Ch.23Amurtart’s Steel.

Many people don’t know this, but ‘steel’ is technically an ‘alloy.’

Steel is created by combining iron and carbon, making it definitively an alloy by definition. It’s the most widely used material in the world and serves as a measure of a nation’s metallurgical capabilities.

For example, the steel produced in our Amurtat cannot have the same strength as steel made in some rural village that doesn’t even appear on maps.

By definition, steel refers to metal containing between 0.035wt% and 0.17wt% carbon in iron. If below this range, it’s wrought iron; if above, it’s cast iron.

Here, wt% refers to percentage by mass.

When making weapons like swords, steel with 0.9-1wt% carbon is used, while structural materials like rebar use steel with 0.04-0.06wt% carbon.

Now that we understand the technical definition, let’s examine how steel is produced.

In this era, the only method of producing steel was by adding carbon to wrought iron.

First, a bloomery was needed to produce wrought iron.

The process involved creating a tall crucible—what most people picture as a blacksmith’s chimney—filling it with iron ore and charcoal, heating it, and then hammering the solidified iron mixed with slag to break apart the impurities and collect only the iron. This was wrought iron.

After forming the wrought iron into ingots, they would be mixed with charcoal and heated again for several days. This was the most crucial step. Too little mixing would leave it as wrought iron, too much would turn it into cast iron—only the “right amount” of carbon would produce quality steel.

It was clearly an inefficient and complex process, but what could one do? If you didn’t like it, your only option was to start an industrial revolution.

*

Mid-March, Year 4 of Amurtat.

Dozens of bloomeries in the Stilyard belched white smoke without fail every day. Carts heading to the Stilyard carried enormous amounts of fuel, returning with disproportionately small quantities of iron.

Of this small amount of iron, 90% was exported, with only 10% consumed within Amurtat. There were many buyers for Amurtat’s iron, and with the city’s still-small population, there were few complaints despite the unequal distribution.

Increasing domestic consumption wouldn’t make sense yet anyway. I had made a national-scale investment in the Stilyard as a matter of life and death for the city, resulting in dozens of forges and bloomeries working day and night to produce vast quantities of iron, so 10% was sufficient.

In one of these many forges, tense blacksmiths huddled together, carefully examining a glowing red ingot.

Whoooosh…

Between the hot coals, a wrought iron ingot mixed with charcoal powder glowed intensely.

Three days had passed since it began heating, but the carbon still had a long way to go before fully permeating the iron.

After three days, enough carbon would have been absorbed to make structural materials like rebar, but since this steel (or soon-to-be steel) was intended for swordmaking, it required a higher carbon content and thus needed to endure a longer heating period.

For reference, these timeframes—three days, a week—were information obtained from an ironworker specially invited from Fahrenheit at great expense, so they could be considered reliable.

I, as the ruler, had asked directly, so if the information proved incorrect, the worker could be punished for the crime of disrespecting the sovereign.

Marcus, the Grand Duke of Fahrenheit, would surely understand. When a lowly person disrespects a noble being, they must pay for their crime, mustn’t they?

“Four days left, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Instructor, at exactly what time on the seventh day should we remove the ingot?”

“Don’t rush. When was the ingot sufficiently heated?”

“At 3 PM, sir.”

“Then remove it at that time. Remember, it’s not about when you put the ingot in.”

“Y-yes, understood!”

The instructor from Fahrenheit, though stern, was clearly imparting his expertise to Amurtat’s ironworkers.

Having recruited the most reliable talent for 100 gold coins, he needed to prove his worth.

“The fuel supply must not be interrupted… but you seem to be managing that well. The west… western forest? Anyway, it’s fortunate you have a forest nearby.”

The ironworker from Fahrenheit envied Amurtat for still having forests nearby.

In his homeland of Fahrenheit, all forests had already been logged, replaced by farmland, pastures, and urban areas.

“We can procure charcoal in large quantities. Though the forest is shrinking because of it…”

The trees in this world grow incredibly fast. A tree planted in January can grow into a 15-meter giant by December.

I don’t know if some special power is involved, but I’ll chalk it up to game mechanics.

But as always, humans—unlike other races—consume resources at an unimaginable rate, whether trees grow slowly or quickly, and consequently, the Western Forest was gradually shrinking.

Fortunately, the Western Forest was vast, and experts carefully predicted it could easily sustain steel production for about 10 years. So the lumberjacks expanded their logging sites and enthusiastically cut down the Western Forest.

You might wonder if the elves had anything to say about this? Surprisingly, they said nothing. That’s because the forest being cut down wasn’t theirs.

As long as their home remained untouched, the elves of Blumen Elfium were content to enjoy the meat and alcohol they received through trade with Amurtat and kept silent.

*

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Early April.

Finally, Amurtat’s first steel was heated once more, and the most skilled blacksmiths worked in perfect coordination to forge this first steel into the first steel sword.

Under countless hammer blows, the malleable steel was pressed and transformed, gradually elongating. The tang was extended, and the blade began to take shape.

“Huff… huff…”

The reason they put in more than ten times the effort of a normal iron sword was because this sword was destined for the ruler of Amurtat, their lord.

The honor of forging the first steel weapon in Amurtat’s history—made with their city’s resources and their own efforts—fell to them. If even a single flaw appeared, it would be remembered as a national disgrace until the fall of Amurtat.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Hisssss…

Through forging, quenching, and tempering, the steel’s structure became densely bonded, and the white gleaming blade began to shine as if yearning for a handle and scabbard.

“Ahhh…”

“So this is the light of steel.”

Honestly, steel and wrought iron shine the same way, but considering the effort invested, this small error could be overlooked as a placebo effect.

Snap! Snap!

Soon the crossguard was assembled, the handle and pommel attached, and a scabbard made from premium bear leather crafted with the utmost care by the tanners.

Shhhhh…

With a quiet sound of absorption, the blade entered the scabbard, completing the longsword with its 100cm blade and 30cm handle.

*

“Please accept this, my lord…!”

“…”

I slowly received the sword offered by the rust-stained blacksmith.

The steel sword in its scabbard was clearly of such value that no commoner could ever hope to possess it, even in their dreams.

Shing…

Silently, I drew the sword from its scabbard and performed a sword salute. The gleaming blue-white longsword perfectly reflected my face.

It was a flawless sword without a single blemish or distortion, and I returned it to its scabbard.

“This is Amurtat’s first steel.”

I declared.

“But it shall certainly not be the last. From this day forward, all citizens of Amurtat will know that this is a city of steel. As the ruler of Amurtat, I bestow upon this sword the name ‘Primus,’ honoring the first in the ancient tongue.”

Solemnly, I fastened the sword at my waist.

The weight of the 3kg sword transmitted down my spine. I drew it once more and tapped the still-kneeling blacksmith’s shoulder with the blade.

“Rise, blacksmiths of Amurtat. The fathers of steel have appeared in this land, and your names shall be remembered forever under these skies.”

The blacksmiths rose.

The steel refiners, the sword makers, stood up.

And they would never kneel again.