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Anno Domini 828,March-29-April-15
"Good, keep up that pace. If we continue like this, we'll exceed the expectations I gave the basileus Rhōmaiōn," I said as I moved through the forge, watching how dozens of furnaces clustered in the area heated the place until it became suffocating.
More than fifty of my most veteran smiths worked without pause, preparing crucibles with iron, coal dust, and glass to continue producing steel. Once removed, the glass carried away the impurities, and the clean steel was immediately processed under the forge's hydraulic hammers. Thanks to the system we had created, multiple hammers worked in parallel, flattening the metal and shaping the plates needed for each brigandine.
Meanwhile, other smiths drilled the plates where the rivets would go, then sent them down the line, where the most inexperienced hands joined them by sheer force of arm. Thus long rows of riveted steel plates were formed, which finally reached the tailors, who added the fabric covering that left the brigandine completely finished.
For the moment, we had a complete production chain that allowed us to manufacture nearly ninety brigandines a day. Considering the number of hands at work, this was possible because we maintained the flexibility to reorganize the entire process, reaching close to one hundred brigandines daily when necessary.
Even so, everything would be much easier if I could finish the damned blast furnace. No matter how hard I had tried over the years, even with the help of smiths well versed in metallurgy, completing the heart of the furnace—the critical point where truly high temperatures had to be reached—had proven extremely difficult.
There was more work than ever. With the island's architect, we had built, during periods of lighter load, a separate building from the main forge. There, the base of the blast furnace rose: an elevated structure from which materials would be fed, along with a large system of bellows meant to force the highest possible temperature by injecting oxygen into the fire.
It even had a gently sloped ramp along which carts loaded with material were pushed directly to the furnace.
The idea was to generate enormous quantities of molten iron, because with that the next step—turning it into steel—would be far faster, cutting in half the workload of the smiths operating the traditional furnaces. Until we found another way to produce steel, this was the most practical method available to us.
So, quite literally, I was praying. I could not keep failing with small prototypes that were useless. With war closer than ever, this had to work—truly work.
I watched as coal and iron were thrown into the furnace in layers, hoping everything would go well.
When everything was finally in place and the furnace filled, we began the firing. The coal at the base caught quickly, and the temperature began to rise violently. The bellows, driven by the river's water, forced air through iron pipes into the heart of the furnace. The heat climbed steadily, and a column of black smoke began to pour from the top.
Hours passed. From time to time we checked the process, but through the mouth of the furnace we could only make out a glowing, reddish mass. It was difficult to know whether the result would be what we hoped for.
More hours went by, and the heat must have reached its peak. Oxygen continued to flow without pause, feeding the reaction, while we all waited in silence to see whether this time the furnace would fulfill its purpose.
When the time I deemed prudent had passed, after several hours, I gave the order to open the sluices we had prepared. First, the slag gate was opened. The material flowed out immediately, filling the molds set aside for that residue, until the stream finally stopped completely.
Then we opened the second gate. The iron, still bright and incandescent, began to pour out, filling a multitude of molds shaped like the ingots we later used in the crucibles, to be fed back into the furnaces and continue the process.
Seeing that everything had gone well, I felt nothing but pride and deep satisfaction. I had spent years trying to conceive this damned thing, and finally, after days of research, labor, and error, I had managed to build a furnace capable of processing several hundred kilograms of iron a day.
Now, unlike before, we only needed to pass it through a finery forge to turn it into steel, oxidizing the excess carbon it still contained.
Wiping the sweat from my face, I watched as the iron that had come out of the furnace slowly began to harden.
I immediately ordered more iron and charcoal to be thrown back into the furnace to prepare the next charge. We were going to need a great deal of material if we wanted to meet all our needs.
My heart was pounding, because at last we had finished this piece of garbage that had nearly driven me gray with how difficult it was to conceive.
As I wiped away the sweat, I watched the many training sessions among my men. Training would be the most important thing of all, since soon we would have to go raiding Abbasid territory and, most likely, campaign in summer—which meant we would be cooking under the Levantine climate.
At the same time, Varangian recruitment had to begin, and I had an idea that might be absolute madness—or an act of genius that could bring me tens of thousands of Varangians ready to die for the cause.
"Hakon… I see you're preparing for the harvest," I said, looking at the old merchant, who along with his family was working the fields for that year's crop.
"Basil… my friend. Let me welcome you with the hospitality that is due. Where is Brynhildr?" Hakon said cheerfully, smiling as he wiped away some sweat.
