Chương 13

Unfortunately for the couple, hopes for a second kiss were shattered when Hruk chose that exact moment to leap up and bark at a bird overhead. The noise drew Bryn and Cael out of the house, forcing Ciri to step back, snatch up her book, and flip it open to a random page. When Noah glanced at the Fae pair, he noticed they were staring a little too intently at the sky, very pointedly not looking at him or Ciri. Yeah, they definitely saw the kiss.

"We should go inside," Noah said, standing and offering Ciri his hand.

"If I keep Bryn in suspense about the other enhancements I've got in mind for her workshop, she might throw her hammer at me." He shrugged.

"Besides, you might want to take notes if you're interested in how modern factories work in my world."

"Yes. Of course." She snapped her book shut and tucked it into her satchel.

"You could tell us another story afterward," Cael added.

"One from your realm."

"I do not believe we have time," Ciri countered, taking Noah's hand and pulling herself to her feet.

"Noah is scheduled to meet with my father early this afternoon, to discuss other problems he might solve."

"Right." Noah nodded.

"Another time?"

"Alright," Cael said, disappointment creeping into his voice. Together with Hruk and the Fae couple, Noah and Ciri stepped back into the grey stone building. The temperature rose immediately, a wave of heat that made Noah sweat. Despite no longer needing his hand, Ciri kept hold of him, fingers firm, as if reluctant to let go. Noah's eyes swept the narrow workshop. To his right, a large table was buried under papers covered in half-penciled runes and sketches of tools and contraptions.

Further back sat the enclosed metal forge, a solid anvil, a quenching station, and dozens of tools scattered in no particular order. Near the front door stood a counter for customers, beside a staircase leading to the second floor where Noah knew a kitchen and small office waited.

"So. Tell me," Bryn said, dragging a metal stool across the stone floor with a wince-inducing scrape. Noah gave Ciri's hand one last squeeze then released her and took a seat at one of the drafting tables.

"The first thing I'd like to do is reorganize your workflow a bit."

"What does that mean?" Bryn asked cautiously. He pointed toward the forge.

"I've been watching you work the last couple of days. How much time do you spend looking for the right hammer? Or a pair of tongs?"

"I know where everything is," she said defensively.

"You do not," Cael countered.

"You're not exactly the picture of organization either," she shot back.

"The problem isn't either of you," Noah interjected, stepping in before the bickering escalated.

"It's your setup. You have nowhere to put things."

"Go on," Cael said.

"You need racks, wall clamps, containers. A tool rack over there, clamps here to hold paper, and a shelf between you with bins for different items." Bryn slowly nodded.

"I think I can manage that."

"Won't it just get messy again?" Cael asked.

"It might. But we can size everything so each rack or container only fits one type of tool. That way it's obvious where things go, and obvious when something's out of place."

"I like that," Bryn said.

"Easier to stay in the flow when you don't have to think about anything else."

"A clever solution. Is this what your factories do?" Ciri asked, already pulling out her notepad.

"Yeah. It's all about standardizing and placement. Do the same task over and over, and keep the tools for that task close at hand." He turned to Bryn.

"So your hammers go near the anvil, but your tongs go closer to the forge."

"Got it." Bryn grinned.

"I can do that. We could even use some of those mechanical clamps you showed me."

"Now, your ventilation and lighting are surprisingly good," Noah continued, pointing to the magically powered lights and air shafts.

"But every time you need the forge hotter, you cast another fire spell. What if you didn't have to do that as often?"

"How?" Bryn asked.

"This is called a bellows." He turned to the paper beside him and accepted a pencil from Cael.

"It's basically a pedal that pushes air into the forge. You attach a pipe to a leather bag between two wooden boards, like this." He sketched quickly.

"Put it on a stand near the forge, and whenever you need more heat, you press down. It forces air in, which makes the fire hotter. Dead simple."

"And this will heat the forge?" Bryn asked skeptically.

"Absolutely. Trust me. Or don't—just try it. If it saves you even a few fire spells, that's a win."

"It would mean fewer trips to the tower," Cael muttered.

"I'll try it," Bryn said.

"Shouldn't take more than a few hours to build."

"Great." Noah turned to Cael.

"While she's at it, I've got a task for you."

"Oh?" Cael blinked.

"Rune stencils."

"Come again?"

"I want you to make a guide out of something solid—metal, wood, whatever. Something I can trace to draw the runes." He held up a hand as Cael opened his mouth to object.

"I know it's unconventional. But it'll help me learn."

"What if the stencils are stolen? We'd be handing valuable secrets to whoever takes them."

"What if you only gave him stencils for commonly known spells?" Ciri suggested.

"Harmless ones. Healing, light, a few others." Noah nodded.

