The next morning brought with it a cool breeze and the scent of dew on the grass. Aldric stepped into the workshop courtyard where the dwarves had already begun their work for the day. The building stood firm now, its wooden beams strong and its roof sealed against the elements. Inside, tools were being arranged, tables scrubbed clean, and early sketches of musket parts hung on the walls.
Klow greeted Aldric near the entrance, his face already streaked with ash. "Morning, my lord. We were just preparing to begin shaping the barrels today."
Aldric gave a nod. "Good. I came to speak with you about something important."
Klow tilted his head, waiting.
"We are ready to begin making gunpowder," Aldric said. "We already have the saltpeter and the sulfur. But there is one more ingredient you will need—charcoal."
Klow raised an eyebrow. "Wood charcoal?"
"Yes. It is made by slowly burning wood without air," Aldric explained. "It is soft, black, and breaks easily. When crushed finely and mixed with saltpeter and sulfur in the right amounts, it creates a powder. That powder, when ignited, will explode."
Klow scratched at his beard. "We have charcoal, plenty of it. We use it for smithing. Did not know it could be used this way."
"It can," Aldric said. "But it must be very fine. Ground until it is almost dust. The same with the saltpeter and sulfur. Then mix them carefully."
Klow narrowed his eyes. "How dangerous is the powder once it is mixed?"
Aldric paused. "It does not explode on its own. You can handle it, move it, even store it, as long as there is no fire nearby. But the moment a spark touches it, it ignites. Keep it away from open flames."
Klow grunted. "Understood. We will be careful."
Inside the workshop, Klow gathered his team, and under Aldric's direction, they began the slow process of preparing the ingredients. They laid out a clean stone surface. Klow ordered two dwarves to grind the saltpeter into a fine powder, while others did the same for the sulfur. Aldric himself showed them how to grind charcoal between two stones, reducing it to soft black dust.
"We will use these proportions," Aldric said, pointing to the measurements he had written in chalk. "Seventy-five parts saltpeter, fifteen parts charcoal, and ten parts sulfur. Mix them evenly. No shortcuts."
The dwarves nodded, their expressions serious.
Hours passed as the powders were ground and weighed. The fine dust floated in the air, clinging to their fingers and staining their clothes. They worked in silence, focused. No one lit a pipe or brought a lantern too close. They all understood the risk.
By midday, the first batch of black powder was ready.
Aldric stood beside Klow, inspecting the pile of dark powder resting in a wooden bowl.
"It looks like soil," one dwarf muttered, leaning close.
"Do not breathe it in," Aldric warned. "And step back."
He walked a few paces away from the others and poured a thin line of powder on a flat stone. Then, using a long stick, he signaled Klow.
"Bring the fire," he said.
A dwarf stepped forward with a small iron rod, the tip glowing red from the forge. He handed it to Aldric, who knelt by the powder and gently touched the ember to the line.
With a sudden hiss and a burst of smoke, the powder ignited.
The fire raced along the line in a flash, leaving behind only a blackened trail.
The dwarves flinched, then burst into murmurs of awe.
Klow stepped forward, wide-eyed. "It works. By the stone—it works."
Aldric smiled faintly. "That is just a small line. A full pouch of this powder will explode with enough force to drive a musket ball through a man's armor."
The dwarves exchanged looks. Some nodded slowly. Others looked uncertain.
Klow, however, looked thrilled. "We will need to build a place for storing this powder," he said. "A separate shed, far from the forge. No flames nearby."
"Yes," Aldric agreed. "Make it out of stone if you can. And make sure the roof is light—if something goes wrong, it will blow upward and not outward."
"Understood."
As the dwarves returned to work, Aldric left the workshop and made his way back toward the castle. Along the road, he passed the fields where the young recruits were marching. Their steps were more in sync now, their forms sharper. The sound of wooden practice weapons echoed across the grounds.
Ronald met him halfway, offering a small bow. "My lord. The men have improved. Some of them are already asking when they will be given real weapons."
Aldric nodded. "Soon. The dwarves are working on muskets. Once the first ones are ready, we will begin training."
Ronald raised an eyebrow. "What about the powder? Is it ready?"
Aldric smiled slightly. "It is. We just made our first batch today."
Ronald gave a low whistle. "Then things are truly moving forward."
"They are. Slowly, but surely."
The two men stood watching the soldiers for a moment. The wind carried the shouts of the drillmaster across the fields.
Back in the castle, Aldric found Idgar in the study, as always. The steward looked up as Aldric entered.
"My lord. I have the reports from the merchants. Prices on grain are steady, and we have begun trading salt from the coast again with the increase of border patrol guards we made for those trades route."
"Good," Aldric said. "But I have a new task for you."
Idgar straightened. "Yes?"
"I want you to begin storing charcoal. Set aside a large supply enough to last through the winter. We will need it for the gunpowder."
"I will see to it," Idgar said, already making a note in his ledger.
"And make sure the dwarves have enough tools and space to store the powder safely."
"Of course."
As the sun began to set, Aldric walked once more to the balcony of his chambers. The city below buzzed with activity. Smoke rose gently from chimneys. The rhythmic sound of hammers still rang from the southern district.
The muskets were not finished, but the powder was real. The ingredients, once scattered across forgotten ledgers and old storerooms, were now coming together into something powerful.
Windsor County was changing slowly, carefully, but without turning back. And Aldric, once just a young lord with ideas and memories of another world, was now shaping that change with his own hands.
They were not ready for war with the pirates that still infested their coast lines.
Not yet.
But they were getting closer every day.