The Conference lasted five days. Mostly because after the first day, the meetings only lasted a few hours. We did not just go over projects. We also discussed how to set up a project to develop a theory, AKA the scientific method. I didn't remember the whole thing, but I recalled that you first observed something, then created a hypothesis, tested the results, and finally evaluated them. If you got consistent results, then it became a theory. At least that is how I think it worked. Somebody could fix it later.

  For a lot of those dealing with me over the last year the method was nothing new. We just formalized it.

  After we were done, we once again had more work than time to do it.

  After the meeting, Jorb came up to me, his son Mathew hobbling on his crutches and a new prosthetic behind him. Over the last few days, when not in meetings, Jorb and I had been working on a torsion spring hinge for Mathew's foot. It was by no means perfect, and our next one would use multiple springs and pins to try to get it to work, but I was sure that we would find a way to get Mathew walking without crutches soon.

  Jorb proudly handed me a small piece of the obsidian. "Look what Mathew has been working on."

  As I noticed the smoothly curved surface, my eyes lit up with excitement. "You have already started shaping the obsidian? When did you start this?"

  "Not me, Mathew. He didn't want to show you because he was doing it when he should have been paying attention in the meeting," Jorb laughed. Which caused me to also laugh and Mathew's ears to turn pink.

  I turned to Mathew, "So, where did you get it, and how did you get it so smooth?"

  "I stopped by Tumlus's shop a few days ago. He had a small pile of it, he said you had given him. He told me what you wanted, and so I asked if I could borrow some. I kept breaking it every time I tried to do anything with it. I finally asked the stone cutters, and they suggested using sandstone to polish it. I have been doing that under the table for the last few days. Dad saw me doing it and promised he wouldn't tell."

  "Well, it is good for you he did. Can I buy it from you?" I asked, trying to make him feel better.

  However, he didn't answer me right away.

  "So, did you have a different plan for it?" I prodded.

  "I, um, I wanted to set it in copper."

  "Love the idea, make a brooch and give it to your mother," I suggested.

  He looked down, "Lord Amos, will you be disappointed in me if I don't paint?"

  I thought I knew where he was going with this. I thought I would give him the push he needed.

  "Do you have something in mind?"

  "I really liked making that pocket mirror. I want to continue making those types of things." He said hesitantly.

  Jorb looked surprised.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. "I will be proud of you, no matter what you decide to do. If you enjoy doing this, I am sure you could make a lot of money selling them."

  "You don't mind me taking the obsidian?"

  "Just pay me taxes and pay your dad for the copper. I will give you the obsidian free of charge for the next year. That should get you the start you need. If you decide it isn't for you, then you can give the business back to me, and you can continue with your art."

  He beamed, "Thank you, Lord Amos.

  I turned to Jorb. "It looks like we have our first official North Cove Jeweler. Mathew, it is going to take a lot of work, but we may be able to find you a mentor to train under. Once we do, maybe we can get some other metals for you to work with. Keep working with the obsidian, though. I have a feeling you will make a lot of money with it."

  I didn't sugarcoat things, though; I explained what Jarum had said about the obsidian, that we would have trouble competing in the western markets, but Mathew still wanted to try.

  Maybe we could sell it to the Artanes in exchange for rock crystal or use their caravan route to get it down to the south side of the range.

  I decided to stay in Pine Ridge for another week. The reports coming from Cove Town were positive, so there was no rush to get back there. The trail leading up to Pine Ridge on the back side was being expanded as irrigation ditches were dug off the main branch. So now a horseman could make it up the switchbacks in about four hours.

  ****

  I strode into the paper shop like I owned the place. And after looking around, I really wish I still did. They were churning out three times as much paper as the old shop. Oh well.

  I waved to everyone. "So Em, since I have a few minutes of free time, I thought I would-"

  "Lord Amos!" came Edward's shout from behind me.

  Everyone turned to see Edward waving a sheet of paper over his head.