"I'm not looking for combat magic. Just a guide to get the feel for it. I don't even have a writ—this is purely academic." Cael narrowed his eyes, thinking.

"This is not how I learned."

"I know. I'm asking for a lot." He exhaled.

"If it were anyone else, I would refuse. But… for you, I will do it."

"Thank you, Cael."

"But I am making them out of wood. And if there is even a minute chance they might be captured, you will burn them." This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"I can manage that." Silence settled over the workshop until Ciri spoke.

"We should go. My father is expecting us."

"But what about the repeater crossbow?" Bryn asked, disappointed.

"We didn't get to talk about that yet."

"I'll draw up some designs tonight," Noah said, rising.

"Then I can come back tomorrow with some fresh ideas. I'm sure I'll have a few more requests on behalf of the tribe anyways."

"And that should give you enough time to create a few racks and finish your other requests." Cael reminded her. Nodding wordlessly in agreement, Bryn walked them to the door and gave Noah a hearty slap on the back—hard enough to nearly send him face-first into the dirt. Her eyes went wide as she realized what she'd done and stammered an apology, but he waved her off with a laugh. Ciri took his hand again, and he offered her a final smile before they set off down a street he hadn't explored before.

"I thought we were going to see your father?"

"We are."

"But your house is that way."

"We are not going to my home. We are going to the Circle. It is where the tribe meets for important affairs."

"Ah. That makes more sense." As they neared a long, flat, circular stone building, Noah noticed that most of the tribe's Fae were heading the same way. The crowd—mostly women—pressed in around them, several casting questioning glances at the couple. He kept his eyes fixed on Ciri as she pulled him forward, but in the back of his mind he tried to guess whether the stares were because he was holding her hand, because he was human, or because he was a man. Or all three. Inside, Noah's eyes widened.

The grey stone interior sloped gently downward, forming a bowl with a circular stage at its center. Fae drifted along the rim with them, searching for open seats. Murals of magical creatures and wonders lined the walls, and a glowing orb overhead bathed the space in soft white light.

"Come. It would not look good if we were late," Ciri said, tugging him toward the middle. Noah spotted Ken, Aelya, Thala, and Vela seated near the center. They waved him forward, and the Fae sitting lower in the bowl parted to let him and Ciri through. When they reached the bottom, he glanced up at the crowd—and a slow realization dawned.

"Uh… Ciri?"

"Yes?" she asked.

"I didn't realize your parents wanted me to speak in front of all these people. I thought this was going to be more of a… I don't know, casual, private thing?"

"It was," Ken said, having overheard.

"Unfortunately, I mentioned it to a few, who mentioned it to others, and well…" He gestured helplessly around them.

"This isn't a problem, is it?" Noah closed his eyes, released Ciri's hand, took a steadying breath, then looked at Ken again.

"No. It'll be fine. Just… warn me next time."

"I will do my best." Ken nodded, then turned to his wives.

"Shall we begin?" Without warning, Aelya raised her voice over the murmuring crowd.

"We are your Keepers!"

"Protect us from harm," the crowd intoned, all conversation ceasing at once.

"We hold the old paths!" Thala called.

"Guide us through shadow."

"Donn waits beyond the veil!" Ken bellowed.

"We do not fear the end."

"Danu, Dôn, and Anu give breath and bloom!" Vela shouted.

"We rise by their grace."

"Life to death, and death to life!" Ken cried.

"The cycle binds us." Then all four of Ciri's parents spoke as one.

"We stand as one, beneath their gaze."

"So we are. So we remain." Silence fell instantly. The ritual reminded Noah of the rare times distant relatives had dragged him to church—awkward, unsure of the traditions, uncertain when to stand or speak. That awkwardness only deepened as he realized most of the crowd's eyes were now on him.

"Thank you for joining us today," Aelya said, her tone softer but still commanding.

"As many of you know, we are joined by a traveler—Noah." She gestured toward him. Someone shouted something in Fae, prompting a wave of feminine giggles. Noah cursed his limited grasp of the language—and the fact that the translation spell clearly didn't reach the far edges of the room. He shot Aelya a questioning look, only to notice Ciri off to the side, fuming.

"What did she say?"

"She inquired about your marital status," Aelya murmured before continuing.

"Noah has proven resourceful even without magic. He believes he may have methods to help us. The purpose of this conclave is for him to hear our concerns, propose solutions, and negotiate payment." She nodded to Ken.

"You may proceed." Ken stepped forward.

"Our first concern comes from Myrithra. Will Myrithra step forward?" A Fae woman with striking yellow hair rose near the back. She began speaking confidently, but Noah only caught one word in three. He thought she might be a laborer of some kind, but wasn't certain.

