CHAPTER 67: MAKING THE DEAL

The bellows, just like the rest of the smithy, were both primitive and advanced.

As far as I could tell, they combined some sort of spinning device and then the scaled-up version of the handheld bellows that one could use by grabbing its ends and then pulling them apart to gather the air within, only to then push the ends together to pump the air through the device’s front.

When it came to the smithy’s bellows, they were made with simple, almost crude materials. Yet, the fashion in which those materials were connected to each other, the quality of the welds, nails, or even the cow skin from which the bellows’ air-tank was made...

It was a mix of absolutely primitive materials and quality that could only be a product of someone practicing their craft not for years, but decades.

And after just a few moments of two workers spinning a huge wheel at the bellows’ back while two others worked to pump it up and down, the coalbed started to gain some shine.

WHOOSH!

The flames surged up as if someone poured gasoline onto the firebed.

And then...

They continued to grow up higher and higher, threatening to reach the smithy’s roof!

"Put the cap on!" Greg called out, still as still as a stone figure, not moving away even when the flames surged just a few inches away from his face.

Two more workers rushed to manipulate some sort of mechanisms, opening up some sort of hatch above the forge before moving on to spin another wheel.

In an instant, the smoke within the smithy stirred up before all rushing towards the forge... No, towards the opening created above it and then the decreased pressure somehow created by those two workers spinning some sort of mechanism.

’A fan of sorts?’ I thought, only to then turn my eyes right back to Greg and the fire he was managing.

For a good while, the flames continued to surge up again and again whenever the workers would pump the air into the bottom of the coalbed by squeezing down on the bellows.

Under Greg’s orders, his men continued to throw in more and more of the charcoal onto the bed, soon reaching roughly half of the amount I’d managed to create.

In just a few minutes, however, the fire started to somehow die off and settle down, as if its strength was sapped by the glow of the coals within the forge’s bed.

And just as I thought Greg would order another portion of the charcoal to be thrown in...

"Bring me a sword."

My eyes moved up.

’What, is he dissatisfied and will now seek satisfaction?’

I brought my brows together.

It didn’t make even the slightest sense. It wasn’t until after he clashed with that merchant connection of his that I’d even returned with the results of the experiment, so he couldn’t blame me for what happened, no matter how hard he tried.

Saintess didn’t appear to be bothered by Greg’s request either. Yet, just like those few, weird times before, she took a step closer, leaning against the counter right next to me, just in case.

Greg, however, had no time or spare room in his mind to care about our little games. Instead, as soon as one of his men brought him a perfectly well-crafted sword...

He mercilessly thrust the blade into the flaming coals.

"Slow down on the bellows now," he requested while raising his hand in some sort of gesture only the smithy workers could understand. "We don’t need to burn through it..."

A few moments later, Greg put on a thick glove before grabbing the cool end of the sword and then pulling the blade out of the coals and held it upright, as if to present it to all the smiths around.

"It took quite a lot more of that to heat it up, but it was both faster and..." Greg turned his eyes over to the still-burning coals, "I can tell the entire thing was considerably cleaner."

At this point, Greg finally breathed out a long sigh, groaning so hard in the process of doing so it felt as if he allowed all of his stress, worries, and nerves to escape with said sigh.

The dwarf then took one more look at the sword before finally dropping it right back into the still-hot forge’s bed.

"There’s still a lot more testing to do. How efficient is it? Will it wear down my tools more than your average coal? How hard is it to store?" Greg shot out a bunch of questions, shaking his head as he approached the counter.

"But all of those can wait. For all intents and purposes, it can serve as a replacement for the coals, I will give you that," he admitted only to lean over the counter and look me straight in the eye.

This time, however, there was no sign of his dismissive attitude from before or the extremely crude nature of his words and voice.

Right now, he looked back into my face the way an adult man would look back into the eyes of his equal.

"How much of it can you bring out on the daily? And what would be its cost?"

I allowed the contest of stares to continue for a few more seconds before breaking away from it and reaching out to grab just a single piece out of the few charcoal bits left behind.

And surely enough, a notification window appeared in the corner of my eyes, outlining the exact amount Greg would be happy to pay for a single piece of charcoal like that, a cart’s worth of it, and an entire carriage’s worth.

Sadly, not only was I unfamiliar with those units of measure, I never had any intention to bother making and then selling charcoal myself, which made this ability of mine quite damn useless.

And thankfully, there was absolutely no need for me to hide the truth from Greg. According to my plans, he would be the one to take on the burden of manufacturing charcoal himself, after all.

"You see, this is all the charcoal I will ever bring you. And I’m not even going to ask you to pay for it," I said with a huge smile on my face, hoping to get some reaction from the dwarf.

His reaction would tell me how to proceed with those negotiations and...

"Ouch!"

A sudden bout of pain caused me to look instantly to the side, to where it came from. And as I turned my face to Selia, I cried out, "What was that for?!"

"Don’t play those games with me, boy," Greg spoke in a perfectly calm, collected voice. "You didn’t bring this charcoal of yours here just to tell me what’s possible and then leave me hanging. So stop wasting time on games and just tell me what you want."

At this point, Greg relaxed somewhat, even going as far as to pull out yet another bottle from underneath the counter.

This time, however, he also pulled out three cups.

"Okay then," I muttered as I watched the dwarf pour us the cups of what could very likely be a pure spirit. "If I were to craft and sell you charcoal, it would be a lot more effort than I can be bothered with while also making me rich enough in the town to paint a massive target on my back," I explained as I accepted the cup and then leaned a bit to the back.

Then, daring not to stop to give it a smell test, I angled the cup and leaned to the back, taking a considerable gulp of the brew and then swallowing before I could even register what kind of devilish concoction it was.

"What I’m here to sell instead, is the method to craft that very charcoal. A method you guys will be easily able to greatly improve on, given how I, in my experiment, was only limited to my two, clumsy hands and the very same shovel I brought from your place."

While I could never expect for it to happen, I saw Greg freeze again.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he grew perfectly still right as he was about to take a drink himself.

"You want to... what?"

"I want to sell you the recipe for making charcoal."

"But..." Greg hesitated, thrown out of his loop for the very first time since I’d met him. "Didn’t you just say you don’t want to get rich?" he asked before finally taking a gulp. "A recipe like that would be worth..."

"I don’t want you to pay me for it in bulk either," I added, shrugging my shoulders. "Instead, I want you to put aside a marginal fee for every cart-worth that you produce. And let’s say, triple that fee for every cart-worth that you sell."

I allowed my smile to grow wider.

"Obviously, if you will have no intention to sell, I will double the fee on every cart-worth you will use yourself... But all the exact numbers can be worked out so that you guys can have the charcoal for cheap, while I can have enough money to live a comfortable life..."

I intentionally allowed my voice to hang. Then, after a moment of pause, I leaned in over the counter.

And whatever it was that now connected me and Selia caused her to lean in herself.

"In this way, once you guys are done expanding to establish mass production of the charcoal, I will have trusted craftsmen to call when some new, interesting ideas pop in my head."

I then leaned back and, while trying not to squint too much, took another sip.

"Sounds like a good deal, doesn’t it?"