I'm fully aware that Trisaldan is being left with me as something of a trust exercise. I'm also fully aware -- because for some reason it hasn't exactly dawned on the elves that my homunculi understand as much of their language as I do -- that they're leaving a full hundred of their men encamped in the Woodward (their wording) direction from my mining colony, half a day's travel away. This will actually work out well for me as it will let me know how far they generally travel in a single day.

What I'm not entirely aware of is exactly what I'm going to do with Trisaldan himself. I need to get back to my manor at some point, but if I bring him with me I'll be exposing the location of my only other "installation". Not that I need much more, at this point, than a dormant ant queen, a couple dozen hunting spiders, and my homunculi -- and whatever the spiders or my homunculi can carry without being encumbered anyhow -- to be fully started up again inside of a month. An amount of time that is below their threshold for noticing me. Especially if I can actually learn enough about their ishuar or some mana interaction application to suppress my "magic pollution" enough to avoid their notice.

On the other hand -- the way they talk about it, if I keep going the way I have been, I'm going to start attracting monsters or "wildlings" or whatever. And chances are, elves are a whole lot friendlier than whatever such things might be. The notion of battle-testing my hunters properly had a certain amount of appeal to it; I hadn't expected quite so many of my hunters to get taken out in their first fights, nor had I expected them to be able to improve so much with proper training.

It was the thought of training that ultimately settled the question for me: my hunters back at the manor have had exactly no chance to acquire any of it, and Trisaldan was supposed to be here to help me learn stuff anyhow so chances were that, as the equivalent of a sargeant to the Alfar Wardens, he was pretty good with a spear and he'd want to practice his technique as well. So, back to the manor it would be.

But first, it would serve me to settle affairs up here at the mining colony, since the ants actually found ores and were instructed to explicitly gather additional ore more than a day ago. With that thought in mind, I headed back to the waste pile the ants had been accumulating out of debris from their tunneling, to see if any more material had been dug up. After no small amount of sifting through sediment and sand, I did manage to find more of the reddish rocks that I now had a better understanding of. There was enough of the material at hand to produce maybe another twelve or so ingots of the size I was producing -- call it another sixty or so pounds' worth of iron or steel. This was a useful haul for a single day's production, but I had no real way of knowing just how much longer it would be before the vein that was being extracted would dry up.

I also couldn't afford, if I were to implement the technologies of my "tech up" into the realms of iron and steel, to only have this one source of iron. I had ideas about this but would need to see them through back at the manor rather than here. To that end, I'd only be smelting about three quarters of the material gathered since my last effort.

It was while I was in the process of feeding the reddish rubble into the rock grinder that Trisaldan finally "found" me. With a gruff sort of curiosity in his voice, he asked me about what I was doing.

"The red rocks you see are iron ore. I have a way of extracting the metal without needing too much manual labor, but it works much better when the rock ore is reduced to the consistency of sand."

The elf "sargeant" squinted at me. "If sand works better, why not just use sand?"

It's easy to forget how different the background of the elves is from my own. They learned germ theory before they learned how to forge iron. It would be nonsensical if literal magic wasn't involved. While lifting up the last payload of rubble into the hopper to be ground up, I answered the man. "You ever hold up small grains of river sand close to the eye? You notice how light gets through it easily? That's because that sand is made of a form of quartz. So when you melt it down, all you get is molten quartz glass. That's got its uses, mind, but what I want is iron. And so I need to use a kind of sand that's made of iron. Like this."

I sifted my hand through the ruddy stained sand that had come out of the grinder when I last ran it. "Now… the biggest problem you have when trying to get the iron out of this is that there's other stuff in here, too. So what you need to do is get it hot enough that the materials all perfectly melt, and then let the differences in their fluid densities sort them out so that when you pour it into molds, you can separate the materials." I hardly even noticed that I had to switch back to English to say the words "density" or "material". I imagined that I'd be giving the point-ears a rather large number of loan words, when you get down to it.

" I… see… " Trisaldan's response was the kind that nearly transcended language. He was clearly just agreeing enough to let the conversion continue.

"It's like… you ever see oil spill on water? See how it floats on top of the water even after you shake it up? That's because a water skin filled with oil will weigh slightly less than the same water skin will weigh when filled with water. It's a very small difference -- but it's enough. Just a moment, it's going to get rather loud for a bit -- let's step outside of this room." I turned on the clockwork rock crusher and let it get back to doing its thing, as I gathered up the filled basket of red sand.

