"Is this the coarse salt you made?" Gaimon asked, eyeing the grayish-white blocks in the iron pot before him. Jon, standing beside him, nodded confidently.
"Yes, Your Highness," Jon replied naturally.
Gaimon leaned closer, studying the unrefined salt. "So this is what unfiltered salt looks like. If consumed as it is, it could be deadly. We need to refine it first."
He recalled a short video from his past life that explained how to make edible salt using traditional methods. Without that knowledge, the sight of the raw salt blocks would have left him utterly confused. Coarse, unrefined salt could be lethal if ingested, and he knew they had to handle it carefully.
"Are all the preparations ready?" Gaimon asked.
"Everything is ready as you instructed," Jon answered.
"Good. Everyone else may leave for now. Jon, Amber, stay behind."
"Yes, Your Highness," they replied in unison.
The wooden house, already dimly lit, seemed even darker once the others had left. Only Gaimon, Jon, and Amber remained, the latter silently following Gaimon as always. With everyone else gone, Gaimon prepared to begin refining the salt.
He placed the iron pot onto the stove and added the salt block. Then, he poured a bucket of water into the pot, allowing the salt to slowly dissolve. The heat gradually increased, and Gaimon watched the block melt into the clear water. Picking up a wooden spoon, he stirred patiently, ensuring the salt dissolved evenly. Once fully melted, he instructed Jon and Amber to lift the pot carefully and pour the brine through a piece of linen gauze into a wooden basin.
As the salt water filtered through the cloth, leaving the solid impurities behind, Jon's eyes widened. "Your Highness, the water looks much clearer after filtering."
"Good," Gaimon said, nodding. "This step seems fine. Let's continue."
He poured the filtered salt water back into the pot and added a basin of wood ash that had been prepared in advance. Using a wooden spoon, he mixed the ash into the brine thoroughly. Then he stood still, watching intently. The outcome of the entire process depended on this stage.
As the mixture simmered over the stove, sediment began settling at the bottom of the pot—precisely what Gaimon had been waiting for. Carefully, he poured the clear brine into another pot, leaving the sediment behind. The fresh brine returned to the stove, and Gaimon resumed stirring gently, ensuring the simmer was steady. He instructed Jon to regulate the fire, maintaining a low heat to allow gradual evaporation.
Slowly, white, powdery crystals began to form along the edges of the iron pot. As the water evaporated entirely, a layer of snow-white salt clung to the pot's surface. Gaimon scraped the salt carefully, gathering it at the bottom of the pot, then transferred it into a glass jar. All three stared at the fine, sparkling grains in awe.
Gaimon picked up a pinch and let it trickle through his fingers into the jar. "Your Highness, have we succeeded?" Jon asked, incredulity in his voice.
Gaimon grinned. "Yes! It worked! I didn't expect it to be so smooth on the first try. I thought we'd have to repeat the process several times before success."
Jon's excitement was tempered by reality. "Your Highness, even though we've succeeded, we still don't have the right to produce salt. We need a royal franchise to legally make and sell it."
"I'll handle that. You don't need to worry. Right now, our focus should be on how to produce this refined salt on a larger scale."
Jon understood the wisdom in Gaimon's words. With his royal status, obtaining the franchise would be straightforward. "Your Highness, boiling salt this way is resource-intensive. Charcoal alone is costly. Large-scale production would require far more manpower than we currently have. We can only scale up once the population in the territory grows."
Gaimon nodded. "I know another method—the solar salt method. Instead of boiling, we can build salt fields along the seashore and let the sun evaporate seawater. It saves manpower and resources."
"I think I've heard of that. Salt Field Town uses that method," Jon said thoughtfully.
Gaimon continued, "Exactly. For us, the solar method is cheaper and more efficient. If others already use it, we must adopt it to stay competitive."
Jon nodded. "I understand, Your Highness. I'll assign someone to manage the salt works."
Satisfied, Gaimon held the glass jar in his hands. "Let's make a few more batches. I'll take them back to Red Fort tonight, show my father, and request the salt franchise so we can sell it legally."
The three worked for hours, carefully following each step. In total, they produced six cans of refined salt, each weighing about a pound. Exhausted, Gaimon rubbed his stiff back. "No wonder they say salt-making is grueling. I finally understand."
"It's more tiring than a whole day of sword practice," Amber admitted, rarely speaking but unable to contain her exhaustion this time.
Jon collapsed onto the floor, unable to straighten his back. They had spent hours stirring the brine, and not a single moment of rest had been possible.
Gaimon handed two of the cans to Jon and Amber. "These are for your hard work today. Pack the remaining four and take them back to the Red Castle."
Jon and Amber hesitated. "Your Highness, you made this yourself. We can't accept it."
"Accept it," Gaimon said firmly. "I insist. Don't argue. When have you ever refused a gift from me?"
"Very well, Your Highness," they said, still slightly embarrassed.
With that, they packed the remaining salt. Gaimon glanced at the sparkling jars, proud of their accomplishment. In that dim wooden house, a simple task had transformed into a moment of triumph. Not just the salt, but the process itself—careful planning, patient labor, and teamwork—had turned raw, dangerous blocks into a valuable commodity.
As they prepared to leave, Gaimon thought about the future. This small victory was only the beginning. With the solar salt method, his territory could eventually produce enough salt to rival Salt Field Town. But first, the royal franchise had to be secured. Then, careful management and strategic planning would ensure his production would thrive.
Jon and Amber followed him silently, their minds full of thoughts about scaling up the operation. Gaimon held a can of snow-white salt in his hand, the gleaming grains catching the dim light of the room. He smiled to himself.
"This is more than salt," he murmured. "It's a start. A foundation for the prosperity of our lands."
By the time they returned to the Red Fort that night, their hands were tired, their backs sore, but their spirits were high. The jars of refined salt they carried symbolized progress, ingenuity, and the promise of wealth to come. Gaimon's father would see not only the salt but the vision behind it—the potential to create a thriving, self-sufficient territory.
As the castle gates closed behind them, Gaimon felt a surge of satisfaction. Today, they had turned something ordinary into something extraordinary. And tomorrow, with the royal franchise in hand and the solar salt fields prepared, they would begin transforming their lands into a center of salt production that could rival any town in the kingdom.
Even in the quiet of the night, the small victories of the day shone bright. Snow-white grains of salt held within a simple jar carried with them the weight of ambition, foresight, and determination. The path ahead was long, but Gaimon was ready.
For now, the refined salt lay safely in their hands. But soon, it would become the foundation of a flourishing trade, a testament to patience, innovation, and the will to turn knowledge into power.
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