By the third month, he had switched to charcoal soaked in the crude oil. This allowed him to consistently get a bloom from the sands. However, there was so much glass and slag in the resulting bloom, the few actual iron pellets he recovered were not even enough to make a nail, much less his first intended project of a functional saw blade.

He decided that the new problem was in the foundry design itself. So, over the next six months, he designed, tested, tore down, and retested dozens of design alternatives. He was heard lamenting on multiple occasions the lack of even a single junkyard to take advantage of. Still, he persevered, and in the end, managed to produce a small ingot of black iron the size of a golf ball.

Months of effort, and he really only had enough iron produced to create a small saw blade. However, he was soon to learn that creating the iron was the easier part. For now, he needed to forge that iron into a functional blade. Days hammering out the blade turned into weeks of starting over every time that the circular blade would crack. The quality of iron was all wrong, being more like cast iron than tool steel.

Three more months were spent tinkering with the fuel source in an attempt to lower the carbon content absorbed by the iron, with very little success. Eventually, Dag resorted to a crude distillation process that could ‘crack’ the crude oil to produce a cleaner burning fuel know as naphtha. This did the trick, lowering the carbon introduced into the iron enough that wrought iron could be produced. Then, by introducing the higher carbon steel to the mix of the more malleable wrought iron, Dag was able to produce his first real saw blades.

◆◆◆

Sawmill Changes Everything

With the recently completed second canal bringing water to the far side of the city, Dag set up a water wheel to take advantage of the falling water. This took even more time, but attached to this wheel was the world’s first sawmill. Far from a fast or powerful tool, it still was able to turn out consistent planks that allowed for new forms of construction.

The most impressive of these new construction projects was a Dakkar style Viking long boat. With iron production still in a fairly primitive state, most of the planks still needed to be drilled and pegged, which slowed the construction considerably over the Viking process of riveting the planks together. Even so, the addition of iron drill bits was a great improvement over the bone, stone, and shell drill bits of the early days of construction.

It was an additional eighteen months until the first longboat was launched. The city had grown by leaps and bounds in that time, allowing for dedicated professionals to smelt and shape iron, to saw lumber, and to build boats and houses with it. Along with the increase in population and specialization, the priests had been working overtime to convert the public, and had embarked on a large scale temple building project. All of this, funded by the sale of gold jewelry and idols. Dag hated to see the rise of superstition in his new civilization, but short of killing off the priests and claiming their temple, there was very little he could do to stop it.

Nissa was happy to see that it had not worked out the way her brother had planned, though. For, while he was still the high priest and the primary seat of the religion was still under his thumb in the traditional seat of his power, there were more of his sun worshipers in Dag’s city than in Breg’s distant temple town.

That isn’t to say that they weren’t beginning to exert their political strength. It started with simple things, like holidays on the solstices and equinox. Then progressed to when and what kind of food was acceptable. The priests seemed to have an opinion on everything, but the people gave them far more credence than was their due, so Dag found that he needed to tiptoe lightly around their various arbitrary decrees.

The ‘miracle’ of an automatic wood cutting machine, followed by a boat that could carry twenty men and supplies on the ocean or the river, went a long way to positioning Dag as a counterbalance to these priests, but since he didn’t couch his ‘miracles’ in the same mysticism or threaten to remove their function for disobedience, he didn’t enjoy quite the same impact as the priests, even if given greater awe and reverence.

The ship’s launch ushered in a whole new era for the people of the city. For the first time, bulk goods could be shipped in from distant lands. Unfortunately for Dag, none of those distant lands had anything beyond raw resources to ship in, at least as far as he could tell.

◆◆◆

City Stands Alone

It was on Dag’s fortieth birthday, when the recently christened S. S. Voyager set sail to investigate and explore the coastline. Provisions packed for a three-month journey. They were expecting to be out to sea for six months. It was Dag’s hope to reach the Indian sub-continent in that time and find another city like theirs. Of course, it wouldn’t be like theirs, as they wouldn’t have a man from the future instructing them in technology, but at least a city of men like those who built Gobekli Tepe. By his best estimations, he didn’t believe himself to be further back in time than two or three hundred years at most beyond the construction of that great site, so the culture that built it should be around. It should be getting started to build up to that level of sophistication, and if he could find them, he would have trading partners.