Without pausing, I made my way over to one of the blast furnaces, and began to pour the sand into the heating chamber, pointing out various components as I went -- knowing all the while that there was very little chance Trisaldan would actually grasp everything he was seeing, let alone being told. If he could learn enough to merely operate the furnace properly, that would be enough to tell me something about how this system I now had interacted with the world, so it was worth the effort.

After setting the furnace to another round of heating, I went back to the alchemy lab and requested Trisaldan to start grinding lumps of charcoal into dust with the grindstone I'd installed for just that purpose. In the meantime I made a point of measuring out the alchemic essences I had culturing that would be needed to get the higher grades of steel I was actually after, as I intended to finalize the design of my homunculi's clockwork harnesses to the newly upgraded model.

While doing this, I kept up the conversation the man had started. "The part we're doing now, though -- it's a bit harder to explain. Much like how tea or dye mixes into water without separating, the charcoal you're grinding can 'dye' iron, and much like how tea has different properties than just water, steel has different properties than just iron. There are rules about how much charcoal or other additives to mix you want -- just like with making bronze out of copper -- but that's too complicated for me to want to explain."

Trisaldan nodded, finally. "How did you come by all this knowledge? You said there are no gods where you come from, so how could your people develop such wisdoms without a source of wisdom?"

Well, that wasn't the slightest bit disturbing in the least. "The hard way, Trisaldan. We learned through accident, trial, and by passing on the wisdom of one generation to the next by written or oral tradition. I gather it's different for you alfar?"

The warden grimaced. "Without a god's blessing, mortals who seek wisdom often find their minds possessed by wildling or demon spirits. That is the way of things: to seek knowledge one has not earned is not forbidden, but definitely unwise."

I couldn't help but scrunch my face up in thought at that. "Wait. Doesn't that mean my learning your techniques of interacting with ishuar is dangerous?"

The man nodded. "Yes, and no. The ishuar in many ways is like a tool; one is generally speaking most at risk when first learning to use it. It is of course true that learning the ways of the ishuar is irrevocable, and that without guidance one relies largely on luck to avoid ill fates, but we of the Alfar Wood know most such hazards, and how to avoid them. Our uses are to an extent limited by the safeguards we have learned, and there is of course a price even so -- but to wield such minor arts as I might teach you, it is safe enough. So long as you do not do the equivalent of, say, sticking your genitals into that sand-making machine of yours."

I couldn't help but snort in laughter at that assertion, remembering an Earth saying about unclear instructions and getting stuck in things. "I see. Well, no rest for the wicked. Let's get this done, my good man.". I stack up the additives to the ore for the latest round of steelmaking before heading back over to continue my work, the alfar joining silently behind me, his eyes burning a hole in the back of my shirt.

I spent the better part of the remainder of the day working on not merely shaping the steel ingots I’d acquired as needed, but also tweaking the design for the new clockwork harnesses slightly as the prototype’s usage had revealed certain limitations in the operation of them. Not the least of which being that they needed fuel gauges to demonstrate the fuel level without needing to cease what the homunculus wearing it was doing. Ironically, a gauge was once again one of those things that wasn’t actually all that difficult to pull off -- assuming you could rely on the transference of fine-grade small amounts of rotational energy over a distance -- something that steel cabling could do nicely but materials I’d previously had access to largely couldn’t. That same trick -- transferring small amounts of rotational energy over a larger distance than direct gearwork transfer -- allowed a harness-wearer to ignite the lamp wicks largely unassisted. I’d even added a lever in easy reach of the homunculi’s natural arms that would allow for the opening of the fuel reservoir so a homunculus could add more oil unassisted as well. Unfortunately, all of this fine work meant that the manufacture of new harnesses would be much slower than the ossium harnesses had been -- while the previous generations were less flexible in operation, that flexibility came with a cost of complexity in manufacture.

A microcosm of the way increasingly sophisticated and powerful technologies required ever-larger amounts of intellectual labor in order to be kept afloat, really. Once I’d finished the tweaks on the prototype and the manufacture of the second steel clockwork harness, I left the homunculi back to their own devices and checked in on Trisaldan who, despite his better intentions otherwise, had simply gotten bored watching me draw steel wire and braid it painstakingly into cable after cable, adding alchemical treatments depending on whether I needed it to be stronger or more flexible based on where it would be installed.

