Rafael hadn't left the inner circle since the attack on him. He was more than content to remain safely inside, avoiding any risk of another attempt on his life. Another advisor had taken over supervising the construction site, following Rafael's detailed instructions. Though he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Rafael knew the advisor was impressed.
"It'll practically run on its own!" the advisor marveled to others upon his return. "All the workers need to do is load the materials at the top and drain the molten metal at the bottom."
He left, singing Rafael's praises as a genius. For the next few days, Rafael found himself with ample time to plan his next innovations.
First, I'll emphasize how critical soap is, and show exactly where and when to use it. He thought about how diseases would drop noticeably in a few weeks with its proper use. Only then will they understand how essential it is.
Then there's glass. Rafael's mind spun with ideas. Once we can make it consistently, we'll open up a world of possibilities. He imagined microscopes and telescopes, corrective lenses, even simple things like clear containers. And with petri dishes, he could start cultivating penicillin. There was a small problem, though. I don't remember exactly how to purify and concentrate it without ether. But even if it's not perfect, if we start producing it now, we'll be ready to refine it later.
With microscopes, he could finally demonstrate germ theory, making the concept concrete enough to challenge any remaining disbelief. And vision-correcting lenses would be a game changer.
He called a guard from outside his door. "Please find one of the king's advisors and ask if anyone here knows how to make glass."
Minutes later, the guard returned. "Sir Vinus informed me that there's a small guild in the capital that specializes in high-quality glass. However, they guard their methods fiercely."
"Sir Vinus continued by saying that he and the others knows that the main component is sand but all the times they tried to melt it, they weren't able to. It seems there is a secret technique to make glass that we don't know." The soldier nodded after delivering the advisor's message and assumed back his position outside Rafael's room.
Rafael smiled. So they know it's made from sand, but can't handle the high temperatures required to melt it. The melting point of pure sand was around 1700°C, which was likely beyond their current capability. Time for a few modifications.
He sat at his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper, and began writing.
[10.4.3: GLASS
Don't tell me the moon is shining, show me the glint of light on broken glass.]
Thanks Anton Chekhov.
Rafael wrote how people could make glass by using only sand but he also informed that to lower the melting point of it all they had to do was add potash and quicklime, making it possible to melt by temperatures around 580°C. He did not use numbers and celcius to inform his idea because no one would understand.
The use of quicklime would increase the glass durability and chemical resistance while also preventing it from being worn down by water.
[You're looking for a mixture of about 60 to 75 percent sand, 5 to 12 percent quicklime, and 12 to 18 percent potash.]
Rafael did not have the book, but he remembered well the first half of chapter 10 because it was the chapter he repeatedly read the most. He continued writing the technique of putting some molten glass at the end of a pipe and force air into it, creating the glasblowing technique.
He followed by telling how to produce glass panels for windows. It was fairly simple. By blowing glass into a cylinder mold and letting it cool down, you could just take it from the mold, cut it lengthwise and reheat it again to flatten it out, producing an uniform sheet of glass.
The days of small window or no window at all are over!
He smiled, with all these inovations, this kingdom will be the greatest ever. If we survive this war, I have no doubt we will lead the world.
He ended with sketches of potential uses for glass: cups, lenses, thermometers, and incubators. They'll ask what half of these are, he thought, amused.
That evening, he spent time helping Ella teach her younger siblings to read, write, and do basic math. He noticed how much she enjoyed it, the pride in her smile as they progressed. Later, as they lay in bed by the soft light of a single candle, Rafael asked how things were going.
"I love it," she said, her eyes sparkling. "It's such a joy to see them learn. I think I'm ready to teach more people."
"That's wonderful," he replied. "In a few days, we can start expanding the class. I just hope the nobles don't try to interfere again. They don't understand how vital it is for everyone to be educated."
"Why?" she asked, curious. "Why do you believe it's so important?"
"Because they'll be the ones inventing and innovating soon—not me." He looked into her eyes, seeing a glint of disbelief there. "Right now, they just need time and a little knowledge."
"Do you honestly think other people can come up with ideas like you do?" She laughed lightly, almost incredulous.
"Absolutely. Don't underestimate people's intelligence and creativity. You're teaching now, but soon, one of your students could be standing beside you, inventing something incredible."
They lay in thoughtful silence, huddled together under thick blankets to guard against the chill. She finally spoke. "Tomorrow, I'm showing them how to make glass."
He laughed softly. "Each day, you're giving more and more to the kingdom."
The next morning, Rafael resisted leaving the warm bed. Ella nudged him. "You have to get up. Don't you have a meeting with the king?"
He grunted, but finally rose and dressed in his usual clothes, the ones that had saved him more than once. He had developed a habit of washing them himself, behind locked doors, whenever they needed cleaning.
After breakfast with Ella, he made his way to the meeting room. The others were already there, and Duke Wiglaf gave him a reproving look.
"Mr. Rafael, please try not to arrive late. This is vital planning time for matters ranging from the war to resource distribution."
"My apologies. I was finishing some anottations, here take a look." Rafael took his seat and pulled out the paper detailing the glass-making process, handing it to Duke Wiglaf.
The duke read the instructions aloud. No one interrupted; they listened with rapt attention. Though glass wasn't entirely new, only a few guilds knew how to make it, and they guarded the secret jealously. Now, the technique was theirs.
And Rafael could see the eager light in their eyes.