A Modern Mind in Medieval Times

The next morning, I woke up to sunlight peeking from the folds of tall, expensive curtains. Yawning, I walked out into the veranda, which was awash in the orange light of dawn and the sound of the sea lapping at the shore. A steady, ancient rhythm far calmer than last night’s meeting.

I wasn’t in chains, so the Queen had seen reason. That didn’t guarantee she wouldn’t be hostile, or not try to steal our secrets, though.

That had to be ameliorated.

My two guards followed me silently as I made my way to the rest of my men, who were lounging in the suite assigned to them.

They rose as I entered, then relaxed at my gesture.

“Good morning, boys. How was your evening?” I asked them.

Theo cracked a grin. “Quite good, Sire. The food here is to die for.”

“Give us a year or two and Chadom will match or even surpass it. Did you also enjoy any alcohol or some company along with it?”

“None,” Theo replied immediately. The other men followed, nodding anxiously.

Terrible as I felt to admit it, their fear satisfied me. No weapon could match the danger a loose tongue or hand posed for us.

“How did your evening go, Sire?” Theo asked carefully.

I grimaced, remembering the meeting. “It could’ve gone better, but it also could’ve gone a lot worse, so not too bad. We’re still in the middle of negotiations. Have any of you lost anything?”

He looked at the rest of the men. Everyone shook their heads.

Satisfied, I had breakfast with them and retrieved a few items from our carriage.

We found a steward, easily identifiable by his clothes; sharply dressed, but not ostentatiously so.

“Excuse me. Where may we find the Royal Armorer’s workshop?” I asked him.

His face broke in sympathy, “You will find Master Halric’s workshop in the right quadrant, my lord.”

“Inside the castle walls?”

He smiled and pointed us in the right direction.

The large squat stone building sat next to the castle walls, black smoke billowing from its chimney. As we approached it, the smell of coal, oil and hot air greeted us.

It was like coming home.

The inside was a maelstrom of action. Men were hammering, quenching and filing. Bellows were roaring as metal glowed red-hot. Rows of half-finished cuirasses hung from the rafters. Among all the chaos, it was still clear who was in charge. An older man, not quite elderly, with salt and pepper hair. Built like an ox, he was shouting at three flinching men. None of them were exactly young, but were trembling like new apprentices in front of him.

We waited at the gate until he was finished with his rebuke.

Finished, he turned around and fixed his hard eyes on me.

“What do you want?” he looked me up and down, then added, “My lord?”

“Would you happen to be Master Halric, the Royal Armorer?”

“Aye.”

“I am a guest of the Queen, from a foreign land. I was accompanied by some of her knights on the way. We came across some trouble, but they all survived, thanks to your armor.”

He looked at me suspiciously. Flattery would not work on him, so I got to the point.

“I would be grateful if you could evaluate this billet of steel,” I signaled to my men, who presented him with a small but heavy, shiny billet. “Let me know what you think of its quality.”

He looked me in the eyes. “I won’t be gentle.”

“You don’t need to be. I value honesty over flattery, just like you.”

He nodded and hefted the billet with one hand as if it weighed nothing. Lifting it up to eye level, he turned it around in the sunlight, carefully studying the surface reflecting it. Satisfied, he took it to an anvil and hammered it.

It sang in a clean high pitched tone, like a bell.

No thud or buzz of uneven or brittle steel. We remained silent as he listened to its ringing. He hit it a few more times, each time with more force.

“File!” he barked.

A young man hurriedly collected a few from the nearby bench and presented them to him. He took a rough one and dragged it across the billet. It didn’t bite. His face soured as he attacked it with more force, jaws tightening, muscles straining.

Some time later, he handed the files back to his apprentice, and muttered, “Not as strong as I used to be.”

“Age dulls even the best edge,” I said sympathetically. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s good steel. Almost no impurities. That’s rare. How is its surface so free of grain and pitting?”