The elf was practicing with one of the reed-bamboo spears I had made for the princess’s crew, actually play-sparring with three of my hunting spiders as he did. He seemed to actually be enjoying himself. Should’ve known he’d wind up being a ‘pet’ person. Well, at least my hunters would benefit from the additional practice/training. I watched him silently for a short bit, allowing him to judge for himself when he had finished his training cum playing around.

When he finally wound down and caught his breath in what I could only describe as a ‘professional’ manner, he turned to face me, with the butt of the spear resting parade-style against his foot. “Yes, Sir Vincent?”

I glanced him over, repressing a shake of my head at the subtle cues he seemed to be displaying that indicated he at least was ‘slotting’ me into his social hierarchy somewhere above him but below his princess. “We’re about done with all we can get done here for now. As it’s later into the evening, why don’t you go and inform your people out beyond my walls that we’ll be making a trip to another of my places starting tomorrow?”

“They’ll likely ask me why this is happening, sir.”

“Oh, that’s simple enough. This place was only ever meant as a means of gathering the ore you helped me work with today. It was never meant as a long term residence. That would be my … house? No, I use the word ‘manor’. It means… like a village, but for a single wealthy family?” My mastery of their language had the oddest gaps sometimes. Seriously.

Trisaldan quirked a light-brown eyebrow at that. “‘Manor’, eh? We do not have a word like that. Should be interesting to see. It is also considered better to learn the ways of the ishuar while deep in the Wood rather than surrounded by the things of man, anyhow -- so that is well.”

I merely nod, and leave Trisaldan to his devices while making my own way back to the small cottage that I was using as a home-away-from-home to take my evening meal and sleep away the evening.

~~------------~~

Come the morning, I found my homunculi had already prepared all of the materials I’d need for the trip, including a pair of the four-spider team-drawn wagons loaded down with both ore, ingots, and samples of the additives I’d derived -- as well as written reports to collate together back at the ever-increasing-in-scope library I was maintaining back at the manor, as well as basic supplies like a proper tent, bedrolls, and cooking supplies. There was even a potted trellisvine with a spliced acorn-vine growing from it. I found it amusing that as I was also bringing Trisaldan with me, I could be said to be bringing samples of everything I’d developed in my short stay here at the mining base.

Upon opening the gate, I found that Trisaldan was accompanied by two other elves as well; ones I had not actually met before. Judging from the way they were attired, however, they seemed to be lower in rank than he was.

“Greetings, Sir Vincent. It won’t be an issue that my fellow wardens do not feel comfortable with me leaving in your company alone, I hope?”

I shook my head without even needing to think about it. “If this thing where we trust each other is going to work, it’s got to go both ways. Just … make sure that they know not to stick their genitals in things they don’t recognize, hey?”

The two men standing behind Trisaldan look like they can’t figure out whether to be confused or offended before the senior warden takes the indecision from them by actually laughing aloud at this. “Do you know, sir, that might very well be the first joke you’ve told since I first met you?”

“I … well hell, you seem to be correct, Trisaldan. And of course as is the way of my people, it’s a dick joke. I’m suddenly very glad that nobody from back home will ever find out about this.” I rubbed my hand against the back of my head ruefully before moving on. “So, I wasn’t planning on bringing sufficient supplies or anything for more than just the two of us. So your men will need to fend for themselves until we get to our destination -- and that’s going to be a four or five day journey. I don’t see much in the way of supplies over there. They got enough for that?”

The youngest of the three elves present smiled -- if briefly. “We’re good to go, Sir Vincent.”

If anyone was going to be competent nature-survivalists it would be friggin' tree-hugging point-ears. I should have known who I was talking to. I covered up my embarrassment by making a point of marching along, calling out orders to my hunting spiders to fan out in escort of the group and the ones hauling the wagons. I noticed, as they did so, that the younger pair of elves looked on at the hunter's display of coordination with a certain amount of unease.

"Something bothering you lot?"

The two shook their heads almost in unison. "It's just -- seeing so many feral wildlings acting with such cooperation and obedience is unsettling, sir. I served during a bloodmoon in the outer guard at Valensir's Glade. There was much loss of life in that month."