  I smiled at the man running at full tilt towards the shop. I knew what this had to be. "You did it!"

  As he approached, I could see a grin matching my own. "We did it, my lord," he said, thrusting a note-sized piece of paper at me.

  On the page, in glossy black type, it said the words, HELLO, WORLD!

  My smile grew even wider at the thought of my friend Joe, who did his best to teach me Java. He failed. But the first clearly printed words on a page in this world would be framed in his memory.

  "So how did you fix the problem with the ink?" I asked as I handed the piece of paper over to Emily so she could look at our new uniform text.

  "It was the soot, linseed, and resin combination," he said. "And it wasn't just us. Roger, your fuller, pretty much held our hand through the creation process. Getting the resin to heat without smoking or burning was the trickiest part. We tried a few different things just to be sure, but his original idea was best."

  "Even if he helped you, he couldn't have done it without your team working together." I gave him a high five. "How about the type? Any progress?"

  He shook his head, "Yes and no. We are using the wood type because it is cheap, but the carvings for each letter are not consistent. We have tried casting a lot of the different metals; most will either wear out too soon, or we cannot cast them. Lead is too soft. Pewter is better, but the… what did you call those people?"

  "The metallurgists?"

  "That's it. They made some."

  "Hmmm…I know they used to use lead type." I said softly so that the regular workers couldn't hear. Only Emily and Edward knew why I talked in the past tense when talking about current projects.

  "It is probably an alloy we don't have yet," Edward suggested.

  I nodded, "I will encourage them to keep looking for another alloy. I have told you not to eat or drink from anything containing lead, right?"

  Edward smiled, "Only about 100 times, Amos."

  "Good, let me know if you need a reminder. If you keel over from lead poisoning, I don't want Nancy complaining to me. How is she doing, by the way?"

  "She just missed her second cycle, so we are pretty sure she is pregnant," he said with a smile that could only be found on the face of an expectant father.

  "Wonderful. I am happy for both of you. We will have to throw her a baby shower."

  "Please tell me that is not another one of your ideas for throwing a party."

  "Don't worry. I will cover the cost."

  "This time. But what about every time after that? And as the Lord, you can afford to do more than a regular person would. Then every expectant mother is going to want one, and husbands will have to work twice as hard just to afford another of their lord's new traditions."

  "You are probably right. I will keep my mouth shut."

  "I think it is a great idea," Emily said with a wicked smile.

  "Please, Lady Emily," Edward said, with a pained look in his eyes.

  She huffed, "Fine, but you owe me."

  "Extortion, Em, really?" I said.

  She said nothing, but the slight smile did not leave her face.

  "Let's get back on track. What is the best metal you have come up with?"

  "Bronze is probably the most durable, but that means we are going to need tin. Apparently, they are also having trouble with consistent casting. But for a long-term solution, it is the best we have so far," Edward said.

  I winced. "We are already short on tin, and getting more is going to be tough. We are going to need to get some more from Yarbeth, and we are not on the best of terms. I will have to see what the prices are in Carok. The cost might be less with our new ships. Maybe Elizabeth knows something about prices in Falmore?"

  In the end, it all came down to whether making them last longer was worth the money and if we could get the letters to be uniform with the harder-to-cast material. I made a decision.

  "We will cast a single set of both, not as many as we would need to make books, but enough for decrees. Then we will start testing the stamps and compare the costs. Your ink test was great, but we won't really know how each performs until we finish the press. How much longer?"

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "The woodworkers say it will take three days for their parts. The Smiths say they need at least four. Sander's team has to put it all together and ensure everything is working, so I would say seven days, but it could take up to a week."

  "Well, good. Not bad at all. Can you imagine what it will be like when we can print hundreds of books in a month?"

  "Is that what they did in your world?" he whispered.

  "No, they printed millions." I bragged, "And unlike us, it was all different types of books. At first, we will be printing the same book until we can get multiple printers up and running. However, I have no clue how to get us to that point, and the need isn't there yet. Until a larger number of people can read, there is no need to print books that we have no market for."

