09:00 a.m. - At Market Square, Dawnspire
Dawnspire Market, morning. The sun is warm. People walk between stalls. On one table, small steel tips shine like little stars.
A Sign: Technologia Company
Ryan stands behind the table. He smiles and speaks clearly.
Ryan: "Good morning! Try a new writing tool. Steel nibs. Easy to use. Clean lines. No smudge."
A thin old man stops. His fingers are blue from years of ink. This is Master Scribe Corvin. Two young apprentices follow him, carrying scrolls.
Corvin: "Steel? Not feather? Hm. Boy, our quills are good. Why should I trust your metal?"
Ryan: "Please, Master Scribe. Watch this."
Ryan takes a wooden holder, fits a steel nib, dips it in ink, and writes on parchment:
The quick brown fox…
He blows once. He rubs the line with his finger. No smear.
Ryan: "See? The ink dries fast. The tip is firm, so the line is the same from start to end."
Corvin leans close.
Corvin: "No blot. No feather split. Interesting."
Apprentice 1: "May I try?"
Ryan: "Of course. Hold like this—low angle, gentle hand. Do not push hard. Let the nib glide. The ink flows by itself."
The apprentice writes her name. The letters look neat. She smiles.
Apprentice 1: "It does not catch the page!"
Apprentice 2: "Master, it feels steady. Like a small knife that does not cut."
Ryan: "Exactly. Better hand control. You can make thin lines with soft pressure, thicker lines with a little more. No need to cut or trim like a quill."
A city clerk steps in. He looks tired.
Clerk: "My quills break every week. My hands hurt. Will this help me?"
Ryan: "Yes. The steel nib is strong. It does not wear out quickly. If it gets dirty, wipe it with a cloth, and keep writing."
Clerk: "How much?"
Ryan: "The price is more than one feather quill. But it lasts much longer. Over time, it is cheaper."
The clerk nods slowly.
Corvin: "What of vellum? Your nib will scratch holy pages?"
Ryan lifts a small scrap of vellum.
Ryan: "For holy books, keep your best quills. But for daily work—letters, ledgers, orders—use steel. It is safe for good parchment. See?"
He writes a clean line on the vellum scrap. No tear.
Corvin: "Hmm. For temple works we use quills. But for the chancery? We write all day. Speed and order matter."
Ryan: "That is where the steel nib shines. It is not a weapon. It is a tool for peace and work."
A merchant in a wool coat asks:
Merchant: "If it rains? If the road is wet?"
Ryan opens a small oiled wooden box with a waxed cloth inside.
Ryan: "We pack for travel. Waxed cloth keeps it dry. The wood box protects it."
Corvin: "Do all your nibs write the same? Many shops lie."
Ryan shows a small book.
Ryan: "We make them the same way, every time. We test them. We keep a batch number in this ledger. If there is a problem, we can find the batch and fix it. If your nib fails, bring it back. We replace it. No trouble."
The clerk's eyes widen.
Clerk: "Replace? Truly?"
Ryan: "Truly. Simple business. Honest work."
Corvin takes the holder and writes a long loop, then a sharp line. He watches the ink dry. No smudge.
Corvin: "It writes smooth. The line is even. Very well."
He turns to his apprentices.
Corvin: "For illuminations and sacred books, we stay with quill. For office work—correspondence, records—we use these steel nibs."
He looks back to Ryan.
Corvin: "I order three dozen for the chancery. Make them ready in two days. Include a few holders, and the drying cloth."
Ryan: "Thank you, Master Scribe. You will get them in two days, packed in oiled boxes."
A hooded woman at the edge of the crowd watches quietly, then slips away into the market. A young soldier at another stall also watches the writing and nods to himself.
Apprentice 2: "Master, it seems useful for messengers too."
Corvin: "Aye. Clean orders save time. Time saves coin and lives."
Ryan smiles, speaking to the small crowd.
Ryan: "Steel nibs help everyone who writes: scribes, clerks, merchants, messengers. They are easy to use. You have better hand control. The ink does not smudge. No trimming. Same quality each time."
People begin to line up. Coins clink. Ryan wraps nibs in waxed cloth and puts them into little boxes.
As the market thins, Corvin gives a final nod.
