The Special Economic Zone Chapter 9: Wings of Freedom

 

Wings of Freedom

“One silver piece per pair.” Cass leaned forward. “At that price we’ll sell the most without undercutting our own business.”

Bismuth crossed his arms. “Other companies would probably try to fight you for the recipe for this object. It will be hard keeping it secret.”

“Well, we won’t have to worry about that.” Cass pointed to Thorn. “He conjures them using magic.”

Thorn held out his hand and conjured a pair of earplugs.

Cass took them and held them out to Bismuth. Bismuth took them and examined them. “How many can he produce daily?”

“Hundreds.” Cass grinned. “Do you realize how big of a business opportunity this is?”

“Sr Thorn only arrived at the Lonely Mountain this morning. How do you know he’s not plotting something nefarious?”

Cass shook his head. “I have a good eye for people. I can tell when someone is being dishonest.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Thorn tried smiling, “I’m not technically affiliated with the Empire or the King.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bismuth narrowed his eyes. “That’s what any spy would say.”

Thorn sighed. “Look. I don’t know what will convince you, but I will assert again that I mean you dwarves no harm. I’m actually looking to hire a couple of smiths and architects to support my new community in Farrow Dells.”

“Farrow Dells? The home of the Grand Red Dragon?” Bismuth whistled. “How did you manage that?”

“I made friends with the dragon.” Thorn shrugged. “She’s actually quite nice.”

“Now that’s a strange thing.” Bismuth held up his hands. “Well, we’re here to talk business. Let’s get started.” Bismuth held up two fingers. “I’d like to join you.”

“First I have to let you know that I’m going to be leaving soon, hopefully with dwarves for my town.” Thorn folded his hands. “But if we can establish a trade route with Farrow Dells, then you would still have access to my earplugs after I’m gone.”

“I’ll talk to the guild master about that. Farrow Dells is quite some distance away, but it’s not like we haven’t tried trading with places that were farther.” Bismuth ran his fingers through his beard. “About me joining you. How are we going to split the profits?”

Cass rubbed his hands together. “We were planning on buying each pair of earplugs from Thorn for seven copper coins.”

Thorn nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

Bismuth nodded knowingly. “Good. It always pleases me to see an honest deal.” He tapped his foot on the ground. “How many can you create today? I’d like to stockpile them before we start our venture, since you’re leaving quite soon.”

Thorn nodded. “Can we do it here?”

Bismuth seemed to think for a minute. Then he stood up and carried an empty crate from a corner and dropped it onto the stone table. “Fill this crate up.”

[Would you like to conjure 2000 pairs of foam earplugs? Doing so will cost 67.4% of your remaining magic power.]

[Yes..]

A gigantic pile of foam earplugs materialized inside of the crate. Bismuth whistled. “That is an amazing ability you have there.”

Thorn shrugged. “I was gifted the ability by a deity.”

Bismuth chuckled. “And you can create this much every single day?”

“Is that what mana does?” Thorn frowned. “I’m not very familiar with how magic works in this world.”

“Mana replenishes after a long rest.” Bismuth nodded. “If you go to sleep for at least eight hours, your mana will be completely replenished for the day.”

“So that’s how it works.”

Bismuth stood up, clapping his hands. “Okay. I’ll go bring out the payment for these goods. Wait here.” He left the room.

Cass picked up a handful of the plugs. “They’re so squishy. The technology required to make these must be very advanced.”

“They’re actually created from a preparation of crude oil.” In Dwarvish, there was a special word for “crude oil” that had a lot of innuendo.

Cass chuckled. “Well then. That’s a nice pun. But be serious.”

“No, I’m totally serious.”

Cass’s expression changed. “Really?” He tilted his head. “This is made from -crude oil-?”

“Yes.” Thorn finally got the joke. “Okay, yeah, that’s a bad pun. But yeah. Crude oil is made of hydrocarbons of different lengths, and when processed correctly can make an organic material with the same fundamental structure as wood.”

Cass nodded his head in understanding. While the Dwarven language was not very good at explaining some things, one thing it did have was a robust chemical vocabulary. Cass rubbed his beard. “Pitchblende here is a chemist.”

Pitch nodded. “Yes. I study both alchemy and chemistry.” He picked up a pair of the plugs. “Do you mind if I study these in depth?”

“Sure.”

Pitch squished the objects in his palm. Then he held his hand over them. “Marit lage sum.” A bright light surrounded the plugs. Pitch rubbed his beard. “It appears to be mostly hydrocarbons.”

“It’s the same structure, technically, as cellulose.” Thorn picked up a pair of earplugs. “If you want, while we wait for King Dwargon to make a decision, I can teach you about the properties of crude oil.”

“That would be magnificent.” Pitch grinned.

“Right.”

At that moment the door to the room opened and Bismuth returned with a large bag of gold coins. “I’ve counted out two thousand plugs’ worth.”

Thorn knew that counting the money in front of his business partners was a faux pas in dwarven culture. Instead he slipped it into his bag of holding.

Bismuth looked at Cass and Pitch, rubbing his hands together. They all nodded. Bismuth placed all of the earplugs inside of his bag of holding. He shook hands with Thorn.

“If you want, we can head to a pub and do some drinking.” Cass patted his rather large belly.

