Arthur stood in the center of the Royal Foundry, the orange glow of the massive furnaces reflecting in eyes that held the wisdom of a dead world. For centuries, the Northern Realms had operated on a primitive understanding of the world's composition. Blacksmiths believed that quality was a gift of the gods or the result of hunting for rare, supernatural materials like Meteorite Ore or Dragon Scales.
To Arthur, the reliance on these rare, magical materials was a massive logistical bottleneck. While he acknowledged that supernatural substances were an exception—enigmas of this world that existed outside the laws of his previous life—he knew that a true empire could not be built on the back of rarities. An empire needed consistency.
He gathered a group of Redania's most skilled blacksmiths and scholars. On the soot-stained wall, he unfurled a massive parchment. It was not a map, but a grid—the Periodic Table.
"The mages speak of four elements," Arthur stated, his voice cutting through the roar of the fires. "And while they chase 'Chaos' and hunt for supernatural ores, I will show you the truth of the world's foundation. Excluding the anomalies of magic, the physical world is made of these 114 elements."
He spent the following months teaching them the Mathematics and Chemistry of the forge. He taught them that they didn't need to hunt dragons or wait for falling stars to create legend-grade gear. He showed them how to control carbon levels to create high-grade steel and how to introduce trace amounts of nickel and chromium to prevent rust and brittleness. He proved that ordinary ore, when treated with the correct molecular logic, could become a superior alloy that rivaled anything found in nature.
The results were a revelation. Under Arthur's guidance, the Redanian blacksmiths began to produce armaments that were lighter, more flexible, and harder than anything forged in the ancient fires of Mahakam.
The shift in the market was immediate and devastating for the competition. For generations, Dwarven metalwork had been the undisputed gold standard, relying on their secret techniques and ancient mountain ores. But now, Redanian merchants were flooding the markets with blades and armor made from common bog iron that could notch a dwarven axe without dulling.
The "shine" of the elder races' craftsmanship began to dim. Why pay a dwarf's ransom for a "magical" blade when a Redanian smith could sell you a superior alloy forged from common dirt and scientific precision? Redania had unlocked the power of the 114, and the industrial monopoly of the elder races was finally breaking.
******
The Dwarven Elder Smiths were not creatures of fragile pride; they were creatures of logic and stone. When the market reports reached the halls of Mahakam stating that Redanian "common steel" was outperforming their ancestral alloys, they didn't scream for war. They came to investigate.
A delegation of senior smiths, their beards singed by centuries of forge-fire, arrived at Arthur's foundry under a banner of truce. They expected to find a mage's trick or a hidden cache of meteorite ore. Instead, they found Arthur standing before his Periodic Table.
As the Prince explained the molecular bonding of the 114 elements, the elders' eyes widened. They saw the mathematical proof behind what they had called "the feel of the metal" for millennia. Arthur showed them how his chemistry allowed Redania to use non-supernatural metals—the very bog iron the dwarves considered waste—to create steel that was on par with, or even better than, their own.
"You use your rare, supernatural ores because you don't know how to optimize the common ones," Arthur told them, gesturing to a rack of gleaming longswords. "My methods increase efficiency and reduce the cost of production by tenfold."
The realization hit the dwarves like a hammer on an anvil. A human-made sword, forged in Arthur's foundry, possessed the same tensile strength and edge retention as a dwarven blade, yet its price—while not cheap—was a mere fraction of the cost of an imported Mahakam weapon.
The economic shift was brutal. The nobility and the professional mercenaries of the North were no longer looking toward the mountains for their steel. They were flocking to Redania. The preference was clear: why spend a kingdom's fortune on a single dwarven sword when you could outfit an entire elite squad with Arthur's Superior Alloy for the same price?
The elder smiths looked at the Periodic Table one last time, their hearts heavy with the knowledge that their monopoly was dead. But as they looked at Arthur, they didn't see an enemy; they saw the architect of a new age.
"You have turned the dirt beneath our feet into a treasure," the lead elder muttered, touching the edge of a Redanian blade. "Mahakam has the mines, but you have the mind. If we do not learn these '114 truths,' we will be nothing but a footnote in your history."
The 6th birthday banquet for the twin princes, Radovid V and Arthur I, was a display of Redanian opulence that masked the shifting gears of a continent. For Arthur, the alliance with the Dwarven Elder Smiths had already begun to bear fruit; he had secured the "born smiths" of Mahakam by offering them the "114 Truths," transforming Redania into the North's premier foundry. He didn't want a war—not yet. He wanted a nation so advanced that any attack would be a death sentence for the aggressor.
In the center of the Great Hall, Radovid was basking in the attention, playing the part of the future "Lion of the North." Arthur sat beside him, his eyes scanning the crowd with a predator's stillness.
The music stopped abruptly as a man in travel-worn leather and a heavy smith's apron strode into the hall, unannounced. The Royal Guard tensed, but King Vizimir II raised a hand to stay them.
"I am Ernst van Hoorn," the man announced, his voice a gravelly boom. He was a master blacksmith from Temeria, a kingdom renowned for its skilled artisans. "I have heard the whispers of a 'Physician Prince' who claims to forge miracles from dirt. I have heard that Redanian steel now mocks the work of the Elder Blood. I have come to see if it is science, or merely a child's parlor trick."
The court gasped at the audacity. To challenge a royal prince during his own banquet was a grave insult. But van Hoorn didn't look at Vizimir; he looked directly at the six-year-old Arthur.
"I challenge you, Arthur I of Redania, to a Blacksmith Duel," van Hoorn spat, throwing a heavy iron ingot onto the stone floor. "We forge a blade here, tonight. If my Temerian steel is surpassed by your 'New Ways,' I shall serve your forge for life. If I win, you admit your '114 elements' are a lie born of a boy's imagination."
Radovid looked at his twin with a mix of shock and budding rivalry. The court mages of the Brotherhood leaned forward, eager to see the "miracle boy" fail.
Arthur stood up, his small frame casting a long, steady shadow. He didn't look insulted. In fact, his lips curled into the faintest, most dangerous smile.
"I have been waiting for someone to provide me with a practical demonstration," Arthur said, his voice eerily calm. "Prepare the portable forge. I shall show you why the 'old ways' of Temeria are already obsolete."