Chapter 15: Troubles of the bloomary
The next several weeks were filled with constant work.
And suffering.
Mostly suffering.
"This is horrible," Finn groaned while dragging another wooden plank across the clearing.
"You’re being dramatic."
"My hands are bleeding."
"That means you’re building character."
"I think I’m building permanent injuries."
I ignored him completely and continued hammering nails into one of the shack’s support beams.
Surprisingly, however—
The shack was actually beginning to look decent.
The broken sections of the roof had been replaced with fresh planks while several holes in the walls were patched with clay and wood. We even managed to clear most of the weeds and debris surrounding the clearing.
Inside, the building had changed the most.
A proper worktable now stood near the center of the room covered in sketches and tools while shelves lined one side of the wall holding supplies and materials.
It still looked modest.
Very modest.
But compared to the collapsing ruin it used to be?
It was infinitely better.
Finn wiped sweat from his forehead before collapsing onto one of the chairs we had built.
"I still don’t understand why we’re doing all this in the middle of nowhere."
"Privacy," I answered immediately.
Finn frowned.
"You say that like we’re committing crimes."
"We’re revolutionizing civilization."
"That somehow sounds worse."
I smirked slightly before sitting down across from him.
The afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the repaired windows while the smell of fresh wood and clay lingered throughout the shack.
Honestly...
Seeing the place finally come together felt satisfying.
But now—
It was time for the real beginning.
I reached over and unrolled several sketches across the table.
Finn leaned forward curiously.
"What’s that?"
"Our next step," I answered.
Finn looked over the rough drawings with confusion.
The sketches showed a strange furnace-like structure with openings near the bottom and long pipe-like extensions along the sides.
"...What even is this?"
"A bloomery."
Finn blinked.
"A what?"
I leaned back slightly before explaining.
"Steel production."
That immediately caught his attention.
"Steel?" Finn repeated. "But steel already exists."
"Normal steel does," I corrected. "But I know how to make better steel."
Finn stared at me skeptically.
"How much better?"
I smiled slightly.
"The kind that changes wars."
That shut him up instantly.
Truthfully, steel in this world wasn’t bad.
But it was inconsistent.
Impure.
Weak compared to what I knew could be achieved.
And if I wanted firearms...
Engines...
Or eventually even armored vehicles and aircraft—
Then I needed stronger metal.
Much stronger metal.
I pointed toward the sketch.
"A bloomery is basically a furnace used to separate iron from ore. Most blacksmiths use primitive versions already, but we’re going to build a much better one."
Finn leaned closer while listening carefully.
"How?"
"Hotter temperatures. Better airflow. Better materials."
I pointed toward several sections of the drawing.
"We’ll use insulated clay walls to trap heat, stone reinforcement so the structure doesn’t crack, and metal piping to improve airflow from the bellows."
Finn looked impressed despite himself.
"...You really thought this through."
"You have no idea."
————
The rest of the day was spent gathering materials.
Which mostly involved exhausting amounts of walking.
We traveled throughout the nearby town visiting blacksmiths, traders, and supply shops buying everything we needed.
Iron ore.
Charcoal.
Clay.
Sand.
Water barrels.
Metal pipes.
Stone blocks.
Finn struggled carrying half the supplies while constantly complaining.
"Why are rocks so heavy?!"
"Because they’re rocks."
"That doesn’t answer my question!"
At one point, a blacksmith even questioned why two children were buying such strange combinations of materials.
Thankfully, I managed to bluff my way through it by claiming we were helping repair farming equipment.
Eventually, by late afternoon, we finally returned to the clearing with a wagon full of supplies.
Then the real suffering began.
Building the bloomery turned out to be far harder than I originally expected.
The stone base alone took hours to assemble properly while the clay insulation needed careful layering to avoid cracking under heat.
Finn nearly collapsed twice carrying materials back and forth.
"I hate your dreams," he groaned while hauling another bucket of clay.
"You’ll thank me later."
"I highly doubt that."
Still—
Despite the exhaustion, excitement steadily built inside me as the structure slowly took shape.
Because for the first time since reincarnating into this world—
Something from my old life was finally becoming real.
Not theory.
Not dreams.
Reality.
As the sun slowly began setting behind the forest trees, we finally stepped back to admire our work.
Standing proudly near the shack was a crude but functional bloomery furnace nearly twice the size of those used by ordinary village smiths.
Stone reinforced the outer walls while thick clay insulation lined the structure. Several metal pipes extended from the lower sides where future bellows would force air directly into the furnace.
It looked rough.
Primitive.