“Sure.” Thorn had never been much of a drinker, but he was in a dwarven city, and saying no to a drink was a huge no-no in dwarven culture.

Cass, Pitch, Bismuth, and Thorn went to the nearest pub. It was filled with frolicking dwarves.

Thorn looked at all the beer being consumed. “It’s like there isn’t any siege at all.”

Bismuth laughed. “If dwarves don’t drink, they don’t live.” He held up four fingers. “Four pints!”

Two minutes later four large mugs of beer were placed on the table. Cass, Bismuth, and Pitch held a toast, and then started drinking.

Thorn looked at the questionably purple liquid in his mug. “What kind of beer is this?”

“Why, it’s plump helmet beer. The best in the mountain.” Bismuth took a huge draught.

“So it’s made with mushrooms?”

“Exactly. What, do you humans not enjoy the magic of mushrooms?” Bismuth wiped the foam from his beard. “Anyways. I’d like to hear more about this—” He leaned forward, “Crude oil stuff.”

“Right.” Thorn took a tentative sip of his beer. “So crude oil—”

“Don’t say it so loud!”

Thorn nodded. “So petroleum in its unrefined state is formed of many different hydrocarbons of different length. Each one has a usage that is different. What you need to do is distill the different sized hydrocarbons and extract them as separate products. Some of these hydrocarbons, when mixed with catalyst, will form a solid known as plastic.” The Dwarven language had no word for plastic, so Thorn borrowed the root from a Dwarvish word that meant “slick.”

“Hm.” Pitch played with his beard. “Do you think you would be able to set up a refining process here in the Lonely Mountain?”

“I’m sorry. That job was left to specialists in my country. I only know the broad strokes.”

“Where exactly did you learn this stuff?” Bismuth kept his eyes on Thorn.

“I can’t really tell you at this point.” Thorn shook his head. “It’s not something that you would understand.”

Bismuth sighed. “Well, if you’d like to keep it a secret, then I won’t pry. Everyone has things they don’t want to tell.” He took a long draught of his beer.

Thorn also drank. When he was done with his pint, he slammed the mug down on the table.

“Aw, man.” He hiccupped. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before. Never!”

Bismuth chuckled. “The human can’t handle his drink.”

Pitch clanged mugs with Cass. “He’s not a dwarf, that’s for sure.”

Thorn’s whole world blurred.

He woke up with a terrible headache inside of an empty bedroom. He sat up. Since the dwarven city of the Lonely Mountain was completely inside the mountain itself, Thorn had no idea of what time it was outside. The constant orange glow of the street lamps hadn’t changed.

“Bleh.” He rubbed his temples. “How much did I drink last night?”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” Thorn got off the bed and stood up.

The door opened and Cass stepped in. “King Dwargon has decided your case. You can come with me.”

Thorn stretched, his head still pounding. “You guys don’t get hangovers?”

Cass chuckled. “I’ve heard rumors about what happens when humans drink, but I’ve never seen it happen before.”

“So you guys don’t?”

“Never.” Cass shrugged. “You need to look presentable. Use your magic pocket skill and put on some formal clothing.”

[Would you like to conjure a bespoke tailored suit? Doing so will consume 0.5% of your remaining mana.]

[Yes.]

A neatly folded tailored suit appeared in Thorn’s hand. It took him ten minutes to put on When he was done he looked at himself in the mirror.

Cass sniffed. “Humans sure have strange tastes in formal clothing.”

“Is this no good?”

Cass shook his head. “No. The King is tolerant of other cultures and customs.”

“Okay.” Thorn straightened his tie. “Let’s go.”

Cass led Thorn through the city until they came to the gigantic throne room gates. Thorn was as impressed with them as the first time he saw them.

They opened with regal slowness. Thorn stepped through the entrance chamber and into the throne room.

King Dwargon was sitting on the throne, one hand supporting his chin.

“Thorn Bradly. I have reviewed your case, and have decided that your cause is worthy. You have shown shrewd business sense and incredible power as an individual, and I believe the kingdom of the Lonely Mountain would benefit to have an ally such as you. You may take six architects and six blacksmiths with you, chosen from the best our people have to offer.” Dwargon picked up a hammer from beside the throne and hit a bell with it. The sound was long, and clear. “You may leave.”

Cass led Thorn out of the room. “Pitch and I volunteered to go with you.” He turned to look at Thorn. “We want to know more about you, and we also want to know what happens to the town you are building.”

Thorn smiled. “Thanks.”

“I’ve been told that we’ll be on our way after we collect everyone.”

“Good.” Thorn stepped out of the throne room. Twelve dwarves, plus Pitch, were standing outside, with carriages.

“How are we going to break the siege?” Thorn frowned when he saw the carriages.

Cass grinned devilishly. “You underestimate the ingenuity of the dwarves.”

“I can’t wait to see this.” Thorn surveyed the assembled dwarves. “Okay. Let’s go. Before we head to Farrow Dells, there are some people I’d like to pick up in the king’s forest.”

“Of course.” Cass stepped into one of the carriages. “Are we ready to go?”

The dwarves split and assumed their positions. After traveling through large tunnels, the carriages came to a single large room with a circular indentation.

“Here we go!” Cass yelled as the carriages sprouted cloth wings. They rose, wings flapping, and the roof opened up above them. “Tallyho!” They took off.