Chapter 6: Tar Pit And Tar Road (If The Dwarves Won`t Eat It First)

Chapter 6: Tar Pit And Tar Road (If The Dwarves Won`t Eat It First)

We have a tarpit. TAR. PIT. Pretty much pure asphalt pitch. It looks like a series of interconnected caves all very slowly flooded from beneath by pitch, forming several "puddles" on the surface. Locals don't see any use in the "tar pits" and avoid the whole area. Obviously, no one bothered to tell me that there is such an area, not until I realized people avoided going in that direction and started asking questions. At my direction, ten men with pickaxes and shovels break off pitch chunks and collect them into baskets. They seem to think this is "lady's wild fancy", but the combo of me paying good money for work and having a reputation for squeezing gold out of garbage keeps them from muttering.

Dwarves are way more curious about it. Granted, I just asked them to prepare a couple tons worth of pebbles, heavy steel rollers and a huge steel pot. Of course they want to know what it's all about. Father had people clear out and grade the road to the quarry and future dwarven settlement already, but so far it's just a gravel bed, not really any better than regular road.

...OOkay, note to myself - be cautious with dwarven cuisine. Apparently, the smell of melting asphalt is reminiscent of some kind of dwarven delicacy. Weird. I heard about tar being used as medicine before, but as food? Huh. Anyways, explanations. Given the lack of proper mixing machines just yet, we're doing the layered tarmac. Drizzle asphalt, lay a layer of pebbles, drizzle more asphalt. Repeat five times, then roll the thing down with rollers. Father promised some kind of "workforce to work to the bone" for further effort, dwarves are just going to detail two men for overseeing the process. The rest are busy quarrying and cutting stone. They're REALLY going at it, there are four rocksaws being in use simultaneously now, and they expanded the size of the slab. Apparently, Geoff did the numbers and decided that a slab of toise by demitoise by pied is the optimal building block, with halves and quarters and eights available for detail work. That translates to roughly two by one by one third meters dimensions. Hefty.

...And, apparently, some of the father's subordinate lords are inquiring about getting some of those goodies. Who'd have thought simple rock slabs are such a sensation? Pitched the idea to dwarves about downsized rocksaw. Basically, pedal-driven jobbie for producing rock slats and such, more of an attachment to worktable than a workplace in itself. Apparently, they tried already and the wire loop turned out to be too finicky for such a small setup. Hinting them to simply make an iron wheel and treat the edge the same way as wire may have been... a bit of a revelation. Because now we're also SELLING rock adjustment workplaces. Which is basically a sturdy table with a pedal and gear setup built into the support. Because, apparently, this primitive tool is still head and shoulders over any other option they have. Said options being pickaxe and lot of luck, hammer&chisel and lot of effort or sand, rags, and inhumane amounts of patience. The rock-cutting disks being classed as county secret AND dwarven craft secret. And dwarves are, for all intents and purposes, persuaded I AM the salvation of their people that had been prophesied by Argyl's head priest on deathbed right after the Red Mountain erupted. He claimed, quote - "Seven dark years will be endured by sons of Dorn, and much will be lost. Our salvation comes from the land of long nights and long snow. The secrets will be revealed, the kin will be gathered and the city will be built. A city that will eclipse the sky and straddle the earth, a city where rivers of metal will run on the shores of clay."

Shit. Fuck. Shit. FUUUCKING SHIT! This realm has goddamn destiny. I already had an inkling of this due to whole prophetic dream thing with mother, but this? A prophecy that straight up lines with my plans and generally does not call for anything I wouldn't have done?... I need to look into things more. What other prophecies I might fulfill? Clues about future? Gimme. Pound of salt already included, of course, self-fulfillment is always a danger with prophecies.

Annoying, but I counted on this - "I should be ready to depart in two days, actually. Started wrapping things up as soon as Rory showed off the sword. Leaving a number of long-termed experiments to run through, but I have had discussed them extensively with mother and left her detailed notes on what is supposed to happen, what might happen and what is to be done. She's been very interested in the perfume line, and I think she might want to take over that research entirely."

Gerard sniffs curiously - "Is that the new scent, actually?"

I had to nod - "Lilac, yes. Mother's idea, she took the notes on roses and experimented on... I think a dozen flowers already."

He snorts - "I'm already getting inquiries from pretty much everywhere in the kingdom about this. Your mother had a truly outrageous idea, you know? Send a gold coin with pigeon and a note on your preferred flower, get back a finger-vial of that perfume. I, uh... Let's just say we're getting a new pigeon coop built to handle the volume."

Good job, mom. Mail-order perfume at this age? I couldn't think of better way to make absolutely everyone want to cozy up to us even if I tried. Everyone knows that happy wife equals happy life and all that. And the wives are all over the 'eau fleurie du nord1 [flower water from north] '. Which, while we're at it, is a very curious datapoint, because apparently French-like language is considered "old tongue" while English-like speech I'm using currently is "new tongue". Apparently, the kingdom of Champagne had been conquered by Albic Dominion, who had consequently abandoned Albic Dominion in favor of calling themselves kingdom of Champagne. Which, is seriously weird, because apparently this world had alt-England apparently outright conquer alt-France only to turn around and adopt the name and a huge deal of tradition. And apparently alt-England was actually alt-Vikings who ended up dissolving their small but fierce community in a much larger pool of alt-Europe. Trippy alt-history.