Corvin: "Boy—no, Master Mercer. You bring a new thing. Not for war, but for work. That is good."
Ryan: "Thank you. That is my goal."
He looks at the emptying street. He does not see it, but news is already moving:
- A soldier will come with a field story and a big order.
- The Guild will call a meeting about copies and standards.
Ryan wipes the table clean and closes the box.
Ryan (softly): "On to the next step."
01:00 p.m. - At Old Lumber Shed, Dawnspire
The Visit from the Soldier
The doors of the workshop opened with a loud bang. A soldier walked in with a fast step. His armor showed the Silver Stag of Aurelthorn.
"I am Lieutenant Varek," he said. He put a small metal piece on Ryan's table. It was a steel nib from Technologia. It was bent, scratched, and had dried blood on it.
"This nib lived through battle at Blackridge Pass," Varek said. "Two fights, a river, and even a mounted charge. After all that, it still wrote orders clean."
He looked at Ryan. "My commander wants five hundred of these. We need them by next moon."
The Offer
Varek spoke simple and clear:
- "We pay twenty percent more than market price."
- "Pack them for the field: waxed cloth, oiled wood box, keep them dry."
- "If these nibs work, the Quartermaster-General will use them in more units."
Bromar Ironbeard, the dwarf smith, picked up the old nib, checking the tip. "Aye," he said. "It took a beating, but the point still lives. That's craft."
Ryan's Decision
Ryan nodded. "I accept the order," he said. "You will have five hundred. Eighteen days."
He added, "These nibs are not weapons. They are tools. They help clerks, messengers, and officers write fast and clear. That saves time and saves lives."
Varek gave a sharp nod. "Then we are agreed. I return in eighteen days."
The Plan in the Workshop
After the soldier left, everyone looked at Ryan. He spoke to the team in simple steps.
- "Bromar, run the furnace hot. We need steady steel."
- "Garret, sort steel rods and keep count."
- "Lira, prepare hemp ties and waxed canvas wraps for dry packing."
- "Quality first. Every batch must be the same."
- "We number each batch in the ledger, so we can trace problems."
- "We test each lot: smooth line, no scratch, no rust."
They worked late into the night. The forge roared. The smell of steel, oil, and pine pitch filled the air. Boxes took shape. Nibs cooled in rows. Technologia felt less like a small shop and more like a real supplier.
04:30 p.m. – At Dawnspire Merchant Guild
Summons to the Guild
A guild runner found Ryan at the forge. "Master Mercer, the Merchant Guild calls you. At once."
Ryan wiped his hands. "Got it. Let's go."
The Merchant Guild Hall was bright with brass lamps. At the long table sat:
Baldric Ironhand, Guild President (broad, bearded, sharp-eyed)
Lady Isolde Thorne (silk, calm, calculating)
Melanie Farrow (clear voice, merchant's mind)
Edrin Quillwright (ink-stained master of quills and vellum)
Odrik Stoneveil (smith with a salesman's grin)
Varena Kestrel (traveler-trader with heavy coin pouch)
Baldric did not rise. "Master Mercer. Be seated."
Ryan sat. "Sure."
Why a steel nib?
Edrin sniffed. "Thy contrivance of steel—may it mar our vellum. A quill is holy for temple script. Why should we change?"
Ryan smiled a little. "I'm not trying to replace sacred writing. My nib is for ledgers, letters, orders—daily work. It's not a weapon. Not for war. But it helps people who work in war: clerks, quartermasters, messengers."
He set out a small board, a bottle of ink, and simple parchment. "Here's why it's better than a feather quill for daily writing."
"Easy to use. Less skill needed."
"Better hand control. The tip is firm, so lines stay the same."
"Ink doesn't smudge so easily. It lays down neat and dries fast."
"It doesn't wear out every few pages. No trimming like a quill."
"Same size, same feel in every nib. So anyone can learn fast."
He dipped, wrote a line, and blew once. "See? Clean. No blot."
Melanie leaned in. "The line is steady."
Edrin grudged a nod. "Aye. It doth not splatter."
What does Technologia actually do?
Baldric folded his hands. "Thou speakest fair. Tell us of thy house. What is 'Technologia'?"
Ryan answered plainly. "At Technologia Company we do this:
We design the steel nibs.