I just smiled in response. Do you expect us to reveal our secrets, old man?

He seemed to get the message as he looked away.

“How much do you think it is worth, Master Halric?”

“Two deeners a pound. This matches the best we have, but ours can charge a premium for the reputation for quality it has built up. Yours is unknown. Where did you say you hail from, my lord?”

“Chadom,” I said absentmindedly. Deener was a large silver coin. Not a bad price.

“Thank you for your help, Master Halric.” I bowed and turned.

“Your billet!” he called.

“A gift! Make something worthy of it,” I said as I left him.

The butler from the last night found me and told me the Queen had invited me for lunch. My pulse quickened.

As I followed him, we came across Reshma, bedecked in a flowing violet gown, who stared daggers at me. I gave her an apologetic smile as we passed. She didn’t return it.

Two guards opened an ornate door, that opened to an enclosed balcony overlooking the sea. The Queen stood by the balustrade, her pink gown whispering against the marble in the wind. Her crimson hair danced as she stared at the waves.

“Your Majesty.” I bowed lightly.

She turned and trained those bewitching eyes on me. They were controlled, simmering with calculation, but not entirely devoid of anger.

“Your Excellency,” she gestured to the seat beside her.

As I sat, I stopped myself from apologizing again. No need to make her more angry. Still, I had to clear the matter.

“I thank you for your prudence, Your Majesty. A more emotional person would have made a rash decision.”

She remained silent, and gracefully poured juice from a jar into a glass for me.

Was that a gesture of peace? I stopped myself from showing my thoughts.

“As you said,” she began, “the letter was too vague. Nothing concrete; no dates and no plans.”

Relief flooded my insides. Her anger wasn’t completely gone, but at least she would listen.

“Your Majesty, am I right in assuming you called me here to find a way to protect Nanon from Zoran?”

She nodded, eyeing me intently.

“I also wish for Nanon’s safety, as Zoran will not stop until they have conquered the entire continent. We are all in the same boat, but we must negotiate fairly. You have made your offers, both the carrot and the stick. Allow me to make mine.”

Her posture stiffened.

I had spent some time thinking on the matter after the last meeting. I could see how desperately she wanted our weapons. I also wanted friendly relations with Nanon; a future with a such a large hostile neighbor this close would be bleak even if we survived.

But empowering Nanon as it was out of the question. It would spell our doom. Above all, I had to make a favorable deal that would at least keep us safe until we became an impregnable fortress. If the negotiations went south, the Nanoans only needed for one spy to figure out how few we were and they could swarm us with conscripts.

“I will be honest, as you don’t seem like the kind of ruler who takes offense at every perceived slight. The crown pays its vassals with lands, in exchange for their loyalty and military service, correct?”

She nodded, asking me through her eyes why I was stating the obvious.

“Those vassals have vassals of their own, who have knights in their service.

In this system, the people who hold positions of power do so because of whom they were born to and whom they are loyal to, not what they can and want to do.

Ability and character are essentially non-factors. Tragic is a polite way of describing this situation. I’m discussing this openly with you because I see you are a competent ruler.”

Her full lips tightened. She didn’t completely disagree.

“I would like to see this society changed, so that men and women of ability can get in positions of power and responsibility. The loss of their potential hurts everyone.”

She sighed.

“I understand what you are saying, Viscount. Far too many of my courtiers are simpering incompetent idiots. I cannot kick them from the court without repercussions due to their connections, but I cannot imagine how that can be changed.”

“I understand. This is the only way of life you have known, and I’m talking about changing everything, but if you can trust me, I assure you I can bring about a society which would be far better than the current one.”

Her brows furrowed in disbelief.

I leaned forward. “Let me give you an example. Right now, no matter whether a woman is a Queen or a poor peasant, she must give birth to six or seven children, just so that two or three could survive to adulthood. In the society I could bring about, you will have only the children you want to have, because very few of them will die.”

