theory culture. I wonder what the Reality Benders would become a hundred years from now.
At least it had a cool name. I wish I could claim it as my own, but I stole it from one of my favorite authors.
"Now that we have all the signatures on this document, I would like to give a demonstration of what I hope to accomplish in all of your fields by working together. Jorb, could you please bring up the springs?"
He laid three different springs on the table. One that was used for compression, like a shock. One that was used for extension, like you use for a trampoline, definitely on my to-do list, and what I think was called a torsion spring, or was it a torque spring? I couldn't remember, but it was the type you use in clothespins.
"Jorb, I want you to explain how you made each of these in detail, from the creation of the steel to the discovery of quenching and reheating. Then we will demonstrate what they are and how they can be used. Men and women, I do not expect all of you to glean insight from how it was made, but some of you may get an idea of how to use them in your own field."
Jorb then started discussing in broad strokes how the spring was made. Starting from the mining of the ore to the tempering of the steel, I was so proud of myself when I remembered the name tempering. It had to have come from some hidden memory. Maybe it was from the one time I watched that "Forged in Fire" show.
He explained the difficulties they had as well as what he was still having trouble with.
"The main problem now is consistency. We have been testing the springs all day yesterday. Some last longer than others. Some last 1000 pulls, some last 2000. The best one lasted 3000." He said.
"And why do you think that is?" I asked.
"We think it is the amount of iron compared to the carbon in it?"
"What are you going to try to do to fix the issue?"
"We will be pounding the sheer steel more. To try and mix it better."
I turned to the audience. "Now I want you to ask questions either related to the process or talk about other things he could try."
I was met with dead silence. These people were completely unprepared for this. Cross-field research was not a concept familiar to this world, let alone asking it of a group of people so far away from the scholars of the world. The room was silent for almost five fractions before a weaver in the back spoke up.
"So is it like kneading dough? If you knead more, you get better consistency, but it might become too tough?"
"Maybe? That sounds similar." Jorb said politely.
"Excellent question," I said encouragingly, "This is the type of thing we need to discuss. Everyone comes from a different background, which gives them unique perspectives on things. Sometimes those views might spark questions or give us answers. The comment also brings up another question. How much pounding should we do? Will too much make it brittle?"
My encouragement brought in a flood of other things. What was the temperature of the water? Had they thought to use something other than water? What would happen if they completely melted it and then put it in water? Do they heat it multiple times as they are pounding it, or are they just going to keep pounding it?
Some things he had answers to, others he didn't. After about half a bell of discussion, someone asked. "If you are not getting a consistent amount of carbon with heating it in a box, why not melt the wrought iron completely with charcoal, or just add in some pig iron or cast iron with it?"
That blew up into another conversation on how to verify the amount of carbon in the cast iron and the quantities needed. Also, how to build the furnace that would be able to melt the two together, melting it would have to be done in a sealed container to prevent the oxygen from affecting the end result.
The engineers were salivating not just at the idea of using springs but also at the fact that we had made harder steel. At some point, they had pulled away from the main conversation and were having their own little discussion.
After an hour of focus on the uses of springs and improving steel, we moved to something revolutionary. We released the knowledge of the printing press. Besides Edward, whom I had put in charge of the project, only Emily and the engineers were aware of its existence. The building of the first printing press was coming slowly. A high level of precision was required to make it work just right with each press. One of the reasons I introduced the spring first was to see how that might help.
"One issue we are having is the ink," Edward said. "The ink we use to write our books is too thin, and when applied to the stamps, it runs and makes the letters illegible."
Roger the fuller spoke up. "When we dye clothing, we add linseed oil to thicken it. There are also a few resins that might help. I don't have a way to show you everything here, but if you come to Cofi, you can tour the shop, and I will share some supplies that might help."
Edward bowed his head. "Your help would be much appreciated."
I was glad to see that Roger had insight into that. I also used the linseed to make my paints, and I didn't even think of that. The power of group thinking.