Despite all protests against it, Dag was captaining the Voyager himself. It was just he and John on this trip, and Lavern, Nissa, and the twins were unhappy about it. The others were mostly too young to be too upset, but the twins had made a real push to come along. Dag only settled them down by threatening to marry them off to far off kings if they insisted on coming. Both of their mothers had to turn away to hide their amusement at the little girl’s reactions. The twins were a precocious pair, and at the age where they had more than half of the castle wrapped around their little fingers. For daddy of all people to threaten to marry them off to someone far away... Dag figured that he would be a week out to sea before his wives could convince his daughters that he was teasing them, and that they were far too young to worry about husbands yet.

John, of course, was all up for it. Dag figured he would change his mind once the waves picked up a little. Dag didn’t get seasick much, but he knew that this little wooden boat was a far different story than the large sea-going vessels he was used to riding. Either way, he wanted this time alone with his heir to help prepare the boy for what was to come. Under ideal conditions, Dag had at most twenty more years to live without modern medicine to support him. In ten years, he realized that he would be slowing down sufficiently that much of the running of the city would fall on young John’s shoulders. He wanted time away from the demands of ‘empire’ to prepare his son the best he could to do well, even under the crushing weight that was going to fall on his shoulders.

Fortunately for John’s education, but not so much for the economic future of the city, there was no sign of any people more sophisticated than small clans dependent on hunting and gathering. They did find a small handful of clans that had domesticated dogs, and even a very small few that had small log rafts that they used for fishing close to the coast. None of these were of sufficient sophistication to provide the city with real trade partners.

After three months of searching, the verdict was in the city stands alone.

◆◆◆

Return to Chaos

Dag returned home more than a little disappointed that they hadn’t managed to find any civilizations to trade with. After storm season passed, he would send Jack up the other way to check the coastline toward Africa, but he had little hope of finding anything. India had been the safer bet, and it came up with snake eyes.

The scene that greeted him on the beach made his blood run cold. The city had been devastated by fire. Recovery efforts stalled long enough to greet their ship as it returned, but only long enough for that. Jack arrived with Lavern and Nissa, all three looked grim. “What happened?” Dag asked concern warring with frustration.

Jack let the man’s wives have a quiet moment with him before answering. “Five of the chiefs of the plains formed an alliance.” He let out a long sigh, “It seems that they figured out bows well enough to dip their arrows in pitch and set them alight. From the crest of the ridge, they fired dozens of flaming arrows down into the city. Enough of the newer roofs are made from palm thatching. They didn’t fare too well. Fortunately, we only lost two people who got cut off by the fire.” He shrugged in impotent frustration at things he couldn’t change, “It could have been much worse.”

Dag’s eyes narrowed, and he could feel the anger rising even as he fought to respond in a calm and rational way. “It could have been much worse, and we’ll do more to secure that ridgeline.” He took a deep breath and let it out, “Do we know who these five clans are?”

Jack nodded, “We managed to put our own arrows in five of their men, but they were over by the city, not by the castle where we expected to fight them.”

Again Dag nodded, “How many chariots can we field now?”

Jack’s face broke into a wicked grin, “Nine. Nine if we don’t count spare teams.”

Dag scratched his chin, “Nine chariots, and thirty shield men as infantry?”

Jack nodded, “Well, closer to fifty if we need it.”

Dag shook his head, “No, thirty will do. We’re about to make an example out of these five clans... an object lesson for all who hear the story.”

Dag was glad that one of the fools wasn’t Nissa’s brother. He had been doing a little subtle saber rattling in recent months. So Dag planned to make damn good and sure that he could easily look into his future if he tried a stunt like this. He knew it wasn’t reasonable to assume that no one would figure out rudimentary bows, but whoever decided to use fire arrows was a crafty bastard. He could have done very well working for Dag, but he wanted to make a statement.

Well, a statement was called for now... it just wouldn’t be the message he had intended to send. They would lick their wounds, and make sure that those they left behind would have the shelter that they deserved, and then it was time to take to the plains. With nine chariots to run scout and thirty infantry, they would easily outnumber any single clan. With the chariots to round up any who tried to flee, this wasn’t a war, this was going to be a slaughter.