“How?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“Through innovation. Real innovation, not merely tinkering. It comes from deeply understanding the principles that govern the universe, including our bodies. Demystifying them requires a critical mass of sharp minds, years of effort and mountains of money. Those sharp minds are-”

I clamped up. A sudden dread ran through me.

Maybe giving the handbook away was not the best idea. Maybe a feudal society could innovate while keeping its oppressive structure intact, if it knew exactly what to do. Nope, not giving them that knowledge.

Her brows furrowed as she drank in those words and didn’t even notice my abrupt pause.

“What is this ’critical mass’?” she asked.

I tried to deflect and thought of a more pertinent example.

“Let me give you another example, even more relevant to you. You are full-figured, but also diminutive. That increases the risk of a difficult childbirth.”

She froze, but I carried on.

“Imagine a world with medicine that puts you to deep sleep so you don’t die thrashing from pain if the surgeons have to cut you open to save your and your child’s life. It will also have medicine that could bring you back to full health from such an ordeal.”

---

Laira’s heart beat against her ribs as she stared at the man in front of her.

Memories clawed up from a place long forgotten.

Her mother’s screams and the silence.

Afterwards, she had taken a peek. There had been blood. So much blood.

She had been only seven, yet those memories came back so easily.

The fear of the same happening to her was a powerful beast that lurked inside her, but she hadn’t spoken of it to anyone. Not even Reshma, though she already understood without words.

This man had spoken the terror and given her a vision of surviving it.

She could’ve made her nephews her heirs if her dolt of a brother hadn’t gotten himself killed before producing any legitimate ones. It wasn’t as if she hated children, but the very idea of pregnancy terrified her.

Her hands trembled. She hid them beneath the table.

She steadied her gaze as she looked at the infuriating man. If he could save her from such a fate, maybe she should take a chance on him.

She wet her drying mouth and took a small step toward the risk sitting in front of her.

---

I sat silently, giving her time to gather herself. Her composure returned slowly, layer by layer.

It was well known that the former Queen had died during childbirth, and it wasn’t too improbable that the daughter would be scared of the same happening to her. I felt bad for capitalizing on that fear, but it would help everyone out, especially the woman sitting in front of me.

“You can bring about such a society?” she said, poorly hiding the quivering in her voice.

“Yes. It will not be easy.”

“Nothing worth having is. What will be the price of birthing it?”

I thought of the Industrial revolution. The terrible conditions of mills and bakeries.

Creative destruction was a God that took as much as it gave, but maybe it could be managed by someone who knew its nature. Still, if I was to walk this path with her, I had to be honest.

“First, let me make it clear that it is a dangerous path. Those entrenched in power will not like the changes it brings, because their positions will be diminished.

There is also a very small but non zero chance of major social upheaval, but, if the change is carefully managed, it can be kept close to zero.”

She looked at me sharply.

I felt the urge to correct, but suppressed it. The chance of upheaval would never be truly zero, as one could never perfectly predict the confluence of numerous factors involved, let alone when bad luck would team up with them to flip the entire board.

A possibility came to my mind as I looked at her beautiful face.

Don’t think of that,

Don’t think of that,

Don’t think of that.

I chanted the mantra, as I looked at her again.

I finally surrendered.

I wanted her, badly. Might as well give it a try.

“What?” She asked, noticing my gaze.

“Your beauty keeps derailing my train of thought.”

“What is ‘derailing’?”

“Just an expression; you’re so beautiful I can’t think properly.” I said, exasperated.

She just smirked in response. Bitch.

I exhaled slowly. If I was going to reshape Nanon, and that was the only way Zoran could be stopped, I couldn’t do it from the outside.

I needed legitimacy. Power. There was one clear way.

“There is one way all of it could be accomplished,” I said, with my heart hammering in my chest.

“How?”

“Marry me. Make me your husband.”

As she stared at me in disbelief, I desperately hoped this wasn’t just my horny subconscious taking over. Please let it be a rational decision, please.