Lined up along the walls of the room were several large tanks of metal and glass, connected through various pipes and tubes. Interspersed between the machinery were fire places as well as tables and shelves lade with bottles and bowls of glass and ceramic. Some were filled with liquids or powders, while others still awaited their purpose. Most people would have considered the room bizarre. However, the two figures in its center were absolutely not within that group. To them, this was the greatest room in the world.

“Are we sure this is the best way to handle things, master Corco?” Ronnie said with a look towards the shiny new copper still before them. When they had set sail for Medala, they had loaded up a good number of stills from the Arcavian mainland, but they had underestimated just how much distillation they would need to do beyond alcohol production. This one was part of the first new batch, handcrafted by masters in Arguna and transported south.

“Sure it is. What could be a better use of our time than this?” Corco asked with a look at the still's spout. Out of the opening dribbled a colorless liquid. Even through their heavy cloth masks, it still filled the room with the smell of gasoline. Rather, it should be the smell of toluene, or so the king hoped. For now, they had no way of knowing until they tried.

“...well, for one, there would be the fertilizer I will need to have prepared in a few months. You have made a lot of promises to a lot of people and somehow, I do not believe the lords will keep to the alliance if they cannot get their hands on their miracle wheat-growth substrate.”

“Don't you have apprentices to deal with that?” Corco looked over to the chemist. Even beyond the mask and the beard, his eyes were enough to prove his annoyance.

“Of course I do, but they are still young, and they have come almost wholly unprepared. So far, they cannot even read or write. How will I use them if I have to explain every single label every single time? This should be the most important place in the entire kingdom right now. Could you not have sent anyone more qualified?”

“Like who?” Corco shrugged his shoulder. “The only people who can read our writing were educated by me. That's no more than a hundred people so far, and they all have important work to do themselves. No matter how ground breaking this sort of work is, we'll need most of the literate working on administration. That's where they will need those writing skills the most.”

“Medalan letters, was it?” Ronnie raised an eyebrow to coincide with his voice. In response, the king put up his hands in defense of his lie.

“Well, okay. In that one instance, I might have embellished the truth just a little bit. But now you've seen the orthographic nightmare that is actual Medalan writing, right? I had to modernize it. I mean, how would we ever print something in a language with thousands of individual letters?”

And what better way to further distinguish commoners from nobles than with a separate set of books? he thought

Rather than acknowledge the king's genius foresight, the world's first chemist looked back into the laboratory, over to all the work he had been forced to abandon over the past few days.

“Either way, there is plenty of work beyond the fertilizer... and most of it could never be handled by a fresh apprentice. I was already swamped with work before you burst into the room.”

“Like what?” Corco asked with his attempt at an innocent face. His attempt at appeasement was foiled, either by his mask or Ronnie's indifference.

“Well, beyond the batch production of lye and the new ammunition for your soldiers, I still need to finish Saniya's other 'first original product.' How many first original products can we possibly have all at once? Do you understand how much time I have already sunk into that?” Ronnie's arms flailed around as he looked over to a large metal box

“Aaah, don't care about the vanillin. You weren't really getting anywhere anyways, were you?” A slap on the back was Corco's best attempt at consolation.

“But I am convinced that we are only one step away from oxidizing the lignin. If I get a few more days with the procedures, I can fine-tune the instruments and we can get our first test batch done right away.”

Although Ronnie sounded sincere, Corco had heard him give similar impressions before. From his own experience with chemistry, there would always be 'one more complication', so he was a lot less optimistic.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Still, for now the banquet is over, so new flavors are a low priority. Plus,” he looked at a capped bottle to the side, a liquid produced from the first substance distilled out of the original BTX. “the benzene will help with that. Once we produce enough benzene, we can use it to make the vanillin without a complicated oxidation process.”

“Wait, so all that work was useless? Do you understand how long I've worked on this?” Ronnie's eyes grew large in panic.

“Ahaha, don't worry about it. You'll need oxidation often enough in the future, so it's good to get some practice in either way. Plus, the temperature control helped with the other products too, right?”

With small nods, Ronnie did his best to convince both of them that his time hadn't been wasted.

“Indeed. Without the work so far, creating the aniline or the potassium dichromate would have been impossible. Still, our work could have been much more efficient.”

“Yeah, I know,” the king sighed. “This is my fault, really. I screwed up some of the ordering.”

“In truth, all of our steps have taken much longer than we thought they would,” Ronnie said, while he checked the amount of liquid they had extracted from the still so far.

“It always looks so much easier on paper... anyways, this isn't an exact science. At least not yet.”

“And on that note: This should suffice.”

With his gloved hand, Ronnie closed the spout which had dripped out the toluene before. He took one last look at the thermometer built into the still, before he moved the glass off its plate.

“You sure that's enough?” Corco asked.

“Considering the amounts of aniline we could prepare, this should be fairly accurate, yes.”

Careful not to spill any of the valuable substance, Ronnie transferred the toluene over to a scale, to measure its weight.

“Weight without the glass should be... seventeen point five,” he said, and Corco promptly began to write down notes on the paper besides the construction. For now they were all still amateurs, so exact documentation would be all the more important.

“In that case, we'll need almost all of the toluene, huh?”

Although Ronnie nodded, he seemed more concerned with all the advanced chemicals lined up on the table before them.

“This is far more complex than anything else we have done so far. There are so many steps here, at least some of the chemicals we have produced these days should have use beyond this, shouldn't they?”

“Of course they do,” Corco answered. Meanwhile, Ronnie measured out and added the aniline and water, before he stirred the solution with a glass rod. “But for a long time, we'll be very limited on materials. This stuff is rare, so we'll have to make it count. We can't waste our time on less important stuff.”

