This is the time to make. I am wandering in my room, wondering where to begin. The pressure feels somewhat tangible- it cannot be taken lightly.
But maybe you don't know that I'm here in the New research and crafting facilities filled room, one that's been given to me by the royal court for my work. I mean, making that new weapon 'crossbow'. It's a grand name for what feels like solitary confinement, albeit with tools.
With all the required stuff in it, it is a room, although a cell in which prisoners are confined. The irony's not lost on me, stuck in here crafting a weapon. But let me show you around the room; it may not be much, but it is mine for now.
I started to approach the metal door, which was, of course, made of metal. The surface felt cool and unyielding under my fingertips. At the top of the door, there was a small space that could be considered a window. I suppose it was probably just for guards to peep into; otherwise, it afforded little view.
Then there was an actual window to the side of the door, and the bed was placed close to that. Through this, I could see a sliver of the courtyard, and sometimes figures passing. The bed itself was simple, with a thin mattress on a frame.
And the next and most important, where all of the work-related tools were. Laid neatly on the workbench, they lay awaiting patiently. Hammers, files, saws, various clamps-just what I had to say-what a pretty decent starter set.
One would notice the material storing place up in the ceiling, yes though the meterial storing placement was on the upper side of the workbench setup. It looked durable enough, a simple shelf system bolted high up.
Though you may wonder why I keep on mentioning the upper side of the work-bench. Well, that is to enhance the workers' movement. In theory, it will keep the main surface clear. We'll see how that turns out in practice once I actually have materials over there. For now, it is just looming above us.
This much detail would suffice. Now, let us get onto the business at hand. The crossbow-yes. The reason for my being in this unusual state at all.
Well, time to wait moments till the guards arrive at this place. Waiting is always the hardest, especially when the temptation to actually get started is so great or at least to look as if one will be productive.
I checked the material storage area for supplies, finding it completely empty, which was not a surprise but an inconvenient one nevertheless. I couldn't do anything without supplies to work with.
I settled myself into my place to start designing again.
The wooden stool creaked just slightly against the stone floor as I settled in. No one would ever think, that pencil was not something I used, it was trash in a single word, thick lead and smeared easily. Compare to the finer instruments I recalled, it felt clumsy in my hand. Anyway, now is not the time to complain. Make-do with what's on hand.
I was thinking about what materials to use. 'maybe this one… no no'. Wood for the stock, certainly, but what kind?
Hardwood would be best for durability. Maybe metal for the prod and trigger mechanism, but which alloys were available here? Hopefully, steel, or maybe a decent bronze. I took a piece of paper from the workbench and wrote the materials.
That's going to be used in this project (Already existing in earth *^^* ). The paper felt rough, not the fine parchment I was used to, but it would suffice for a list.
Meanwhile, I was doing all this when I heard a voice catch my ears. It echoed slightly in the confined space, startling me for a moment. "Mister Adonis," the voice asked. Then the other guards added, their voices more muffled.
"Checking on you, so please respond."
Their tone was formal, standard procedure without the slightest emotional nuance. Just doing their job.
By listening to their voices and the whispering between them. Muffled consultations outside the door lent credence to my suspicion. I think there may be more than two out there, probably a routine check-or maybe bringing something inside.
The guards started repeating themselves to me. A little louder this time, perhaps beginning to become impatient with the seconds passing.
I hurried to them while loudly saying.
"COMING!".
My voice rang louder than intended in the silent room. I rushed to open the door. The heavy door opened inward with a groan, revealing the obvious figures inside.
There were these members of the Royal guard's. As I predicted, there were more than the two, actually four of them, clad in their perfunctory uniforms, faces impassive but alert, standing ceremoniously in the corridor.
While I looked in their faces. One of them asked. in the tone of helping. He stepped slightly forward, evidently the one in charge of this little check-up, his gaze neutral.
"Do you need anything? You can tell us what you need. If it is possible to for royal court, we'll surely aid you"
from the way he is spoken the line, I didn't feel maliciously intended. It sounded genuine enough, or at least professionally courteous. A standard offer, perhaps.
And I asked for their help surely. This was my chance to get the ball rolling. The paper, which I have written all the important stuffs, was in my hands. I held it out, hoping the smudged writing was legible enough for them to understand. So, As the event is now. I handed over the paper to the guard, the one who asked if I needed help. He took it without hesitation.
"Can you bring me these materials, I need them to make the crossbow, I mentioned in the royal court, if you have seen that"
I tried to keep my tone even, business-like, explaining the purpose clearly.
At the close of the sentence, he nodded his head in a manner that said, I got it. He briefly let his eyes skimm over the list before he gazed at me, and I asked his help for another thing, seizing the opportunity since they were here.
"Can you manage me a meetup with a talented blacksmith, Because I can't do this."
Some parts require forging and shaping metal far beyond my capabilities, especially with the tools here. Precision metalwork isn't something you just pick up.
'No, I cannot do this, does that pose a problem?' It is better to face possible failures than to waste time unsuitable for me.
I have never done this kinds of work.
'cause a former rich person had other things to do too. My hands were more used to holding goblets or signing documents than hammers and tongs. This new reality required... delegation for certain skills.
He nodded his head and started to speak again. In his expression, perhaps it was nothing new to him; requests like this probably were frequent when specialized blacksmithing projects were assigned by the court. He seemed unfazed by my admission of inadequacy in blacksmithing.
"Yes, no problem with that, you can rest assured now. Consider it arranged. We will report your requests."
His tone was clear and businesslike.
"Now then we are taking our leaves."
And off he went, while his entourage turned smartly and marched away. With this behind them or mentally shelved since the request was made, I could feel myself drifting more into my own world.
The sound of marching boots faded down the corridor, leaving silence behind once more. Closing the door with a line of solid thud, I turned back to the workbench, smudged paper, and the rough work ahead. The next step awaited again, but hey, at least something was now put in motion.