  I was coming to realize the truth of the phrase, "Necessity is the mother of invention." The plows were necessary in Bicman because we didn't produce enough food and didn't have enough laborers. But what about those south of us? Sure, they would benefit, but their lands were better, and they had plenty of laborers. If anything, the Plow might end up backfiring in the short term as fewer farmers are needed and the price of crops drops.

  And what about my textiles? It would drop the price of cloth so that common people could afford more than one set, but if a single person could make the same amount of thread as ten with a drop spindle in the short term, everywhere but Bicman might all of a sudden have access to laborers. I guess that was all a problem for the future. I just needed to keep my finger on the economy's pulse.

  Where to find a good economist and statistician?

  I was about to get back to seeing if I could help Emily when I received another surprise visit. Benjamin, whom I had left in Cove Town, arrived on the back of a sweaty horse. This was quite the surprise because up until this point, I had only received messages via courier.

  "Benjamin, I am always glad to see you, but your arrival in person puts me on guard. Then again, if it were urgent, you would have sent a pigeon. So I am led to believe it is important but not urgent."

  "I have brought your daily report as well as news that I think was best delivered by me," he said while getting off the horse.

  "Would privacy be best?" I said, looking over at my other two companions.

  "I don't know, but I would certainly suggest it."

  Emily gave me a mock pout. "I see you are trying to get out of helping me again."

  "Sorry, Em, we will be taking a rain check on the paper making," I said with all the sincerity I could muster.

  "Well, it's not like they would let you do anything anyway. They won't even let me lift a finger anymore. I just stand around and make sure everything looks good."

  "Hey, quality control is no joke. You don't want to get the reputation of being the worst paper maker around."

  She arched her eyebrow at me. And I laughed as I turned to leave.

  "How are things going here?" Benjamin said conversationally as we headed to the town hall.

  "Good, the blanks for your glasses have already been made. So all we need is about a week of your time to test lenses as they grind them."

  "You know I don't have a week to be here."

  "We will switch places. And it isn't like there is anything urgent going on. You can set up your office here for a week. It may be less if they can find a way to polish the lens using the lathe."

  Benjamin sighed, "As you wish, my lord."

  "Now what is the latest?"

  "I will give the regular report first to get it out of the way. The late planting is done, and more people are moving to construction projects part-time. The Rabiss said that the young men we are putting on the crew of our first ship are coordinated enough to run some practice drills outside the cove. If all goes well, we will have everything ready for a trip down to Oceanside by next week. If that goes well, then we will push for Carok in a month."

  "I cannot believe how agreeable the prisoners are being," I said while shaking my head.

  "Rabiss take honor very seriously. You promised to get them home in exchange for their cooperation if their people would exchange prisoners. Being agreeable is their fastest way home."

  We entered the town hall as I continued. "Sure, but there is no guarantee that their people will take them back. Also, these are raiders. People who rape and kill people. I just don't get it."

  "I don't pretend to understand it either, but it is how they work. Besides, none of them wants to anger the Hand of Wrath."

  I cringed at that. That was something I no longer wished to hear about. "What else do you have for me?"

  "Half of the Nore River lookouts have been completed."

  "Any interference from our new baron?"

  "Actually, that is one thing I wanted to talk to you about. Not about the fort, but we received word from Bicman that he announced an increase in taxes next year to match the "Falmoren Standard."

  "Two questions. One, can the man not read, or does he just think he can ignore my laws? Two, what the heck is Falmoren Standard?" I said, my voice rising in anger. I had promised the people no taxes, and the laws for the county stated in article six under my tax laws, that a detailed explanation of what those taxes would be used for must be sent to the county for approval. I was starting to develop a sour taste in my mouth every time Yarbeth was mentioned.

