Ch.54Shortcomings

*Clang! Clang!*

“Don’t hit it too hard! It would be a disaster if it cracks or breaks!”

“Y-yes, sir.”

At the gates of Amurtat.

A shipment had just arrived in Amurtat—an enormously large glass cover.

One might wonder, what’s this giant glass cover for? Well, this cover was one of the crucial components meant to encase the clock in the clock tower.

Without a cover, a clock exposed to the elements would rust in no time. Only by sealing it with a transparent and sturdy glass cover could the clock tower’s timepiece truly be complete.

Unfortunately, Amurtat still lacked not only the technology to process such a massive glass cover but even the foundation to create one.

To be more precise, while they knew what glass was and used it to some extent, it hadn’t been commercialized.

Glass windows were rare outside of taverns, public bathhouses, or castles. The vast majority of homes used thin, translucent cloth fixed to frames as windows, making glass essentially a luxury reserved for the wealthy in Amurtat.

Naturally, glassmaking constituted only a small part of the Steelyard’s operations, and even then, it was primarily for producing essential items like eyeglasses. They hadn’t even attempted to produce glass panels.

In truth, it might seem absurd that a place capable of producing steel couldn’t make a simple glass panel. But glass was both fragile and difficult to manufacture, without the consistent demand that steel enjoyed. Most countries could produce their own glass with some investment of time and resources, so there was little merit in mass production.

Consequently, investment in this sector was minimal, and the glass industry received little attention in Amurtat.

Simply put, there was no demand.

Isn’t there a saying that you don’t miss what you never had? It was fortunate that glass windows were installed in establishments like taverns and bathhouses; otherwise, the people of Amurtat might have lived without even knowing what glass was.

The very reason this glass cover was imported from Fahrenheit was solely because of the clock tower. Had the tower not been built, seeing such massive glass in Amurtat would have been a matter for the distant future.

“By the way, can’t we make something like this in Amurtat?”

“Well… we certainly could if we invested the time.”

“Then why don’t we invest the time?”

“Because time is limited.”

“Ah…”

Indeed.

Time is given equally to all but not fairly, making it cruel to compare the national power of Fahrenheit, which has existed for hundreds of years, with Amurtat, which hasn’t even reached its tenth year.

They could make glass but chose not to because there were more urgent and necessary things to produce. Investing national power—grown through what’s commonly called “selection and concentration”—in an industry with little merit would be not just wasteful but nearly sinful.

“Our country still has a long way to go, doesn’t it…”

“Well, you could say that. But still, this country is ours.”

However, problems created by time can be solved with time.

If hundreds of years aren’t enough, then thousands or tens of thousands of years will eventually overcome the gap.

Wouldn’t a ruler with eternal life need to endlessly reform the nation over infinite time?

*

*Clank! Clang! Clank! Clang!*

The Steelyard.

Though it was still winter, the heat emanating from the Steelyard was enough to defy nature itself. As if to prove this, not a single snowflake accumulated on its black chimneys, with any melted snow quickly evaporating into thin air.

And what was being made there now? The massive components of a clock, crafted from Amurtat steel.

A clock that needed to be mounted at the dizzying height of 300 meters couldn’t possibly be small, which meant that creating even a single component required more than 30 blacksmiths working together.

The overall shape of the clock tower resembled a dumbbell—bulging at the top and bottom, with a relatively thin framework supporting it in between.

This design was chosen so that the citizens of Amurtat could more easily view the clock tower from its tremendous height of 300 meters.

In truth, there was a very simple solution if that was the goal: lower the height of the clock tower.

After all, Amurtat didn’t have many tall buildings to begin with. The tallest structures were merely five-story buildings like the Adventurer’s Guild or the Alchemist’s Guild. A tower just a few dozen meters high would have been sufficient for citizens to check the time as they went about their day.

So why did Tiberius choose the neck-craning height of 300 meters instead of this simpler solution?

The reason was simple.

So that the clock tower would be visible from his castle.

Built on an artificially raised mound, Amurtat’s castle naturally overlooked the entire city. A “mere” few dozen meters in height wouldn’t stand out much compared to the rest of the cityscape.

However, the clock tower wasn’t just equipped with a clock; it also had a mechanism to ring bells at designated times, so its height didn’t completely sacrifice practicality.

It was just… inefficient.

“Huff..! Huff…!”

And as always, inefficiency is the enemy of humanity.

The blacksmiths working in the workshop were exhausted from this unprecedented heavy labor.

Though they were no strangers to hard work, there’s a significant difference between individual struggle and collective toil.

Moving, hammering, reheating, hammering again, and moving tons of iron with dozens of people was beyond mere hard labor—it felt like their brains were melting.

It might have been bearable if there was regular conversation, but all the blacksmiths gathered here had honed their skills at the expense of social graces, making them typical nerds. When such people gathered, hours passed with only a few exchanges of words amid the silence and the sound of hammers.

But silence is always broken eventually.

Finally, one blacksmith who couldn’t take it anymore voiced his complaint.

“Damn it! If I’d known it would be like this, I would have found a way out! Those making the smaller components must have it good… they’re probably home by now.”

They had been forging this mass for hours already.

Beyond the physical strain, being forcibly recruited for their skill and made to work until this late hour was mentally exhausting, causing his mind to give out before his body.

At his words, the rhythmic hammer sounds ceased at once, and the raised iron mass was quickly lowered.

While everyone sympathized with his sentiment to some degree, another blacksmith working right beside him spoke up.

“…Well, at least it means our skills are recognized, so this will all be part of our legacy. Just think about it—our names engraved on the stone tablet at the base of the clock tower.”

Though they had been forcibly conscripted, it also meant they were skilled enough blacksmiths to be worth bringing in by force.

Their relatively young age was evident, indicating that despite their youth, their skills and talents were sufficient to surpass older blacksmiths in creating components for this massive clock.

In reality, the older blacksmiths couldn’t be spared from keeping the Steelyard running, but after more than 10 hours of labor, the mentally exhausted blacksmiths momentarily swelled with pride at these words.

“Names engraved on a stone tablet…”

“When I become a grandfather someday, my children and grandchildren will look at the clock tower we built and feel proud, won’t they?”

No matter how trivial something might seem, if honor is attached to it, it ceases to be trivial. Moreover, what they were doing was creating the first clock tower ever built in their nation.

How much glorious honor could be attached to such a magnificent task?

As this realization dawned on them, smiles gradually began to appear on the blacksmiths’ faces.

Who was it that said soldiers endure long and difficult battles for the sake of medals?

Though they weren’t soldiers, couldn’t they gladly dedicate their youth for the reward of a few lines engraved on an eternal monument, commemorating their historic achievement?

With this thought, the blacksmiths found renewed strength and resumed forging the clock tower components.

Despite the deepening night, the lights of the Steelyard burned brightly.