We train workers how to make them the same, every time.
We test each batch. If a nib is bad, we fix the cause.
We keep a batch book with lot numbers, so we can trace problems.
We pack nibs in oiled wood and waxed canvas, so they stay dry.
We replace faulty nibs. No hassle. That builds trust.
We teach customers how to use and clean the nibs.
Simple business. Honest work."
Cheap copies appear
Odrik untied a sack and poured out dull-grey tips. "Stoneveil Foundry offers the same for one-third less. Faster too."
A deep laugh sounded from the doorway. Bromar Ironbeard stepped in, wiping soot from his hands. "Aye? Let me see."
He rolled one in his palm, then flicked the edge with his thumb. "Slag in the grain. The point be rough. It will cut the page and the hand. Cheap is dear when it ruins ink and paper."
Odrik's smile thinned. "They write."
Ryan shrugged. "Maybe once."
The trader's bait
Varena slid her velvet pouch forward. Wax seals winked red. "Master Mercer, we can carry thy goods over three provinces by next moon. Iron supply, safe roads, swift sale. In sooth, we ask one thing—exclusivity. Sell only through us in certain lands."
Melanie's eyes cooled. "Blackridge Imports crosses borders at its ease. And pledges do shift with the wind."
Varena smiled sweetly. "We buy stability."
Ryan shook his head. "No exclusive chain, thanks. I'm building something that lasts. Open market, clear rules."
A simple standard, not chaos
Baldric tapped the table. "Then speak, Master Mercer. How shall the Guild keep trust if every man presses his own stamp?"
Ryan kept it simple. "Make a Guild Mark. Not a secret recipe. A basic performance standard."
He raised a finger. "Three easy tests:
Ink line test: write one thousand strokes. Line must stay even.
Tip wear test: compare the point to a brass template after use.
Rust test: mist of salt air. No red rust after a set time.
If a maker passes, he gets the Guild Mark. He can put the Mark on his wrap."
He raised another finger. "Also:
Batch ledger: each lot has a number. The Guild keeps a copy.
Warranty: if nibs fail, we replace them. We also show the fix.
Packaging spec is open: waxed canvas, oiled box, simple care note. Any house may use that if they pass the Mark."
He spread his hands. "This helps everyone. Good makers win. Bad copies fade. Buyers trust the Mark. No one needs to fight in the dark."
The decision
Silence held a breath. Then Lady Isolde smiled. "Clarity hath profit."
Melanie nodded. "We print the Mark. We charge a fair testing fee."
Edrin lifted his chin. "Quills remain for holy work."
Ryan nodded. "Agreed."
Baldric's rings clicked once. "So be it. Provisional recognition for Technologia. Bring three lots in three days. If they fail, halt thy trade and mend. If they pass, thy name and the standard shall be posted on the Guild board. Counterfeits will be fined and shamed."
Odrik's jaw worked. Varena drew back her pouch, still smiling, but colder now.
"Remember," Ryan said, standing, "my steel nib is not for battle. It is for writing the world clean—quick, steady, clear. In peace or war, that saves time, coin, and lives."
Baldric grunted, almost a laugh. "Surprise me, boy."
Ryan nodded. "Deal."
He left the hall with Bromar and Melanie. Outside, the city bell tolled the hour. Work waited.
Key takeaways (plain words)
Steel nib vs feather quill (for daily life): easier to use, better hand control, fewer smudges, no trimming, same quality each time, saves time and money.
It is not a weapon. It helps clerks, soldiers, and merchants write fast and clean.
Technologia makes, tests, packs, and replaces nibs. They keep batch records and teach users.
Ryan refuses an exclusive deal. He asks the Guild to create a simple, public standard (Guild Mark) so buyers can trust what they buy.
The Guild agrees to test Technologia's nibs in three days. If they pass, the Mark and rules go public.
08:00 p.m. - At Black Gull Tavern, Dawnspire
The Black Gull Tavern is loud in the front. In the back room, it is quiet. A single lamp burns. Shadows move on timber walls.
