Chapter 69: Bored Shoggoths Make Weird Stuff, Apparently

Chapter 69: Bored Shoggoths Make Weird Stuff, Apparently

I have a feeling that van der Klaases just weren't ready for this. They either failed to be appraised of my existence and impact on the market, which is weird for people who are supposed to be authorities on merchant interests, or they had for whichever reason ignored or disbelieved the reports so far. Because being SO surprised? Even Hiram is not as wrongfooted as they are, and I definitely didn't bore him with the minutiae of my businesses. Of course, it was funny when Marceu started to insist there must be some way to hook up horses to the steam engine, otherwise, how would it turn? I let him poke around the thing as much as he cared to, so that he could find his horses.

Abe is a much more receptive and grateful audience for this, to be honest. He is duly impressed with the mechanization so far. Admittedly, it was a no-brainer to set up drop hammers to forge the steel ingots. Still, annoying and slow. Once we get back from Kraut, I'm going to toss a schematic for a converter at the dwarves and see what they'll do with it. Granted, there will be still a necessity to forge in order to produce pattern welded steel, but that should be much less of a hassle on itself. Still, the automated forges are an impressive sight. As Rory eagerly explains, the forges operate around the clock. The day is divided into six four-hour shifts, and each adult male dwarf takes a daily shift of four hours. It is expected of each of them to spend the shift prior to theirs sleeping, and to dine as soon as their shift is over. Moreover, no one is permitted to take more than one four hours shift per day. According to him, the exact order of things other than that is up to each individual, but all of them accept the six shifts of the day as convenient time management. To aid in this, the clock tower (Abe is weirdly impressed by this one. Weird, clocks are a pretty well known thing. Why is he so amazed by the town clock?) rings a shift bell in addition to hour bell each four hours. A regular hour is a singular "ding", shift change is a chord of three bells being struck in sequence. Nice effect.

As I find the whole "day is made out of six parts" thing curious, I query Rory on that. He cites one of my earlier collections of notes on organizing the labor, and further admits that this is very similar to arrangements in deep delvings. Apparently, dwarves used to mine some rare metals and gems in the deep caves and would set a camp for a duration of several months in a cave, using similar shift arrangements to keep the work going in spite of not seeing the sun to gauge time by. Apparently, this division is so prevalent among dwarves that even women and children stick with it. Men are supposed to sleep for two shifts, do forge or quarry labor for one, do light labor like tool maintenance or driving carriage for one more, and the last two are theirs to dedicate to whatever they desire. Women are largely the same, except they have two shifts of light labor instead of one of heavy and one of light. Finally, kids below twenty but above eight have one shift of light labor, while adolescents between twenty and thirty have one shift of heavy labor for males, or remain with one shift of light labor for females (though in their case, the labor shifts from domestic duties like cleaning or gathering firewood to assisting in shops and depots). It goes without saying that at least one of the two "free" shifts adults get is to be dedicated to domestic chores.

Mihel promptly makes me angry by asking Rory about working women and how does that fit with dwarven customs. Rory, bless his naivete, answers the question earnestly by explaining that the shortage of manpower is still very much felt and all ablebodied men are expected to do forge and quarry duties, leaving them shorthanded at shops. He then comments that my offhand suggestion to "let the womenfolk do their part in restoring the dwarven dignity" was the solution, and that the results have been overwhelmingly positive, and no one thinks this is of any detriment to dwarves themselves, their women or their culture. Hm. Ok, so maybe he did notice the dig, and this is how he elected to handle it - by letting Mihel choose between looking like a fool or a villain, depending on how he reacts to the explanation.

In his turn, Mihel offers reasonably diplomatic - "So I see. Hard times call for new solutions, right?" Nabad, nabad. On one hand, he defends his earlier position by presenting it as old customs. On the other, he also excuses the current situation by explaining the change with sharp necessity, while not claiming the measure to be desperate or temporary. Rory magnanimously lets him off the hook by confirming that yes, dwarves had turned a new leaf and consider all of their traditions and expectations with a grain of salt, lest they wake up to find themselves served a whole tableful of ashes again.Điscover new chapters at novelhall.com

In the end, it is almost sunset as we retreat to the airship, laden with more samples and trinkets. Hiram asks if we're going to spend the night over at the city... which is not an unreasonable idea, but not to my liking. Abraham is undecided, and father passes the buck to me, so I get to call this shot.