“Is that so,” the chemist's unimpressed voice rang out. While Corco did his best to prove the importance of their undertaking, Ronnie had suspended the vial with the mixture in a container of warm water. It wouldn't take long to bring the mixture up to temperature, since part of it had only just left the heat of the still.

“Yeah, that's so. You really don't get what we're doing here, do you? This is history! It's beyond history, actually! It's the future! Just so you know, if we get this right- careful!” While the king geared up for another round of gloating, the chemist had begun to move a piece of paper filled with an orange powder over to their work station. The loud noise shook Ronnie's whole body. Only his fingers could just stay calm enough to not spill any of the precious contents.

“Could you not do that!” he chided the king with a stern look. “Master Corco, do you understand how long it has taken me to make this salt!”

“You're aware that there's chromium in this?” Corco asked, undeterred. “You really should be more careful with this stuff. It's pretty dangerous.”

Over his face mask, the chemist stared at the king with narrowed eyes.

“Master Corco, this master chemist is well aware of the dangers. On your insistence, we have been forced to wear these masks and gloves. The rooms are open and well ventilated, in defiance of any code of secrecy we might find useful for the treasures hidden here. With all these measures in place, we should be as safe as we can be. Rather, it would be overreactions like that which would cause accidents to occur.”

“Aaah, sorry about that,” Corco waved off Ronnie's concerns. “Still, you can never be careful enough.”

“And yet this master has dealt with chemical products for most of his life, for decades. In fact, my practical experience goes back far beyond your own first contact with any alchemical substances. In this very laboratory, I have dealt with all manner of hazards. By the lords, a few steps over we attempt to produce a more potent form of gunpowder! This here is hardly the most harmful substance I have dealt with, so please stand back and let me do my work.”

His complaints spoken, the chemist dropped the orange powder into the warm solution.

“I said I'm sorry, didn't I?” the king mumbled, while he watched the silent chemist stir the mixture again. Although a standstill had developed between the friends, it was soon broken.

“Ahahahahaha!! There it is! Show me the money! Robin Hood! Nwctheconstruct!”

Again Ronnie's body jerked up, before he looked between the king and the purple solution, this time in confusion rather than anger.

“Yes, it's appearance is as you described it before, Master Corco,” he said, and began to jot down his notes.

“You don't get it, do you?” Corco asked Ronnie, a dumb grin on his face.

“No, I do understand. It is purple dye. Very valuable,” the chemist's voice was still flat, focused on his work. Annoyed by his friend's lack of enthusiasm, Corco's eyes narrowed. If Ronnie didn't want to understand by himself, he would have to make him understand.

“It's not purple, you cretin. It's mauveine. Do you not get what sort of momentous occasion the synthetic production of purple dye is? You really shouldn't underestimate the power of prestige. Entire empires have been built on and funded by nothing but purple, like Carthage. That's how valuable this stuff is. Not to mention the diplomatic power! You think it's a coincidence that this is the royal color in both Arcavia and in Chutwa? Almost anywhere in the world, this is the color of the ruling class, just because of how rare it is in nature! A single line of purple cloth shows status and wealth. What kinds of concessions can we get from our neighbors for exporting it to them!? Imagine that, they'll thank us for the privilege of paying us hand over fist for our new dyes.”

As the importance of their discovery began to dawn on him, Ronnie looked back to the king, his eyes filled with life again. “True. However, a small amount like this would not even be enough for the local nobility, would it?”

This time, the king's grin widened all the way to his ears. One finger raised, he decided to educate his pupil.

“Once we get the foundry running at full force, how much mauve do you think we can make from it?”

“I am unsure, but I am sure master Corco will enlighten me.” By now Ronnie had drawn back from the table a bit, and dragged the king with him.

“Okay, here's an estimate for you then, a conservative one: Once we fine-tune our byproduct setup in the foundry, we can produce hundreds of liters of BTX every day. Do you have any idea how much dye that is? Plus, when we get some proper trade routes going, those blast furnaces are gonna run day and night! We will have enough mauve to flood any market! It's like an infinite money cheat, from nothing more than a byproduct of our steel production!”

“And then someone else comes along and takes it for themselves.” Ronnie said in a dry voice. As so often when Corco got too carried away, the chemist played the voice of reason. In response, the king's eyes narrowed, but this time there was a coldness beyond anything Ronnie would have seen in years.

“Let them come, and try their best. There's a reason we've stuffed everything important on these islands. Don't worry, I already have my plans set up for potential spies. And if anyone tries to take my city simulation by force, they'll have to get through our armies first.”

As if on cue, Quato entered their laboratory with a piece of paper in hand.

“King Corco, there is a message from the capital,” he said. Proper as always, Quato only nodded towards Ronnie after Corco had taken the letter. Meanwhile, the king frowned at the appearance of his own seal in wax, the one he had left with Fadelio.

“This isn't the regular report, is it?” They would get a report from the capital every ten days to sum up the Triumvirate Meetings and other developments in Arguna, but he had read that one only three days ago.

“No, King Corco. The letter has been sent by a special runner, relayed through Qarasi Castle.”

Without further delay, the king broke the seal and read the contents. While the tension in the laboratory rose, his eyes flitted across the message.

“Well... shit,” the king concluded.

“Good news, I take it?” the chemist joked in turn.

“Could be worse.” After a casual shrug, Corco tossed the top secret document to his chemist, who promptly closed the letter without a single look. “The bad news: Someone's coming to take our dye. The good news: We'll be fine. It's only Pacha.”