"Training. The day will soon come when she can prove herself, but in the meantime I have a job for you, Hakon," I replied, watching as Hakon's children helped alongside those who appeared to be the family's slaves working the land.
"What do you want me to do? From what I understand, you have nothing left to sell—you already sold everything on the imperial market," Hakon replied, looking at me with a faint smile.
"Yes. A war between the Empire and the Abbasids is about to break out, and I'll receive orders to raid the Levant. As I promised those jarls, they'll be allowed to raid—but under conditions. The task I have for you is to recruit fighters, more than ever. Take your ships, and I'll give you one hundred thousand nomismata to distribute as a display of wealth among the Scandinavian warrior clans. Let them seek land and combat—they'll find both here. With that, buy ships and bring me warriors. I'll arm them if necessary, but bring as many as you can—not with the idea of settling, but with the promise of raiding and fighting," I said seriously.
"You realize that will attract many of the finest warriors—and some very powerful jarls who won't be able to resist an offer like that," Hakon said.
"Yes, I know that very well. But this war could be long, and if I lose my men I'll need warriors to replenish my numbers. So one way or another, I need people willing to fight. In the capital, everyone was recruited by the emperor, so I won't have any luck there. I need Varangians—or I'll have to look elsewhere, like hiring mercenary companies, though I doubt many would want to work in this kind of war," I replied as we walked together through the fields.
"I understand. I'll try to do my best to avoid attracting the sort of scum that could cause you trouble, but with a mission like this, I fear that will be very difficult. You'll get a massive wave of migrants instead of the occasional drakkar that arrives every two or three days like you have now," Hakon said.
"I know. I'm fully aware—but no one knows what will happen, and it's better to have replacements in case something terrible occurs," I replied, nodding.
"Very well. I'll prepare the ships and depart as soon as possible," Hakon said, giving me a slap on the shoulder as he headed toward the coast to ready his drakkars.
I would have liked to have more time, but unfortunately the emperor died early, which meant I had to have everything ready for when the order came to mobilize the tagmata and part of the themata to the battlefield.
So the smiths worked at full speed producing armor, the bowyers continued making English longbows to field archer units among our ranks, and large quantities of cotton armor hardened with seawater were also being produced for the climate. If we had to fight under the sun, that armor would be the best way to endure the heat—and it also offered resistance against arrows.
From what I understood of Saracen warfare, their way of fighting is based on mobile war. The use of the bow is extremely intensive, both on foot and on horseback, and they clearly do not seek a decisive battle unless we manage to trap them and force them to fight. Otherwise, they will be retreating constantly.
Everything depended on the orders I would be given—raiding the coast or similar tasks. I might even be asked to participate directly in the campaign if it unfolded near the coast, supporting naval and land operations, which would not be unusual.
So, for the next two weeks, without any rest, I traveled all across Crete, securing military equipment, gathering supplies, and organizing the troops who would remain behind. I couldn't simply take everything with me, nor could I repeat the previous strategy of going only with Varangians. I had to bring a large part of my fleet and also a considerable portion of my tagmata, in case we had to fight at sea or face a heavily fortified settlement.
On several occasions I stopped by the shipyard at Heraklion to see how the work was progressing, and I didn't like how slowly the shipyard workers were moving. At present I had forty warships between dromons and captured Saracen vessels—but I wanted more. The problem was that the shipyard operated under a highly inefficient system.
If I had intervened earlier, perhaps I could have implemented something similar to the Venetian Arsenal system—building ships in parts and assembling them in one place, to the point of producing a war galley per day. But it was already too late for that. All I could do was grumble and accept that I would have no additional dromons for this war, since the first new ships would only be ready in the coming months. The first thing I would have to do upon returning would be to completely overhaul the production system.
I secured a large number of spears and swords, many new boots, and enormous quantities of preserved food. I left ten dromons behind with a garrison of two thousand men in case anything happened—leaving the greenest soldiers there and taking only the veterans with me. In addition, I recruited the Varangians again and added two Svearíke clans, who together contributed nearly a thousand warriors, along with several drakkars intended for raiding.
As soon as the mobilization letter arrived, with the order to attack the Levantine coast because the Abbasids were on the move, we put to sea bound for Cyprus, to see what we could strike from there, hoping for good fortune. According to the reports, that land was full of Christians, so it could also serve to acquire population and repopulate Crete with former Romans.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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