At the table sit:
- Odrik Stoneveil (rival smith, sells cheap copies)
- Varena Kestrel (rich caravan trader, wants exclusive deals)
- Edrin Quillwright (master of feather quills and vellum)
- Saren (a small Guild clerk with quick eyes)
- Rook (a road-bandit captain for hire)
A woman in a grey veil stands in the corner. Her voice is soft and cold. None use her name.
Odrik: "The market loves his steel tips. 'Clean lines, no smudge,' they say. If he wins the Guild Mark, I am done."
Varena: "And the army order? Five hundred nibs. If he delivers, he will take all government work."
Edrin: "Steel profanes holy pages. Yet the chancery smiles. The boy ruins my craft."
Saren: "The Guild will test his lots in two days. If he passes, Baldric will post the Mark. Then buyers will trust him."
The Veiled Woman: "Then he must not pass."
Rook: "Say the word. I can bring a 'fire accident' to his shed."
Varena raises a hand.
Varena: "Not yet. We need a plan with many teeth. If one fails, another bites. Step by step."
Odrik grins.
Odrik: "Speak it clear, then."
Varena: "Step one: choke his iron. I will pay the mine foreman. Ship the good steel to Odrik. Tell Technologia, 'shortage.' Let him lose days."
Odrik: "Aye. With no clean steel, his points will fail."
Edrin: "Step two: poison his name. I will speak in temples. 'Steel scratches holy vellum.' I will say the red moon curses new tools. Fear will spread."
Saren: "Step three: break the tests. I have the key to the testing cellar. The night before, I swap his good lots with scratched points. I will mist them with salt water. Rust will bloom. He fails."
Rook: "Step four: wolves on the road. I will take his boxes on the Frosthaven road. We leave 'bandit marks.' No one will link it to us."
Odrik: "Step five: flood the market. We make more cheap copies with my die. We stamp a fake Guild seal. We sell them fast and cheap. They scratch pages, they blot. People blame Technologia."
Varena: "Step six: turn his friends. Offer Bromar a sweet contract—coin, coal, and fame—if he stops helping the boy. Whisper that Melanie steals designs. Turn allies into doubt."
Saren: "Step seven: the law net. I file a complaint inside the Guild: 'unsafe for temple use.' I say, 'He refuses duty to the Guild.' Taxes, inspections, delays."
Edrin: "I will add a letter with fifteen master quillers' seals. Tradition speaks loud."
Rook: "And the fire?"
Varena: "Last resort only. A small blaze after the Guild test, if he still stands."
The Veiled Woman steps to the table. A small purse of black coins drops with a dull sound.
The Veiled Woman: "For expenses. Bring chaos. Break his name. Slow the flow of orders and messages in this city. When ink turns to mud, empires stumble."
Saren swallows, but takes the purse.
Odrik: "What of the timeline?"
Saren: "Two days until testing. Before sunrise tomorrow, I speak to the mine. Tomorrow night, I touch the lots. At dawn the next day, he fails."
Varena: "And the army?"
Rook: "My men will watch the workshop door. If a cart rolls, it never reaches the barracks."
Edrin: "I begin the sermon tomorrow. 'Feather is sacred, steel is sin.' The old will listen. The young will fear."
Varena looks at each face.
Varena: "Remember: simple words. Easy rumors. 'Steel cuts scripture.' 'Rust in the rain.' 'Workers hear curses at night.'"
Odrik: "And if he still lives?"
The Veiled Woman: "Then you squeeze harder."
Rook laughs low.
Rook: "Poor boy. 'Not for war, only for work,' he says. We will make the city think his tool brings trouble to both."
Saren: "To our roles, then."
They stand. Cloaks close. The lamp goes out.
Outside, the tavern noise swallows the night. The plan moves like a knife in the dark.
10:00 p.m. - At Technologia Factory, Dawnspire
Ryan stood in front of the old wooden doors. The shed looked tired, but the people inside were full of energy.
He lifted a new sign he had made with Bromar's help. The words were simple and bold:
Technologia Factory
Ryan: "No more 'Old Lumber Shed.' From today, this place has a real name. Our name."
Workers cheered. Bromar hammered two iron nails to hang the sign. The wood creaked, but the letters shone in the light.
Ryan smiled. "We build the future here."
Note on coins (simple):
1 gold = 100 silver
1 silver = 100 copper
The shed is quiet. The workers have gone home. Ryan sits at a rough table with Bromar Ironbeard. A single lamp burns. A ledger lies open.