"I'm sorry," he said, raising a hand.

"Can… she come closer? The translation spell isn't reaching back there, and my Fae isn't good enough yet." Myrithra moved through the crowd with easy confidence, the others parting to give her a narrow path. As she approached, Noah couldn't help noticing her brown eyes and the curvy, muscular build of someone accustomed to hard outdoor labor. She wore heavy boots and thick brown coveralls over a lighter shirt.

"Myrithra, right?" Noah asked as she stopped at the edge of the bowl, one hand on her hip.

"That's right."

"Good. Let's start again. What problem are you running into?"

"Most buildings here need some sort of repairs and we can't get the stone from the mines to where it needs to go fast enough." She said. A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd as Noah leaned in.

"Tell me more. How does the stone get from the mine to here?" She looked at him incredulously for a moment.

"You…don't know how stone gets to a town?"

"Humor me." He said with a smile.

"And please be as detailed as you can."

"Well, first we mine and shape the stone from The Watching Peak. We use magic and pickaxes to shape it into blocks." Noah nodded.

"I'm guessing The Watching Peak is the mountain nearby?"

"Yes." She said, still looking at him strangely.

"Then, we transport the blocks to where they need to go."

"Okay, but how do you transport them?" Noah asked.

"We load the blocks onto sledges, then pull them in teams." She grinned as she looked down at her muscular arms.

"You don't get muscles like these without pulling stone, you know. You seem a little dim even for a man, but if you like muscular girls I'm sure there are a few on my team who'd be into that." Sort of like the ancient Egyptians. He thought, ignoring the comment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ciri's jaw clench, causing him to change the subject.

"Talk me through the problem again. Where in the process is it? Mining the stone, shaping it, or transporting it?"

"Transporting it." She replied, the grin fading.

"It takes too long to haul."

"And you can't use magic because…" He trailed off.

"The ancient Fae had spells to transport large stone blocks, but we have no record of the rune anymore." Ciri answered.

"Okay, fair point." He scratched his head.

"Why are you using sledges? Why not use carts? It'd be a whole lot easier."

"A cart?" Myrithra eyed him.

"I don't know if you're stupid, or-""Just…please? Tell me." Noah said.

"Well, aside from the fact that the screeching of those wheels for hours is enough to drive a woman mad, wooden carts would be too heavy to move."

"I…don't think so." Noah frowned. She arched one eyebrow at him.

"It's been tried."

"There are records corroborating this fact." Ciri agreed.

"Look. About 400 years ago there was this place in my world called Britain. They used carts to haul all sorts of shit—stone blocks, coal, wood, metal, whatever. Very heavy loads. So the fact that your carts are breaking means that something's not adding up."

"Are you saying I'm lying?" she snapped. The room gasped before Noah raised both hands.

"Not even a little. I'm saying there's a missing piece."

"Like what?" Myrithra demanded. Noah hesitated, mind racing. Is gravity different here? No, I'd have noticed. Materials? Maybe—but that wouldn't explain the noise… His thoughts snagged on something. The noise.

"If screeching occurs, lubrication is required," he muttered, repeating the old engineering adage. Myrithra blinked.

"What?"

"You said the carts screech when they move."

"Yes," she said slowly.

"They do."

"I heard it too. In the square." He frowned.

"That's not normal."

"What's your point?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. Noah leaned forward slightly.

"What kind of bearing do you use on the wheel axles?"

"What," she said flatly, "is a bearing?" For a moment, Noah just stared at her.

"No way…"

"What?" Myrithra snapped.

"You don't have bearings?" he said.

"At all?"

"Our carts have axles," she said defensively.

"The wheel turns around it. That's how wheels work."

"No," Noah said, shaking his head.

"That's how you make them fight you." A ripple went through the crowd. He motioned Ciri to come over with the pencil and paper she already had out, taking it from her and beginning to draw.

"Right now, your axle is just… jammed through the wheel, yeah?" Myrithra moved closer before looking at his crude design.

"Yes."

"So when it turns, it's not rolling—it's grinding. Wood on wood. Maybe wood on metal. That's where your strength is going. Not into moving the load. Into overcoming friction." He looked back up at her.

"You're not pulling stone," he said.

"You're dragging your own cart." Silence.

"So what is a bearing?" Ciri asked quietly. Noah exhaled, already thinking ahead.

"It's a layer between the axle and the wheel," he said.

"Something smooth. Something controlled. You let that take the friction instead. Grease it, polish it. Even carved hardwood would be enough to start." Myrithra frowned.

"And that would… what? Make it easier?" Noah grinned.

"It won't just make it easier," he said.

"It'll make it possible." He straightened, eyes alight.

"I'm about to change your whole fucking world."