Chapter 78: 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.

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.

___

Flying overnight is... well, boring, to start with. Well, boring if it was all I'm doing. As is, I'm plenty entertained by having a soft and cuddly maid snuggling up to my side. Bridgit is unbearably cute when she's asleep. And by unbearably, I mean it. She's making me go "d'aww" each time I see her like this. Despite this, I'm idly considering ways to cut down on the necessity to travel personally like this. Or at least add extra entertainment to it. Entertainment that I can have without waking up the squishy people over at the other cabins, thus making them cranky and haphazard from lack of sleep. At least, I can entertain myself by jotting down a fairly comprehensive map of the mountain range we're traveling over. It rates somewhere between "yikes" and "nope" on the scale of traversability, by the way, but I do spy a few places that have been visited before. A lone lean-to, a couple of stones in a pyramid... Interesting. Well, I suppose someone sufficiently determined can get up there. Ain't much to be had up there, but climbing is an option. A long, hard, tiresome option.

Good gods, so bored. I can't believe it. I... don't normally feel like this. Why can't I just... do what passes for me as sleeping? Actually, yes, yes I can. Capital idea, really. Sleeping now!... Aaaany second now... Damn it. Is THAT how insomnia is going to be from now on? I almost forgot about that particular menace. Ok, so... What can I do? The mapping is just not cutting it, I mean, I'm still jotting, but it's not taking enough of my attention. The instance of me back in the Academy is "asleep" and I'd rather not worry my wives by prowling around in the middle of the night. What else... Oh, fuck it all. I'm gonna spy on van der Klaases.

...Good grief. He made so much noise over the blanks? The only thing of note is the listing of current market prices, and that's not something that needs to be kept in secret. Why, yes, yes I can circumvent the security. It was not designed with shoggoths in mind. Just your average people. I mean, I could make a container even I would have trouble getting into discreetly, but I'm pretty sure the effort that would go into sealing and unsealing the thing each time something needed to be put in or taken out would be considered paranoidally excessive even by professional paranoics. Well, that was a bust. I was expecting something worth the hassle to pore over. Guess it was really all about Mihel trying to pull one over the "useless noble". Heh.

Gods damn it, I'm BORED STIFF... Wait. Wait a moment. I'm thinking too narrow here. Who's working around the clock? Dwarves, of course. Do I have an instance I can expand in the Grand Forge?... Yes, yes I do. Not right in the city, but that's not a problem. Alrighty then!

___

Hm. While dwarves DO work around the clock, it appears that the night shifts are not popular. There are notably less of them going around, and all of them are entirely too busy. On the flip side, it does mean there are free spots in the workshops I can use without interrupting the process. Oh, I get some of them to pause and inquire what's up, why I'm here at night, is everything alright? All of them without exclusion come away scratching their heads and chuckling awkwardly when I explain I was bored and sleepless so I teleported back to the Grand Forge to tool around a bit. Some of them ask if the airship will be alright or how I'm to get back or even why didn't I just teleport everyone to Kraut. First is "yes", second is "I'll teleport back" and third is "can't take more than three people along at most and besides, if you had an airship, wouldn't you want to show it off?".

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So... what do I make? Dwarves are backlogged with my practical designs till winter, at the very least. The railroad is a helluva effort even with all the cheating I and magic can afford. Something cool then?... Heh. Heheheheheheh! MUAHAHAHAHA! Let's do this crazy thing! Alright, so... Some iron, some coal, let's just quickly conjure this, yep, just like that, and a filter to split air into "alive" and "dead", now let's pump it up, ignite the mix, ooh that's pretty flames... I have gawkers, nevermind them... Conversion at a good rate, let's get some copper for the furnishing, alright now pour out the steel, whoops nearly forgot to conjure form... Split and shape by pressure, hm... Oh, how about this? Using ice invocations to cool is just asking to crack the thing and make it brittle, but slowing down on atomary level over the whole mass at once? Not easy, but surprisingly simple. I ignore the astonished gasps as the pressure-forged steel parts cool down rapidly. They can see things didn't become brittle, I guess. Now let's see. Six of those, clump them, central axis solid, splinted nut on the end to keep it secured, now this and this and that and like this, copper filigree over this, float some wood for the handles... Hm, now this and this should be engraved with this formulae, now all I have to do is to feed power into it, and... Let's see. Make copper, shape copper, make mercury, make nitric acid (thankfully, this can be done wholesale, a substance known to alchemists well enough to be "a thing" to tap into egregor instead of inventing from scratch), heat and mix, siphon the hydrogen away into a tank, add more nitric acid and water and alcohol... Darn. I... Oh, right, nitrous oxides. Not a problem, a bit of copper, more nitric acid, get rid of copper nitrate and water, oookay, now we have mercury fulminate. Now, what to do with leftovers? Acetaldehyde, hm... OK, first of all, a cooling array here, pipe it through, into the tank, and... Hm. Hmmmm... Alright. Now, what do I do with copper nitrate solution? Well, it's an oxidizer, so... Wait, no. Heat it. Dump the solid copper oxide, feed back the nitrous dioxide into the fulmination chamber, chill and tank oxygen... ...Hm. Now, this bit here, conjure wood, shred wood, add the lye, flash-boil. Add more nitric acid. Pack into copper, add mercury fulminate at the end. Conjure lead, cap with the lead wad. Hm. Pretty fast, but not up to the rate of use... Conjure copper, form copper, assemble into the belt, fold up, and... Hm. Ok, and here...

So. What do I have, in the end?... Magically powered minigun? That I'm the only one able to run. Jolly good. And to add a little more WTF, there's an underslung flamer using a mixture of hydrogen, acetaldehyde and oxygen for a torch. Which makes it essentially a close range weapon. Too bad I can't make it detachable, no flexible liquid-tight hoses. On the other hand, the way I laid it out makes it essentially a one-hand weapon. Which is a little ridiculous, considering the thing weighs like, fifty kilo without ammo cycle engaged. With, it's more like eighty, and I'm more than a little glad I cribbed enough of Roxolane's notes on her portal research to fudge with the inner dimensions of the thing. Otherwise, it would be way too bulky.

...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.

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