But beautiful.
Finn stared at it while breathing heavily.
"...So this thing makes your special steel?"
I slowly smiled.
"No."
Finn blinked.
"...What?"
"This thing," I corrected while staring at the furnace proudly, "is what starts the industrial revolution."
—————
The next morning marked the beginning of our first real attempt at steel production.
Honestly—
It started far more exciting than it ended.
The bloomery stood ready beside the shack while piles of charcoal and iron ore sat nearby waiting to be fed into the furnace.
Finn stared at the structure nervously.
"So... this thing isn’t going to explode, right?"
"...Probably not."
Finn immediately looked concerned.
"You saying probably does not help."
I ignored him and began preparing the furnace.
First came layers of charcoal.
Then iron ore.
Then more charcoal.
Once everything was prepared, I grabbed the flint and steel before igniting the fuel deep inside the bloomery.
At first, the fire burned weakly.
Then—
FWOOOSH!
The flames suddenly roared to life as Finn and I began pumping the bellows attached to the metal pipes along the sides.
Air blasted directly into the furnace.
The fire intensified immediately.
Heat surged outward violently.
Finn’s eyes widened slightly.
"...Okay, that’s actually kind of cool."
I grinned proudly.
"Told you."
The two of us continued pumping the bellows rhythmically while feeding additional charcoal and ore into the furnace.
For a while—
Everything actually seemed to be working.
The furnace glowed brighter and brighter while sparks erupted upward into the air.
Sweat poured down my face from the overwhelming heat.
Still, excitement burned stronger inside me.
This was it.
The first step toward modern industry.
The first step toward true steel.
But after about an hour—
Reality began setting in.
"My arms hurt..." Finn groaned weakly while continuing to pump the bellows.
"Keep going."
"I think I’m dying."
"You’re fine."
"I can see my ancestors."
Unfortunately...
Even when taking turns, our thirteen-year-old bodies simply could not keep up.
Operating the bellows continuously required far more strength and stamina than I originally expected.
The furnace temperature started fluctuating.
The airflow weakened.
And eventually—
The fire began dying down entirely.
"...No, no, no—"
I quickly pumped harder trying to restore the airflow, but my exhausted arms burned in protest.
Finn collapsed beside the bellows breathing heavily.
"I can’t..."
The furnace temperature continued dropping.
And just like that—
Our first batch failed.
Several hours later, both of us lay sprawled across the grass near the bloomery completely exhausted.
Finn looked moments away from death.
"I hate steel," he wheezed.
"I hate children."
"We are children."
"Exactly."
I stared blankly toward the sky while trying to think.
The design itself worked.
The furnace worked.
The airflow system worked.
The problem was simple.
We physically couldn’t maintain the bellows long enough.
I slowly sat upright and looked toward the bellows attached to the bloomery.
There had to be a solution.
Then—
My eyes shifted past the furnace.
Beyond the trees behind the clearing, faint sunlight reflected off moving water.
The river.
Suddenly, my mind clicked.
I froze.
"...Wait."
Finn looked over weakly.
"What?"
I slowly stood up while staring toward the river.
A wheel.
No—
A waterwheel.
If rotating water flow turned a wheel...
Then gears could convert rotational motion into linear motion using something like a partial gear...
We could repeatedly compress the bellows automatically.
My eyes widened.
"We’re idiots."
Finn blinked slowly.
"...I’m too tired to be insulted right now."
"We don’t need to pump the bellows ourselves."
"...What?"
I immediately grabbed my notebook and started sketching frantically across the pages.
"A waterwheel turns from river flow," I explained rapidly. "The wheel connects to partial gears which transfer rotational force into back-and-forth movement for the bellows."
Finn stared at the drawings with complete confusion.
"...I understood literally none of those words."
I pointed aggressively at the sketch.
"Water turns wheel."
"...Okay."
"Wheel moves gears."
"...Sure."
"Gears move bellows."
Finn stayed silent for several seconds.
Then slowly—
His eyes widened.
"...Wait."
I grinned wildly.
"We make the river do the work for us."
A brief silence followed.
Then Finn suddenly sat upright with determination blazing in his amber eyes.
"...We’re building that immediately."
I blinked.
"You actually understood?"
"No," Finn admitted while standing up. "But if it means I never touch those damn bellows again, then I’m completely invested."
Honestly?
Fair enough.
Finn immediately grabbed a hammer off the ground and pointed dramatically toward the trees.
"Get up, Leon."
I grinned before standing beside him.
"We’re about to industrialize a forest."
And just like that—
The construction of our first machine began.