Something came to my mind as all this was going on. At my school, during my senior year, they purchased a 3D printer. Nathan had wanted to go see how it worked when they were giving the demonstration after school. Since he had the keys, I was forced to tag along. I remember them talking about how they had to make sure the bed was completely level. They used screws that would compress springs to make it level. Would that help with the printing press? I started sketching it out. When done, I presented it to the engineers.
Since springs were new to them, it took a bit for them to finally understand the concept, but once they did, it was like telling a kid Christmas was coming early. I had a feeling I'd need to sit down with these guys separately and take a full day to address any questions they had and explore areas where we could improve things with a coil spring. Yes, I really think I had just started the Age of Enlightenment. I hope I wasn't getting ahead of myself.
"Hey, can you make a long tube of that steel?" one of my explosives experts said. "I also need one of those springs. I have an idea."
I groaned inwardly. This is how we lose people.
****
Over the next few days, we had the first annual conference of the "Reality Benders." We discuss all the projects we are currently working on, how they might fit in with North Cove's current projects, and what we need for the future. A thousand ideas were generated, and almost as many were thrown out. I was constantly pushing them to think bigger.
Of course, the new shiny object, the coil spring, got the most attention. Everyone wanted to figure out how they could use it in their own equipment. Everything from the flyer on the spinning wheel to absorbing vibrations on the reapers.
When we started discussing the plow, Henry asked if it could absorb the shock of the bumps and rocks of the soil. This took us off track of whether a coil spring or a leaf spring would work better. We realized that the steel leaf spring would be best. Then started designing it.
Then, as Henry felt the newly polished spring, his eyes lit up with excitement.
"This metal is very smooth," he said.
"Yes," I said as if that should be obvious.
"And will it be durable if we make it as a large piece?"
I turned to Jorb for the answer. "It doesn't matter the size, it should be durable and smooth, no matter how large you make it."
"Can you make a plow head out of it?"
Jorb scratched his beard. "I suppose, but are the plows you have not good enough?"
"They are excellent. However, the soil sticks to them, so it is slower, and we have to use two mules to plow the field instead of one. If this steel is smooth, maybe the soil will not stick. If this is so, we may not need to be constantly cleaning them, and it would free up a horse."
"I love that idea," I said. "It would also apply to other tools that we use in this marsh. However, due to the limited amount we produce, I think we should focus on the most essential things and then create a few for fall planting to see how they work."
I especially liked the idea since we were now short on mules again.
It wasn't just the springs; we came up with a list of things to try and add to anything we melted. Overall, I think the meeting went very well. A smaller session would also be held once a month with anyone available. This would be to discuss not new things yet to be done, but any results they had found.
I saved one last thing until the very end.
Tumlus stood up and, in a very shaky voice, said, "We were having trouble creating what Count Bicman wanted us to create. He wanted a clear glass disk. I… Um, we tried a lot of things, but our glass came out in all different shades of green and foggy. Also, it was either too brittle or very bubbly. We overcame this issue by adding extra ash. The new furnace allowed us to reach a higher temperature and maintain it for a longer period. When we did that, more of the bubbles came out. However, we have not found a way to remove all the impurities. We need, um, something to either remove them or find more pure sand. We found that the sand with fewer black grains is not as green. But we can't find one that is perfect. We did manage to make one batch, though that must not have had as many black grains, or we added something by accident, and because that batch came out a lot clearer. So if anyone knows where to find sand without the black grains or something that will make it go away in the furnace, will you let me know?"
He was about to continue when Mathew, Jorb's son and the person who handled most of the finer metal work, spoke up. "You need a load stone."
Everyone turned to look at him, and he immediately looked down. There was silence that seemed to drag on forever. Finally, I broke the silence. "What does a magnet do?" I asked, already thinking I knew the answer.
"Well, we use sand in the molds and some other things at the forge, and one time I was playing with a magnet rock and stuff started sticking to it. I began to collect it into a pile by running it around on the sand and wiping off the black stuff. I got a big pile of black sand in a jar. It has to be a strong magnet rock, though not the weak ones."
I started to laugh. "Well done, Mathew. You were pulling the iron out of the sand. Looks like you have another experiment to run, Tumlus."
