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"Duvvelsheyss… what kind o' muck's brewed in that brain o' yours? I need to find some arse-rest—this here sheep dip's got me noggin whirling."
Seeing Zoltan sit on the stool as if the world he knew had been shaken—and it had—Gustave just chuckled, knowing that the things he had shown would not only change the dwarf's view of how mining should be done from now on, but also shape the future of metalworking.
Although Zoltan didn't yet know how to make the small precision component, Gustave could already imagine that in that stocky brain of his, Zoltan was envisioning all kinds of ways to make it happen.
But once again, because Zoltan was just a journeyman blacksmith—not a grandmaster—when it came to creating this small precision component that required machines, the dwarf still had no clue how to do it, given the gap in metallurgy.
Still, he knew that the technological gap wasn't insurmountable. Even with just a simple rope strap that looked like a bow and two fixed supports—like what the Egyptians used to create small, precise components—a grandmaster craftsman could manage it, the only drawback being that it wouldn't have the millimeter precision of a 17th-century Henry Maudslay lathe.
So he knew that because Zoltan and the rest of the people in this world were too comfortable with magic, it had never occurred to them to work the way the Egyptians or Da Vinci once did.
Thus, when he heard the dwarf growing frustrated at being unable to find a solution for making the small component, Gustave gave Zoltan the spark of inspiration he needed—drawn from higher civilizations that never relied on magic—after the dwarf had finished pouring out all of his frustration.
"Thing is, this wee bit's hard to hammer out."
Climbing down from his short stool, Zoltan took the steps up to the table and tapped a specific part of the technical drawing.
"Foremost—here, number 35. Six holes, Tapped 7BA. I can drill 'em with a crank drill, maybe even a bow drill like the old sharp-handed buggers in Mahakam use, if ye want 'em to match yer… Bribish Association measurements."
Shaking his head with growing frustration—seeing the future but unable to shape it with his own hands—Zoltan continued, "But I'll say it plain—I can't promise they'll be dead-precise."
Whispering to Cerys to go ahead to Lyria and Rivia to tell his mother he was awake and didn't need her to wait for him, since it was already late into the night, Gustave turned back to Zoltan.
"An' with this gear-guzzler bein' a tap-threaded hole on top of it? Blatherin' apologies, me stinkin' hands aren't that shite-soaked clever yet. Not a buggerin' chance I cut a proper tidy screw-thread with a file. Perchance the elders who cobbled together the first Tunnel Drills could damn well wring it out."
Pausing, he continued, "But… Prince Gustave, apologies once more. This one—hands up—I call it quits."
Letting out a sigh of resignation, rubbing his stocky neck while staring at his other hand, knowing he was not yet at that level—like a starving dog watching meat dangle in front of it yet too weak to reach it—Zoltan finally concluded:
"Besides… for flyin' kind of hammerwork to clutch this bench of precision, it's plainly out of the question. Every bit's got wiggle for error when hammerin'. There's ever wee room, a fair bit o' nudge or two of slack, room for adjustment, inaccuracy—mighty especially when makin' somethin' like this Jakhammer o' yours, Prince Gustave."
The dwarf continued to pour out his frustration—just like back when he'd been trapped in a toddler's body, without the precision and strengthened hands of a Sequence 8 Archeologist. Precision and strength he had three years ago, but had wasted because he fell asleep.
Shaking his head and choosing to treat the blunder of the past as just that—the past, as Vesemir always said—Gustave decided to tell Zoltan there was no need for concern. He had resolved to solve that problem with a 17th–18th-century precision-cutting machine—something others could use without grandmaster-level hands like his.
"No need for your concern, Dwarf. If I am to make this blueprint, I too already have a solution."
Taking another pencil and sheet of parchment, he once again began to draw the technical diagram.
"Here, let me draw the simple version of the machine that will help you create these components more easily. And this basic contraption will also serve as the one we use to build the more advanced version, which can achieve greater precision for the jackhammer we will be working on."
After just seeing the basic framework of the drawing—not a complete technical one—Zoltan couldn't help but straighten up once again, blood rushing with excitement, feeling like a stupid donkey for never imagining something as simple as two beam supports rotating the workpiece around an axis.
"By the burning beards o' Brouver Hoog! How'd we miss that?! It's daft simple!"
Remembering the words about Tunnel Drills that had once again slipped his mind—because it was one of the Gwent cards not in the Scoia'tael deck but in the Syndicate faction deck that he had never played back on Earth—Gustave was able to conclude that the dwarves' elders must have known about some advanced metalworking technology from the start.
Swatting his hand to tone down Zoltan's excitement—since they already had this Da Vinci–like technology, but it was being gatekept by the elders—Gustave said to Zoltan,
"No, I don't think your elders actually missed creating this ancient basic lathe. It's just that they may have been gatekeeping this technology so that you, Zoltan, and the rest of the young ones in Mahakam don't rely too much on it—to temper your blacksmithing skill."
Pausing, he continued, "To the point that I assume your kind, and those coming down from the mountains, are all Journeymen by standard."
"Duvvelsheyss… elders and their blasted customs."
Shaking his head, always aware that some knowledge of metalworking had been hidden from youngins like him, Zoltan didn't dwell on it, except to become more certain of his decision to come down from the mountains.
