Hope for better days (1/3)

Pepin entered a meticulously kept room, its simplicity underscored by the limited yet well-crafted furniture—a sturdy table and a few chairs arranged neatly in the center. An old man, one of the high priests Pepin had worked closely with, sat by the table, his face familiar yet burdened.

They'd collaborated before, united in purpose, but this time Pepin came seeking advice. They spoke for hours, discussing recent developments, Rafael and his inventions, and other topics Pepin's mother had hinted at. Pepin's heart sank as the priest finally admitted that he could do nothing to change the current state of things.

"These advancements have captivated even some of the clergy. It's only a few for now, but I sense a shift—more are beginning to accept these changes. I'm sorry, but there are things that can't be dismissed just because they're new. The printing press, the papermaking process—they're transforming how we operate." The priest's tone was gentle yet firm, a painful acknowledgment of the inevitable.

"Now that nearly every noble and influential merchant approves of the man's inventions, it might be impossible to reverse things." Pepin felt as if he'd been punched in the gut; his mind reeled, struggling to process this bitter truth.

"We're also testing the distiller, exploring its potential," the priest continued.

So... it ends like this for me, Pepin thought, the weight of despair pressing on him. He could see it clearly—the priest himself was gradually being swayed by Rafael's innovations, as were others in the clergy. What once was met with suspicion and resistance was now greeted with curiosity, even enthusiasm, as people saw the tangible benefits these inventions offered.

"Vari, my old friend," Pepin's voice wavered. "Is there anything I can do? They've taken my throne, my influence... my life."

The priest sighed, his expression a mixture of pity and resignation. "I'm sorry, Pepin. I know you've been wronged, but I fear it's irreversible." A tear threatened to escape from Pepin's eye, his emotions too tangled for words.

Days passed, and the townsfolk were swept into shock and awe at the rapid changes around them. Life had been hard—the war had left people starving, underdressed, and poorly sheltered. Basic necessities had become luxuries, and hope was scarce.

Yet now, farmers knelt in gratitude when they first laid hands on the moldboard plow and seed drill, new tools that promised to ease their struggle. After days of careful calculation, they informed one of the king's advisors that they expected their crop yield to increase dramatically—enough, perhaps, to feed everyone.

Meanwhile, metalworkers experimented with a smaller blast furnace as a larger one was being constructed. They quickly realized that Rafael's words were true. The new furnace would simplify their labor, and they couldn't help but cheer at the possibilities ahead.

"This is unheard of! Not even I, the kingdom's finest blacksmith, knew of this!" one worker boasted.

"Quiet, old man!" another laughed. "I'm the best blacksmith, and everyone knows it! But you're right—this is a blessing!"

Curious onlookers—children, elders, commoners alike—gathered, captivated by the workers' jubilation as slag flowed from one side of the chimney and pig iron from the other, filling molds on the ground. The people watched in awe, sensing the significance of this new discovery.

Soon, someone asked what was happening, and the explanation left them in shock—iron, they were told, might soon be as cheap as pottery. Word spread like wildfire through the capital. In two days, nearly everyone knew. People began to attribute these improvements to King Threo, seeing him as the source of their newfound hope.

The winter streets, despite the cold and occasional snowfall, were livelier than they'd been in years. Life wasn't instantly easier—families still faced daily struggles for food, warmth, and shelter, and the threat of war loomed—but at least now, they had something to look forward to. A sense of optimism began to take root, fragile but growing.

During the ten days it took their army to reach Carilan, Rafael enjoyed the most comfortable life he'd known since arriving in this era. He tutored his wife on areas she still found challenging and helped her catalog the words of their primary language, creating what was essentially a dictionary.

Meanwhile, noblemen and wealthy merchants had grown silent in their complaints. Some still harbored grudges, but the potential profit from Rafael's inventions eclipsed their resentment. Those with farmland eagerly embraced the new agricultural tools, while others invested in cement, new textiles, and the increasingly popular soap.

Within the castle, many noticed how their ailments had begun to fade—headaches, nausea, frequent illnesses—all seemingly lessened. They attributed this change to the new hygiene practices King Threo had recently mandated. Observing these benefits, some nobles quickly implemented similar measures in their own households, leading to a sudden surge in soap demand and merchants eager to meet it.

Recognizing the growing interest, Rafael decided to invite a high-ranking priest to discuss distillation and its significance. He carefully coordinated the meeting, briefing key advisors and nobles beforehand. When the priest arrived, Rafael noted the curiosity in his face.

Two men entered—a high priest named Vari, gray-haired but sharp-eyed, and a younger assistant. "Ah, Vari. Thank you for braving the weather to join us." From the window, they could see snow drifting gently down.

"Always at your service, King Threo," Vari replied, settling into a seat at the large round table, his assistant by his side.

Threo glanced around the room, catching the relaxed, even eager expressions of those present. His gaze lingered on Rafael, who watched the scene unfold with a slight smile.

"My father entrusted the distiller to the church," Threo began. "It's a curious device, purifying liquids. But while it's intriguing, you haven't yet fully realized its potential."

Vari raised an eyebrow. "We're experimenting with it, certainly, but you speak as if you already know its secrets. What exactly is the purpose of this meeting?"

Threo's smile grew, his tone confident. "I can tell you how to harness its full usefulness—and it will change everything."

The high priest turned his intense gaze on him, his eyes narrowing slightly before flicking briefly toward Rafael. I understand now.