The so-called lodestone is, in truth, nothing but a magnet. In the annals of modern Earth's history, it was widely utilized in ancient China during the Warring States period, and references abound in the chronicles of the Western Middle Ages.
According to young Richard's understanding of his present world, it appeared to be a mere reflection of the medieval epoch of modern Earth. Therefore, the absence of the lodestone was, indeed, an unforeseen twist of fate.
Yet, as is often the case, reality doth shake our expectations asunder.
"Master Richard," affirmed old Mark with unwavering conviction, "not only within this castle, but throughout the entirety of Lord Baron's realm, one may find no sign of it. This 'lodestone'—I have but heard whisper of it in my youth, spoken of as a treasure of distant lands. Yet here in our territory, it is utterly nonexistent—truly, not a trace to be found!"
Upon gazing at Mark's earnest countenance, Richard felt compelled to accept this truth. Nevertheless, his thoughts spiraled into deeper reflection: could it be that this world, though nearly akin to the medieval spirit of Earth, bore peculiar divergences? The existence of sorcerers became one such illustration, and now the absence of the lodestone revealed another stark difference. Without the lodestone, without this fundamental magnet, how could he hope to forge the generator?
He had previously surmised that the generator's capacity to yield power depended principally upon a grand windmill that transformed the caprice of the wind into force. And the crux of that transformation lay in a magnetic rotor.
Magnetism breeds electricity, whilst electricity engenders magnetism. His design envisaged the winds driving a magnetic rotor, which would whirl around an iron coil. Thus, the lines of magnetic force conjured from the magnet would continually intersect with the coil, invoking the wondrous phenomenon of electromagnetic induction to generate an electrical current.
Such principles are but rehearsed tenets from the tomes of high school physics, yet now, he found himself ensnared in the constraints of raw materials.
The stark reality was that the lodestone remained undiscovered!
Without the lodestone, there could be no magnet, and thus, the cutting of magnetic lines lay beyond his reach, alongside the generation of electrical currents.
It was apparent this folly lay not upon old Mark.
In this realization, Richard softened his expression, for though he had found it within himself to call for the execution of a hunter for his transgressions, he deemed it rational to refrain from punishing others without cause or fault.
Raising his hand in a gesture of conciliation, Richard sought to aid Mark to his feet. Yet Mark, to Richard's surprise, produced from within his tattered linen garment a worn, yellowing whip, casting it upon the ground. He then fell to his knees, prostrating himself and beating his head upon the earth, exclaiming, "Master Richard! I am in the wrong! I have failed to procure the lodestone and cannot fulfill your requests in three days—strike me, whip me, let me face your wrath!"
Richard's brow furrowed in silence.
Old Mark's act of contrition seemed less an earnest confession and more a feigned display of penance, made in the assumption that Richard would not punish him.
Then a nearly forgotten detail flickered to life in Richard's mind, and his eyes gleamed as he turned to Mark and inquired, "Pray tell, you assert that you have discovered no lodestone, thus rendering your labors for naught, is this true?"
"Yea, Master! I admit my fault!" Mark nodded his head fervently, his voice loaded with regret. "Purge me with your whip!"
"There exists a pressing question," Richard pressed on, squinting with focused scrutiny. "Your inability to secure the lodestone does not wholly account for your failure to undertake any of the tasks assigned—this, would you not agree?"
"This—"
Old Mark's visage stiffened at Richard's probing inquiry, his voice suddenly stifled.
"Lo! My design was rendered most explicit: each component stands alone. Verily, even in the face of the lodestone's absence, one could craft the other parts, could they not? Yet here you stand, with naught to show for it! What say you?"
"I… I…" Old Mark struggled, words failing him under the weight of Richard's gaze.
"Speak forth!" commanded Richard.
His tone was light, yet such words precipitated a tremor within Old Mark, who, overwhelmed, collapsed onto the ground. Under Richard's penetrating gaze, he faltered and, at last, bared his soul.
The truth was simple, and yet absurd. The root of his folly lay in his longing for the two promised barrels of ale from Richard.
By their prior agreement, it was only upon completing the labor that old Mark might indulge in the ale. Failing in his duties, the precious ale would slip through his fingers.
Thus, upon acknowledging the absence of the lodestone, old Mark made no move to remedy the situation by crafting the other components. Rather, he spent his time in the fruitless search for a substitution, hoping to deceive Richard and secure the ale posthaste.
His tragic fate was sealed as he assiduously searched for three full days yet found no adequate replacements. With time having slipped away, he had no choice but to come forth and beg for pardon.
At this, Richard's brows knitted tightly, a spark of ire flickering within him.
The absence of the lodestone did not herald the end of the world; such natural magnets were not irreplaceable. Should circumstances demand, artificial magnets could suffice. Richard was familiar with several methods of fabricating these artificial magnets. Though time-consuming and potentially less effective, hope lay within reach. Had old Mark begun crafting the remaining framework, forgoing the magnetic rotor, they might now be facing a minor inconvenience.
Yet now they were left with naught. The time lost to reforge the structure anew and fabricate the artificial magnet would require no less than four or five days.
Richard possessed not the luxury of such time!
Narrowing his gaze, a sense of resolve surged within him.
Old Mark, now slumped upon the ground, dared a glance at Richard, dread coursing through his veins at the mere meeting of their eyes. "Master… Master Richard! I know... I know my offense! I vow—I shall not repeat it! Spare me, I beg of you!"
"Humph." Richard's disdainful sound resonated, but he paid the groveling man no heed. Far beyond the thought of punishment, he found his mind woven with the necessity of addressing their plight.
To summon forth electrical current, a plethora of methods lay open. Yet the avenue of batteries had been sealed, and the chaotic ventures into the generator yielded naught but despair. Thus…
"Boom!"
A tremor of thunder echoed from the distant horizon, dispelling the stillness of the air, which began to roil and churn. A fierce gale surged forth!
The oppressive humidity was swept away, heralding a tempest poised to burst.
As Richard fixed his gaze upon the streaks of lightning dancing in the distance, inspiration ignited within him.
Since both the paths of batteries and generators seemed insurmountable, why not turn to a more primitive, wild method? What if—he pondered—he could directly captivate the wild fury of nature's lightning?
With the approach of the storm, amid the roiling clouds and the chorus of thunder, he could send a kite aloft upon the wind, tethered by a metal wire to beckon the very lightning from the heavens.
When the skies unleashed their electric fury upon the kite, the ensuing current would race down the metallic line, and at its terminus, a special vessel—a Leyden jar—awaited to seize the charge.
Such a method was shockingly simple!
In the lore of childhood learning, the tale of Franklin's kite experiment danced upon the pages. It chronicled how in June of 1752, Benjamin Franklin and his son William deftly captured the lightning's flame using a humble kite.
It was, indeed, elementary knowledge!
Yet this method bore an inherent brutality!
In the wake of Franklin's experiment, renowned Russian physicist Lichtenberg sought to verify the astonishing findings, only to succumb to the lethal embrace of lightning itself!
And so, the means to grasp the tempest's thunder lay both crude and fierce, fraught with equal measures of opportunity and peril—wherein lay the promise of effortless power and the specter of divine reckoning.
Thus, Richard turned away from the stormy sky and returned his focus upon the prostrate figure of old Mark before him. Within his mind, a scheme began to unfurl.