After a month of hard work, the moment of truth had arrived.

    Would we succeed in copying iron, or would we fail?

    Everyone around me was watching the blast furnace, holding their breath in nervous anticipation.

    “Please, let it work... please,” I murmured.

    Even if I failed this time, it’s unlikely that the duke would lose faith in me or cut off support for the artisans. After all, he understands that introducing innovative technology rarely goes smoothly from the start.

    But if I failed two, three times...

    I would lose value. In the worst-case scenario, I’d be cast aside.

    Right now, I may be the rising star, but if I lose the duke’s favor, I’d be left high and dry.

    I don’t usually pray, but at this moment, I almost wanted to grab onto Deus himself.

    We had spent an investment of 10,000 gold coins on this.

    If we failed now, all that money would be wasted.

    “We’re opening the bottom of the furnace! Everyone, take a few steps back as molten iron will be flowing out!”

    The overseer directed me and the other workers to move away.

    As we stepped back, the furnace’s base opened, and molten metal gushed out, glowing red like magma, sending everyone into cheers.

    “Praise Deus! We’re rich now!”

    “I’ve never seen so much iron!”

    “Tonight, drinks are on me, boys!”

    From what I’ve researched, the Tosca Empire’s steel-making techniques are primitive.

    They produce around 300 kilograms of pig iron in kiln-like furnaces similar to those used for firing ceramics, and blacksmiths have to hammer away for hours to extract any steel.

    Our furnace, however, just produced around 20 tons of molten iron.

    We’ve built a blast furnace capable of producing over 70 times as much pig iron as before.

    I’d love to join the cheering, but it’s too soon to celebrate.

    To truly start printing money, we need to complete the reverberatory furnace to produce steel.

    “Overseer, it’s too early to celebrate. The real test is in the reverberatory furnace,” I said.

    The overseer left a few artisans by the blast furnace and moved toward the reverberatory furnace with me.

    Two artisans were sweating profusely, working the bellows at the reverberatory furnace.

    “Damn, this is killing me!”

    “Better this than pounding with a hammer all day. Just shut up and work the bellows.”

    Overseer Smith inspected the furnace and gave the order.

    “Pour the molten iron!”

    Just like with the blast furnace, molten metal poured out.

    As soon as it emerged, the overseer and the foremen hurriedly scooped some out and rapidly cooled it.

    Once the surface had cooled, they quenched it in water and raised a piece triumphantly.

    “It’s steel!! STEEL!! Damn it!”

    Even the overseer, who rarely curses, was clearly overcome.

    We all understood his sentiment perfectly.

    “We’ve just produced over 1.5 tons of steel! Praise Deus!!”

    Since we’re short on hands, they’ll be given better pay than they’re used to as serfs, and they’ll have the opportunity to become free citizens.

    “... I hope things stay this good from now on.”

    I genuinely hope so.

    Of course, things rarely stay easy.

    The steel from Fabio’s steel mill soon flooded the Florence market.

    “Steel, 1kg for just 15 copper coins! Dirt cheap!”

    Fifteen coppers for a kilogram of steel.

    It’s a small fortune, about 15 times the daily wage of an average laborer.

    It might seem too expensive, but considering that skilled artisans usually crafted steel with backbreaking effort, it was suspiciously cheap.

    “What, trying to pass off wrought or pig iron as steel? You think I’m blind?”

    “Do I look like I’m lying to you?”

    “Oh please, if you’re a merchant, you should know that mixing in a little sand or sawdust with your flour is the basic skillset.”

    If the customer is a commoner or peasant, it’s common for merchants to dilute the goods.

    For nobles, merchants might not tamper with the goods but will inflate the prices.

    This disdain for merchants was why Fabio’s father and other nobles often looked down on them.

    “Why would I scam you, Alfredo? You’re a regular, and you’re the only one who can handle this much stock. Just take a look for yourself.”

    The man, Alfredo, inspected the steel.

    He hammered it, poked it with an awl—no scratches at all.

    Neither pig nor wrought iron could be this hard.

    “Damn, where did you get steel like this?”

    “If I told you, I’d go out of business. Now, how much are you buying?”

    “All of it. You know this price doesn’t make sense.”

    “We have 50 tons. Can you handle it?”

    “I’ll sell it to the armorers in Florence or the Duchy of Milan.”

    Alfredo kept his expression calm, but inside, he was ecstatic.

    Steel commands a high price, and he was about to purchase 50 tons of it at a bargain.

    Even if it took time to sell, he’d make two or three times the profit.

    “Alright, let’s write up the contract. Any defects and I’ll refund accordingly.”

    On a regular day, he might’ve questioned my honesty, but today, he was quick to sign.

    As he rose to leave, a thought occurred to him.

    “But what will happen to the blacksmith guild if this much steel floods the market? They’ve always made a killing with steel.”

    I smiled.

    “Does it matter? Besides, I hear this steel is from the Visconti dukedom. I’ve secured 50 tons; they must have about 2,000 tons in total.”

    “Two thousand tons at two-thirds the usual price... has the duke lost his mind?”

    Even with a 30% discount, the duke would still make a fortune.

    Thanks to Fabio, they could now copy iron at barely 10% of the previous cost.

    “What do I care? I’m just here to make money.”

    “Duke Sforza was backing the blacksmiths, right? Guess those blacksmiths are in trouble now.”