I clapped my hands to make sure everyone was paying attention Now, I think you have something to present?"
That woke Tumlus from his shock. He shook his head as if trying to reset himself. "Yes, like I said, we had a batch that was mostly clear and were able to get a large enough space that didn't have bubbles in it, so we could make your disk. We had to remelt it and start over a few times, but we were finally able to polish a piece down that did what you wanted it to."
He stood up with a small box and walked over to me with it just as I had instructed him to. He opened the lid and presented a small, round piece of very pale green glass to me. I held it up to the light and admired it. Then I looked at the charter I had in front of me and saw the words enlarge. I smiled as I looked through the world's first-ever glass lens. It was about five centimeters in diameter, and compared to modern Earth standards, it was nothing special, and you could see the obvious flaws where there was some slight warping, but you could definitely burn some ants… I mean, start a campfire with it.
I turned to Benjamin, who was sitting next to me. "Take this."
He leaned over and gently grabbed the lens of the edge. I helped show him how holding closer or further from the page changed the focus. "Now move it until the words come into focus."
I knew exactly when it happened because he suddenly dropped the lens in shock. He quickly picked it back up while apologizing to me. Then he held it up again, and I could see him mouthing the words as he read the paper.
"Sure beats squinting at the pages, doesn't it?" I said with a grin.
"I am sorry, my lord," he said as a tear left a trail down his face. "I am so sorry for doubting you. Y-you promised me that it wasn't a problem. You said that you would make it so I could see the words. I-I…" He paused and took a deep breath. "Thank you, my lord. Thank you for this miracle."
"Tumlus and his glassmakers are the miracle workers. I just pointed them in the right direction. But seriously, Benjamin. If you think this is a miracle, wait until you see what they are going to do next."
The problem with all of these advancements and experiments was that they required more people. That meant more mouths to feed. Hopefully, some of those problems would be resolved with the deal I had recently made with our new emissary, Jarum, but only time would tell.
Jonathan of the Mit Trading House
It had been three days since the old man found him, and still, everything hurt. Jonathan had been a fool to go back onto the road after what he had heard. Those men had been looking for him specifically. And why wouldn't they have been? Random people headed to North Cove was one thing, but a person who traveled by ship and arrived in Vaspar would obviously be more important to the Count than some peasant fleeing a bad situation.
Fortunately, other than his purse and all his clothes, Vaspar's men hadn't done more than rough him up. He was surprised his throat hadn't been slit. The peasant, Greg, had brought him to his home, where he lived with his wife and adult son. His son's wife was dead, but they had four teenage children. They didn't have a whole lot they could feed him other than mash. There were some local herbs to help with the scrapes and bruises. The most generous gift was a pair of pants and some worn-out sandals that they were able to offer him. It was time to leave, though.
"I am sorry we could not offer you more," the old man said as he stood in the doorway of the hovel.
"Nonsense, Greg, you have done more than most would do. When I arrive at my sister's place, I will be scolded for a few days before she bothers to get me any clothes to wear. And when things calm down, I will be sure to return and reward you properly for your kindness." Jonathan said with a wave.
"As you wish. Next time, I recommend traveling the mountains of Yarbeth and Decmoore. There is supposedly a trail that leads into the land of North Cove. If you are looking to flee your past master, I hear there is a community in a valley of three rivers in a land they now call Plimgus."
Jonathan felt guilty about the story he had told the old man about how he was fleeing a lord who had demanded more than Jonathan could pay. "And Count Bicman doesn't mind?"
The old man chuckled. "Son, I don't think you realize how large the land of North Cove is. It is also very empty. I am sure that the people there have some sort of understanding with the guards of that barony that keep them looking the other way. Though from what I hear, the count wouldn't mind if he had a few extra people living on his lands."
"Thank you again, Greg, and I will keep that valley in mind," Jonathan said as he turned to leave. He, of course, would not be trying his luck with that route. He had a better idea. He had been hesitant to try at first due to the extra price of ship's passage, but he was going to try to convince a captain in Vaspart to travel straight to North Cove.