Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World-Chapter 83: Blast Furnace(Part 3)

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly in recognition.

Audrey.

It had been some time since he last saw her, but he hadn't forgotten.

The daughter of Marquis Henry, once a reserved noblewoman who stood during court banquets, now wore thick leather gloves and a soot-stained apron like any other workshop apprentice. After the royal banquet on Accession Day, Arthur had personally spoken with her—curious about her interest in machinery and enchantment. What surprised him then was not just her curiosity, but her sharp, technical mind.

He had assigned her to assist Owen directly, not merely as a helper, but as a quiet observer—to learn, to contribute, and eventually, to lead.

Arthur hadn't followed up on her progress since. In truth, he hadn't even known she had joined the blast furnace project. Owen had selected his team listing every name, and Arthur had been preoccupied with managing state affairs, military reports, and now, Chronos's growing tension. Thus he didn't realize Audrey was one of the team members for the project.

But here she was—standing before Loran, eyes alight with determination.

She came to a stop with practiced precision, her soot-streaked hair tied back, strands of gold peeking through the ash.

"All the preparations for the smelting basin have been completed," Audrey reported crisply. "The refractory bricks are laid, the outer shell is sealed, and the bellow system is ready for its first high-pressure test."

Her voice was steady, professional. But then she looked past Loran.

Her breath caught.

The man Loran had been speaking to wasn't another engineer or overseer. It was him—Arthur Tesla, the King of Keldoria.

Her heartbeat quickened.

She hadn't expected to see him today, certainly not here, standing among soot and steel like one of the workers. The last time she'd been near him was during a demonstration of the printing press, where she had kept her distance—silent but awestruck. And before that… the day he assigned her to Owen's workshop.

Since then, she had worked tirelessly, driven not just by duty—but by something harder to admit.

Admiration.

No, she corrected herself, more than admiration.

She didn't talk with him. She never dared to. But in her heart, she had come to respect him deeply. His mind, his vision, his unrelenting will to shape a broken kingdom into something greater.

The blast furnace was proof. She had studied dozens of forging techniques, learned under master smiths, even enchanted minor forging tools… but this was different. She would have never imagined steel could be produced in such volume—so efficiently. It was bold. Impossible, even.

Though she wasn't entirely sure the blast furnace would work, she had been briefed as part of the team—and now realized it wasn't impossible. In fact, there was a good chance it just might succeed.

And yet Arthur made it seem inevitable.

And now, standing before him once more, covered in soot and sweat, her heart stammered and her face flushed without warning.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, gloved hands tightening just enough for the leather to creak. Then, with practiced grace, she bowed again—lower this time.

"Y-Your Majesty," she said quickly, eyes darting away from his. "I apologize… I didn't realize I was interrupting your conversation with Sir Loran."

Arthur studied her quietly, one brow arching ever so slightly. The faint pink on her cheeks caught his eye, but with the heat of the forge all around them, he dismissed it as nothing more than the result of hard work near an open flame.

He gave a small nod, his tone warm but still neutral.

"You weren't interrupting," he said. "Though I must admit, I didn't realize you were part of the blast furnace team."

He glanced briefly toward the scaffolding and the workers behind her, then returned his attention to Audrey.

"If Owen assigned you to this project, that means he sees you as qualified—and that says quite a bit."

He meant it as a compliment—genuine praise hidden beneath a king's usual formality.

But to Audrey, the words struck deeper than intended.

Just for a flicker of a second, her expression faltered. Barely noticeable. A subtle drop in her eyes, the slightest stiffening in her shoulders.

She had volunteered for this.

Not out of obligation. Not because her noble father, Marquis Henry, had sent her. No—she had chosen this path herself. She had walked into Arthur's workshop that day after the banquet, requested an audience, and humbly asked to become an apprentice under his guidance. Her passion for innovation, her fascination with machines and magic-infused engineering—it wasn't a passing interest. It was her purpose.

Arthur had accepted, assigned her to Owen, and told her to learn everything she could. And since then, she had poured her heart into it—through failures, experiments, breakthroughs, and long nights buried in grease and glowing runes.

And yet… he hadn't even known she was here.

She didn't know why it stung. She wasn't owed recognition—not from a king burdened with matters of state and other important matters. Still, some part of her had hoped…

That maybe he'd remember.

That he might ask about her progress. Or even just notice.

But she swallowed it down quickly. Years of noble upbringing and days spent on the workshop floor had taught her how to bury unwanted feelings beneath composed words.

She straightened her posture and smiled—small, polite, unshaken.

"You flatter me, Your Majesty," she replied softly. "In truth, I'm still learning a great deal. Sir Loran has been incredibly patient, and I owe most of my understanding to his mentorship these several days. And compared to you, I'm still lacking by a great margin."

Arthur gave her a faint, approving nod, unaware of the emotions she had just buried beneath her quiet tone.

"You're contributing to something important," he said. "That matters more than how far along you think you are."

Then, as his attention shifted toward the furnace structure then back to Loran, Audrey allowed herself one brief glance at his back—her eyes lingering not out of admiration for a king, but for the visionary who had sparked her love for machines into something greater.

One day, she thought herself, I'll stand beside him not as an apprentice… but as an equal and maybe I could become his'—

Her thoughts stumbled, cut off before they could wander too far.

"Your Majesty," Loran's voice called, pulling her sharply back to the present, "all preparations for the smelting basin have been completed. The refractory lining has settled, and the bellows are primed for their first high-pressure test."

Arthur turned toward the foreman, arms loosely folded behind his back, posture relaxed but commanding.

Loran stepped aside slightly, gesturing toward the machinery. "Would you like to oversee the test personally?"

Audrey's breath caught slightly as she turned her attention to Arthur once more. Her heart still beat a little too fast from that fleeting thought—but her face showed no sign of it. She straightened herself beside Loran, eyes professional and focused now, though something still quietly stirred beneath the surface.

Arthur took a moment before answering, his gaze flickering to the bellows—massive, rune-etched, reinforced with bronze ribs and mana channels—and then to the smelting chamber itself, where the layered ore waited for its first controlled blaze.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Of course," he said. "This will mark the birth of something new. I wouldn't miss it."

With Arthur's approval, the workers sprang into motion.