Chương 78: Chapter 2.15: Whoopsie

Favius's expression fell as if he had bitten into a lemon. His thoughts ran in a circle. So much of modern industry, especially chemistry, depends on stainless steel vessels, I think. So far, I've been using copper, but even if we could emulate that with copper, we don't have the same sizes as back on Earth. The local metalworkers simply don't have the skill to work on that scale. He groaned. Caliga and Urania exchanged a look while Marcus and Serran whispered. Did I make another mistake?

Is mass production of soap really locked in the tech tree behind large-scale metallurgy? He narrowed his eyes. Yet before he could actually start thinking about the problem, Urania sniffed.

"Of course that isn't an issue. You're all making a simple mistake." Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"And, my dear daughter, what mistake would that be?"

"You're over-fixating on the current framing of the problem." She looked at Serran, and Favius's eyes widened. Well, she's certainly quick-witted, but what has she— Urania continued.

"Serran, you see us using copper cauldrons to boil the soap, and you ask how we can acquire and maintain bigger and better cauldrons." She gestured dismissively.

"But turning the cauldrons into a problem is the real mistake."

"Because," Favius fell into her explanation, "the question isn't about copper cauldrons. The question is about boiling large quantities of soap."

"Exactly," she continued, a glitter in her owl eyes.

"And as for large vessels where we use fire to heat liquids..." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the gymnasium.

"Don't we all regularly visit the baths?" A moment of silence preceded chuckles erupting all around the table.

"Of course," murmured Serran, and even Favius shook his head. Stone basins. And well, I don't actually know how their concrete works, but someone mentioned they use volcanic ash, so...

"But won't that be leaky?" asked Caliga.

"I know it works for aqueducts, but their stone is often wet. I've seen it in Cindrath." Urania's face fell as Favius groaned.

"Oh fuck. Fire hazards." Marcus and Serran studied him.

"Fire hazards," Serran repeated. Then his eyes widened, and even Marcus took in a sharp breath. Brutus sniffed and spoke up.

"If a pool leaks some water into the pipes delivering heat to the room under the baths, that's one thing. But if oil drips into the fire..."

"No." Favius shook his head.

"It's not actually that bad. Even if some oil drips through, as long as the sides of the pools are kept clean, it has no way of running into the main volume." He swallowed. I hope. Well, that's one aspect of bringing industry to this world that I'm not enthused about. Industrial-scale production gets you industrial-scale accidents.

"There is a rather simple solution here, Father. All it needs is some of your investment." He looked first at the sometimes miserly Majordomo, and then at the politician.

"We will need a stone building." Serran winced.

"A stone building..."

"Father." Favius knocked his knuckles on the table before pointing up to the painted ceiling.

"And I don't just mean stone basins and walls. The ceiling too. There should be as little wood used in the soap workshop as possible." The Majordomo winced again as if he had been slapped, and even Marcus looked sour.

"Such a construction... it's certainly possible, but..."

"But," Brutus cleared his throat.

"Heed your son's counsel, Brother. When we took the Southern Celtic port of Massyra, I was part of a squad that infiltrated at night over the walls. We set fire to certain warehouses, among them one storing hundreds of amphorae filled with olive oil. The inferno..." For maybe the first time, Favius saw not quite fear, but definitely awe mixed with terror in the powerful cultivator's eyes. Yeah, avoiding fire at oil depots appears to have been a wise safety tip ever since antiquity.

He swallowed, recalling images from various wars on Earth.

"Very well. I see the wisdom in this," said Marcus, and looked at Serran. The Majordomo slowly nodded.

"Might I also suggest that we place this workshop several hundred arm lengths from any other building or structure we care about?" Favius gave the man a chagrined smile.

"That might indeed be prudent."

"Serran, if you would give us an estimate," Marcus began. The man clicked his tongue. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"A large building. Well, essentially a bathhouse wrought entirely from stone. I would think the Collegium of Stoneworkers might build such for..." His expression grew pained in an instant.

"Twenty-five silver senati." Marcus inhaled sharply, yet Favius pounced.

"And that's not all. With the tools and necessary operational capital, we probably require thirty-five. No." He shook his head.

"Let's make that forty silver senati for safety." Marcus studied him for a long moment, then looked at Serran. Urania tilted her head, then nodded. The Senator raised his two hands in surrender.

"I would deem this madness if I hadn't seen how much many are willing to pay for but a single bar of soap. Very well, Son. You shall have your money. But..." He paused, his expression turning intense, golden, and absolute.

"Do not make me regret my faith in you." Favius nodded solemnly.

"Trust me, Father, you won't regret it." Marcus hummed and took another long sip from his cup of spiced wine. Favius followed the man's example, yet only to wet his mouth. He clicked his tongue, enjoying the fruity cinnamon taste. Then he pushed a wax tablet across the table and couldn't help but suppress a smirk. I used my insight to generate this graph. I guess I really need to start working on inventing PowerPoint, because literally moving wax tablet slides just doesn't have the same effect.

"As you can see here, I believe it's best to start with twenty workers. Some of them new, others people who are already involved with our soap-making at the moment. In three years, I expect us to have fifty workers, and within ten, we should comfortably exceed a hundred."

"Only a hundred?" asked Caliga. But Serran nodded.