"Did not plan on it." - I offer simply - "We can, if anyone has a reason to want to be in the Grand Forge overnight, but as it is, my plans are to set the course to the west and have a nice late dinner, then retreat to bed. I'm going to ascend to altitude way above the tallest peaks, so there is no specific reason for anyone not to sleep overnight. We should be close enough to Berlinger by sunrise."

The looks I get back range from impressed to intrigued to skeptical, though no one actually says anything out loud. Taking silence as agreement, I poke Bridgit to alert the servants and start setting the table.

...And I have a whole lot of dwarves watching me committing magitechnological insanities. Joy. And given the palpable "bated breath" they all have going on, they expect a demonstration. Well, fine. Sending a couple logs flying to embed themselves across the yard is not hard. Verifying the other end of the yard is looking over the empty space for a couple leagues ahead takes a bit more time, but... Eh. The faces when they hear the first BRRRRT more than make up for the hassle. That 'holy fucking shit, this a whole level up in destructive' feeling. Amusingly enough, the mood only intensifies when I try the flamer out and set the grass on fire. So... The problem with burning gas is the fact that it's gas. The jet looks pretty, but requires a bit of staying on the target to actually ignite. Good to discourage peeps from approaching, not so good at actually setting shit on fire, but that's fixable if needed.

Aaand it's almost dawn. So I tell the dwarves show's over, solemnly promise to send the schematics once I have the time to jot them down, and wander off towards the nearest shed with strict admonitions not to follow unless they want a glimpse of eternity and more than even chances of going nuts. Teleporting the gun to zeppelin is surprisingly low-impact. I guess it's living beings that kick up the exposure so much, for whatever reason. The instance back in Grand Forge is then collapsed and distributed around the nearby woods as a security system. Well, bolstering the security system, that is. Mostly by pretending to be random birds and squirrels and rats and flowers and spiders in order to observe and report on any suspicious moves by whoever. I'm getting better at multitasking. I guess practice makes perfect?... Hm. I should keep that in secret until I find a good reason to shit someone up by showing up as an army.

Just as I finish stashing the gun, the assorted noises tell me that servants had roused themselves and are about to get busy cooking breakfast. Hm. Might as well help. And by help, I mean preheat the stove and set the water boiler into action. They file into the kitchen one by one, yawning, doubletake at me putzing around with frypan and french toasts, and line up under the wall in silence. I wonder why. Bridgit comes in, and unlike everyone else makes a beeline for me.

"Mistress, why are you in the kitchen again?" - she tells me with a pout.

"Oh, hey, Bridgit. Check this out. Savory toasts!" - I tell her as I turn around and slip a corner of freshly made french toast into her mouth. It's topped with a drizzle of molten cheese and herbs over a slice of smoked ham. She bites down, and chews on it, finally delivering the "Very nice, mistress, but maybe let me cook?" - she offers as she takes the toast from me and continues nibbling on it.

"Uh-huh, sure, just... Watch this first." - I start, showing her the bowl with a mix of egg, flour, milk, salt and a pinch of baking soda - "Eggs, flour, milk, salt, some soda, whisk it up then dip the bread in. Once it browns on both sides, cover with a ham slice, drop some of that on top and let it grill a little in the oven. That's shredded hard cheese, parsley, dill, oregano, mint and a dash of pepper all mixed in." It says something about the fact not one of the servants showed much more than raised brows at the mention of pepper.

Bridgit nods. "Got it, mistress. Making enough for everyone, I take it?" - she inquires.

"Yep. Including you all. And set the cava in a big percolator, please. Not sure who'll be drinking it other than me, but I'd rather have more than less. Tea, obviously, sweets. Make preparations for oatmeal in case someone wakes up with upset belly, too." - I tell them, as I lean over to kiss Bridgit on the cheek, ignoring the scandalized looks from the rest of the servants - "Don't hurry too much, I doubt anyone will wake up for at least an hour more. Nothing much to do. Oh, a warning. Don't open the windows. It's chilling and very windy up here. Make preparations in the assumption we will be touching down at Berlinger in three hours."

As I retreat from the kitchen, younger Giacomo shakes his head. "Young mistress gets weirder with each passing day." - he mutters, getting a swat to the back of his head from his granduncle for his trouble.