Hidden on Ryan's lap is a thin black "book" that glows softly. It is his laptop. No one knows about it. When someone walks near, he closes it at once and covers it with a cloth. He never shows it to anyone. He uses the laptop to check numbers, plan stock, and forecast coin. Then he writes the final numbers into the leather ledger so it looks normal.
Because his numbers are always clean and fast, people in Dawnspire say, "Master Mercer is clever with coin." Merchants admire him. They think he has sharp mind for money. They do not know he has this secret aid.
Ryan: "Let's count the month. Profit, loss, and cost. Simple and clear."
Bromar: "Aye. Speak it plain, lad."
What we sold (Income)
Street sales (market days): 140 steel nibs to scribes, clerks, and messengers
Price: 1 silver each → 140 silver
Chancery order (Master Scribe Corvin): 36 steel nibs + 6 holders + 6 drying cloths
Bundle price: 45 silver
Army order (Lieutenant Varek): 500 steel nibs, with 20% field premium
Base price per nib: 1 silver → +20% = 1.2 silver each
Total: 600 silver
Income subtotal: 140 + 45 + 600 = 785 silver (7 gold, 85 silver)
What we spent (Costs)
Steel rods and small parts (rivets, brass templates): 110 silver
Charcoal and flux for furnace: 60 silver
Waxed cloth and oiled wood boxes (field packs + retail): 40 silver
Wages (20 workers × 5 silver per month): 100 silver
Rent for the Old Lumber Shed (1 month): 12 silver
Tools, repair, and oil (files, tongs, quenching oil): 18 silver
Guild testing fee (preparation and booking): 6 silver
Local cart hire and small deliveries inside Dawnspire: 9 silver
Costs subtotal: 355 silver (3 gold, 55 silver)
Losses (this month)
Returns replaced under warranty (due to confusion with cheap copies in the market):
28 nibs replaced, plus packing: 16 silver
Delay cost (two days lost waiting for cleaner steel):
Extra charcoal, overtime meal, small waste: 8 silver
Spoiled lot (10 nibs scratched in a rushed batch): 4 silver
Losses subtotal: 28 silver
Summary (This Month)
Income: 785 silver
Minus Costs: 355 silver
Minus Losses: 28 silver
Result (Profit this month): 785 − 355 − 28 = 402 silver (4 gold, 2 silver)
Ryan taps quietly on the glowing "book," checks the sums, then nods and writes them by hand into the ledger.
Ryan: "Four gold and two silver profit. Not bad for our first full month."
Bromar: "Aye. But see the weak spots—steel supply and foul copies. If they foul the Guild test, the river of coin runs slow."
Ryan nods and writes simple notes on the page.
What helped
Clear demo in the market: "Easy to use, better hand control, less smudge."
Field packing (waxed cloth, oiled wood box) won the army order.
Batch ledger and replacements built trust fast.
What hurt
Cheap copies in the market (rough points, fake talk): caused 28 returns.
Small delay from steel quality: 2 days, extra cost.
Plan for next month (to match the Guild meeting)
Win the Guild Mark with three simple tests:
Ink line test (1,000 strokes, even line)
Tip wear test (match to a brass template)
Rust test (salt mist, no red rust)
Post batch numbers on every wrap; public ledger at the stall.
"No hassle" warranty sign at the table.
Lock steel supply: second source if the first is "short."
Train two more workers only for quality control.
Cash on hand
Guild loan taken earlier: 10 gold (used for tools and startup).
After this month's profit (4 gold, 2 silver), and after keeping a safety purse (1 gold for wages and fuel), Technologia holds:
Working cash: 3 gold, 2 silver
Materials on shelf (steel, packs): worth about 1 gold
Bromar closes the ledger. Ryan closes the glowing "book" and hides it under the cloth.
Ryan (quietly): "We're not a war-maker. We make work clean and fast. Next, we pass the Guild test and stop the fakes."
Bromar: "Aye. Then let the coin follow the good mark, not the loud mouth."
They douse the lamp. Outside, Dawnspire sleeps. Inside the shed, neat rows of steel nibs cool in the dark, ready for morning.