The Necro-Industrial Revolution

It took several agonizing hours for Jack and his skeletal crew to pound every single piece of pig iron into solid, purified bars of steel.

Down in the sweltering, soundproofed enclosure of the blast furnace, the rhythmic, deafening clack-clank of heavy hammers striking metal echoed endlessly. Jack sat safely inside the castle’s meeting room, his eyes closed, projecting his will through the deep earth.

By the time the skeletons dragged the final, glowing block of pig iron onto the anvil, Jack began to feel a sharp, piercing pressure building in the center of his chest. It wasn’t the dull ache of mental fatigue; this was a violent, physical friction deep within his mana core.

He was at the absolute limit. He was about to break through the first layer of the Iron Core.

Suddenly, a searing spike of pain erupted in his chest. Jack gasped, slipping out of his high-backed chair and dropping to his knees on the cold stone floor. He clutched his shirt, grinding his teeth together to stop himself from screaming. Yet, despite the intense physical agony tearing through his mana channels, Jack was practically smiling on the inside.

He was getting stronger. More importantly, advancing a layer meant he was one step closer to unlocking the sealed memories of the original John Frost Grip, bringing him closer to unraveling the mysteries.

Slowly, the searing heat inside his chest began to cool. The violent friction settled into a deep, thrumming vibration, and then faded entirely. Jack let out a long, shuddering breath. He had done it. He had officially advanced to Layer 2 of the Iron Core.

Inside the furnace room, the skeletons were still mechanically working on the final block of steel. One of the hulking skeletons raised its heavy hammer high into the air, preparing to strike the red-hot metal and send a shower of white sparks flying. After commanding the undead for so many months, the rhythmic, repetitive labor had become sheer muscle memory for Jack; it barely required conscious thought as long as the task wasn’t overly complex. Currently, only three skeletons were actively working, while the remaining fifteen stood perfectly dormant.

The skeletal arm began its downward swing.

But the hammer never struck the anvil.

It froze, suspended in mid-air, along with every other undead movement in the room.

Back in the meeting room, Jack’s mind was violently ambushed. A colossal floodgate shattered open inside his brain. Countless images, voices, and emotions rushed into his consciousness all at once. His head pounded with the force of a battering ram. Jack collapsed onto the floor, clutching his temples, gasping for air like a drowning man as the mental torrent threatened to rip his sanity apart.

And then, just as abruptly as the misery had started, it vanished. The silence in the room was deafening.

Jack pushed himself up with trembling arms, taking several deep, ragged breaths to calm his racing heart. He sat back on his heels and immediately looked inward, inspecting his newly upgraded core. It felt incredibly sturdy, far denser than before. His overall mana capacity had expanded significantly, buzzing with fresh, potent energy.

Satisfied with his physical advancement, Jack turned his attention back to his mental threads. He reconnected with the frozen skeletons and the two flesh-bound mages. His first command was to the skeleton still holding the heavy hammer high in the air, silently ordering it to put the tool down.

Then, Jack severed all the connections entirely.

The accumulated strain on his mind was at its absolute peak. Between the hours of micro-managing the forge, the physical pain of the breakthrough, and the violent memory dump, Jack felt like his brain was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. He dragged himself back up into his chair and simply slumped there, resting in the quiet room for several minutes.

Once his headache dulled to a manageable throb, Jack began to sift through the newly acquired memories.

He expected grand revelations. The mental affect had felt so overwhelming that Jack assumed he had absorbed decades, perhaps centuries, of intricate thoughts and memories. But as he focused on what he could actually remember, Jack was left bitterly disappointed.

The new memories were remarkably few, and worse, they seemed entirely irrelevant to his current survival.

They were mostly disjointed, blurry fragments of John Frost Grip as a young child. During this time, the boy’s father was still alive. However, as Jack tried to examine the memory of the father, the man’s face remained frustratingly obscured, shrouded in a strange mental fog.

This realization sparked a sudden question in Jack’s mind: Why are there no portraits or paintings of John Frost Grip’s father or grandfather anywhere in this massive castle?

From the brief glimpses in these new memories, the Frost Grip family used to be wealthy, far richer than the destitute state Jack had inherited. They could have easily afforded a master artist to paint family portraits, even if the commissions were expensive. Was it simply against northern noble traditions to paint portraits? Or was someone actively trying to erase the family’s history?

“More questions without answers,” Jack muttered aloud, rubbing his face in exhaustion. “I am really getting tired of this. Hopefully, when I finally reach the Bronze Core, I will get to see some memories that are actually useful.”

Jack allowed himself to rest in the chair for a few more minutes, letting the silence soothe his aching mind. Then, he tapped back into his core.

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He commanded the skeletons to finish the final block of pig iron, shaping it perfectly into steel.

Once the metal was cooled, Jack called for Karen. “Send a servant down to the village,” Jack instructed as she opened the door. “Fetch Corin, Barnaby, and Giles. Have them meet me in the rear courtyard immediately.”

While the servant ran down the hill, Jack went to work concealing his tracks. Through his mental link, he ordered the skeletons and marched all eighteen of them into the secret dirt tunnel. Once the undead were safely descending back into the deep crypts, Jack commanded Elias to seal the secret passage flawlessly from the inside.

A short time later, Corin, Giles, and Barnaby gathered in the rear courtyard, waiting anxiously.

Jack walked out of the castle a few minutes later, leaning elegantly on his cane. The three men immediately snapped to attention, bowing deeply to pay their respects to their Lord.

Jack nodded in acknowledgment. “The wait is finally over,” he announced, his voice carrying a quiet, undeniable pride. “We have made steel. Although the raw materials cost us a small fortune, it is a necessary investment that will secure our future.”