Rather than reminiscing about his past decision in front of the elders and his parents, he remembered the name of this type of machine that rotated around an axis.
"So the name o' this gear-guzzler is Lathe, eh?"
"Yes, it is indeed a lathe."
"Aye, a solid name, solid name."
Looking toward the future of metalworking, Zoltan grew suspicious, suspecting that perhaps the Enlightened One might be him in the first place, not Meve, the Enlightened Queen of Lyria and Rivia.
But because he had already taken an oath of secrecy in the Book of Pledge, he buried this thought at the back of his mind, listening as Prince Gustave not only introduced the lathe, but also the more advanced machines beyond the ancient design.
Not only that, Zoltan now also heard and was being educated to the point that Gustave drew a second set of technical designs for machines dubbed milling machines, where, instead of the workpiece rotating, it is the tool that rotates to produce flat, precise components.
Seeing this, Zoltan almost passed out again from excitement, imagining that with just this he could create mastercrafted armor without even needing his hammering skill to be raised in rank. But one thing still puzzled him: how on earth could these machines shape steel with such high density? He knew it was very difficult to work steel without heating it in a forge first.
So, although he already had an inkling that the metals used by these machines would probably be more malleable ones, like copper or silver alloys, Zoltan still asked,
"Meself knows this here might sound like the ramblings of a messy, damp hammerman, but mind ye—how blastin' do these metal-biters chew the metal with the shaping bits?"
While looking at the stack of different types of ingots on another table, Zoltan continued,
"Must we fiddle with stubborn metals like Orichalcum, Meteorite, Dark Steel, or Enriched Dimeritium just to get 'em to work proper? Or be it that the lump o' workpieces has got to be a mushy forge chunk?"
Nodding as he saw that Zoltan had already aligned his thinking with his—considering the cutting tools to be hard materials, as the dwarf suggested, and the workpiece ingots to be more malleable—Gustave confirmed Zoltan's prediction, saying:
"For the cutting tools, yes, we will use stubborn metals—or, in other words, alloys with high density and low malleability—so they don't break when working on multiple metal pieces. But for the workpieces, although we could use steel or iron for a harder option, I wouldn't recommend it, Dwarf."
Also, knowing that in the Blood of Wine DLC, copper is categorized as a magical component—but aside from creating infused orichalcum ore, has no other known use—Gustave realized there is untapped magical potential in copper alloys that the people of this world haven't discovered yet.
Maybe it's because the magic-users and craftsmen think copper is just a soft, very malleable metal unsuited for making weapons. Gustave doesn't care, because he knows he has a chance to make this metal the signature of his creations, simply because the people of this world haven't used it yet.
Just like sorceresses used obsidian, lapis lazuli, and agate for Yennefer, Triss, and Philippa respectively; or like Witchers use silver and dimeritium, dalvinite and sanguanite for Higher Vampires, enriched dimeritium and orichalcum for Grandmaster Blacksmiths, and herbs for alchemists—Gustave wanted to turn copper alloys into something similar.
Or more accurately, not just copper, but all the red metals made from copper—like brass, which is a mix of copper and zinc, and bronze, which is a mix of copper and tin.
"So, Dwarf. Instead of using steel and iron, I suggest we use copper alloys—or more specifically, all of the red metals—to become our signature creations. Because, although I see that these alloys are very soft and malleable, I suspect there are some magical properties in them that haven't yet been discovered."
Stunned and reeling in disbelief at such a drastic suggestion—like seeing the smartest man alive suddenly turned into a dunderhead after a knock to the head—Zoltan still asked, bewildered,
"Though I reckon that it's proper so… by Rhundurin's beards, ye serious about that, Prince? Red metals're a waste o' hammering. They're soft as a boiled bone. Save for pretty trinkets, there's nothing in 'em. The elders said—"
"So now you know there is some metallurgy your elders in Mahakam have hidden away. Are you sure what they said is always 100% the truth? Even if that is the case, always remember this, Dwarf: no matter how good or mighty they are, even the gods and demons can make mistakes. So don't believe what the populace says without examining it yourself first."
Even more confused as to why the conversation had suddenly touched on divinity and untapped magical potential, and still trying to understand the vision of the bright lad—considering now they were talking about the softness and malleability of a copper alloy—Zoltan shook his head and decided not to think too much about it.
Shrugging, he said, "Ye should see as ye see fit."
Because he also knew that, no matter if the workpieces were made of copper alloy, meteorite, or steel—even if they were very soft and had reliability issues—one thing Zoltan knew for certain was that this here was the future: a future that would shape how the world is made, since the insight coming from this clever noggin of a lad was truly the wisdom of the age.
Imagining all kinds of contraptions—perhaps using these precision cutting tools to craft sophisticated moving components, like the vessels and muscles of a bird, out of metal, intricate enough to make something that could allow him to fly—Zoltan thumped the table in excitement, sending metals and tools clattering everywhere, and exclaimed:
"Blast it! Enough globbering, chip-chap! Lemme flame up the hearth! Let's slap this hunk o' gear-guzzler bugger out of existence! Ho ho! I cannae wait to cobble somethin' outta this milling-and-lathe whirligig!"
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