I at the same time wanted to know more and to not pry into what was clearly a dark memory. "Forgive my ignorance but -- is Valensir's Glade one of your cities or something?"

Trisaldan actually flashed a look of gratitude at me, however briefly, before taking up the conversional slack. "It's one of our smaller settlements, closer to the Treatied Woods and as a result fairly isolated. They are known primarily for their acorn production; there is an ishuata family there that specializes in fertility and fecundity."

The implications of what he had not said were rather telling. "I see. So your people depend heavily on acorns as a staple of your diet, then. That sounds rather similar to the Iroquois back home, actually. They were similar."

"Were, Sir Vincent?"

I grimaced as I made my way through the old growth forestry, checking for blaze marks and familiar objects as I went. "The Iroquois died off centuries ago, when my ancestors came to live near them. Our peoples had been isolated from each other for long enough that the Iroquois could no longer resist the diseases of my people. This was before we understood such things."

The three of them were taken slightly aback by this. Eventually, Trisaldan spoke up again. "You did warn us that your ancestors made several mistakes before learning better. I assume this was one?"

I considered, briefly, casting my world's history in a brighter light than it really deserved. But honesty in my dealings had done me well enough thus far, and I saw no need to stray from that path now. "That would be… a very generous understanding of events. Yes. It was far from the last of such things. Though truth be told, I might be focusing on such things to make myself feel better about the fact that I'll almost certainly never go home again."

There's a hitch in the conversation at that, before I looked at them bemusedly. "It's not as though I have anything to draw me back there. In a number of ways, being here has been an improvement on my lot in life. Whoever or whatever brought me to your world at least was polite enough to choose someone who wouldn't miss much of what he was losing. Though, between you and me, one of the things that drives me these days is getting back some of the creature comforts. Like cheese. And stiff caffeinated teas. I'm so very glad I was never a coffee drinker, though. The withdrawal headaches would likely have driven me mad as a hatter." I'm bemused that I managed to get through that entire statement without having to resort to dropping in any more English words than I had to.

The personable back and forth I'd set as the tone for our journey became three backdrop of further conversation. I learned a great deal more about the elves and the world as a result, on that first day at least. For example, no one really knew the total number of gods in the world. They all seemed largely localized in some way, or else sufficiently highly specialized that despite having a presence in a wide area they were very niche regardless.

The elves for example almost exclusively worshipped -- or perhaps revered would be a better word -- Rishuata. From what I could gather, her actual priesthood was best described as being something like shrine maidens back home: there was no formal structure to it, saving that third daughters or sons of ishuata families often wound up devoting themselves to some family shrine to Rishuata herself, with those sometimes being opened up to serve the needs of lesser castes who might seek out their goddess's advice or blessing for some affair or another.

Interestingly, their relationship with their goddess otherwise was both aloof and intense. It was almost as if they hoped that by anticipating her desires they could avoid her direct intervention, while benefiting from being in her good graces. And those benefits were to say the least, interesting. The goddess gave her shrine-tenders foresight over things like possible blights against their food crops, incipient droughts, and more significantly inspiration for how to address such challenges. And it was very clear that this was coming directly from the goddess. On the one hand, the benefits of such an arrangement were obvious: who wouldn't want a consistent and effective resource for advice and guidance towards prosperity and away from suffering? On the other hand, the goddess's advice only ever came in the form of interactions with environmental events, and she was utterly silent outside of that. Which wasn't really a problem for a society attuned to such a lifestyle, but…

It was immediately apparent to me that the wood elves were in a developmental trap. Yes, their relationship with the goddess was obviously symbiotic, as their service to her needs was rewarded with their prosperity, but at the same time they had no internal drive to become more than her worshippers. To the point where after thousands of years of existing as a people under her guidance, they'd never even properly developed agriculture, let alone learned to work metals. All of the creative energies of their society were bent to anticipating the desires and ambitions of a single immortal, unchanging, entity. As point-failure sources go, it was at least a robust one.

I knew better, though, than to say as much to the three elves making their journey with me. And it wasn't exactly all that bad: even if Rishuata disappeared overnight they'd still have the ishuata and their long-lasting lifespans and all the gifts they brought to their society -- so any breakdown would likely be a gradual transition to a new lifestyle rather than a Chinese firedrill-themed Apocalypse. Still, I began to get a greater appreciation for what I might offer their society in a manner to make them appreciate having me around.