Chapter 10: A Warm Night and a Cold Morning
"Wait! Young man!" Mr. Nicola called out, stepping toward me with a desperate look in his eyes. He clearly wanted to ask how I knew the solution, or perhaps offer me a job.
I ignored him. I had more important things to do.
I walked straight to the market entrance where Elera was waiting. She was clutching a heavy bag, her eyes sparkling with a secret.
"Guess what we are eating tonight?" she beamed as we walked toward home. "I bet you can't guess!"
I smiled. "Porridge? Stale bread?"
"No!" She giggled. "Meat! We are having a real meat stew tonight!"
Behind us, Finn stopped dead in his tracks. He froze in the middle of the busy street, people bumping into him.
"Finn?" I asked.
He didn't move. I gently shook his shoulder. When he looked up, thick tears were rolling down his dirty cheeks. They weren't tears of sadness, but of overwhelming, disbelief. He had forgotten what meat tasted like.
"Come on," I said softly, putting an arm around him. "Let's go cook."
As we walked through the darkening city, I observed the architecture. Most of the common district was lit by torches or oil lamps, standard for a civilization that looked like the 13th century. But as we passed the noble district, I stopped.
Inside the large mansions, I saw steady, bright, yellow glows.
Filaments? I narrowed my eyes. Those are electric bulbs.
In a world that seemed stuck in the medieval era, the presence of electricity in the noble district was highly suspicious. It implied a monopoly on technology—or perhaps ancient tech that only the rich could afford. I filed that information away for later.
We arrived at our dilapidated shack. It was freezing inside, colder than the street.
"Start the cooking," I told Elera. "I'm going to fix the heater."
The 'heating system' was an old, rusted iron stove connected to a stone chimney. It had been broken for years, leaking smoke into the room instead of heat. Everyone said it was garbage.
I knelt before it and examined the structure.
The intake valve is jammed, and the flue damper is stuck in the closed position, I realized immediately. It's not broken; it's just suffocation.
I didn't just bang on it. I took a thin metal rod from my new tools. I located the pivot point of the internal damper—a plate hidden inside the pipe that controls airflow. It was rusted shut.
I applied precise leverage to the rusted joint. Crack. The rust gave way, and the damper swung open. Next, I mixed a quick paste using clay from the garden and water, sealing the hairline fractures in the iron belly of the stove to prevent smoke leaks. Finally, I adjusted the bottom intake vent to create a 'Venturi effect'—accelerating the air to make the fire burn hotter with less wood.
I struck a flint. The fire roared to life. Instead of choking smoke, a wave of pure, radiated heat began to fill the room. The iron groaned as it expanded, glowing a faint, cozy orange.
Outside the window, Silas watched, his jaw on the floor. He had expected me to fail. He knew that stove was scrap metal. Yet, within ten minutes, I had turned the freezing shack into a sauna. He scurried away into the shadows to report this impossibility to his boss.
Inside, the aroma of searing meat and savory broth filled the air. It was the best smell I had ever experienced.
We sat on the floor, the room warm and bright from the fire. Finn and Elera were laughing, their faces flushed with warmth and happiness.
"Let us pray," Elera said, clasping her hands. "Thank you, God, for this food. Amen."
"Amen," Finn and I said.
We ate like kings. The meat was tough, but to us, it melted like butter. That night, with full bellies and a warm room, we slept peacefully for the first time in our lives.
But peace never lasts long for the poor.
BAM!
My eyes snapped open. The morning sun was just bleeding through the cracks in the wall. The front door slammed against the wall, nearly breaking off its hinges.
A silhouette stood in the doorway, blocking the light. He was dressed in expensive silk, with a cruel, refined face that screamed authority.
It was none other than Lucas Wen Dor Hoven.