He gestured toward the heavy wooden doors of the blast furnace enclosure. “My retainers have just finished processing the very first batch.”

Right on cue, Elias and Sylvia pushed the heavy doors open and stepped out into the courtyard, taking their silent places behind Jack.

Corin, Barnaby, and Giles stared into the dim enclosure, their eyes shining with joy and disbelief. True steel was an incredibly expensive, rare metal. To build the infrastructure and successfully forge it yourself was an astronomical feat. In the long run, this would make the valley wealthy beyond their wildest dreams, and they all knew it.

Giles took a step forward, his chest heaving with emotion. The carpenter looked at Jack, his eyes growing wet.

“By the gods… My Lord, you are truly brilliant,” Giles said, his voice thick and trembling. He couldn’t contain the overwhelming gratitude swelling inside him. “Who would have ever thought that we would be able to produce something like true steel in our dying valley?”

Giles looked around the courtyard, gesturing wildly with his hands as the memories of the past year flooded him. “We defeated the bandits last year, even though it cost us our brave men. Then we endured the entire winter beast tide by ourselves. You created a magical glass house so we can grow fresh vegetables in the dead of winter—and it’s expanding even further this year! You built us new, sturdy homes that actually keep the frost out. You built a bathhouse and latrines to keep us healthy. You forced a treaty with another territory, and now our people are learning new trades and making real coin. And now… now we even have steel.”

A single tear spilled over Giles’ scarred cheek. “All of this… in the span of just one year.”

Giles fell to one knee, bowing his head deeply. “If I ever get the chance to visit the Holy City in the southern continent, I must confess my sins and beg the gods for penance. I actually tried to abandon this valley last year. When you were ill, when we were at our absolute worst, I packed my bags to run away. I truly deserve punishment for my cowardice.”

Jack looked down at the kneeling man, slightly taken aback by the raw, unbridled emotion, but he understood the heavy guilt Giles carried.

“You do not need to go that far, Giles,” Jack said, his voice firm but comforting. “You want to repent for your doubts, right? Then you must work your hardest to make this valley even greater than it once used to be. That is your penance.”

Giles looked up, his eyes burning with absolute, fanatical devotion. “Yes, My Lord! Thus shall be the sole goal of my life. For you, and for my fellow villagers, these hands will not stop working until the bones break. You are truly a blessing sent by the gods to this valley, just like the villagers whisper.”

This guy… Jack thought inwardly, feeling a mix of amusement and heavy responsibility.

“Again, there is no need to go that far,” Jack said gently, waving a hand. “And you should direct some of your thanks to my retainers for the forging of this steel. Although the theoretical designs were my idea, it would have never become a reality if it wasn’t for the tireless labor of my faithful mages.”

Hearing this, Giles stood up. He, along with Corin and Barnaby, turned to the two armored mages standing silently behind Jack and bowed to them in deep, profound respect.

On Jack’s subtle mental command, both Elias and Sylvia returned the gesture, offering light, respectful nods to the mortal men.

Barnaby, who had been staring past the mages into the furnace room, was practically vibrating with excitement. He wasn’t crying like Giles, but the blacksmith was in absolute heaven.

Jack led them to the cooling racks just inside the enclosure. Sitting there, gray and immaculate, were twenty-one massive, heavy blocks of pure steel.

“Lord Jack, you are indeed truly amazing,” Barnaby whispered in awe, running a calloused hand over one the already cooled metal.

Jack didn’t bask in the praise. He immediately shifted into command mode. “Acknowledge the success, but the work is not done. Barnaby, ask the men who are off-shift to carry this stock down to the village forge. I want you to start work immediately. Prioritize the most critical items first. Winter has almost arrived, so finish the structural brackets for the palisade walls, and then immediately begin forging the heavy weapons and traps.”

“As you wish, My Lord!” Barnaby grunted, already mentally measuring the steel blocks for ballista gears.

Jack turned to the engineer. “Corin, I want you and your masonry crew to thoroughly clean the inside of the furnace. Inspect the bricks and repair any damages, big or small, that catch your eye. Also, check our fuel reserves. We have a massive stock of newly baked coke, I presume?”

“Understood, My Lord,” Corin nodded professionally. “And yes, we have manufactured enough coke to run two more full batches of steel production without stopping.”

“Good,” Jack said. “Which brings us to our fuel supply. Giles, the heavy carts from the western merchant guild will be arriving any day now to collect their bulk coal order. Since we deliberately delayed the mining production to build this furnace and other works, what is our current deficit?”

Giles wiped his face, instantly returning to his role as foreman. “My Lord, based on the volume they collected last time and the quotas you informed us of… we are currently lacking three full carts of coal.”

Jack frowned slightly. “Then suspend any secondary construction projects that are not strictly necessary. Reallocate those men and increase the coal production to its absolute maximum.” Jack raised a warning finger. “But do not overwork them to the point of exhaustion. We will need that coal not only to fill the merchant carts, but to make more coke for the steel, and to heat the cabins. We have doubled the population of this valley; winter will burn through our reserves incredibly fast.”

“Yes, My Lord. I will reassign the crews and proceed exactly as you commanded,” Giles affirmed.

“Good.”

With the immediate logistical fires put out, Jack collected the detailed reports regarding the progress in his own village and the ongoing investments in Alaric’s fief. Then he ordered them to submit those in written as soon as possible.

“You are all dismissed,” Jack said, turning back toward the castle doors.

He had successfully broken through to the second layer of his core. He had navigated a violent flood of memories, forged a small fortune in steel, and managed the economic balancing act of two separate fiefs.

Today, Jack firmly decided, he was taking the rest of today off. A Lord could only work nonstop for so long before his body and mind demanded rest.