  "He is just trying to test his leash and trying to see how quickly you receive information. I would wait a week before addressing it. We don't want him to realize how fast we are receiving information on what he is doing. Though, run a private message down to let our people know that you will take care of it. As far as the Falmoren Standard goes, you have probably read that it is against the law to raise taxes in Falmoren above a third of a person's revenue. Many Nobles consider this to be what the kingdom has set as the standard."

  "Seriously? Our people were struggling at 20%; a third would be crippling. Well, maybe not after next year, but by that point, we should be producing enough food to not even need more than a 10% tax on produce. I am going to have to make a couple of trips down to Bicman each month and look around. Perhaps that will deter him from doing anything stupid."

  "Are there any results on the Cooper's Mill fertilizer project?"

  "Yes, though it may be a little early to tell exactly. Fields 21 through 32 seem to be doing the best. After that, some of them show a slight decrease, and the leaves look unhealthy. Starting next week, we will apply a second fertilizer with various amounts. The Farmers have already started to come up with new things they want to try next year." Benjamin said.

  "Do we have measurements on how much of an increase?" I asked excitedly

  "I have a detailed report, but in general, there has been anywhere between a 25% to 50% increase in the target zone, as you call it. We won't know how that correlates to yield, though. This is all new to the farmers."

  "This is amazing. Even with the 170 kg that we got on some fields last year, we were doing well. Can you imagine what will happen in the next three years when we start exporting enough grain to feed 1,000 to 2,000 extra people? Sorry, I'm digressing. I assume you have already prepared a response to the baron's actions?"

  In response, Benjamin pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the table. "All it requires is your signature and seal."

  I looked it over and approved of the icy tone of the letter. And so I grabbed my Bicman pen and signed it.

  "What next?"

  Benjamin slowed his steps and shifted the stack of papers under his arm.

  "We have good news. A message was sent from Rabiss. The Council of Chiefs has secured our people and is willing to negotiate their release. They will trade our people in exchange for their people if we include fifty jugs of our alcohol."

  I stopped walking.

  "Wait. What alcohol?"

  "I am assuming some of the Apple Jack made it aboard their ships before the fort blew up. In fact, it is possible that the Apple Jack we were hoping would help keep the soldiers drunk and make the fire blaze more was all aboard the ships before the explosion even happened."

  I dragged a hand down my face and let out a slow breath.

  "What a waste. We spent a lot of time distilling that in the mountains."

  "Not at all. The alcohol may be the reason they are willing to consider this deal in the first place."

  "Good point. Sounds like a good deal to me. They didn't want the ships?"

  Benjamin snorted softly and shook his head.

  "I'm sure they want the ship. But I doubt they thought we would be willing to trade a ship. Also, the deal they are offering us is terrible. I bet we could get between 60 and 80 gold per jug among the high nobility. Given what they value it at, and how badly they want it, I’d say twenty people per jug at a minimum."

  "Seriously?"

  "My lord, this product is like none other. I know you haven't tasted it, but I have. A glass of this is worth at least a gold due to its rarity and alcohol content. Once the nobility taste it, they may buy a jug and never use it or include it as part of a dowry. We need to let them know that we could sell 25 jugs to the nobility, and that would provide us with enough money to buy all our people."

  "I'm in the wrong business. We need to capitalize on this. Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

  Benjamin hesitated, then shrugged.

  "Actually, it took a while to figure out. I had to speak with several people to reach this conclusion. I was going to figure out a way to sell it before I let you know."

  "Are you saying a jug of this is worth more than our most expensive book?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Well, at least it is not as valuable as some of my art," I said with a humorless laugh. I needed more apples. I shook my head, "I should not be taking this hard. This is all good news. We need to prepare for a journey to Rabiss. We will bring the ship, all the Rabiss, and if we have any Apple Jack left, we will bring it. Someone we can trust to negotiate must go. It may cost us a jug for them to transport all our people back to Oceanside."

  "They should bring our people back. Fetching them ourselves would look weak. Also, to prove the scarcity of the Apple Jack, we cannot give them any of our remaining supply. They will have to wait till next year. I recommend buying the people with gold before selling the alcohol."

