Reincarnated Into The Middle Ages

Norn gazed at the heavy chainmail and leather armor that had been by his side through thick and thin, solemnly hanging them in the hall as a memento of his first major battle. Seeing the patches on the chest, he felt a dull ache in his ribs. Although the expensive chainmail and leather armor had saved him from being slashed multiple times, they still had their flaws.

The chainmail worn close to the body could stop blades from cutting through, but it couldn't block the kinetic energy of the strikes. The massive force hitting his young frame had only left him with a few broken bones thanks to the cushioning of the leather armor.

"Ah," Norn sighed. Despite the armor's significance and its status as the mainstream knightly equipment, he decided he needed to upgrade.

"Norn, the blacksmiths, and their apprentices you requested have arrived," came a voice.

Norn turned to see three blacksmiths and their apprentices—about 20 people in total—standing nervously in the hall. These craftsmen, though well-off thanks to their skills, were naturally apprehensive when they heard a noble wanted to hire them at high wages. They had intended to decline, but upon hearing it was Baron Norn, known for his wealth, they decided to come.

"Esteemed Baron, I am Rogers, a senior blacksmith from the guild," the middle-aged blacksmith introduced himself. "What might you need us for, my lord?"

"Can you make armor?" Norn asked curiously.

"Of course, we are all skilled craftsmen with extensive experience in forging chainmail," Rogers replied confidently.

"No, I mean plate armor!" Norn clarified, seeing puzzled looks on their faces. He gestured with his hand, "Like a big curved iron plate that can serve as armor."

The blacksmiths exchanged glances and fell silent for a moment before Rogers spoke up, "My lord, we can make large iron plates, but they won't be suitable for armor."

After the blacksmiths explained in detail, Norn understood that crafting a large, uniform, and curved iron plate was already a significant challenge for their skills. They couldn't ensure both hardness and flexibility for a single piece large enough to cover the chest.

Norn looked at the so-called senior blacksmiths with a hint of disbelief and had to settle for a compromise, "What's the largest piece of armor you can make?"

Rogers gestured with his hands, indicating a size roughly the span of two palms.

Norn felt a headache coming on. It seemed his dream of plate armor would have to wait. He decided to go for something simpler, "Can you make long iron strips?"

Rogers hesitated but nodded, "Not too long, no problem."

"Alright, I'll hire you for ten years at 30 silver dinars a month for senior blacksmiths, 20 for regular blacksmiths, and 10 for apprentices. Bonuses will be given based on quality and efficiency each month," Norn waved his hand, and his right-hand man, Togo, promptly handed out several contracts.

"Each of you can take one day off per month, meals and lodging are provided. But if the quality standards aren't met, there will be no bonuses and wages will be deducted," Norn stated what he considered to be more than fair conditions.

"Oh, and I have a group of workers you need to teach blacksmithing. Twenty silver dinars for each apprentice you train."

"Is this for real, my lord?!" The blacksmiths felt like they had hit the jackpot. Rogers, the lead blacksmith, couldn't believe his ears. As a senior guild blacksmith, he usually made less than 200 silver dinars a year. Now, his wages alone were increased by fifty percent, not to mention bonuses.

"How dare you question the lord!" Togo scolded, but Norn just waved it off, calming the now-frightened Rogers and the others.

"Rogers, who do you think I am?" Norn asked with a smile. "I'm Norn Adler."

Remembering the recent rumors, Rogers was momentarily awestruck. "Please, my lord, accept our oaths and grant us your protection."

In the afternoon, the blacksmiths, invigorated by the lavish meals at Norn's manor, worked with great enthusiasm. Norn watched with interest as they built a right-angled wall, piled iron ore and coal around it, and sealed it with clay—Rogers called it the latest trend in Corsican blast furnaces.

Air was forcefully pumped into the furnace by bellows, and the scorching flames began to melt the iron ore.

After a considerable amount of time, Rogers used tongs to break open the clay and extracted a large, oddly shaped "sponge iron."

Perhaps motivated by Norn's presence, Rogers and another blacksmith worked extra hard. They wore blacksmith's leather aprons, sweat dripping down their bodies, and raised their hammers high to repeatedly fold and forge the sponge iron. The rhythmic "clangs" echoed, each strike sending sparks flying. The originally misshapen sponge iron had its impurities squeezed out and gradually took a more regular shape.

When Rogers thought the time was right, he stopped folding the iron block and instead used a small hammer to extend its length and trim the edges.

Finally, a black iron strip was plunged into oil, the "hissing" sound accompanied by a burst of flames.

Rogers, relying on his years of experience, pulled the strip out at just the right moment, took a careful look to confirm there were no issues, and then presented it to Norn.

Norn examined the black strip, recalling his knowledge from history, and asked, "Have you heard of cold forging and tempering?"

These two new terms sparked a lively discussion among the blacksmiths. After a while, Rogers approached Norn and said, "My lord, I've heard of cold forging; the master blacksmiths from the Apennine city-states use this method, but I've never heard of tempering."

Hearing this, Norn suddenly felt like he might have stumbled upon a business opportunity.

"Cold forging is forging metal without heating it," Norn explained, knowing this was beyond the blacksmiths' experience. Considering they wouldn't understand concepts like internal stress, he simplified his explanation, "When metal is heated and forged, it expels impurities and forms a dense internal structure."

"But if we forge the metal without reheating it, we can disrupt this structure and make the metal even stronger," Norn continued. Seeing the blacksmiths still looked puzzled, he decided to demonstrate. He picked up the iron strip with tongs and raised his hammer.

Norn swung the hammer down with great force onto the iron strip.

With a "crack," a piece of the strip flew off and embedded itself into a nearby wooden post, its end still quivering as if defying the blow.

The room fell deathly silent.

"Oops!" A bead of embarrassed sweat rolled down Norn's face. "I forgot cold forging is supposed to be done before quenching!"