"Indeed, the Young Master is wise to moderate his desire for expansion. Delegating more people to a certain task can help. But I suspect the limits at scale might be the size of the workshop, or simple practicalities regarding how much of the feedstocks can be acquired cheaply, yes?" Favius nodded.

"While I already said that I expect ten thousand stoneweights of soap once the workshop is up and running with the initial crew, within ten years I am fairly confident that we might exceed one hundred thousand stoneweights each cycle." He sniffed. Producing over one hundred tons of soap. It's probably so trivial compared to the chemical industry on Earth, but here... He studied the expressions on the faces of the adults.

"That should suffice to load dozens of wagons."

"Never mind wagons," Marcus interjected.

"I do not believe a single ship would be enough to carry this."

"Ships," murmured Serran.

"A small barge like we use to bring out the harvest might deliver it down the Loran to the Eron and thus to Cindrath and Lirene. Yes, yes, that seems..."

"I shall leave the logistics to you," said Marcus. Urania gasped sharply. She sat there, frozen. Her lips were moving silently. She stared at Favius, pointing at the wax tablets.

"Give me your numbers, your estimates. Now."

"What?"

"Give them to me," she hissed, her voice almost vicious. Her eyes were excited or fearful, maybe both. Can't quite tell. Without further ado, Favius pushed over the wax tablets. Urania glared at them intensely and studied them for several moments. She closed her eyes before opening them and staring into the void for several seconds.

"What?" demanded Brutus. Urania slowly turned her head first to Favius, then to Serran.

"Run the calculations. Try estimating the total profit."

"Estimating the total profit?" Favius narrowed his eyes. Well, I didn't really focus on this because Marcus was so enthusiastic about the soap that throwing large numbers at him beyond saying it will be a lot of money seemed fairly— He paused. The prices, the volumes, the cheap feedstocks, even considering the fuel and the money invested into the stone building... No, that's just a one-time investment, so it amortizes over the entire production. It's almost meaningless.

He let pneuma run to his insight, and one by one the problems framing the graphs before his mind's eyes ran toward a single conclusion. Yet before he could finish it, Urania whispered.

"I checked it thrice now. Unless I'm mistaken, we might make fifty gold senati initially."

"And," she swallowed hard.

"If we are operating at full capacity..." She paused and swallowed again.

"Five hundred gold senati. Per year," she whispered, barely audible. In an instant, the sharp killing intent of Brutus's aura crashed down on all of them, flooding the room like a suffocating blanket of bloodlust. Marcus's servant Antonius stumbled back against the wall next to the fireplace, and a mangled scream escaped his throat. Marcus stiffened, Serran flinched, and the girls whimpered. Even Favius noticed belatedly that he had jumped out of his seat, away from the cultivator in an instant.

Brutus's expression was lethally calm and deadly serious. He shared a look with Marcus.

"The numbers..." Marcus murmured. But Brutus interjected.

"Nobody was in the hallway. The rooms around us are clear. And the pair of slaves walking close to the windows were too far to really hear it." Marcus nodded, his eyes almost seeming to shine with gold.

"This. This..." Favius put a hand on his hammering heart and let out a long breath.

"I haven't finished my calculation." He glared at Urania.

"That can't possibly be. You must have carried a zero wrong." He looked at her and moved his hands in a calming gesture, first at Marcus, then at Brutus. But Urania sneered at him.

"I did not miscarry a fucking zero," she hissed, her eyes widening slightly at her own use of profanity. Favius stood still and grasped the table. He let the pneuma run freely through his insight, did the visualization again, and slowly reached the same conclusion. Five hundred. It's somewhat optimistic, but even if it's only twenty and later two hundred gold senati. That...

Well, for all that the conversion between the local money and Earth money is hard, that's a multimillion-dollar company with tens of millions in profit per year. Holy shit. How? What? Favius shook his head and focused on the room as Serran nodded solemnly, staring at the numbers he had scratched into the wax tablet.

"The Young Lady's estimate might be optimistic, but even with money lost to traders, transport, and other inefficiencies..." Serran looked around the room.

"She is correct. This might make the familia hundreds of gold senati within a few years."

"That's absurd," murmured Caliga.

"Those kinds of profits," Marcus murmured.

"They are what define the greatest houses of Lirene. Never mind Cindrath." A heavy silence settled over the room, but Favius shook his head. How? I'm just cooking soap, not cocaine. How can this make so much money? He grimaced. I really should have calculated the total potential profit. I had all the components, but I just knew that it would be profitable. Favius sniffed. If I had been trying to convince Marcus to invest at all, I likely would have focused on this, but the investment was never in doubt.

He looked over his wax tablets, his notes and plans. This conversation was always about control and obligations. How instead of if. If only I hadn't rushed the preparations with contingency plans for Marcus trying to get full control... The Senator raised two fingers.

"Very well. If this is confirmed..." He briefly glanced at the Majordomo, then at his two children. All of them nodded in turn.

"I will have your oath." He looked over his shoulder at Antonius, who had slowly picked himself back up from the wall. The golden authority mixed with the dense killing intent. Favius could barely breathe.

"Speak of this to no one. We shall reconvene and think about this—" He gestured at the table.

"—contract in three days' time." He took the wax tablet without asking.

"This... This is something that requires deliberation," Marcus murmured after everyone present had sworn an oath to secrecy.

"The implications of this are beyond..."

"Indeed," Brutus nodded. He gave Favius a deep, unreadable look.

"The implications are as tempting as they are dangerous."