Coming of Age

Not Vengeance

Dag assembled his troops and set off in search of the attackers. Runners had been sent to Riverport, and while it had been attacked, all of the people there had been able to retreat into the tower, and fend off the enemy with arrows. The raid had done very little damage, but it had managed to shake the confidence of many residents of the outpost.

Dag knew he needed to be seen as decisively doing something about the problem. It was no secret that he was pissed about this attack. Ineffectual as it was for changing the political landscape, it still was more than sufficient to disrupt their peaceful lives. Even so, he wouldn’t chase after them like this for simple vengeance. They deserved punishment for their deeds, but alone that wouldn’t have motivated him to delay other tasks to field an ‘army’ this size to go after them.

This operation was about optics. His people needed to see that something was done, and the other clans all needed a good strong visual of what would happen to those who attacked the city, and Dag was determined to give it to them. Even though it meant introducing his own people to some darker aspects of civilization that he had hoped to spare them.

Finding the first clan wasn’t all that difficult. Taking them down without killing them all was more complicated, but Dag ordered arrows to be aimed for legs, and for those in the chariot to lasso any who resisted. Being drug behind the chariot for a distance usually pacified even the most belligerent of captives.

Dag took the captives back to the city where they were placed under guard. Then he rode off after the remaining clans, dragging back the lion’s share of each clan alive. Often injured by alive, the members of the five clans were dragged back to the city and placed on a public trial. By modern standards, it was a show trial, but the spectacle wasn’t one that the locals were familiar with. They took to it was great enthusiasm. Even when, one by one, the men who had directly participated in the raid were sentenced to a lifetime of service in the tar pits, before having both hamstrings cut, to remove any hope of escape.

The rest of the clan couldn’t very well be let to run free. There was too great of a chance for someone to seek vengeance for a condemned father in a few years. Yet Dag couldn’t bring himself to maul women and children, nor to kill them outright when those who had actually committed the crime were only enslaved. So, he sentenced them all to twenty years of hard labor. This didn’t exactly make them slaves, but as very few would live twenty more years, it was a distinction in search of a difference.

Stripped of all possessions, Dag had each of them marked with ritual scarring to denote their status. That some might succeed in running away was a given, but if they came back seeking vengeance, he wanted to be damn certain that they would be recognized by the people of the city. Only the children were marked in places that could be covered by clothing. After all, they were the only ones that really had much of a chance to make it twenty years and see the end of their service. Or as Dag hoped, in a few years to be able to declare an amnesty for those too young to have had any say over events, and free them.

His people obviously approved, and Dag had little doubt that as a deterrent, it would strike fear into the other clans who might otherwise find them an inspiration toward evil. Even so, he felt sick, and was unable to speak with anyone from nearly a week afterwards. It might not have been for vengeance sake, but it wasn’t justice either. What was worse, Dag was the only one who seemed to realize this.

◆◆◆

Novelty Is Gone

As the years rolled on, Dag would remember the day of that trial as a turning point. He no longer found joy in leading his people. Month by month, as John became more capable, Dag happily handed over more and more responsibility to him, and to Devan, his eldest son by Nissa. The one bright spot to Dag’s way of thinking was that the boys weren’t afflicted by the normal, sibling rivalry. Dag attributed this to the fact that John was so much older than his little brother that the younger boy worshiped his older brother rather than sought to outshine him.

The younger children lived a life of relative ease and privilege. Each one assured that their social position was secured. Dag had insisted that each of them understand that their place in society was theirs to lose. It could evaporate, but only if they did not maintain the high standards of the family. This seemed to be a reasonable balance between the need for excellence and the tendency to over pressure the children of public figures. At least Dag hoped that would be the case.

Dag had used the excuse of putting John in charge of dispensing justice on his sixteenth birthday to pardon those involved in the attack, who were under the age of accountability at the time. This mercy was John’s first act, and it made him popular with the people, and even quelled some hard feelings by those breaking rocks in the limestone quarry, or digging more irrigation ditches. That their youngest children would have at least have a shot at a better life. It also played well at the Gathering that year, as many of the newly freed sought a place with the other clans.

For his part, Dag mostly withdrew from public life. He contented himself with spending time with the family and working in the library. He still regularly took the dive suit out, and would submit blueprints for new engineering projects to those who had taken up the trade in the city.