Chapter 103. Black Sand

Early Morning, Edge of The Town, Ironwood Viscounty

“So you want to put this clump of black sand into the furnace?” the blacksmith asked skeptically, taking the heavy bowl from Builder Gino.

“Her Ladyship asked me to investigate the underlying cause of Lord Miller’s fall. When I sent her my initial report, she added it to the list of matters requiring further investigation but really, I wanted to satisfy my own curiosity as well...” Builder Gino sighed, thinking back to the incident. “I mean, why does this specific black sand create shallow sinkholes? What other kinds of hazards can it pose for my construction workers? I just want to make sure an incident like the last one never happens again.”

“Did you try packing it into a mold and letting it dry? Testing to see if it holds shape?” the blacksmith asked as he shoveled the lumpy sand into the roaring furnace.

Builder Gino chuckled. “As a builder, of course I tried to see if it could work as a building material first. But it cracks and crumbles far too easily. It is completely useless for laying foundations.”

“Aha, so that is why we are here now? A heat resistance test.” The blacksmith nodded in understanding, taking a cup of warm water from a nearby shelf and handing it to Gino. “If it catches fire easily, that could be another major hazard. I understand.”

Builder Gino took a sip of the warm water, then pulled out his leather-bound notebook. “I wrote down a few other observations, too.”

The blacksmith looked on with curiosity, sitting down heavily on a wooden stool as the furnace roared in the background. “Go ahead. We have time to burn anyway.”

“The black sand is significantly heavier than any other sand found in the territory. It is incredibly dense and fine,” Builder Gino reiterated, highlighting its signature property.

The blacksmith nodded thoughtfully. “True... what about its reaction in water? If we are doing a full hazard test, we should account for any problems that might occur near the bottom of the lake, right?”

Builder Gino flipped the page. “The black sand settles much faster than regular sand in water. When wet, it becomes sticky and dense. But when it dries, it immediately returns to a fine, loose powder.”

The blacksmith chuckled. “Well, that would certainly explain the sinkholes-”

He suddenly shot up from his stool, rushing to throw open the furnace doors. Thick, acrid smoke was violently billowing out of the vents. “What the hell?! It’s just sand! Why is it smoking so much?!”

“Cough... cough...” Builder Gino hacked, waving his hands through the dark cloud.

Using heavy iron tongs, the blacksmith pulled the glowing container out and placed it on the anvil, quickly throwing crushed ice over it to rapidly cool it down. “This thing really doesn't behave like normal sand,” he muttered.

He pointed at the blackened lump as Gino cautiously walked closer. “When heated, normal sand turns into glass. But this didn't. Instead, it became this strange, brittle, metal like substance.” He tapped it lightly with a small hammer, and a chunk easily chipped off. “But it is far too impure and weak to be of any actual use.”

“Hmm...” Builder Gino hummed in deep thought before letting out a sigh. “Well, I did all the tests I could. Hopefully, this satisfies Her Ladyship. At the very least, it looks like it will not be that hard to deal with if we come across it during construction.”

The blacksmith nodded, wrapping the brittle lump in a thick cloth. “I will put it in a lockbox to send up to the castle. Just attach your final report to it, and I will have it delivered.”

Builder Gino nodded with a relieved smile. He placed a few Shella coins on the table for the blacksmith’s labor, and as he turned toward the door, he said, “Thanks for the help, I really owe you.”

The blacksmith just waved him off with a soot stained hand. “Now, now. We go way back. Of course I would help you.”

Servants Quarters, Hollowland Viscounty, Lord’s Castle

“Grh...”

A young servant was completely passed out, snoring heavily as Randell shook his shoulder. “Wake up... Come on... Wake up!”

The young man merely responded with incoherent grunts, utterly refusing to stir. Randell let out a long sigh of mock defeat, then turned around with a wide, fawning smile toward the doorway. Viscount Hollowland stood there, grinning broadly as his gleaming golden canine tooth caught the dim morning light.

“It worked wonderfully, My Lord!” Randell praised, stepping away from the unconscious servant. “The wine he drank looked and tasted exactly like a normal vintage, but it was so remarkably potent that he hasn’t woken up at all!”

Viscount Hollowland chuckled heartily, his round stomach jiggling with the effort. “That is right. I went through a great deal of trouble and expense to procure it... now, my grand plan will surely work.”

Randell slightly raised an eyebrow, though he instantly masked his concern behind a polite, subservient facade. What on earth is this idiot planning to use this for?

“My... My Lord, if you do not mind me asking,” Randell began, bowing low. “I am just a mere butler, so I cannot fully comprehend the depths of your wisdom. What exactly might this special wine be used for?”

Viscount Hollowland smiled, a dark, opportunistic smirk curling the corner of his lips. “From the intelligence reports you gave me regarding your time at Ironwood, we know for a fact that Lady Francesca Ironwood is a severe lightweight.”

“Y-you don’t mean...” Randell asked, genuinely surprised by the sheer, reckless audacity of what the Viscount might be imagining.

“That is exactly what I mean! We will secretly switch her wine at the New Year’s Banquet. Once Lady Francesca inevitably falls deeply asleep, I will have my own daughter switch places with her in the guest chambers!”

He patted Randell heavily on the shoulder, his eyes wide with manic ambition. “Then, I will boldly throw open the bedroom doors with all of the Northern high society guests in tow... completely humiliating that arrogant, commoner turned Lord! Ha ha!”

He delivered a swift, petty kick to the sleeping servant's side, trying to force him awake. “I will then loudly demand a military alliance for my future territorial campaigns as rightful compensation for him dishonoring my daughter right in front of the entire Northern high society!”

Viscount Hollowland laughed outrageously, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls. Randell dutifully joined him in the laughter, though his internal thoughts were racing.

Yeah, this freak is beyond reckless! No wonder his grandfather purposely split this territory in half!

Randell glanced out the small window at the rising winter sun, calculating his next move. I should definitely make my exit soon... but maybe I can manage one last trade of information to squeeze a bit more Shella out of this absurd situation before it all blows up in his face?