Feeling a large hand gently ruffling the top of her head, Rebecca found herself momentarily stunned. Her first thought was that she had misheard, her second that her ancestor had misspoken, and her third... was to interpret it as consolation. It couldn't possibly be sarcasm, right?
A Viscountess who had never succeeded at anything, Rebecca had never expected to receive genuine praise. Seeing her reaction, Gawain repeated his compliment with a smile, "Don't just stand there in a daze; I meant what I said. You probably don't realize how truly remarkable your talents are."
"Really?" Rebecca blinked, a little embarrassed, "But these are just... small tricks, and usually not very useful."
Calling such extraordinary talent "small tricks" left Gawain momentarily speechless. Rebecca had been born in an era too early for her abilities to be appreciated. Luckily, Gawain had arrived not too late; there was still time to bring her gifts to life.
Gawain carefully examined Rebecca's adjusted magic array. Though he was a knight by title, the original Gawain Cecil had been something of a polymath, well-versed in magical theory. Plus, the Gondor Empire, where he came from, was exceptionally advanced in magical technology, so basic magical knowledge had been quite accessible. This particular array, composed only of fundamental runes, was not difficult for Gawain to comprehend.
After close inspection, he confirmed that Rebecca's modifications were highly reasonable. What had begun as a rough concept had evolved into a "prototype" that aligned perfectly with his expectations and had potential for further development, though it would still need real-world testing to refine.
Gawain raised a single question, "Have you considered expanding it further?"
"Expand it further?" Rebecca looked puzzled. "Like... making it bigger?"
"No, I mean connecting it with other self-sustaining magic arrays of different scales but with the same framework. Imagine a network built of modular array units that could connect and expand infinitely, eventually covering a much larger area…"
Gawain, studying the neatly arranged runes, vaguely glimpsed a design that hinted at combinability and modularity. He suggested a bold idea, "What if each magic unit was no longer independent but linked in a network? Can you imagine that?"
Rebecca, with her exceptional talent in mathematics and creativity, found the concept too complex. After some thought, she could only frown in frustration, "Ancestor... is something like that even possible?"
"Just think of it as one of my flights of fancy…" Seeing her struggle, Gawain knew he couldn't rush her, so he changed the subject. "For now, focus on setting up Magic Network No.1 to get the blacksmith shop running. Everything else can wait."
"Got it!" Rebecca nodded enthusiastically. "I was just talking with Hammer about the blacksmith shop…"
"Oh?" Gawain raised an eyebrow, suddenly reminded of her recent discussions with Hammer. "What were you discussing?"
"The new furnace," Rebecca said, tilting her head. "I figured that once Magic Network No.1 was up and running, we could add formal magical arrays to the forge, eliminating the need for those impractical runes. That way, the furnace could be upgraded, right? But I'm no blacksmith, so I came to consult with Hammer about his ideas on improving the furnace and workflow."
The old blacksmith Hammer, somewhat anxious, stood nearby, head bowed as he listened to the Viscountess and the Duke discuss matters of his trade. For a commoner like him, just being in the presence of nobility was both an honor and a source of unease. So when Gawain turned his attention toward him, Hammer broke into a sweat, hardly daring to imagine what it would mean for a noble who had never touched a forge bellows to dictate the construction of a blacksmith shop.
Yet, he had no choice but to comply. Hammer had mentally prepared himself for an array of incomprehensible demands and for leading his apprentices through grueling work to achieve them. Such scenarios were not unheard of, after all—like that time a northern Viscountess whimsically insisted that each chrysanthemum in her garden must bloom with precisely two petals instead of three, leading to weeks of whip-driven toil for her gardeners until she lost interest.
"Don't worry…" Gawain sensed Hammer's tension and reassured him gently. "Tell us your ideas."
"I... I don't have any particular ideas…" Hammer stammered, humbly lowering his head. "The Viscountess's knowledge is profound and far beyond what we common folk could understand. It's already taxing just to learn to use what she's designed—how could I have suggestions?"
Gawain looked at him, shaking his head. "You might not know magic, but you know furnaces and anvils better than anyone. In that regard, you're the expert here. We all respect your expertise."
Respect... for a commoner's opinion?
Momentarily, Hammer thought he'd misheard, but seeing the serious expressions on the faces of Gawain, Heidi, and Rebecca, he realized this was indeed the truth. The Duke had spoken sincerely. Gathering his courage, he ventured, "I think... I think since the furnace will now be powered by real magic, rather than patching up the old one, we should just build an entirely new furnace from scratch."
"A brand-new one?" Gawain raised an eyebrow.
Hammer scratched his arm, carefully articulating his thoughts. "With magic in play, we're no longer bound by the limitations of old runes. First, we could make the furnace larger, allowing for much more iron to be melted at once. Since the magical array won't be as brittle, we wouldn't have to shut down or cool the furnace regularly. It could run continuously, saving time and labor on re-firing. But that means it would need to be used constantly…"
Gawain listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with questions or suggestions when he saw fit. As Hammer continued, he gradually relaxed and found himself surprised. He hadn't expected Gawain to genuinely listen to a commoner like himself—a duke, a noble of the highest rank, standing in this makeshift workshop and earnestly considering a commoner's ideas. And Gawain was not simply listening; he was engaging, nodding along, and even offering insights and suggestions.
As Hammer spoke, he sometimes found himself baffled: Could this noble truly be unfamiliar with bellows and hammers? How did he know so much about iron forging? While some of Gawain's ideas struck Hammer as fanciful, it was clear they revolved around practical aspects of metallurgy, not whimsical nonsense like "every chrysanthemum must bloom with exactly two petals."
When Hammer finished, Gawain exhaled lightly and looked directly at the old blacksmith.
The blacksmith tensed. "M-Master…"
"How many years have you been a blacksmith?" Gawain asked suddenly.
"Th... Thirty years, give or take," Hammer answered quickly. "But for folks like us, it's hard to keep track of years…"
"A thirty-year veteran blacksmith... I didn't expect you to have so many innovative ideas." Gawain looked intrigued. "Typically, fresh perspectives like these come from younger people who haven't settled into a routine. What inspired all these ideas?"
Hammer hesitated, then replied, "Master, if you'll pardon me, these ideas... they aren't recent. They've been gathering dust for many years."
Gawain's interest deepened. "Tell me more."
"I've spent decades in blacksmithing, and I know forges and metalwork like the back of my hand. Yes, it's all ingrained habit now…" Hammer's weathered face creased into a faint smile, "But I still remember when I was an apprentice. My father was the village blacksmith, and I learned from him. One year, our lord ordered a batch of refined iron. I volunteered to handle the furnace myself. Father thought I'd learned enough, so he let me try, but... I was too impatient and didn't let the furnace cool properly before re-heating it. As a result, the runes cracked."
When the runes shattered, the furnace was ruined. The forge's most precious asset was lost, and Hammer's father had been so furious he'd nearly beaten him senseless, stopping only because, without Hammer, there would be no one to help in the forge or carry on the craft.
"We failed to fulfill the lord's order that year. Father received dozens of lashes at the castle…" Clearly, this incident had left a deep impression on Hammer. Watching his father punished for his mistake, a young Hammer had begun to wonder about improvements for the forge.
It was fortunate, perhaps, that those ideas hadn't entirely withered over the decades. Though dormant, they had been rekindled by Rebecca's plan to use magical arrays to replace old runes on the forge. This project had stirred a long-lost hope within the old blacksmith—a hope that had lain dormant yet hadn't completely faded.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Hammer felt ready to act on these ideas once more.