  "Then let's counter with our original idea, the ship and their men for ours."

  "It shall be done." Benjamin nodded, "My lord, there is one last matter. The one I came here for."

  He delivered a letter made of fine parchment right into my hand. I looked at the seal on the letter and groaned.

  What does the king want now?

  Jarum of Westcove

  “Come in,” a deep voice called from behind the polished wooden door.

  Jarum pushed it open with his elbow, a broad grin splitting his face. He tossed a leather-bound book onto the table in front of his ever-solemn cousin and dropped into a chair with all the grace of a man who never used a chair gently in his life.

  “Well,” Jarum said, stretching his boots toward the fire, “that was a profitable trip. Unfortunately, you now owe Lord Bicman a debt.”

  Baron Desmond Eval of West Cove raised an eyebrow. “Me, in debt? That is an interesting turn of events.”

  Jarum snorted. “You didn’t send me with enough gold. Not that it matters — coin isn’t even what he needs.”

  Desmond folded his hands. “Then what does he want?”

  “People and supplies,” Jarum said simply. “Skilled ones, too.”

  “And in return?” Desmond’s tone sharpened, always measuring, always calculating.

  Jarum leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Books, for one. Some paintings, apparently, he’s annoyingly good at that too. But the real treasure is ideas. Things we can make here and sell all across Herron. Real money makers. And handwritten notes on his new mathematical system. According to him, it’s already spreading among Falmore’s scholars.”

  Desmond’s expression shifted. “That explains the report I received a tenday ago. There has been unrest among the scholar class in Falmore. Something new hit the scene, and everyone is scrambling to learn whatever it is.”

  Jarum gave a bark of laughter. “With what I brought back, ‘unrest’ might be too gentle. I’m no scholar, but the boy made me feel like one. I can do things with an abacus now that seem like magic.”

  Desmond drummed his fingers on the table. “This Amos Bicman… can he be worked with? Will he be an ally or a foe we need to remove?”

  Jarum sobered. “He would be a very dangerous foe, possibly too dangerous even now. He’s the kind of mind born once in a century. But he’s searching for allies. I think he’d make an excellent one.”

  Desmond exhaled slowly. “Then we are already behind.”

  Jarum blinked. “Behind? How so?”

  “A marriage has been arranged,” Desmond said. “Between the Duke of Herron’s granddaughter and Count Bicman.”

  Jarum let out a long, low whistle. “That… is unexpected.”

  Silence settled over the room as both men contemplated the implications.

  Finally, Jarum murmured, “This can only mean the king knows something we don’t.”

  Desmond nodded. “Something passed privately between him and the boy. Something not yet common knowledge. I want our informants digging into every corner of it. If Bicman truly is a genius, then either he possesses information of immense value… or he has created something the king is indebted to him for. And my instincts say that debt is only going to grow.”

  Jarum grinned. “The crossbow?”

  “Perhaps. That one did seem to appear out of nowhere,” Desmond said. “But I doubt that’s the end of it. If he wants people, we will send him people.”

  Jarum’s grin faded into a warning smirk. “Just don’t ruin everything by sending half the spies in the kingdom.”

  Desmond waved him off. “There is another matter. I have stopped paying taxes to that pig of a count. What I do send will go straight to the Duke.”

  Jarum burst into laughter. “I wondered when you’d finally do that! The war’s the perfect excuse. The king will need ships, and ships cost gold — gold that shouldn’t be wasted enriching a count who’s contributed little.”

  “And,” Desmond added, “the other barons have united behind me at last. I have petitioned the king to approve the formation of the County of Westcove.”

  Jarum’s eyebrows shot up. “The count is going to hate that.”

  “It was inevitable,” Desmond said. “The war simply provides the perfect moment to act.”

  Jarum rose from his chair and bowed. “Congratulations, Cuz… or should I start calling you Count Eval?”